Harry Potter and the Unexpected Powers

by Felinity

Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts is not as simple as he would have liked. Instead of just worrying about his O.W.L.s (and maybe girls) as normal teenagers do, war has begun in the magical community, and a strange, disembodied being haunts Harry's steps...

8. Chapter Eight: The Attack on Azkaban

Harry Potter and the Unexpected Powers

Disclaimer: All the characters that you recognise belong to JK Rowling!!! I own Rhianna Lupin and Jake Warrington and the English National Quidditch Team (as well as their coach) and the plot!

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Chapter 8

The Attack on Azkaban

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When Harry finally reached the great hall, he was out of breath. The way from the teachers' wing to the great hall was quite long, and Harry had run the whole way. He pushed open the heavy oak doors and entered. Everyone else was already there. They smiled at him.

"Ah, Harry!" Dumbledore exclaimed jovially, "I trust you slept well?"

Harry grinned.

"Very well, thank you, Professor."

Harry sat down between Professors Snape and Dumbledore. The former gave him a slight smile.

"Good morning."

Harry returned the greeting and helped himself to some scrambled eggs and bacon. After the morning's swim and excitement, he felt ravenous.

However, after only a few bites, Harry began to feel queasy. The thought of the upcoming Quidditch practice hit him full-on..... Suddenly, Harry found that he felt revolted by the very idea of eating anything. He pushed his plate away and leaned back with a sigh.

"Nervous?"

Harry's head snapped up and Harry found himself staring into his potions professor's black eyes. Harry sighed.

"Actually, yes." Professor Snape smirked and patted Harry's arm.

"I'm sure you'll do fine, Mr. Potter. I have seen many people fly in my life, and I have yet to meet anyone who is better than you. Not even your father, Harry, who, even I will admit that, was amazing at Quidditch, was as good as you."

Harry smiled slightly and blushed.

"Thank you, I guess," he said softly. He actually felt a bit better. The food on his plate didn't look as bad anymore either..... Harry tucked into his food with renewed appetite. Snape just shook his head, smirking to himself.

After breakfast, Harry decided to go back to his room and do some of his homework. He got himself some books on potions from the library and started on that summer's second assignment: 'Compare the efficiency, side-effects and history of at least three different truth potions, name each of their advantages and disadvantages, write down the whole recipe for each of them.'

Harry sighed. A long and boring assignment. Harry's stomach did a strange flip-flop when he glanced at the clock. It was 10.30! In only four hours Mr. Skillridge was going to collect him. Harry bit his lip and tried to concentrate on his essay.

"One of the most efficient truth potions in existence is the Veritaserum-" Harry wondered what the other players would be like?

"Veritaserum has been known to be strong enough to break even the Imperius Curse-"Harry really hoped that they weren't going to shun him because of his age- but no, Mr. Skillridge wouldn't allow that, would he? Harry gritted his teeth. "Concentrate....."

"This is why Veritaserum has been used mainly in the time of Voldemort's reign-"Would he really be good enough to play on the team? What if Mr. Skillridge had made a mistake? Surely the other players were all much better than Harry and most probably knew more moves than him- Harry began to feel more and more anxious.

"One of the most dangerous side-effects of Veritaserum is..... -"Harry blinked and looked down at the paper and at what he had just written. He cursed and crumpled the parchment, throwing it into a corner in frustration. He glanced at the clock again. It was 10.45!

Harry groaned in despair and plopped down on his bed facedown. He heard the portrait hole open, but ignored it. Not much later, he felt a gentle hand on his back.

"Nervous?"

It was his godmother.

"Yes." Harry admitted, his voice muffled by his pillow.

Two surprisingly strong hands turned Harry over almost effortlessly. Harry sighed as he looked into Minerva's face.

Minerva simply smiled at her godson.

"Why don't you try to do some homework?"

Harry sighed again, thoroughly frustrated.

"I tried! But I simply couldn't concentrate! Here, read this!" Harry jumped up in agitation and retrieved the crumpled parchment from the corner and handed it to his godmother.

Minerva smoothed it out and read aloud:

"One of the most efficient truth potions in existence is the Veritaserum. Veritaserum has been known to be strong enough to break even the Imperius Curse. This is why Veritaserum has been used mainly in the time of Voldemort's reign. One of the most dangerous side-effects of Veritaserum is the Wronski Feint-"

She stopped and stared at the parchment. Then the corners of her mouth started to twitch. Then she laughed. She wasn't the only one, either. An amused snort drew Harry's attention away from his godmother to the edge of the portrait hole- Professor Snape had also entered the room.

Harry frowned moodily and plopped back down on to the bed.

"Yeah, that's right," he said bitingly, "Have a good laugh at my expense."

Minerva obviously tried to stop laughing and hug Harry, but Harry could still feel her shaking with silent amusement and pulled away quickly, feeling thoroughly annoyed.

"Oh, Harry," Minerva said, "We weren't laughing at you, just about you. That's a big difference."

Harry just frowned.

"Fancy a game of chess?" This came form Professor Snape, who was watching the teenager carefully. Harry considered this offer. He wasn't really all that good at chess, but it would take his mind off things.....

"I guess," Harry said, and pushed himself up from his bed.

He walked over to his shelf and pulled his chessboard down, putting it on the table. He and Snape both took a seat on the comfortable chairs and Minerva conjured a third chair up for herself. They all set up the chessboard. Harry chose the white figures, so he had to make the first move.

"I'm warning you," Harry said, grinning at his Potions Professor. "I'm absolutely hopeless at chess."

Professor Snape just smirked.

"Then we'll have to remedy that."

(A/N: I have absolutely no clue about chess, I won't describe the game very closely, sorry!)

They played for almost half an hour. Actually, Harry realized, that was longer than he had ever lasted against Ron. Strange, Professor Snape seemed to be a very good player. After the third time Snape could have beaten Harry but let the opportunity pass, Harry broke the silence.

"Alright. That wasn't the first time you could have won this game. Why didn't you checkmate me?"

Severus had to grin. Clearly, the boy wasn't stupid.

"Simple. I didn't want to end the game so soon. I want to know your weaknesses and understand your strategy so that I can help you improve. I think I've got it now."

Harry looked down at the chessboard with a puzzled frown.

"So you're going to end the game now?"

Snape nodded. Harry stared some more.

"Oh!" Harry slapped his forehead.

Both professors chuckled, and Severus moved his knight, effectively blocking Harry's king's last way out.

"Checkmate."

Harry sighed and shook his head.

"I told you, I'm hopeless at this game."

Snape smiled and shook his head.

"Actually, Mr. Potter, you're not that bad," he ignored Harry's disbelieving look, "I say by the end of the holiday you will be able to beat Mr. Weasley."

Harry snorted.

"Yeah right," he mumbled, ignoring his godmother's reproachful look at his disrespectful attitude. But Professor Snape just smirked.

"You'll see, Mr. Potter. You'll see."

Harry sighed and ran a hand over his face wearily.

"Whatever you say, Professor." Harry glanced at the clock and groaned. It was 11.15- still three and a quarter hours till Mr. Skillridge would pick him up!

Harry slumped in his seat, feeling the nervousness in his stomach grow again.

"Let's go for a swim." Professor Snape suggested.

Harry looked at him in surprise. He somehow couldn't picture his Potions Professor swimming.

"I already-"Harry began, then stopped himself. "Never mind. Don't you have things to do, preparing for the attack, brewing potions for the infirmary.....?"

"I already told you yesterday," Snape said, "I finished my preparations yesterday morning. I'm free all day."

"Oh," said Harry. "Right then. Er, Minerva, are you coming, too?"

But Minerva shook her head determinedly.

"Harry, my Animagus form is a cat for a reason. I detest swimming." Harry had to grin and waved goodbye as his godmother left the room with a smile.

"Professor, do you-"But Harry broke off again, seeing that Snape had already conjured himself up a pair of (black) swimming trunks.

"You change in here, I will use the bathroom," Professor Snape said, and Harry nodded. He changed quickly into his swimming trunks and then jumped into his stream. Not much later, Snape joined him.

"Shall we?" the professor asked, and Harry nodded. They both took a deep breath and dived under the wall.

*SPLASH* *SPLASH*

Harry gasped for breath.

"Oh- geez- that-"The water was cold!

Severus regarded the boy with a smirk. He was used to the coldness, after all he lived in the dungeons. Not the warmest place in the castle.

"Your excellent command over the English language never ceases to amaze me, Mr. Potter," Snape commented and started to swim.

Harry gaped at the quickly retreating form of his Potions Professor.

"Oh, you!" And with that, he hit his hand down on the water hard, effectively drenching Snape's head thoroughly. The professor whirled around. A strange light- was it mischief?- Harry had never seen before was shining in Snape's eyes as he, too, hit his hand on the water and drenched Harry.

What followed was nothing short of a full blown water fight. Harry was soon gasping for breath, having swallowed a lot of water in his laughter, and held up his hands while treading water.

"Alright, alright! I give up! I surrender!"

Snape laughed and swiped his wet hair from his eyes.

"Come on, then, let's swim around for a bit, or we'll be cold." Harry grinned back and nodded, and together they swam a lap around the lake- which was a lot. After that, Harry felt exhausted. Snape seemed to notice and insisted that they take a break.

Harry and Snape climbed out of the water and lay down on the grass in the sun. The gentle, warm breeze dried them quickly, while they chatted about various things, such as potions (after reading the books Snape had given him, he had come to the conclusion that potions weren't so bad after all).

After a while, Snape raised his hand and muttered a short spell ("Tempus!"). Numbers appeared in the air, shimmered for a second and dissolved into nothingness again.

"We should return to the castle," he remarked calmly, "We've been out here for a long time. It is almost one o'clock, they will be serving lunch soon."

They returned through the passage to Harry's room, changed into their normal clothes and made their way to the great hall together.

Again they were the last ones to arrive. Harry took the seat between his godmother and Dumbledore, and Snape sat down next to Flitwick and Remus.

"So, Harry," Minerva asked, "Had a nice swim?"

Harry smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, we completely forgot the time." They ate in silence for a while, Harry began to feel more and more queasy by the second. It was the way he felt before every Quidditch match.

"Harry," Professor Dumbledore's voice brought him out of his reverie, "You will have to take the knight bus back to Hogwarts tonight. After the...... unpleasant happenings at the third task-"

Harry winced.

"-I have put up wards around the school. No portkeys can be activated on the school grounds, and nobody can get here using a portkey. Apparating is, as I am sure your friend Ms. Granger has told you on numerous occasions, out of the question. Flooing to and away from Hogwarts is impossible. Normally, Mr. Skillridge would bring you back, but he is otherwise occupied this evening..... The knight bus is really the only way left for you to get here."

Harry nodded. He was not looking forward to a ride with an over- enthusiastic Stan Shunpike, but it couldn't be helped. He finished his meal in silence.

The queasy feeling in his stomach intensified. Harry felt like there must be entire groups of dragons romping around in there. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and pushed his plate away. He doubted that he had ever felt so nervous in his life before. It was half past one. Harry wondered when time had started to pass that slowly.

He shook his head and with a sigh as he got up from his chair and left the hall. None of the adults held him back, they seemed to understand that he wanted to be alone for now. Harry decided to take a long walk on the school grounds. He walked around the castle and into the gardens. Harry realised that he had hardly ever been to the gardens before and took his time to look around.

The place was beautiful, raw magic seemed to hum in the air. The castle was rather far away, looking very much like a picture in a muggle fairy tale book. The garden Harry was standing in was rather neat. The paths were straight and bordered by white, smooth boulders. The grass was neatly trimmed, the hedges cut, flowers grew in square formations in the flowerbeds. Everything was straight, neat, in order.....

The garden was a piece of art. It reminded Harry too much of the Dursleys' garden. Harry didn't like it. He frowned slightly and moved on. One garden followed another, and another, each differed a little from the last. Harry walked for what felt like hours, all the gardens were perfect, too perfect in Harry's opinion. Harry was just about to give up and return to the castle when he spotted something in the distance. There was a gigantic hedge around the last garden.

It was taller than even Hagrid and completely nontransparent. Harry had apparently reached the end of the Hogwarts grounds. With a disappointed sigh, Harry turned away- when something caught his eye. A slight glitter was in the hedge, where a stray sun ray was touching it. It looked like- metal of some kind. Curiously, Harry stepped closer.

He examined the hedge closely. From a distance, it had looked completely solid. But now Harry noticed that at the bottom of the hedge, there was a small hole- well, not a hole exactly, but the branches were definitely not as dense as the rest of the hedge. Harry touched the leaves at that place. To his surprise, the hedge parted a little. Harry stepped through the gap in the leaves- and gasped.

There, right before him, was a big, squiggly, iron gate, ornamented with gold. Harry approached the gate cautiously and curiously. For some reason, he could not see what was on the other side. A strange, magical mist was blocking his view. Harry hesitated. It could be dangerous to go in there, otherwise the garden wouldn't be separated from the others by an iron gate and hidden behind a hedge.

The grass in this place was not cut- it was almost up to Harry's waist. Upon closer examination, Harry noticed that there was moss growing on the gate. It looked like nobody had been there in ages.

But for some reason, Harry felt drawn to the place behind the gates. The mist that was wafting around Harry's feet didn't feel dangerous, it felt magical, inviting, compelling...... Harry looked over his shoulder. He could not see the castle anymore. Harry slowly put a hand on the iron gate. He hesitated again, looking at his watch. It was only two o'clock. He still had some time.

Taking a deep breath, Harry pushed at the gate. At first, nothing happened. Harry frowned slightly and pushed harder. Was the gate locked? But then, just as Harry was about to give up, the gate moved a little. It screeched in its angles, protesting against being opened for the first time in who knew how many years. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the two parts of the gate swung aside.

The strange, magical mist swirled around Harry's knees. Harry drew his wand and took another deep breath. Then, he stepped forward. Cool mist surrounded him, wafting gently around him. Harry couldn't see anything. Fear gripped Harry's heart, and he turned around, fully intending to leave the creepy place as quickly as possible. Harry turned around himself for a few times, thinking that he must have lost the way- but the gate was gone.

Before Harry had any time to properly panic, a voice sounded behind him. Harry whirled around again.

In the air in front of him, there was an odd, golden light. It was bright, but it did not blind Harry. For some reason, Harry couldn't tear his gaze away from the light. Then, it spoke again, in a sweet, gentle voice.

"You are new here. Please state your name."

Harry blinked in shock.

"Ex-excuse me?"

"Please state your name," said the light.

"I'm- Harry," said Harry, feeling stupid for talking to a light. "Harry Potter."

The light twinkled a little. Still, Harry could not tear his eyes away from it.

"Harry Potter," the voice spoke again, "You have requested entrance to the Realm of the Four. To be granted permission to seek out this place, you shall have to prove yourself."

Harry frowned. Obviously, there had been a misunderstanding. He had not requested permission for anything.

"Wait!" Harry called as the light started to fade away. "You've made a mistake! I-"

But suddenly, his surroundings changed. Harry found himself in a cold stone cell. The room was completely bare, save for three slightly raised platforms. On the first one, there was a big spider. On the second one there was a small, cute kitten. On the third one there was a magnificent unicorn.

Harry stared at the animals. None of them were moving, yet all of them seemed to be looking at Harry- even the spider. Harry frowned. What was he supposed to do? As if understanding his predicament, a faint glow appeared in the air. Words spelled out in front of Harry's eyes, shimmering softly in the dimly-lit room.

"Harry Potter, you have requested entrance to the Realm of the Four.

In order for us to allow you into this magical place, you need to complete this challenge:

A knight's true virtue is chivalry-

Yet those who fight must always see

That mercy is often a cowardly play,

That you need to kill to get your way.

The strength of a knight is not only his skill,

But also his ruthless preparedness to kill.

So your task to gain entrance to our place

Is to kill the creatures in front of your face.

If you fail, we shall send you back to the gate

And ignorance of this place shall be your fate.

If you succeed in this task all your dreams shall come true

And our knowledge and power shall be open to you.

So since this privilege is what you ask,

Prove that you're worthy by fulfilling this task!"

Harry gaped at the words above his head. He was starting to feel really, really angry. Crossing his arms over his chest, Harry glared slightly.

"Now listen here," he said quietly to the empty room, "You've got to be kidding me! First, you drag me off to this stupid place and say that I have requested permission to enter some stupid realm when all I've done is open a bloody gate, then you want me to kill something?! You must be out of your mind! I will not kill any of those animals in font of me, not even the spider, and I don't ever want to enter your crazy realm if I have to kill anything to do so! Just let me go back to Hogwarts and we'll all be happy!"

The golden glow appeared again in front of his eyes, the letters shifting to form two simple words.

*You Passed.*

Harry blinked, feeling stupid. Had he missed anything? Just as quickly as he had arrived in the strange dungeon, however, he was whisked away and reappeared in the misty place he had left a few minutes before. The bright golden glow was still hanging in the air in front of him.

"Welcome, Harry," the gentle voice spoke, "To the Realm of the Founders."

A slight wind picked up, and the mist around Harry lifted. Harry gasped and stared around in awe. He was in another garden, but this garden was not at all like the others. The grass and flowers were growing wildly and completely untamed all over the place. Small animals of all kinds, some of which Harry had never seen before, were flying and crawling around.

A bit further away, trees were growing around a crystal clear lake, and a stream was running into the lake. Harry followed it with his eyes, but he couldn't see its source. The garden had to be gigantic as Harry couldn't see any borders. Far away, he could dimly make out the shape of a big building. Not as big as Hogwarts, but still immense. Harry's feet practically itched to walk around the garden and explore, to see what kind of building was looming in the distance.

Harry glanced at his watch and cursed slightly. It was twenty past two. Mr. Skillridge would arrive to collect him in ten minutes. Looking back over his shoulder one last time and vowing to return to the place later to explore it, Harry opened the gate again and slid out. The gate closed noisily behind him- which alerted Harry to his next problem. The gap in the hedge leading to the Hogwarts gardens had sealed itself.

Harry growled angrily. He crouched down in front of the thick hedge and examined it closely. He quickly found what he was looking for. Sticking his hand through the leaves, the hedge parted once again. Harry wondered what kind of spell there was on it- it reminded him of a muggle sensor. He straightened quickly and stepped back into the Hogwarts gardens. A quiet rustling sound behind him told Harry that the gap in the hedge had vanished again.

Harry looked at his watch another time. He had eight minutes. Cursing under his breath, Harry broke into a run. Garden after garden flew past. Harry gritted his teeth. Somehow, the distance had seemed to be much shorter when he had covered it for the first time. Finally, the familiar shape of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry loomed in the distance.

Harry sped up, ignoring his protesting muscles. He made it on time, just barely. It was one minute to half past two when Harry burst through the entrance doors of the castle, completely out of breath. Professor Dumbledore stood in the entrance hall, smiling calmly.

"Ah, Harry," he said pleasantly, "Just on time. Go and fetch your broomstick, I will wait for John." It took Harry a moment to realize that John had to be Mr. Skillridge's first name, then he nodded and went up the marble staircases towards the teachers' wing.

Harry hurried through the halls, at a more civilised pace than before. He took every shortcut he knew of and managed to reach his room in only five minutes.

"Elven Clearing." Merlin swung open without a comment, seemingly sensing Harry's urgency. Harry scrambled into his room and grabbed his Firebolt, then left again. He hurried back to the entrance hall.

On his way, he encountered his godparents and several other professors who all wished him good luck and said that they hoped he would have fun. By the time Harry reached the entrance hall he was almost fifteen minutes late and felt a little guilty.

Neither Mr. Skillridge nor Professor Dumbledore seemed to mind, however, because they were both smiling at him warmly.

"Harry!" Mr. Skillridge exclaimed happily, "It's so good to see you again. Are you ready to go?"

Harry smiled back.

"Of course. Um, I'm sorry I'm late, but-"

Mr. Skillridge cut him off immediately.

"Oh, not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry. We still have plenty of time."

Harry nodded, feeling relieved.

"Harry," Harry looked up. It was Professor Dumbledore speaking. "I have to leave now and prepare for the attack on Azkaban tomorrow. I am sure that you will have a great time!" With a wink to Harry and a handshake for Mr. Skillridge, the wizened old headmaster left the hall. Harry turned his gaze back on Mr. Skillridge.

He was smiling at Harry with a twinkle in his eyes that reminded Harry uncannily of the headmaster himself.

"Well, shall we?" Mr. Skillridge produced a small stone from his pocket. It was the portkey. Harry bit his lip nervously. Memories from the Triwizard Tournament came rushing back.....

"Are you ready?"

Harry shook himself and gave Mr. Skillridge a tight-lipped smile. Taking a deep breath, he put a finger on the portkey. Mr. Skillridge took out his wand and tapped the stone twice. It glowed golden for a second, then went back to normal.

"Quidditch Stadium." Mr. Skillridge mumbled, and they were whisked away.

Harry got the familiar feeling of a hook behind his navel, and then his feet slammed into the ground. Recovering from the shock of the impact, Harry looked up slowly. It was amazing. He was standing in a gigantic Quidditch stadium. Harry recognised it, it was the stadium he had been in the summer before at the Quidditch World Cup.

The grass was dark green and perfectly trimmed (probably by magic, Harry thought) and the stands were deserted. Harry could clearly see the top box from his place on the lawn and smiled when he remembered last year's game.

"Ready for the grand tour?" Harry jumped slightly. He had almost forgotten about Mr. Skillridge.

"Um, sure," Harry said, still looking around curiously. Mr. Skillridge smiled and put a hand on Harry's shoulder, leading him on one side of the stadium and through a door.

"Harry, these are the locker rooms. We also have a mess hall here, and, of course, bathrooms. There are also dormitories, in case a game lasts so long that the players need to sleep for a while. Thankfully, we have only been forced to use them twice in the past ten years."

"I thought this stadium was built specially for last year's World Cup?" Harry asked.

"It was magically transferred here, actually," Mr. Skillridge corrected. "Transferred and enhanced. The stadium itself has existed for many years, but it was not big enough to host an event as important as the International World Cup Finale. Its previous location wasn't safe enough either- too close to a muggle town. We couldn't risk the exposure of our world for a game of Quidditch."

"There must have been games before, though," said Harry.

Mr. Skillridge smiled grimly.

"Not as many as you might think, Harry, and not of such importance. Sadly, the English National Quidditch Team hasn't been up to par for a while. This season is our biggest chance in..... many years."

They were walking down a hallway with many doors on both sides, Mr. Skillridge explaining to Harry what was behind each of them. Finally, they stopped in a spacey, circular room. Eight doors were leading from it.

"This, Harry," Mr. Skillridge said, "Are the dormitories I told you of earlier. Your room is on the far left. Feel free to decorate it in whatever way you want, but make sure not to leave anything too permanent behind. It's two minutes to three o'clock now, the others should be arriving anytime-"

As if to prove this statement, a strange, bell-like sound echoed through the room. Mr. Skillridge smiled at Harry's startled face.

"That, Harry, were the Apparation wards. They have been taught not to let anyone they don't recognise through, so you needn't worry. Ah, Alex- right on time, I see!"

Harry watched nervously as a tall, tanned man in his late twenties with dark brown hair and soft brown eyes appeared in the middle of the room, grinning at his coach. Alex McDougal was built like Harry imagined a Keeper had to be built: Tall, broad-shouldered- but not fat. He looked like a nice man to Harry.

Harry noticed that Alex' attention was fixed on him. Harry started to feel slightly uncomfortable, wondering what he was supposed to do. Mr. Skillridge saved him.

"Alex, I have told you about Harry being our new Seeker, he just arrived a few minutes ago. Harry, this is Alex McDougal, our Keeper."

Alex smiled at Harry cheerfully and grabbed his hand in a strong grip.

"Harry! Such a pleasure to meet you! Welcome to the team." Harry smiled at the Keeper and relaxed slightly. Alex' happiness was sincere, he could tell.

"Thank you, -"Harry stopped and hesitated. What should he call the man? Technically, it seemed silly to Harry to call a team member by their last name. But still, Alex had to be almost twice as old as Harry-

"Call me Alex, Harry, We're on the same team after all." Harry smiled and nodded, and Alex released his hand.

Mr. Skillridge was grinning cheerfully at the two of them.

"Right. Alex, I was just showing Harry around, we were almost done. If you want, you can go ahead and-"

The bell rang again. Harry turned to look at the middle of the room curiously and a bit nervously. Alex seemed to be really nice, he just hoped that the other team members were like him! With a slight popping sound, two women appeared in the room.

One of them was tall, slim, with light brown, curly hair and warm, chocolate brown eyes. She looked to be about Alex' age.

The other woman was almost a head shorter than the first one, not much taller than Harry. She had light blond hair and brown eyes that looked as though she was always smiling.

"Harry," Mr. Skillridge said, "This"- he pointed to the brown-haired woman- "Is Samantha Strey, one of our Chasers. Sam, this is Harry, our new Seeker."

Samantha stepped forward and shook Harry's hand, a friendly smile on her face.

"Harry, it is so good to meet you. Call me Sam, all my friends do." Harry smiled back, liking Sam immediately. She seemed more quiet to him than Alex and the other woman, but her face showed nothing but honesty and openness. Before he could reply, Alex diverted his attention again by dragging him over to the other new arrival. She was grinning broadly and didn't even wait for Mr. Skillridge to introduce Harry, she grabbed his hand firmly.

"Harry! Spiffing to finally meet you! I'm Ann Lee, by the way, one of the Chasers. It's great that you are on the team now, I was the youngest before. Now the others can't tease me anymore!"

She grinned at Harry in a way that suggested that she wasn't serious. Harry grinned back, deciding that Ann was really nice and would be a good friend.

"It's good to meet you, too!"

Within the next five minutes, Harry was introduced to the other three members of the team;

Gill Kane, one of the beaters, a tall, dark brown-haired, blue-eyed woman in her late twenties, who reminded Harry a bit of his godmother, but was much less strict and had a great sense of humour. She greeted Harry with a firm handshake and a friendly, sincere smile.

Jean Iron, the other beater, who looked to be about twenty-five years old, had black hair like Harry, and grey eyes that seemed to be sparkling with mischief. He reminded Harry somewhat of Fred and George with his stocky build, though he was still quite tall.

The last arrival was a blond-haired, blue-eyed man about Alex', Gill's and Sam's age, the third Chaser on the English National Quidditch Team, who was introduced to Harry as Matthew Curdigan. Both of them greeted Harry just as friendly as the others had, and Harry was beginning to feel at home with the team. Harry realised that Mr. Skillridge must have talked to the team before he had met them and told them not to create a fuss about meeting the 'famous Harry Potter', and he was grateful for it.

When everyone was finally assembled and properly introduced, Mr. Skillridge clapped his hands.

"Right. Let's go straight to practice. Everyone, change clothes in your rooms and then go straight to the field and wait for us."

It was only then that Harry realized that he didn't have his uniform yet. Mr. Skillridge steered him into a small room Harry hadn't noticed before. A single table stood in the room, and on the table lay what had to be Harry's uniform.

It was a blue pair of loose pants, a white, long-sleeved shirt (which had his name on it) and a silver cloak. The clothes were brand new and in Harry's opinion looked awesome.

"Put them one," Mr. Skillridge instructed patiently after allowing Harry to stare for a while. "They are training clothes. For the actual games, you will wear other ones."

Harry came out of his daze and complied quickly. The clothes were slightly too big for him. Mr. Skillridge waved his wand in a complicated star figure and muttered something Harry did not understand. He felt an odd, tingling sensation, and then the uniform fit perfectly.

Mr. Skillridge grinned at Harry's astonished face. "It's a charm that makes your clothes fit perfectly. It will make sure that your clothes are always the right size even as you grow. And now, let's get outside on to the field, I bet the others are waiting. Oh, and Harry- when no one but the team and the Hogwarts staff is around, call me John. The whole team does."

Harry nodded and followed Mr. Skillridge- John- back through the hallway and on to the Quidditch Pitch. The other players stood in a loose circle in the middle of the pitch, laughing and joking together. They noticed Harry and John's approach and fell silent, smiling at their youngest team member.

"Alright, team," John said, "We'll start with training your stamina, as usual. Do five laps around the pitch, slowly!"

Harry and the others started off. After only two laps (Quidditch pitches were big!), Harry thanked his lucky starts that he had always been good at sports in his old muggle school and that he had taken up swimming every morning three weeks before and that he played Quidditch at Hogwarts..... otherwise, he would not have been able to keep up with the other players. As it was, he managed well, and by the end of the five laps was just breathing slightly harder than them.

"You're doing wonderfully so far," Alex remarked as they slowed to a stand in front of their coach. "Most new arrivals don't manage those five laps without falling behind the rest of the team. I didn't." Alex smiled at Harry, and Harry smiled back, deciding that he really liked the Keeper.

"Alright!" John called. "Good work everyone. Now, mount your brooms, we're doing a bit of Chaser/Keeper practice."

Everyone mounted up and flew to their places on the pitch- everyone but Harry, who was staring at his coach in confusion.

"Um, Mr. Ski- I mean, John, what does Chaser/Keeper practice mean?"

John slapped his forehead.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry! I almost forgot that you are new here. Chaser/Keeper practice means that all the members of the team are Chasers, and one is Keeper. The "Chasers" are all on the same team and will pass the Quaffle to each other until everyone has had two shots at the goal, then the next person becomes Keeper.

"I make it a point to train everyone to play every position, because it could be, and has often been in the past, useful in a game. Have you ever played Chaser or Keeper before?"

Harry shook his head.

"Not really," he admitted. "Just in a few games with my friends."

"No matter, then you will learn now. Mount your broom and fly to that free spot beside the top box. Just do your best Harry, no one will bite your head off if you make a mistake. Oh, and watch out for Bludgers, they are still on the game."

"Alright," Harry answered, feeling a little nervous. He kicked off from the ground and quickly took his assigned position.

"Everyone ready?" John called from the ground. When he received seven affirmatives, he blew his whistle and threw the Quaffle into the air. Alex was playing Keeper, and Sam caught the Quaffle. She quickly passed it on to Jean, who passed it to his fellow Beater Gill, who threw it at Harry.

Harry surprised himself by catching the Quaffle easily. It came naturally to him, like catching the Snitch had. He quickly shook himself out of his daze and passed the Quaffle to Ann, who was in a good position to score. She caught it deftly and threw it at the right goal hoop. It was a very good throw, Harry could tell, even Angelina, Katie and Alicia weren't that good, but it was still not good enough for Alex, who was there in a flash and blocked the Quaffle.

The game continued like that for a while. Harry discovered that, while he liked playing Seeker better, he loved playing Chaser as well. It was a fun game with the pace gradually picking up, until the Quaffle was almost a red blur in the air. Alex blocked most of the shots, there were only two he let pass. Suddenly, Harry realized that he was currently in a good position to score. Matthew, who had the Quaffle, noticed it as well and threw the red ball in Harry's direction. Harry caught it, aimed at the left goal post and threw. The Quaffle sailed through the air and right through the hoop, which emitted a metallic 'pling!'. Alex, who had been on the other end of the hoops, never stood a chance.

Harry was extremely surprised to find out that he was good at playing Chaser. He wasn't as good as the real chasers, but better than most of the Chasers at Hogwarts- though maybe not Angelina, Alicia and Katie either. After a while, it was Harry's turn to play Keeper. Gill threw the Quaffle at him and Harry managed to catch it, barely. He felt a little winded and shocked by the force behind the shot, but he guessed that it was Gill's Beater skills showing through.

All in all, Harry performed decently well as a Keeper. It definitely wasn't his favourite Quidditch position, but at least he managed to block about half of the shots. After almost an hour, Harry was beginning to grow bored, and he could see that the other players were as well. Right on cue, John blew the whistle again and the team descended to the ground.

John was regarding Harry with a strange gleam in his eyes.

"Well done, everyone," he said smiling broadly, "That was an excellent practice. Harry, congratulations. You're a natural at Chaser and Seeker. Let's see how you perform as a Beater." Harry could feel himself turning red, suddenly glad that there was no petty jealousy on the team.

"Alright, team," John said, "Get yourselves a club, Beater practice is next." The task this time was to form a circle and to keep the two Bludgers in there. Harry performed well, but he was glad when Beater practice was over. He much preferred playing Seeker, Chaser or even Keeper.

After that, John called them to the ground again.

"Well done, team. And now, it's time for Seeker practice! I'll release the Snitch, and all of you will try to catch it first. Ready? Go!"

Harry kicked off again, feeling excited and a little nervous. He flew high above the pitch, higher than the other players, like Oliver Wood had always told him, and began looking for the Snitch. Twice, he thought he had seen it, but both times it was just a flash of gold reflected from one of the players' watches.

After ten minutes, just as Harry was beginning to grow a little bored, he caught another flash of gold. This one came from the other end of the pitch. Harry strained his eyes and dropped a little lower- and there it was. The Snitch was hovering near the ground on the opposite goal posts.

None of the other players had seen it yet. Casually, slowly, Harry flew closer to the other end of the pitch. The other players were closer to it than he was, he knew that he didn't stand a chance should they spot the Snitch first. Finally, he was only about fifty feet away from the Snitch- but Ann and Gill were still in his way.

Suddenly, Harry was struck by an idea. He whipped his broom around as if he had seen something and dived toward the ground. He could hear six brooms turning sharply in midair and then heading after him at full speed. Harry flew a little slower, allowing them to almost catch up with him- the ground came closer and closer- about three feet above it, Harry pulled up sharply and shot off in the direction of the goal posts where the Snitch was really hovering.

He could hear shouts of surprise and dismay behind him and had to fight back a grin. They had all fallen for his trap. Harry grabbed the Snitch easily and flew back to the rest of the team, who were all sitting on their brooms hovering in midair and gaping at him in surprise.

The sight was so hilarious that Harry burst into fits of laughter.

Ann moaned in dismay. "Can you believe it? I just fell for an abysmally old trick performed by someone who is ten years younger than me!" Jean nodded.

"Ten years? Make that fifteen!" Gill exclaimed, receiving affirmation from Alex, Sam and Matthew.

Matthew stepped forward with a big grin on his face and slapped Harry on the shoulder.

"Welcome to the team again, Harry my boy, that Quidditch World Cup is as good as ours!"

The other team members cheered and congratulated Harry as well. Harry's cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing so much.

When they had all calmed down, John stepped forward again. He shook Harry's hand warmly.

"Well done, Harry, I knew I wouldn't regret offering you a place on the team. Today's practice is almost over, guys, let's play a game of real Quidditch and then we'll call this practice quits! Get on your brooms, chop- chop, I'll release the Bludgers and conjure up the opposite team!"

The next half-hour was spent playing the best Quidditch match Harry had ever seen. He had never had so much fun in his life before, the practice opponents were charmed so that they were always just slightly better than the real team. In the end, Harry caught the Snitch another time, and they won this game and left the pitch in good spirits.

His new team members slapped Harry on the back or shook his hand or even ruffled his hair- much to his indignation- as a good-bye, then they all apparated away. Harry smiled up at his coach. John slung an arm around Harry's shoulders and guided him back to the changing rooms.

"Harry, I wanted to thank you. This is the best practice the team has had in ages. You boost the team's spirit."

Harry blushed at the praise and mumbled that it was nothing. John just smiled and ruffled his hair affectionately. Why did everybody insist on doing that? There was a twinkle in his coach's eyes that reminded Harry very much of Dumbledore. Harry wondered if the two of them were in any way related, not even realising that he had spoken aloud.

John laughed at the question.

"Actually, yes," he smiled, "But it takes most people much longer to figure it out. Albus and I are second cousins, twice removed." Harry was astonished, he hadn't actually thought it to be true.

They stopped walking when they were standing in front of the Quidditch Stadium. John shook Harry's hand warmly.

"I'll see you again on Friday, Harry, practice is from four to eight o'clock, I will be in the entrance hall at 3.45, alright?"

Harry nodded.

"Of course, John. I'll try to be on time next time."

John chuckled and then held up his hand. There was a resounding 'BANG' and the Knight Bus appeared. Harry was relieved that there seemed to be a new conductor, he hadn't been looking forward to meeting Stan Shunpike again.

Mr. Skillridge payed the driver for Harry's ride. Harry was embarrassed and tried to protest, but John would have nothing of it.

"Harry, you are on the team now, and you are still a minor. I am responsible for you as long as you are here, and I have to see to it that you get home safely. Especially since you are Harry Potter and I gave Albus my word. He would have my head if anything happened to you." John declared half-seriously, half-jokingly.

Then he sent Harry on his way. The ride on the Knight Bus was long and boring. A seemingly endless stream of witches and wizards needed to be transported to their destinations, which were very far in-between. Harry realized quite suddenly just how exhausted he was after that day's excitement and almost fell asleep numerous times. When he finally arrived at Hogwarts, it was half past ten and dark outside. The bus stopped right in front of the gigantic iron doors leading to the Hogwarts grounds.

"Thanks!" Harry called out to the driver as he picked up his broom and jumped to the ground.

The iron gate opened on its own when Harry approached. He stepped through, and it shut with a horrible creaking sound. Harry stood still for a while. He had never been on the Hogwarts grounds alone at night before. It was silent, safe for the sound of the wind blowing, the rustling of the leaves in the wind, and the hooting of owls in the nearby forest. Harry remembered the rumours of the animals that were supposed to live in the forest and remembered his encounters with the Acromantulas, the giant spiders.

He shuddered, the exciting, familiar feeling of adventure sending shivers down his spine. Harry chuckled softly to himself. One would think that with everything that had happened in the past four years he would have had enough of adventures.

Still smiling, Harry started his walk towards Hogwarts. The castle was growing in the distance. Harry enjoyed the silent walk back to the only place he had ever considered home in his life, breathing in the clean, fresh, cool air of the summer night and watching the millions of stars twinkling in the sky. He sighed contentedly. It had been one of the best days of his life. 'Definitely good enough for one hell of a Patronus,' Harry thought to himself and grinned.

He reached the Hogwarts front doors soon and pushed them open. The entrance hall was deserted. Harry shrugged and went to open the great hall doors, assuming that everyone would be in there. But the great hall was deserted as well.

Harry frowned slightly, feeling just a little disappointed that nobody was waiting for him. He scolded himself for being so stupid, but somehow he had thought that someone would at least wait for him in the great hall, if not at the front gates. They were probably already in bed..... after all, it would be a busy day with the attack and everything.

Shrugging it off with a small sigh, Harry decided that he should at least try to let them know he was back. He made his way through the deserted corridors of Hogwarts and stopped in front of the stone gargoyle that was guarding Dumbledore's office. "Mars Bars." Nothing happened. Harry frowned. Dumbledore had changed the password!

Harry spent the next half hour trying to guess Dumbledore's password- then he ran out of names for sweets and gave up. Feeling utterly defeated and more than a little annoyed, Harry walked through the silent hallways into the teacher's wing and to his room.

"Elven Clearing," he muttered to Merlin, and the portrait swung open.

Like the other rooms, his was empty. Harry plopped down on the bed with a soft sigh- and heard the sound of crumpling parchment underneath himself. Harry jumped up again and looked at the bed. Indeed, there was a note- or rather a letter, it seemed- lying on the covers. Harry smoothed it out and read:

Dear Harry,

I am sorry that we weren't able to wait for you, but Mundungus
Fletcher accidentally overheard two Deatheaters in Knockturn Alley
talking- Voldemort, it seems, has decided to change the time of the
attack. All of us had to leave hastily for last-minute-preparations.
The attack will take place at three o'clock in the morning.
Nobody but the members of the Order of the Phoenix can enter the
school grounds at the moment, so you needn't worry about your safety.
Harry..... I probably don't have to tell you that it's going to be a
hard battle. There is the possibility that I will never see you again.
Let's keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best, shall we?
Whatever happens tonight, I want you to know that I do love you, very
much.
Sleep now, Harry, Severus wishes for me to tell you that your potion
is on your nightstand as usual. Sirius, Remus, Hagrid and Albus say
hello.

Until tomorrow,
Your godmother,
Minerva

Harry stared at the letter wide-eyed. He couldn't believe what he had just read. Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, then put his glasses on again and reread the letter. The words hadn't changed. Harry felt his knees give away and let himself sink on to the bed.

He sat there for a few minutes staring off into space in shock. They were all gone, and maybe he would never see them again.

Bill and Charlie Weasley, whom he had barely known but who had always been nice to him. Arthur Weasley, who had always treated him like another son. The Hogwarts staff...... Snape, whom he had just started to like..... Dumbledore..... Hagrid..... Remus..... Sirius..... Minerva.....

Harry could feel tears stinging in his eyes. They couldn't die! For the first time in his life he had had godparents, the closest thing to parents he would ever get! He had had a family..... and now, he might never see them again. Harry quickly took off his glasses again and burrowed his face in his hands.

He couldn't give up hope just like that. They were going to be alright, they were going to defeat Voldemort, they were coming back, they wouldn't just leave him like that! Damnit, they wouldn't! Harry wiped away a few treacherous tears that had escaped his eyes and smiled defiantly.

He was not giving up. Harry wished there was a way he could help his fellow Order members. But even as he searched his mind frantically for a possibility, he knew that it was no use. If Dumbledore had wanted him to participate in the attack, he would have waited for Harry. And besides, Harry told himself sensibly, what good could a fourteen-year-old wizard with just four years of training do in a fight against dark wizards? Shoot a tickling charm at them? Make them dance quickstep? Use the jelly legs jinx?

Harry snorted at the mental picture: Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort's right hand man, dancing quickstep with wobbly legs and laughing his head off. Harry sobered quickly though when he remembered that in reality, the fight wasn't that much fun.

Harry got up from his bed slowly and shed his sweat-soaked Quidditch robes. He put them on the dirty clothes pile for the house-elves to collect later. Then, he took a long, hot bath in the river and put on some pyjamas. He figured that he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything anyway, so he might as well get some sleep.

Sighing, Harry uncorked the vial with the Dreamless-but-not-Visionless- Sleep Potion and swallowed its contents in one, big gulp. The vial slipped from his fingers and fell onto the soft, green grass floor, and Harry slumped back into his pillows. The world grew warm and fuzzy, and Harry Potter dreamt.....

~*~

Voldemort sat on his throne overlooking the rows of warriors in front of him. Some of them were Deatheaters, many new recruits. But most were his own creatures: Crossbreeds between several dark races like Acromantulas, Banshees, Chimaera, and Lethifolds..... Together they had created beings like there had never been before, killing machines, loyal only to the dark side. Voldemort had decided to call them Aychryds. There were also some dementors and Acromantulas, as well as some Banshees who had agreed to help in his fight against the so-called light side. Voldemort smiled grimly and shook his head.

Fools they were, all of them. By now they should know that there was no such thing as a light and a dark side. By now they should know that there was only power and those too weak to seek it. Dumbledore and his crew were idealists, all of them. And that would be their downfall.

Voldemort noticed some of the creatures in front of him shift restlessly and supposed that he had kept them waiting for long enough. A quick glance at his permanent time-spell told him that it was a quarter to three. High time for them to get moving.

Voldemort stood slowly and watched with grim satisfaction as the Deatheaters and other beings in front of him cowered inwardly. His horrible smile widened. Oh yes, even after almost fourteen years of absence, of existence without a body, he had not lost his touch. Voldemort stepped down the stairs leading to his throne slowly and began to walk along the rows of his army. There were at least a thousand, all waiting for his command, waiting to fight the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's supporters.

Voldemort stopped in the middle of the room where they could all see him.

"My loyal servants," he began quietly, "It is time. In only about fifteen minutes we will attack the fortress of Azkaban and free those who have been imprisoned in there for fourteen years. Leave no one behind. Free even those who have not supported me in the past, by now they will be bitter or broken enough to join my forces. I want you to show no mercy. Kill everyone who stands in your way. Slaughter every member of the Order of the Phoenix, whether they surrender or not. By the end of this night, I want not one of them to be alive."

The creatures around him cheered. It was a deafening sound, the cheer of a winning army. Voldemort smiled in satisfaction and waited until they had calmed down.

"And now, my servantsss," he hissed, "It is time. This entire chamber is a portkey. Once I speak the incantation, it will take us straight to Azkaban. As soon as we arrive there, it will disappear and we will be standing exactly fifty feet in front of the fortress. Wait for my command before you attack. And now, my loyal servantsss, good luck to you all! Shall the darkness always be with you!"

The army cheered again, and Voldemort muttered the incantation with a grim smile. A strange wind picked up, lightning flashed in front of the windows. Then, with a resounding boom that shook the chamber's walls, it stopped. Utter silence reigned the hall for second, before the walls of the chamber abruptly fell away and the army was standing on the rough stone ground that was the island of Azkaban.

Right in front of them, a gigantic, black stone building raised itself into the air. It radiated coldness and fear, a sure sign of dementors' presences. It was the fortress of Azkaban, the greatest wizard prison ever in existence.

And in front of it stood a (compared to his own army) pitiful gathering of 'light' wizards. In the lead was Albus Dumbledore. Voldemort's smile widened as he recognised his old arch enemy. He was not surprised to find Dumbledore and the Order, the man had always had a way of knowing where the next attack would take place. He gave a mock salute and then nodded to his army.

"Now, my loyal servants, it is time for you to show your worth. Show no mercy, don't let them escape. This is the hour of darkness, this is the start of a new reign, the reign of Lord Voldemort! ATTACK!"

And with a terrible cheer, the army charged forward. But Dumbledore reacted quickly. Voldemort listened with grudging respect as the man gave out orders calmly to his maybe two-hundred people strong defence force.

Then, the two groups clashed, and the fight had begun. Voldemort frowned. The Order was fighting bravely, he had to give them that. Good warriors, all of them. It was a pity that they had to be killed. But as time grew on, Voldemort noticed that the light wizards, especially the youngest who had never fought in a battle before, were starting to tire. Finally, his army was having success. Many of the light wizards fell.

Voldemort smiled delightedly. But his happiness was short-lived. Enraged by the losses of some of their number, it seemed, the light side increased its struggles. Voldemort snarled angrily as one of his Aychryds fell heavily to the ground. To make matters even worse, Dumbledore seemed to realize that they were fighting a losing battle. He fended off the two Deatheaters he had been fighting before and drew himself up to his full height.

"Retreat!" he boomed. "Retreat into the fortress!"

The Order drew back. They fled into the fortress of Azkaban. Voldemort's creatures followed, but they were bred to kill, not to run quickly. Ever so slowly, the Order was gaining ground. The few Deatheaters there were tried to follow them and fired curses, but Voldemort held them back. The Order members had already reached the entrance of the fortress and were closing the gates behind them. He smiled in grim satisfaction.

"Well done, my army," he called to his scattered fighters, "We have won!" Silence descended on the battle field as everyone turned to look at their commander in confusion. After a few moments of silence, Lucius Malfoy stepped forward. "My Lord," he said humbly, bowing deeply. "There is not one- er- being here doubting your eternal wisdom, but may you enlighten us lowly men as to why we have won this battle? The Order retreated into the fortress, they have a great advantage now."

Voldemort smiled horribly. Usually, such a question would have earned a Deatheater a Cruciatus Curse, but that night he was in a good mood and feeling generous.

"Simple, Luciusss," he hissed. "Have you forgotten about the dementors? They know that we are here and have agreed to help ussss in this fight. The Order retreated into the fortress and right into the dragon's den. By the time we go in there, none of them will have their souls left."

There was silence for a moment, then a Deatheater in the back rows began to chuckle. Others began to smile and laugh outright. Within seconds, the island of Azkaban was reverberating with terrible cheers and laughter. The dark side had won the battle. The light side was going down.

~*~

Harry shot up in bed with a gasp. His scar hurt like never before. But at the moment, Harry couldn't care less. They were gone, all of them. His godparents and Dumbledore and Remus, Hagrid and the staff..... and all the members of the Order..... all of them had received the kiss, he wouldn't see any of them again.

Harry let himself fall back onto the bed and buried his face in his hands. He cried silently for a few minutes, cried harder than he had ever before. It was so damn unfair! They had been the light side, they had fought for everything that was right! And yet, they were probably all dead or being killed right then!

Probably..... probably killed..... Harry sat straight up again. What if they were still alive? What if Voldemort had been mistaken? A tiny light of hope began to blossom in Harry again. Maybe, if they had found a way to escape. If they had apparated out or something?

Suddenly, Harry was hit by overwhelming fear. It was so strong, so terrible, that Harry felt as though he was suffocating. But at the same time he felt oddly detached. Like the fear wasn't coming from him, but from someone else..... someone else.... Harry gasped as realisation hit. The bond! It wasn't his own fear he was feeling, it was the fear of the Order Council members! They could sense his emotions, so he could sense theirs!

Harry concentrated hard and tried to open a telepathic link to Remus and his godparents.

*Minerva, Sirius, Remus..... are you there?* Harry thought frantically.

He could feel astonishment seep through the link.

*Harry?*

It was his godmother's voice. Harry felt so relieved that he almost started to cry again.

*Are Sirius and Remus and the others alright?* he thought instead.

He could feel his godmother's worry.

*They are alive for now, Harry. Remus is unconscious because someone has stabbed him with a silver dagger..... You know werewolfs don't react well to silver..... All the Council members are still alive, but we have lost many. Harry..... I'm sorry, but we won't be able to return.*

Harry felt choked again.

*Why not?* Even his mental voice sounded choked.

*There are anti-apparation wards on Azkaban, Harry,* Minerva thought softly to Harry, *And no portkeys or floo powder work here either. We can't go outside because Voldemort and his army are there, and the dementors in here are just preparing to give us all the kiss. I'm sorry, but there is no way for us to escape.*

Harry choked as he tried to hold back a fresh wave of tears.

*It's unfair!* he thought hysterically.

*Harry, I know, but we can't change this. We knew something like this could happen, we were prepared to die, and now that it does happen..... we must accept it. Please stop crying, Harry.....*

Harry broke down completely.

*I can't help it,* he thought back, then let the mental connection drop. It was all so damn unfair! All of them were going to die, and they knew it! They could just stand there until it was their turn to get their soul sucked out..... Harry couldn't stand it any longer, jumped up and raced from his room. He ignored the shouts of his portrait behind him and ran on. Where he was going, Harry didn't know.

He ran blindly through the hallways, tears blurring his vision and splashing down on his pyjama. He stumbled, fell, got up again and ran on. After some time of blindly racing through corridors, Harry realized that he had reached the entrance doors. He pushed them open and ran outside. It had started to rain as if the weather knew what was happening at Azkaban right then.

Harry ran away from the castle. He ran and ran and ran, until his foot caught on a tree root and he fell facedown on to the grass. He made no effort to get up again, weeping angrily into the grass, allowing the rain to soak him.

It was unfair. It was just unfair! Harry could feel his desperation and sadness turn to bitter anger. He slowly sat up. It was not right. What kind of world was this where innocents could be murdered just because some sick psycho wanted them to die? What kind of god allowed two hundred people who were fighting for the good cause to find death, or worse than death, at the hands of people who were striving to gain power over the whole world and do nothing but kill and spread misery?

What kind of deity allowed children to become orphans and women and men to become widows? And why did this deity hate him, Harry, so much that he took away the only chance at a family he had had in fourteen years?

Harry gritted his teeth against the tears of rage and helplessness that were fighting to get out again.

"I don't want them to die," he mumbled to himself, not caring if he was selfish or childish, and turned his face upwards.

"You hear me?" he yelled to whoever might listen. "I don't want them to die! They are my family, the only family I have, and you won't take them away from me! I won't allow you! As long as I live, they are not going to die! I want them to be here with me right now!"

A bolt of lightning crashed down from the sky and struck the ground beside Harry. Harry gasped and jumped backward. But the lightning did not go away. Instead, it expanded until it had the size of the Hogwarts entrance hall. Cautiously, Harry stepped forward.

He had a weird feeling in his stomach. It felt as though someone was pulling him, or rather his energy, away from him. Harry began to feel extremely weak and faint. He dropped to his knees in front of the light space, gasping for breath. But inside the light, suddenly, figures began to appear. With each figure, Harry felt more of his energy drain away. Panicked, he tried to stop it, but found that he couldn't. His sight began to grow fuzzy and Harry clung to consciousness as though it was a lifeline.

After a few, agonizingly long minutes, the feeling stopped suddenly. The light disappeared, leaving about eighty people looking around in confusion. One of them spotted the half-conscious boy kneeling on the ground beside them. He stepped forward in disbelief.

"Harry?"

Harry lifted his eyes. His vision swam badly, even though he was wearing his glasses. But Harry recognised his godfather anyway.

"Hi, Sirius," he managed weakly. "Um, how are you?"

And with that, he felt the last of his strength drain away and allowed himself to slip away into oblivion.

~*~

He fell into a deep, black void. There was nothing but blissful nothingness around him. He couldn't feel, couldn't think, couldn't remember anything. He just existed in the lethargic black substance, floating in darkness.

Sometimes, in a rare moment of clarity, he knew that he was lying on the brink of something. He could not tell what, but had a feeling that he should better not fall over the brink.

Sometimes, when he found the strength, he crawled away from the seemingly endless abyss beside him, in the opposite direction.

Sometimes, when he got far enough, he could see a little light ahead, hear excited voices talking.

Sometimes, he even felt someone holding his hand, or wiping his forehead with something cool and wet.

But every time, his strength drained away from him and fell back down onto the brink.

It frustrated him endlessly, and sometimes he played with the thought of just letting the darkness win and letting himself fall down into the abyss.

But something held him back. He did not know who the voices were, but they seemed to care about him. Hell, he didn't even know who he himself was, but somewhere deep down he knew that it was important for him not let go. He had a feeling that he wouldn't be able to get back to wherever he belonged.

How long he lay there, he didn't know. He had no idea how much time passed. To him, it was eternity and just a second at the same time. Time wasn't important where he was.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he could feel some of his strength return. He could hear the voices talking excitedly. He crawled toward the light with all his might.

The blackness was thick, grasping him, trying to pull him back into the dark void. But he fought with all his mind. He was desperate, anything to get away from the darkness. Body shaking with exhaustion, he continued on. Step for step, inch for inch, he dragged himself into the light.

Until he had reached it, and allowed it to swallow him completely.

~*~

Harry moaned and opened his eyes slowly. White. It was blinding him after all the time he had spent in total darkness, and Harry quickly shut his eyes again.

"Dim the light, it's blinding him," he heard someone say close to his head. He knew that voice, he had heard it before. But his tired brain could not identify it. Even through his closed eyelids, Harry noticed the light dim and cautiously opened his eyes again.

The room was still white, but it was bearable. Who would paint their room all white, anyway? Harry thought sluggishly. Many beds were standing in the room, some of them occupied. Many beds? Oh, he was in the hospital wing! Feeling triumphant after his little victory, Harry turned his head slightly to look at the people around his bed.

The one that had been talking earlier, the old man with a long, white beard and long, white hair, was Dumbledore. Yes, that was his name, the headmaster of Hogwarts. And standing beside him, was..... Snape. Potions Master. His enemy. No, that was not right, they weren't enemies anymore.

Standing behind the two of them was a gigantic man with brown hair and a brown beard who was weeping in what appeared to be happiness. Hagrid, his tired brain supplied sluggishly. Three people were on the other side of the bed. Harry weakly turned to face them. He recognised those three quickly.

The two men were his godfather, Sirius, and his friend Remus. And the woman holding his hand was his godmother, Minerva.

Harry smiled weakly at all of them.

"Um, hi," he said, surprising himself by how weak and scratchy his voice sounded. Before anyone could answer him, another person appeared. It was a short, a little plump woman with a good-natured face and a currently stern and a little relieved expression. After a quick search through his sluggish mind Harry recognised Madam Pomfrey.

The healer pulled a bottle with a strange, purple potion out of her pocket and held it to Harry's lips. Harry supposed that he should probably swallow. It hurt to do so, his entire throat was parched, but Harry complied anyway. The potion slid soothingly down his throat, and Harry suddenly felt a lot better. But another potion was forced into his mouth, leaving Harry no choice but to either suffocate of swallow. Harry chose the latter.

The world grew fuzzy instantly and Harry allowed his heavy eyelids to slide closed. He slipped away into the world of dreams.

~*~

"DAMNIT! HOW COULD THEY HAVE GOTTEN AWAY? HOW? WHO DID THIS!"

To say that the Dark Lord was not in a good mood was an understatement. The Deatheaters in the room cowered in fear. It was the first Deatheater meeting since the half-successful attack on Azkaban and had been several days, but the Dark Lord's fury had not subsided. If anything, it had grown.

Voldemort stopped his pacing abruptly and pointed his wand at a random Deatheater.

"You there! What's your name?"

The man shook visibly.

"L-Lanen, My Lord. Tillus Lanen."

"You were responsible for the prisoners getting away, weren't you?"

The Deatheater, a rather young man who had been imprisoned in Azkaban falsely and who had been faced with the decision of either dying or joining Voldemort's ranks a few days before, flinched and paled.

"M-my Lord, I wouldn't- I would never-"

Voldemort waved his wand angrily.

"Silence! You will be punished for your insolence! Crucio!"

The unfortunate Deatheater dropped to his knees on the cold stone floor, writhing and screaming in pure agony. Voldemort watched with a malicious smile, feeling a little better. He left the poor man under the curse for almost five minutes, then he finally lifted it.

The young man lay on the floor, panting and shivering violently. Voldemort frowned and kicked him in the rips.

"Get up!"

Shaking badly, muscles protesting all the way, the young man complied.

Voldemort drew himself up to his full height and towered over the unfortunate victim.

"And now tell me, boy, did you, or did you not release those prisoners?" The young man broke into cold sweat, eyes searching frantically for a bit of reassurance or help in the Deatheater ranks. But none of them were meeting his eyes, all of them relieved that they weren't subject to Voldemort's rage.

The young man turned his attention back to his master, regretting, not for the first time, his decision of joining the Deatheaters.

"My Lord," he pleaded, "I swear, I did not release the prisoners, I wouldn't know how, please My Lord, I swear-"

"Crucio," Voldemort interrupted almost lazily. This time, he didn't lift the curse so quickly. He left the young man screaming himself hoarse on the floor for almost ten minutes. This time, when he finally lifted the curse, the unfortunate Deatheater began coughing up blood.

Voldemort watched him emotionlessly, knowing that he had destroyed the man's body. He kicked his ribs again, and the young man shakily got to his feet and met his 'master's' gaze defiantly. Voldemort smiled horribly. Ah, the spirit of the young.

"I'll ask you one more time, boy," he growled. "Just one more time. Did you, or did you not release the prisoners!?" Voldemort was almost shouting by the end.

"No," The young man whispered, looking at the floor.

"What was that?" Voldemort asked with narrowed eyes. The young man raised his eyes again.

"I said, no." he repeated firmly. Whispers broke out in the Deatheater ranks. Nobody had ever spoken to Voldemort in that tone before.

Voldemort himself raised his wand. His red eyes were blazing, none of the Deatheaters had ever seen him so furious before.

"Well," he hissed, "It seems that you have not learnt your lesson yet, boy. Maybe another little dose of pain would help?"

The young man kept his gaze glued to the ground. Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

"Crucio!" he spat again. This time, he didn't lift the curse for almost fifteen minutes, watching the man with a small, sadistic smile on his lips. The Deatheaters in the room began to shift nervously, knowing that after fifteen minutes of torture, the poor 'recruit' had probably lost his mind.

When Voldemort lifted the curse, the victim stayed on the ground, panting and shaking.

Voldemort turned him over with his foot.

"For the very last time, boy," he whispered. "Did you release the prisoners?"

The young man shook his head in despair. He hadn't done anything wrong, but he couldn't stand the torture any longer.

"Yes," he whispered.

Voldemort's eyes flashed in triumph.

"Speak up, boy!" he sneered. The young man raised his head weakly.

"Yes!" he screamed. "Yes, Damnit, I did release the prisoners! Anything for this pain to stop!"

Voldemort smirked.

"For your betrayal of the dark side, I will have to kill you," he said with a malicious smile. "Say goodbye to the world, boy! –Avada Kedavra!"

The green light shot from his wand tip and hit the young man squarely in the chest. He was dead in an instant. Utter silence filled the room. None of the remaining Deatheaters dared to move, they were too afraid to draw their master's attention to them. Voldemort smirked and pointed his wand at another random Deatheater.

"You there!" The Deatheater paled and gasped, sweat breaking out on his face.

"M-master?" he stepped forward timidly. It was Goyle. Voldemort waited until he was standing in front of him.

"Goyle," he addressed the shaking man, "Did you see the traitor over there free the prisoners?"

Goyle, shaking with the fear of his master's wrath, nodded obediently.

"Y-yes, master. I saw him freeing the prisoners."

Voldemort stared at Goyle for a few moments and then turned away, smirking.

"Liar," he drawled quietly. Goyle was just as shocked as the rest of the Deatheaters.

"M-my Lord?" he inquired cautiously.

Voldemort turned back around and faced the Deatheaters.

"I called you a liar," he remarked calmly, "Because you are one. All of you know as well as I do that this man-"he jerked his head in the dead body's direction- "did not betray me. He did not free my prisoners. During his torture, he turned to you for help. But none you spoke up for him, out of fear of my wrath."

Voldemort paced the room in front of his Deatheaters.

"When we attacked the fortress of Azkaban, we had an army of a thousand people and creatures. Dumbledore's forces counted barely two hundred men. There were five of us against every one of the enemies. And yet, almost a hundred of their number have survived- and escaped!- while we lost almost four hundred warriors!" Voldemort shouted at the end of his speech. The Deatheaters flinched. Voldemort resumed his pacing.

"How is it that such a small number of people defied our army? How is it that almost half of them escaped with their lives, while we lost four hundred fighters?"

Voldemort stopped in front of a table and put his hands on it, leaning forward and looking each of his Deatheaters in the eyes.

"Because," he answered his own question, "You have no ability to fight as a group. Dumbledore's forces worked together, protecting each other's backs and fighting strong enemies in groups of two or three. While you attacked them on your own, didn't watch out for your companions and generally messed up, like you always do."

Silence followed his little speech. Voldemort went back to his throne and sat down.

"Next time, I expect better from you. Otherwise, more than one of you will find himself in the same condition as that man over there," Voldemort finished menacingly and nodded toward the corpse.

"Someone dispose of his body. You are dismissed."

The Deatheaters didn't need to be told twice. They hastily scrambled out of the room, two of them carrying the unfortunate Deatheater's body. Only when the doors had shut behind them did Voldemort allow himself to sigh in frustration. Why was it that he always seemed to be surrounded by imbeciles?

~*~

Harry woke up with a groan. He hated it when Voldemort tortured people, even if they were Deatheaters. Someone put his glasses on to his face and Harry blinked as the world came into focus.

"Hello, Harry," someone said warmly. Harry looked up. It was Minerva. Before he could say a word, his godmother had suddenly scooped him into a hug. Harry was a little shocked but did not resist. He rather like being hugged by Minerva, it was what he imagined being hugged by a mother must be like. Minerva was the closest thing to a mother he had, anyway.

When his godmother finally released him, eyes glistening with suspicious wetness, her spot was immediately taken by Sirius, who also scooped Harry into a hug. After that, it was Remus's turn to hug him, and then Hagrid's, who squeezed him half to death.

After that, Harry felt rather squashed and regarded the adults around his bed wearily. "Um- is there anything I missed?"

They stared at him, Sirius choking slightly.

"Anything you missed?" he asked in disbelief. "Harry- the attack on Azkaban was on Thursday morning, today is Sunday! You slept for almost four days!"

Harry blinked. Four days?

"Don't you remember, Harry?" Remus asked quietly. "Don't you remember what happened?"

Harry furrowed his brows in deep thought.

"I remember- the Quidditch practice. After that, I went home on the Knight Bus- I arrived late, and none of you were at the castle. I found this a little strange, I was-"Harry broke off. It seemed silly and selfish to him now that he had been disappointed about their absence.

"Never mind. I tried to get in Professor Dumbledore's office, but I couldn't guess the password- so I went back to my room- and I found the letter....."

Harry trailed off again, deciding to leave out his reaction to the letter's contents.

"I took the potion afterwards, and had this vision..... but I assume you saw it, too, since it involved Voldemort?"

They nodded quietly. Harry frowned. His memories were getting a little fuzzy.

"I remember watching the fight, until you all backed away into the fortress. Voldemort thought he had defeated you- then I woke up."

Harry broke off again, deciding that he would leave his emotions out of this completely.

"I remembered the mental bond and tried to contact you, and it worked, but you told me that you wouldn't return-"

Harry stopped and hesitated. This was where his memories became unclear, just pictures with seemingly no connection.

"I- I don't remember clearly what happened next. I think I ran out of my room- I was very upset- next thing I know is that I was outside on the castle grounds."

Harry frowned, remembering that last, and, looking back, highly embarrassing memory.

"I didn't want you to die," he said quietly. "I think I yelled that out, too. I hated whoever might listen at that moment for allowing things like that to happen. I wished with all my might that you all could be back at Hogwarts-"

Harry frowned more deeply.

"And something strange happened. That bolt of lightning hit the ground next to me, and in it there were people. With each new person, I could feel my strength drain away. In the end, the light faded away, and one of you- Sirius- addressed me..... and then, I can't remember anything until I woke up today."

The adults nodded, all of them looking at Harry with a peculiar expression. It was respect and gratefulness mixed with- something else. Harry began to feel uncomfortable under their gazes, which Dumbledore seemed to notice. He sat down on the bed beside Harry and smiled kindly.

"Harry, do you know what you did?"

Harry shook his head, feeling confused.

"I did something?"

Dumbledore chuckled and ruffled Harry's hair- why did everyone insist on doing that?!

"Oh yes, indeed, my dear boy. You invoked the 'Praesidium Sensus' Shield."

Harry felt even more confused. "I did what?"

Dumbledore smiled. "The 'Praesidium Sensus' Incantation. It's Latin for 'Protection of Sentiment'."

Harry just shook his head. Whatever he had done, he wasn't sure that he wanted to hear about it. It sounded embarrassing.

Dumbledore continued.

"Basically, you used the same shield Lily invoked when she gave her life for you. Both of you offered your love, your life energy, so that others, in this case all of us here, could live. The only difference is that Lily did it consciously, while your incantation was based just on your will and strong desire for, as you put it, the only family you have."

Harry stared at his headmaster. "How do you know-"

"The spell, Harry," Remus interjected. "You said that a bolt of lightning struck the ground beside you. Well, in our case, the bolt of lightning came up from the ground and took all of us with it. While we were, er, flying through the air, we could hear what you were- well- shouting."

Harry groaned and shook his head, burrowing his face in his hands. This was probably the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him.

"If I told you that I had shouted all that stuff just because I was angry, not because I meant it, would you believe me?"

He could hear several chuckles around him.

"Sorry Potter," Professor Snape spoke up, not sounding sorry at all, "This incantation requires utmost honesty. If you had not meant what you said, the shield would not have worked."

Harry just sighed and nodded.

"Wait a moment," he said suddenly, letting his hands drop, "Why was I unconscious for four days?"

"Ah yes," Dumbledore nodded. "Harry, I told you that the incantation basically makes you give up your life energy in order to help others. Lily used it to protect you with her life energy, and you used it to summon us away from danger. But since there were so many you summoned at the same time, the incantation drained you of most of your energy. There was a bare minimum left. One more person, and you would have died. We came very close to losing you that night, Harry."

Ah, Harry thought. That explained the hugs.

"Harry," Snape said quietly, for once using Harry's given name, "You saved our lives. Had you not interfered, even unconsciously, we would all have been dead. We are in your debt."

Harry's head snapped up suddenly.

"I almost forgot, how did the fight go? We know from that last vision that Voldemort lost almost four hundred fighters. How many.....?"

The people around his bed lowered their heads.

"We lost many," Sirius said sadly. "There were only eighty-six Order members left, the Council included. The attack on Azkaban was a heavy blow. All of the Council members survived, though some barely. Remus was, as you know, struck by a silver dagger and was unconscious for two days. Arabella is still at St. Mungo's, but she will be alright. The one that was hurt the most was you, really."

Harry nodded, feeling both saddened and relieved.

"How did the ministry cover things up this time, though? Azkaban has fallen, the dementors have joined Voldemort, so have most of the prisoners. There are so many dead on both sides, how did Fudge explain that?"

"Ah," Dumbledore said, his eyes suddenly twinkling brightly. "That must be the one good thing coming from this attack. Fudge went to the island of Azkaban with a group of Aurors for investigation. When he realized that Azkaban had really fallen and found all the Deatheater corpses, he suffered a nervous breakdown. Here, this is the article that was in the Daily Prophet the morning after the attack."

Dumbledore handed Harry a newspaper. The headline read:

"YOU-KNOW-WHO BACK- AZKABAN FALLEN- MINISTER RESIGNS

This morning, at exactly three o'clock, writes Jake Warrington,
special correspondent, Voldemort, along with a force of 1000
Deatheaters and beasts, attacked the fortress of Azkaban. The Order of
the Phoenix under the leadership of one Albus Dumbledore knew of the
attack and defended the wizard prison bravely.
"It was hopeless," Kingsley Shacklebolt, member of the Order Council
and survivor of the attack, tells the reporters. "We were outnumbered.
The Order only had about two hundred people, while Voldemort had one
thousand. After only fifteen minutes, we were forced to retreat into
the fortress, where the dementors were waiting for us."
The dementors, soul-sucking creatures that guarded the fortress of
Azkaban, had apparently agreed to join You-Know-Who's forces before
the attack even started, and as soon as the Order members entered
Azkaban, prepared to give them The Kiss.
"I don't know what happened next," Shacklebolt continues, "Some kind
of lightning bolt appeared out of nowhere and whisked us away. When it
released us a few minutes later, we were on the Hogwarts grounds, and
Harry Potter was lying on the ground next to us. He was unconscious."
Shacklebolt could, or would, not say anymore on that matter. Fact is,
that not-even-fifteen-year-old Harry Potter has somehow single-
handedly saved the members of the Order of the Phoenix.
"I ain't not care about what th' Skeeter woman says 'bout 'Arry
Potter," a bystander comments, "'e's a good lad and 'e's saved us all
more than once."
Harry Potter has been accused of being a dark wizard by Minister Fudge
and Ms. Rita Skeeter a few weeks ago because he told the world of You-
Know-Who's return.
Minister Fudge ignored both young Harry and Hogwarts's esteemed
headmaster Albus Dumbledore's warnings. The attack on Azkaban is the
result.
"Azkaban has fallen," Shacklebolt tells us with a frown, "There's
nothing we can change about that. Voldemort has released the prisoners
and has forced them to join him. His army has grown a lot."
Confronted about this matter, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, who
just recovered from a nervous breakdown, says:
"You-Know-Who is indeed back. It was foolish of me not to believe
Dumbledore and Harry Potter. I apologise to the two of them for any
inconveniences I may have caused them. Furthermore, I would like to
announce that I am resigning from my post. Yes, you heard correctly.
The outcome of this attack is partly my fault, I feel that I can't
deal with the situation anymore. I appoint Dumbledore as the temporary
minister, he may set the date for new elections. And now excuse me, I
would like to go drown myself."
It is to say that nobody held the ex-minister back.
Furthermore, the Daily Prophet wishes all the best to our new
temporary minister Albus Dumbledore and our young hero Harry Potter.
May Minister Dumbledore deal with the situation at hand better than
our previous minister did."

Harry lowered the newspaper.

"Whoa," he said in awe.

Sirius grinned.

"You were lucky, Harry," he remarked, "This article was written by a reporter who is obviously quite smitten with you. Your reputation is practically completely cleared."

Harry smiled, that was a relief.

"And the Order?" he wanted to know. "How many new recruits are there?"

Sirius smiled even more widely.

"This article definitely helped. There was an uproar in the magical community. In the past four days we had almost seven hundred new recruits. That's still fewer than Voldemort has, but it's more than we had in the beginning. More people are joining as we speak."

Harry nodded and fell back into his pillows with a sigh. He felt exhausted after all the talking. Madam Pomfrey came over with a sleeping potion.

"Drink this, Mr. Potter," she ordered. "It's just a dreamless-sleep potion. You will wake up in time for the meeting tomorrow."

"Meeting?" Harry asked in confusion.

Hagrid answered.

"There's a meeting o' the Order o' the Phoenix tomorrow, Harry," he said with a kind smile. "You don' wan' to miss it, righ'?"

Harry smiled back.

"Right. See you tomorrow!"

He gulped the contents of the bottle down. The world grew warm and fuzzy again, Harry sunk back into his pillows and shut his eyes with a contented sigh. He felt someone remove the bottle from his limp fingers and drew the covers up to his chin. Then, the tiredness overwhelmed Harry and carried him into oblivion.

**************************************************************************** **************************************************************************

A/N: Oof... Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and Merry Christmas!!!!!!!!

See ya,

Felinity ^_^