Disclaimer: I do not own the characters.
Warning: Spoilers and violence.
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In Fire Lies Redemption
By Marz
Chapter 4
Fallen Walls
For the hundredth time Robert Collins wondered why the ceilings were so low. He knew it was a prison, and that it was designed to be astatically unappealing. How could those things have walked around in here? Even after five months he still expected to see a dementor drifting out of the shadows, and catching him in the darkness. He ducked under another low area in the arched stone corridor. He barely topped five feet six inches, and even that was only achieved with much stretching before hand. Maybe that's why I've been stuck here. If I were Jenkins they couldn't look down their noses at me and say, 'You're transferred Robert', and I wouldn't have to crane my neck up and ask like an idiot when? Everyone knows you ask where first. He stopped short.
One of the cells was open. The scarred metal door hung out in the hallway, forming a perfect ninety degree angle with the wall. The number carved into its surface read 564. Maybe it was an empty cell. Maybe there was never anyone in there and the house elves just forgot to close it. He crept to the threshold, and raised his wand.
"Lumos!" he cried.
The light blinded him for a second. He swung his arms around himself, trying to fend off any unseen attackers. Nothing came at him. He blinked his eyes clear and stepped inside. A straw mat lay on the floor, and there was a slop bucket in the corner. The cell had been occupied. He mumbled the words under his breath, slightly afraid of what it would do.
"Prisoner 564 has escaped."
Alarms blared. The entire island echoed with their angry howls. Collins was nearly deaf by the time the search team arrived. Nine men in dark robes gathered around the cell. They unfurled the charmed map that tracked every prisoner on the island. 564 was no where to be found.
"When did you find the door open?" asked Rinks, the leader of the search team.
"Yesterday, I just got around to mentioning it." said Collins drolly.
Rinks did not look amused, though Collins thought he was very amusing, bent nearly double trying to stand in the cramped hall.
"About a second and a half after I saw the cell was empty actually." Collins amended.
"Everyone spread out and search every where. We do this by the book." Rinks announced pompously.
They guards spread out, jogging up the halls, and testing the doors. Collins got to the end of the hall and went up the stairs. After six hours of searching no trace of prisoner 564 had been found. The wards along the shore were all intact, as were the anti-disapparation wards. There were no traces of where she had gone. The Ministry was informed, and a detail from the Department of Mysteries was dispatched. After two hours of intense questioning about the open door he had observed Collins was released from duty. He trudged off towards the guard barracks, his right leg asleep and his back aching.
The barracks stood separate from the main prison. A thin path of stones connected the tiny rock on which the building stood to its larger brother. He walked the hundred yards of the bridge like path and was soaked with sea spray by the time he reached the other side. The wind howled around him, burning his face, but he paused outside the barracks gate for a quick smoke. They always complained about his pipe. He thought its smell was far superior to the unwashed sock stench that usually permeated the drafty building, but no one else agreed with him. He huddled against the stone wall, trying to strike a match.
"Couldn't you just use your magic wand?" asked a laughing voice, so close he felt warm breath on his ear.
He shouted and the pipe fell, forgotten. As he turned he grabbed for the wand holstered at his hip, but it was not there. 564 closed in. His back was already against the wall, and his legs worked pointlessly trying to push him through it. She put a hand on the wall above his right shoulder and leaned in, blocking his view of the prison. She stood at least two hand-spans taller then him, and he was forced to look up into her bizarre black and white flecked eyes.
"Tell me love. How does one get off this island, with out getting one's feet wet?" she asked, playing with the collar of his robe with her free hand.
"You can't, the wards are all up and there aren't any boats."
"I think you're lying to me sweetie."
"This is Azkaban! There is no way off, this is the most secure prison in the world."
"Funny, I recall hearing of quite a few escapes recently. So, how do I get out of here? You'd best tell me quick, you don't want me upset do you?"
Her hand darted into her gray prison robes, but instead of pulling out his missing wand, she withdrew a sharpened piece of wood and jabbed it against his neck. It stung horribly and he felt a thin trickle of blood drip down his throat.
"What's wrong with you?" he gasped, "There isn't any way out. This is Azkaban! You-know-who himself would have to pick you up personally. That's the only way."
"Then how do I get You-know-who to pick me up?"
Collins just gapped at her. She stiffened suddenly and threw herself to the ground. A jet of red light blasted a crater in the stones, spattering him with sharp bits of shrapnel. She scrambled away. Red lights flashed at her feet but could not hit her. She ran past the barracks and straight for the raw stones marking the edge of the island. There was a resounding boom as the wards at the edge of the island shattered. It was only a short drop to the water below.
She's going to get away, Collins thought amazed. But just as she came to the end of the stone she stopped, throwing her weight back. She landed ungracefully on her butt. Her foot was hanging over the side and she snatched it back. The agents from the Department of Mysteries surrounded her, and Collins scrambled to join them. She ignored the men around her, focused completely on the water. It was as gray as the stones in the faint dawn light.
"You're charged with attempting escape and assaulting a guard." announced one of the DM's. Collins didn't know him.
She ignored him, and continued to stare at the water. She seemed completely unaware of them, until they pulled her roughly to her feet and searched her. She slapped one of them across the face when he reached inside her robes. Collins wand was returned to him. They put the blood stained shiv in an evidence bag. They marched her back across the narrow path. She walked along like a stubborn child, dragging her feet a bit but not fighting viscously.
"Thought I had it that time," she said conversationally to Collins as he walked near her side. "I'm still a chicken I guess."
Collins was about to ask what the hell she was talking about when it exploded. The gigantic north wall of the prison blew out ward and tumbled into the sea. Waves rose up and over the path. The woman screamed, then everything was lost in the roar of the water.
Stones scraped his hands and knees as he was washed along into the sea. His head broke the surface and he gasped for air. Fires glowed in the innards of the building. He could see prisoners running about frantically. Green and red lights flashed among the back lit figures. The stones echoed with screaming. There was a splash to his left. He whirled to see a pale hand breaking the surface of the water. Without thinking he grabbed it and pulled up. 564 broke the surface. She did not choke and cough the water out of her lungs, as a normal person would. Her eyes were blank and liquid spilled from her mouth in short panting gasps.
Collins saw the off duty guards spill from the barracks and shouted for help. Some one summoned him to shore. They took the prisoner into the mess hall and set new wards around the little rock. There were not enough of them to retake the prison.
He stood among the men from the Department of Mysteries, who had been pulled from the sea. They were passing around a pair of omnioculars, and when they came to him he raised them to his eyes. It stood amid the flames on the roof of the previously inescapable prison. Men came to its side and bowed low, as if afraid to look into the glowing red eyes in its gray scaly face. He who must not be named turned towards the little island then. Someone caught the omnioculars as he let go.
"What did you see?" one of the DM's asked.
"He winked at me." said Collins before he collapsed.
******
Her arm pounded dizzily on the wall as she tried to regain her balance. She stumbled and slid sideways along the wall and blood smeared across the off-white paint. Before she could land in the broken glass on the floor, Professor Lupin caught her elbow. He led her back to the chair.
"Harry you can stop shouting now." said the tired looking man.
Harry's mouth jerked shut. He had not realized he was making noise. He then noticed Kingsley Shacklebolt as well. The huge man stood at the side of the bed, looking completely calm, but Harry never saw any other expression on him anyway.
"Who was here?" he asked.
"It looked like Professor Snape, and he tried to get me to drink something but some of it spilled and it melted the blanket." Harry pointed at the slowly smoking hole in the blue fabric. "He was grabbing me, but then Joan came in."
He turned to the girl in the chair who still looked dazed. Remus was pushing her hair around, inspecting the injury on her scalp.
"Are you alright Harry?" she asked in a wavering voice.
"She needs a doctor." Harry said.
Mrs. Weasley burst into the room then. It took her less then a second to access the situation. She took over from Lupin and with a quick flick of her wand she healed the cut on the back of Joan's head. Lupin and Shacklebolt were huddled in the door way speaking low voices. Though no longer bleeding profusely, Joan still appeared disoriented. She lurched from the chair and snatched up the phone that hung on the wall.
"I'll get the police." She said in a slurred voice.
"It's alright dear." said Mrs. Weasley, "They've already been summoned."
The girl did not seem to hear and continued to press the buttons.
"Accio phone!" Mrs. Weasley called. The phone tore itself from the wall and from her hands. Joan shrieked and fell to the floor. She got shakily back to her feet.
"Joan, come here." Harry said waving his arms. She tottered towards him like a two year old on unsteady feet.
She started suddenly and Harry turned to follow her gaze. Mad-eye Moody stepped through the door, in black robes and swirling cloak. His normal beady eye was focused on Kingsley, but the magical electric blue one turned towards Joan. It paused for a moment, and then rolled up into the back of his head. She screamed. Harry tried to grab her arm, but she was standing too far from the bed.
"Somebody stop that noise!" growled Moody.
Mrs. Weasley started toward her. Joan's eye's darted toward the wand in her hand and she tried to back away, but she bumped the heart monitor and it crashed to the ground. Harry gasped as the electrodes were ripped off his chest. The rhythmic spikes on the screen disappeared and a loud and alarming note flowed from the speakers.
"Joan calm down!" he begged. "Just sit. Sit in the chair." He waved at it.
Her screaming had quieted to a whimpering series of hiccups. She stood with her back to the wall as Mrs. Weasley approached, speaking quietly.
"It's alright dear, why don't you have a seat? We'll explain all this alright?" Mrs. Weasley said.
"It's fine Joan, come sit down. Nobody is going to hurt you. These are my friends." Harry said waving at the people in the room, most of whom were now ignoring them. Joan nodded and Mrs. Weasley took her arm, steering her towards the chair.
"My head hurts." she mumbled.
Mrs. Weasley held up her wand. "Can you follow the end of this with your eyes dear?"
Joan nodded but turned her entire head to track the wands motions. Her eyes were dilated.
"I think she has a concussion." Harry said.
"I'd better take her down stairs; the muggle doctors can help her."
"But Mrs. Weasley can't you do a spell to help her?"
"I'm not a Medi-witch Harry; I don't know how serious this is."
Harry was about to speak when the air in the room was split with a resounding crack.
"The wards have come down!" announced Diggle in a panicked voice.
Joan started to shrieked again. A blast of red light struck her in chest and knocked her out of the chair. She lay sprawled on the floor, her eyes half opened. Harry and Mrs. Weasley stared at the unmoving girl in shock for a moment the looked to Moody. He was shoving his wand back in his robes.
"Can't think with all that racket." He was muttering as he turned away.
Harry was out of bed in an instant. He didn't feel the I.V. rip out of his arm. He only saw red.
"YOU BASTARD! SHE'S DEAD. YOU KILLED HER!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.
It was Lupin who caught him. Half way to Moody he was lifted off his feet. His scar burned. His former teacher was trying to calm him down. He was talking calmly in his ear, saying things like she's alright, she's fine, and Molly is bringing her around, but none of it sunk in past the haze. The burning in his scar intensified and it felt as if something were crawling out of his throat. Something was coiling around his heart, squeezing the life out of him.
"Soon. Soon." Hissed a voice all in the room recognized. "You little fools can not hide from me. I am coming for the boy. Die with him if you must." The thing twisted his neck around toward Mrs. Weasley. "Your disgusting brood will die screaming for mercy. I'll kill your daughter myself when I finish with her."
Mrs. Weasley looked angry enough to kill. As she strode towards Harry's writhing form Lupin tried to hold him away from her.
"Molly it's not him…" He started to say.
"I know Remus, let me see him."
While all this was going on Kingsley and Moody worked furiously to get the wards back up. Diggle paced in panic, and finally declared he was going to get Dumbledore before disappearing. Remus turned toward Molly. His arms were locked around Harry's chest, holding his twitching feet off the floor. Molly put her hands on the sides of the boys face. The eyes were not Harry's. From inside the pupils a faint red light glowed. The thing inside Harry's head glared at her with absolute hatred. Her face was hard but she spoke with the calm motherly voice that made Harry so jealous of her children.
"Harry, Dear I know you're in there. Don't let him do this to you."
The voice tried to say something but Harry bit down on his tongue.
"Harry," she continued, "We love you, you're part of the family. I know you can do this Harry."
Harry shook his head. He accidentally struck Lupin on the chin with his skull, but didn't notice.
"Harry, Sirius knew you beat him." she said.
Almost as if in conformation, furious barking echoed in his ears.
"You can beat him Harry. You're stronger." said Lupin.
He felt tears running down his face; he could barely see Mrs. Weasley through them. The coils dropped away.
"I'm sowwy, sowwy," he mumbled. Blood dribbled from his mouth. His tongue was swelling up and he could barely speak. "I wasss so angwy an e gaw in. Sowwy."
Lupin changed his hold on him. There was now an arm under his back and another under his legs. His head lolled against the werewolf's neck and blood drooled onto his shirt collar.
"We can't get the wards back up." said Kingsley. "We have to get out of here, now."
"How?" Lupin asked.
"I believe I can help with that." said Albus Dumbledore. He strode into the room in flannel pajamas and slippers, with a large rug rolled up under his arm. He went straight to Harry and gently tuned his head, looking into his eyes. Harry felt his scar tingle, but nothing worse occurred. Dumbledore unrolled the rug. Though it appeared small when tucked under his arm, it covered most of the floor.
"If everyone will take a seat we shall be on our way." he said cheerfully.
They all sat on the rug but as Lupin tried to make the disoriented teenager comfortable, Harry started struggling.
"You can'd lee hew on'd floow. E can see hew." Harry struggled to get up.
With a flick of his wand Dumbledore levitated the unconscious girl onto the rug. She landed next to Harry.
"All set?" he asked.
Moody looked very uncomfortable but nodded. The rest of the Order members said "yes".
Dumbledore waved his wand again and the wall melted away. The red Oriental rug rose into the air and carried its passengers up into the cool dawn air. When they were clear the wall healed up as if nothing happened.
Harry fell asleep for a while. When he woke again Joan was gone. He nearly panicked, thinking she had some how fallen off, but Lupin insisted she had been healed and returned home to Rosewood Lane. Harry looked over the edge and recognized the city of London below them.
"Can'd dey see usss?" he asked. His mouth hurt.
"The carpet is disillusioned on the underside." Kingsley answered him.
"O."
Harry remained quiet as they landed in the square in front of twelve Grimmauld place. He tried to stand up but his legs would not hold him. Lupin scooped him up without comment. He looked around at the others and was surprised to see Mrs. Weasley carried his box of birthday presents. When they were all off the rug it rolled itself up neatly and Dumbledore tucked it under his arm again. The strange party marched up to and through the hidden front door.
******
Harry spent most of August alone in the cavernous house. Dumbledore arranged for a healer from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries to bring potions to him, but Harry never learned his name. Hermione and the Weasleys visited infrequently. Hermione explained that they had been moved to a different safe house, and Dumbledore did not want them to risk exposing Harry's hiding place. Harry tired to stay out of the way, so members of the Order rarely saw him, except Professor Lupin. He seemed to always know where Harry was. He would hang around with him and tease him about home work, making small talk. He was often busy with missions though.
Harry wandered the house, trying to get his strength back, but the solitude gnawed at him, like an angry rat in his stomach. He saw no sign of the traitorous house elf Kreacher, and did not know if that was a good or bad thing. He knew if he came across him he would try to kill him, and when ever he thought about that possible meeting coils would tighten up around his heart. The screaming painting of Sirius mother was also gone. Nothing in the old house showed signs of its previous occupants, except the shadows.
Frequently Harry would see something in the corner of his eye, low to the floor and pacing him with a rolling gate. He was certain if he turned fast enough he would see his godfather's Animagus form tracking him, but he never looked back, afraid even that ghost would vanish.
On the night of August 31 Harry sat at the kitchen table, slowly eating thin broth. His stomach was still too finicky for solid food. The stairs creaked and he dove under the table, drawing his wand. Slowly, boots appeared at the foot of the steps. Harry watched the boots circle the table and head to the cabinets. When they turned away from him he rolled from beneath the table, springing to his feet. The man dropped the bottle of liquor he had picked up when he saw Harry had a wand pointed at him.
"Hello Harry," said Professor Lupin.
"Hey." Harry said. A strong smell of alcohol rose about them. The former Professor's eyes looked slightly blood shot to him.
"I was just having a bit of trouble sleeping. Thought a drink might help." Lupin explained. He was blushing heavily, and Harry was certain he'd tried that remedy more then once before coming into down stairs.
"I've got that plant Neville gave me." Harry said. "It'll knock you right out."
"Oh, thanks." Lupin said. He was slurring just a bit.
Harry saw his hands were shaking. Lupin followed his gaze, and quickly hid them behind his back.
"Maybe you should sit down." Harry said. He pulled Lupin to the bench by the table. He sat by him as the werewolf ground his eyes with the palms of his hands. Lupin had never looked more threadbare and worn.
"Professor what's wrong?" Harry asked. "Besides everything." he added.
Lupin laughed softly. "I'm not sleeping well. Nightmares."
"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry thought this sounded a bit Hermione like, but stuck with it.
"I'm not going to bother you, enough to worry about…if he would just stop coming for one night…" Lupin said. He put his head down on the table.
"Is it Padfoot?" Harry asked quietly.
Lupin sat up so fast he nearly overturned the bench. He grabbed Harry's shoulder painfully, but Harry ignored it.
"You've seen him?" There was desperate fever in Lupin's eyes as he asked.
Harry nodded. "After Malfoy shot me Padfoot was there. He was in the ambulance too, and in the dark. When I saw through Voldemort's eyes, I could see him. It's never Sirius though. Only Padfoot."
Lupin was nodding. "He never says anything, but my brother says it for him, he always comes in the same dream, when it got me, but he comes instead, and they're all wrong and I don't understand anymore."
Harry tried to look understanding, though he was completely confused. Harry was not certain what the proper thing to do was. He decided to wing it. He reached out his hand to pat the former Professor on the back. Suddenly the man was crying all over Harry's shoulder, mumbling.
"I should have gone after her. It was too personal for him to keep his head. We always knew I was supposed to die first, I'm the damn werewolf. It wasn't supposed to be like this."
After a few very awkward minutes the mumbling stopped and Harry realized Lupin had passed out. He thought for a moment about levitating him to one of the couches upstairs, but he was afraid to draw the Ministry to their location using under age magic. He carefully detangled himself from the unconscious man, and crept to the linen closet for spare pillows and blankets. He set up a make shift bed on the floor. He accidentally dropped the man while trying to get him off the bench, but he only grunted faintly when he hit the floor. Harry threw blankets over him and stuffed a pillow under his head. He cleaned up the spilled liquor and glass and climbed the stairs to his bed room. The next day he would be boarding the school train, and he could not help but feel happy about that. He could not help but feel guilt as well.
It's my battle. Everyone says it is. He thought as he waited for sleep to come. I've got no idea how to fight it though. What power could I possibly have that Voldemort doesn't? All I've got is a stomach full of guilt. He rolled over attempting to relieve the burning pain in his gut. Maybe in the end I'll just explode all over him, and he'll die of some sort of infection. He closed his eyes.