Funeral Pyre, Chapter Two- Going Underground

Azkaban was a pretty miserable place.

Even with the reforms of Lady Granger, the prison was still surrounded by dark clouds all year round. Rumour had it that the weather-controlling powers of the dementors had been synthesised and was now being used without the use of the creatures, who had long since been destroyed.

A group of guards huddled together on the turrets of the roof. This was always the worst part of their shift; at least in the corridors of the prison itself, it was dry and fairly warm. But up here, the elements rolled over them, alternatively soaking them with rain and freezing them with cold winds.

One guard passed a cup of tea to another, who had just come up from below. All of them were counting down the hours until they could switch with the downstairs crew. It'd be lovely to get inside. There was only prisoner in the whole place at the moment, although only the higher-ups seemed to know who the prisoner actually was. There were rumours that they were a death eater who had someone survived in the intervening years.

The guards who actually saw the prisoner never revealed it, despite all the other guards constantly hassling about it. The former always just said that it was more than their jobs were worth to answer.

'I don't see why we can't let the sunlight in,' muttered one guards, shivering under his cloak. 'It's not like a bit of warmth would help the prisoner escape.'

'You're new here, that's why,' replied another. 'Orders from high up; the prison needs to be kept dark and cold at all times. The resemblance to when the dementors had the run of the place is one of the ways the prisoners stay subdued.'

'One single prisoner isn't going to be able to take on all of us without a wand.'

'Orders are orders. Although I know what you mean; it's bloody freezing out here. At least the prisoner's not out in all weathers like we are#'

'What's that?'

The guards looked up, and their eyes were suddenly blinded by a burning light. A gap had broken in the ever-present cloud cover, and a group of figures was flying towards the prison on brooms.

The guards raised their wands to fire but, with a whoosh of strong wind, the wands were sent over the edge of the fortress.

The lead figure of the invading forces landed on the rampart, and stared down at the guards. He was tall, redheaded and with a pair of piercing blue eyes.

'Merlin's beard…' breathed a guard. 'How… he's supposed to be dead…'

The redhead jumped down from the rampart, but he still towered over the guards.

'Get out.'

The guards fled.

The figures on brooms surged downstairs into the prison. Everywhere, guards were fleeing. Leaving the way unopposed to the single, solitary prisoner kept in Azkaban.

The door of the occupied cell was blasted off its hinges and hit the opposite wall.

Inside the cell, Harry Potter stumbled to his feet, struggled to see through the dust cloud that the door had kicked up. A figure stepped into the cell towards him, and Harry's mouth fell open.

'R-Ron? How-'

'No time to explain,' said the redhead, pointing his wand at Harry's chain, which unlocked and fell to the floor. 'We're getting you out.'

'I… I saw you die. How…'

'Later.'

He grabbed Harry by the hand, and pulled him out of the cell. A great cheer went up from the resistance fighters stood around outside.

'Ron…' Harry said, as he followed the redhead back up to the roof. 'Granger won't accept this; I'm broken out of here dozens of times, and she's always tracked me down. Three years after she became minister… she ordered me executed, but the underling didn't go through with it. Said that Granger had decided it would be more of a punishment for me to watch her regime prosper.'

'Probably guilt. She thinks she's a monster, but maybe she can't quite go the whole hog.' Ron replied, stepping out onto the roof. 'But this time, you've got me to help you.'

Ron raised the deluminator above his head, and the clouds surrounding the prison disintegrated. Sunlight poured onto bricks that hadn't known it for centuries.

'But…' Harry gaped. 'How…'

Ron turned, and grinned at him.

'I've got a theory; the deluminator of each reality was given to each Ron, as a gift from Dumbledore, right? So… maybe only a Ron can use it properly?'

'So… you're not the Ron I know?'

Ron placed a supportive hand on Harry's shoulder.

'No. But I will help you as best I can.'

Harry nodded.

'I miss him. Granger brought him back from the dead, and then… and then…'

Ron pulled Harry into a hug and the bespectacled man broke down completely.

'She killed him!' he sobbed. 'She actually killed him again! The man she loved… my best friend…'

Ron held tightly onto Harry, and eventually the shorter man pulled away, rubbing his eyes.

'What… what are we going to do, now?'

Ron stared at him, his hands still on Harry's shoulders.

'Now… we make Ron proud. He never wanted this dystopia that Granger created. So, now, we start dismantling this regime. Permanently.'


'Lady Granger, the ministry has been overrun!'

The Dark Lady stared down at the reports covering her desk.

'How?' she exclaimed. 'People don't just up and leave their desks without orders!'

'But they have, my lady!' cried Matthews. 'Throughout wizarding Britain, people are throwing their lots in with the rebels!'

Granger sat down at her desk. She just didn't understand it. This new figure leading the resistance seemed to understand what move she'd make three moves beforehand! It was impossible! No one understand her that well. Even Potter couldn't do it.

Only one person understood her that well, and he was buried under several feet of earth near the Burrow.

Granger's face went white.

No. It… it couldn't be true. She'd buried him! She'd seen the earth being laid on him! How could he have returned?

Around her, various commanders were reading out reports, sounding increasingly more frantic with every update.

'We must regroup; the rebels have already captured Diagon Alley!'

'Groups of people on brooms have been seen emerging from Floo points direct from France!'

'Wizards and witches are Apparating over from the Irish Republic!'

'The muggle prime minister is demanding answers!'

'My lady, what do we do?'

Granger looked up from her desk. Her commanders were staring at her, looking like headless chickens in their sheer terror.

'Get my cloak.'

'What? My lady-'

'Bring me my cloak, Matthews!'

An underling scrambled forward, holding her cloak.

'But… what do we do?'

Granger didn't respond to Matthew's question. Instead, she simply left the room. The shouts of despair followed her out, but she paid them no attention. With a crack, she disapparated.


'What are we going to do?' cried Matthews. 'Lady Granger has left without a word, and the rebels seem to be reaching deeper and deeper into our-'

The doors of the room were blown off their hinges.

In the resulting scuffle in the dust-filled room, several underlings ended up with black eyes and a few broken bones. After they were tied up and carted out, Ron and Harry walked into the room.

'Looks like we missed her.'

Ron nodded, staring down at the maps on the desk, along with the various reports of escalating rebel activity over the past week. The rebellion had already taken all of Wales and most of Western and Central England, with the South coastline being taken by reinforcements from the previously-exiled wizarding families staying on the continent-

A vision came over Ron.

A man, with a wand pressing against Harry's neck. It lasted barely a second before it faded, but Ron processed it instantly. His latent seer abilities had gotten better as he'd gotten older. Granger was such a bad strategist that he didn't need visions to overcome her plans. However, for battles, this visions came in very handy. Speaking of which, as there was usually a minute-or-so head start on reality, the vision would be coming true in three, two, one…

'Got you, rebel scum!'

Harry was pulled a few paces backwards from the desk, a wand pressed up against his neck.

'Now,' growled the assailant, into Harry's ear. 'You're gonna come quietly with us to Lady Granger-'

'Wrong person.'

The assailant was blasted away from Harry and crashed to the floor.

Ron was staring at the man, his wand outstretched. Non-verbal magic. Ron seemed to have something of a gift for it.

'They always do go for you in this reality too, don't they?' the redhead said, rolling his eyes. 'Yes, I'm sure the skinny bloke with glasses is more of a threat than the huge ex-auror with combat training. You'd think Granger would have picked more intelligent underlings…'

He pulled out the deluminator and clicked it. A picture was transmitted against the wall.

'Where to now, then?' Harry said, conjuring ropes to tie up the unconscious man. 'We've got most of the populated areas of wizarding Britain. So… were does Granger head to re-group?'

'Hogwarts, by the looks of it,' Ron said, staring up into the picture the deluminator was showing. 'Her allies are fleeing. Looks like she's making a last stand in the castle.'

'It's been abandoned for years.'

'In that case, we won't need to worry about anyone getting caught in the crossfire. Or Granger using the students as hostages.'

'To Hogwarts, then?'

Ron looked at him, blue eyes set in determination.

'Time to end this.'