CHAPTER 11 : Break out
Harry had to hurry. Arthur had sent the answer right away, and by the evening, they received confirmation from the acting Minister. Rookwood would stay at the infirmary for five days, just enough time for the Ministry to arrange his transportation and the hearing, as well as setting up the post-confessions arrangements.
So Harry had four days to figure out how to snatch him from under his allies noes. He could not ask to be part of the escort team, such a job would make him unable to disappeare unnoticed.
First of all, he needed to know how they would transport the prisoner. The only thing he knew about Azkaban is that it was in the middle of the North Sea, a couple of miles away from the shore, and that, similar to his school, no Portkeys nor Apparitions were possible. So that left a couple of options. They could use brooms from the sea to London, but the trip would take long, and how could they make the prisoner fly without risking him to either fall or try to run away? So he felt that this was out of the realm of possible. The more obvious to him was that they would first bring him to the shore, out of the prison's limitations, and then either Portey or Apparate to the Ministry. Portey's could be messed with, or replaced. That much he knew, with be bitter memories of Crouch Junior's nasty trick that brought him and Cedric to Voldemort. So maybe, maybe, if they did use a Portey, he could return them the favor. If they sticked to Apparitions, which sounded the safest to him, then he would have to grab him during the transport. Now, how to fish for those information without raising suspicions?
"Arthur ?", he asked as he was putting his jacket on, ready to ride back to Grimmauld Place, "if I need to study and prepare for, let's say, and interview for an Auror position, or anythig else?"
" You mean, like a library?"
"Yes, exactly. Now that I'm not at Hogwarts anymore, I realize that it was indeed very useful. And please, never let Hermione know i said that."
He chuckled, very aware of what Ron called "her absolute obsession for books".
"Well, Hogwarts library is by far the biggest in the country. Maybe even the biggest in Europe. But if I need something that I can't find at the Ministry, I go to Oxford. They have quite a collection as well, especially in everything regarding magic laws or history. I don't know about spells or Auror training, though."
Harry grinned. That was perfect. His coat on, the warming spell effective, a last loving kiss to Ginny, he grabbed his broom, and took off. The wooden handle in his hand felt good. It was pretty much the only thing that could take the knife out of his mind. Flying was nothing alike, not even a second nature, but more like the only times where he felt truly, fully, like himself. Not, that is not enterily correct. Those were the only times where he felt anything but himself. He became air, frozen wind and speed. He felt like the god of the sky, gone was Harry Potter, gone was The-Boy-Who-Lived. He was Freemdom itself.
Lost in his thoughts, he arrived at his door quicker than he expected, welcomed by Kreacher and his usual bad mood, and enjoyed a warm shower before dropping in his bed. He would have liked to think about Ginny before falling asleep, her body and her skin against his, flashbacks of the few alone time they had together during the summer. But no matter how hard he tried, his mind always rushed back to Rookwood and every ideas he could come up with.
He woke up late, too late for his taste. The breakfast Kreacher had prepared for him had gone cold, and the sun was high in the sky. He wanted to be at Oxford before lunch, but he obviously would be late, as the flight would take a couple of hours.
Oxford was famous, even among the magical communities. As it produced a fair share of Great Britain's greatest muggle minds, if not the world's best, it attracted quite a few wizards and witches who thought of themselves as "scientists". Potion makers, spells creators, history reasearcher, the few curious ones turned into a community, then a magical town, living in parralel of the muggle university. Hogwarts was always the only real place of education for the magical youth, but Oxford was the place to go if you wanted to dedicated your long life to knowledge.
The entrance to the magical town was similar to the access to Diagon Alley. Near the backdoor of one of the secondary building of the university, he got his wand out, and tapped in a seemingly random order on a couple of old bricks. Thanks Arthur for the tips.
But unlike Diagon Alley, the bricks did not start moving around to open a passage. Instead, everyting around him started to falter, like a reality was just a piece of silk being removed for its support. Lights flickered, and soon everything around him had changed, expect the door and the old bricks in front of him. Magic was so incredible, he thought again. The most brilliant minds in the muggle world would explode at the very thought of the physical implications of this man-made parralel universe.
"Hello, Sir" said a voice behind him. " Could you please state your name and the reason of you visit in Magical Oxford?"
Startled, Harry turned around, his wand still in his hand, ready to blast any potential foe. Instead, he found a house elf, dressed with a fancy red coat and a matching hat. It reminded him a lot of the uniforms you could find worn by the personnel in very expensive hotels.
"Judging by the look in your eyes, Sir, I think it best to explain. My name is Alph, and I am in charge of welcoming strangers in our town. Those clothes are not mine, but belong to the City. If I scared you, or displeased you in any way, please accept my deepest apologies and feel free to report to the town concil for any punishment you would see fit."
"Calm down, Alph" said Harry with a grin. This elf's manner clearly had nothing to do this Dobby's, or any elf he ever met. "I don't need to complain about anything, I was just surprised. My name is Harry Potter, and I am here because I am searching for informations about transportation their safety protocols."
Hearing the name, the elf's eyes grew wider and wider.
"Master Potter! You are making us an extraordinary honor! Visiting us, here in Oxford! Alph is at your entire service, Sir!"
Another flashback of Dobby crossed his mind, and he turned it away with a quick shake of his head.
"Thank you Alph. I just need you to point me to right place so I can do my researches."
"Of course, Sir! Follow me! Mistress Dawson would be the right person to talk to. She knows a great deal about portkeys and brooms. She lives nearby, and should be most glad to have you as her guest, Sir!"
Suprisingly, she was, even if he was an unexcepected guest the day after Christmas. By the look of her house, her table and everything else all around, she did not stop working at all for the holidays.
"I am working with Nimbus to create their next broom" she explained right after the introductions. "We want to make the Firebolt look like a children toy, but I can't find the right shape just yet. Please, just sit here, while I finish writing this down."
Harry sat on the old chair, an amused smile on his lips. She had barely looked at him, she reminded him of the crazyness of the magical world, back when he was just eleven, when everything looked nuts and everyone was weird.
After ten minutes, she finally sat down in front of him, and studied him from the toes to the head. When her gaze reached his scar, she froze for two seconds, and smiled.
"Well, I guess that if I need the opinion of a true broom-rider, I have what I need just here, have I not, Mister Potter?"
"I would be thrilled to help however I could, Miss Dawson, especially for the next Nimbus. Even if this is not the reason of my presence here. And please, call me Harry."
Claire Dawson looked like she was fifty, maybe sixty, but magic being involved, she could be more than a hundred. Her gray hair were messy and clearly lacking attention, but it would not take away the magnificence of her green eyes, sparkling with life and mischief. She was as tall as Harry, wearing a black robe covered in dust and small specks of wood.
"So, Harry, what brings you to Oxford, and more specifically to my humble house?"
" Well I had some questions about the means of transportations in the wizarding world, to, let's say, understand a bit more some things that happened to me over the years. Since I do not have access to Hogwarts Librairy as freely as I had over the past years, I've been adviced to come to Oxford. One things leading to another, here I am."
"So what is your question then? And may I offer you some tea? or biscuits? I dont have guests very often, would you notice, but I do remember my manners."
Before she could get up, Harry declined with a simple gesture and another smile.
"What I would like to know is" he started, "what the safest way to travel is. Not regarding accidents or things like that, but regarding attacks. Ambushes, tricks from ill intentionned peoples, this kind of things".
"Oh I see" she whispered. "Definitely not broom related indeed. Well, it could, but using brooms is the slowest way of traveling long distances, as you might know. And if the stories are right, you would already know all about being sittin' ducks, or should I say flying ducks, out in the sky. I guess you already narrowed it down to Portkeys and Apparition, am I correct?"
He nodded.
"Well this is a clever thinking, young boy. Both have indeed their pros and cons. You see, Apparition is better in specific situations, since it is very flexible. From here, I could decide to go either to the other side of the room, or the other side of the city. Even the other side of the country, if I was powerfull enough. So in that way, this is very hard to predict, and very much useful to escape enemies, for example. However, as you have been taught already, accidents might happen. Splinching being the most common one, but it could be far worse. Also, it can be disturbed by outside magic. If you were to get hit by a spell at the same time, the results could be disatrous. Or if I were to, let's say, force you to Apparate with me, your own force of will and magic could very well disrupt the whole process and kill both of us. Which is why, if your not a highly skilled master, it is very dangerous to drag someone with you in the process, unless you can take him or her by surprise, or the person is willing to let you lead the way."
"I see. I guess it leaves Portkeys, then."
"Not necesseraly. The inconvenient with Portkeys is that they need time to be prepared, and can only be set up to one and only one destination. In that way is it predictable. It can also be tampered with, as, well, you might already know given your... history. But if you have the time, it is by far the best safest way to travel, especially in group. Also, it is easy to forget about the Floo Powder, wich is highly reliable, but well, you need a chimney at each end. And to be sure of what's waiting for you on the other side. Finally, you also have all the muggle-inspired devices. Trains, Flying cars, the Knight Bus, magical ships, etc. "
"Hum..." muttered Harry. He had indeed forgot about that. From what Mrs Dawson just said, it felt safe to assume that they would use a Portkey, that seemed to be the most obvious. But from where? And where to?
"Are you preparing to enter the Auror Academy?" she suddenly ask, taking Harry by surprise.
"Maybe. I don't know yet."
"This is the sort of thing you would learn there, you know. So why he rush?"
There was a slight suspicious tone in her voice, that startled the young wizard. Had he been too straigth-forward? In that case, asking her about Azkaban would be too risky. He scoffed and answered :
"No, as I said, I don't even know if Auror is the right path for me. I feel like I have been through enough action for the rest of my life. No, as I mentionned earlier, I just want to... understand. It's more than that actually. I just... There's not much I trust anymore. I'm afraid of touching anything, going anywhere. I have been tricked so many times before... I figured that if I actually start understanding things before they actually happen to me, I might, you know. Feel safer."
Her traits softened and a new smile reached her lips.
"I understand", she said slowly." I have always been lucky enough to be spared by all the monstruosities of the wars. Oxford was never much the focus of the attention for anyone, I guess. I therefore tend to forget that, despite your young age, you already went through so much. Listen, I hope that those information might be of any help. But I might have something else for you."
She got her wand out of her pocket, and Harry could not refrain his instinct to reach for his. She picked up his reaction and took a step back.
"I see. Indeed, you went trough much, Harry. I'm sorry, I should have warned you. There is nothing to worry, I will just show you a spell that might be useful for you. Are you familar with the human presence detection spell ?"
"Not as much as my friend Hermione, but yes, I am".
Vectura Revelio.
Nothing happened.
"Is it supposed to do something?" he asked.
"Exactly the same thing as the previously mentioned spell, except that it will reveal portkeys" she explained with a smile. "This way, you should be able to make sure nothing is trapped around you, if you ever feel the need."
A giant grin appeared on Harry's face. He could not have dreamed of a better tool to spot the Aurors!
"Thank you very much, Mrs Dawson! That will help tremendously! Thank you againm I can't say it enough! Now, I should leave you be, it seems you had a lot of work to do before I barged in."
"Nonesense, my young friend" she protested with a laugh. "Although I do appreciate the politeness. But if you don't mind, would you be so kind as to give me your opinion on..."
"The handle looks a bit too short. Resting your feet on the footrests is always great bor balance, you know that already, but a bit of curving for the thighs would help a lot for the confort."
He left the house as she was looking onto her project, excited by those new insights.
"Alph?" he asked stepping outside and shivering under the winter's cold.
The elf popped next to him, asking for its order.
"Take me to the librairy, please."
"Searching for something specific, sir?"
"The history of Azkaban."
If Alph was surprised, he showed nothing of it. He just nodded, and let him to the biggest building in sight, slightly limping next to him.
After hours of research, until the night had fallen and dinner time drove most of the public away, he did not have much to go, but that was enough. The prison was in the middle of the North Sea, that much in already knew. The history of its construction led him to deduce that the closest shores would be somewhere in the Yorkshire and that some wizard who conducted experiments on the prisoners in the XVIIIth century lived and died in a place called Warren Mill.
According to the giant map of the country painted on a table in the center of the librairy, Warren Mill was just south of a national nature reserve, and that sounded like a perfect place to transport dangerous people without anybody around to notice, muggles or wizards. It was nothing more than a bet, one he could not really afford to lose if he wanted to have a single shot at getting his hand on the prisoner. He did not have the time, nor any idea for a plan B, so this would have to do.
He spent the following two days preparing the rest of his plan, how to grab Rookwood and what to do with him, and the day finally arrived. He sent Kreacher away with orders, thought of alibis, prepared the room. The days went on like a flash, until it was time.
He sent an owl to Arthur just a couple of minutes after the sun just rose, whishing him good luck for the day, hoping he would not have to face him on the field, and that this simple attention would help redirect suspicions if any were to happen.
He grabbed his broom, his jacket, his wand and of course, his father's cloak. Finally, he carefully stuffed in his pocket a little round object that he had acquired the day before, thanks to Kreacher and Fletcher.
Flying all the way to the Lindisfarme Reserve took him a couple of hours, and his hands were freezing on the handle despite the heating charm. He dodged a couple of water-loaded clouds, but hoped he did not wasted too much time, as he did not have any idea when the prisoner would actually been moved. Morning would make sense, if they planned to interogate him during the afternoon. When he reached his destination, he covered himself with his cloak to protect himself from wandering eyes. Keeping the cloak on was really hard with the wind and the speed, and it became even harder when he started casting the detection spell.
The whole area was as flat as a book, the parts not covered in ice or snow where either muddy or bushy.
He had to slow down so much that he pretty much ended flying on-the-spot.
Vectura Revelio.
Vectura Revelio.
Vectura Revelio.
Nothing. After an hour of trying, his patience was running low and and frustration going strong. He was cold, he was wet, tired, and he was getting more and more desperate. His magic was thinner the minute.
Vectura Revelio.
He felt it. A thin connection, like the touch of a hair against the back of his hand, a fragile string pulling his brain very, very slightly toward a direction. He clutched his cloak even more, and moved slowly, repeating the incantion again and again. The bond became stronger, the direction clearer, but the magic costs was quickly tiring him down. He felt close to actually falling of his broom when he got the spot. Finally.
He landed behind a bush, and observed. He felt the cold of the snow through the fabric of his boots and did his very best to ignore the very displeasing feeling of his trousers getting wet.
Two men were standing on an earth mound barely three meters square that stood out of the water, ten meters away from the shore. Between them, an old teapot. Harry waited.
Suddenly, a third man popped next to them, almost falling into the water because of the lack of space. The red in his hair send shivers down Harry's spine. Arthur Weasley. Of course he would have to be here... But where was the prisoner?
He appeared not so long after, on an old-looking wooden boat, propulsed by whatever magic Harry could imagine. Even from far away, Harry could see how thin, tired, pale and sick Rookwood was looking. But his real concerned was the two men standing up next to him, keeping balance with a surprising ease. Harry was pretty sure those were two highly skilled Aurors, the Ministry would not dare to send any less. He took the round object from his pocket and squeezed it hard, hoping it would be powerful enough, as he had not planned for six people to take down.
It was a Sleep Bomb. Something very simple in reality, the magical principe of infusing a spell into a object was very common. But turning one into a weapon could be highly illegal, that's why he had Kreacher tracked down Fletcher, for the third time, although this time, the petty bandit did not disapprove that much. The order was simple : scout the black market for an item that could put multiple people to sleep at once, and he had only one day to do so. But with the promise of a lot of Galleons, Mundungus Fletcher delivered, and came back with this round ball of metal, barelly bigger than a Golden Snitch. The thief had explained that it was infused with a powerful version of the Bewitched Sleep spell, similar to the one used on Ron and Hermione when they were submerged in the lake, during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. The deviced just had to be brought in range of the target, and triggered with a simple spell.
His memory's wiped, and his pocket full, Fletcher had left Harry's House with a big smile on his face.
Now it was the time of Truth.
Wingardium Leviosa, he whispered. And the ball lifted in the air. Focusing his mind, trying to stay hidden as much as he could under his cloakwhile the prisonner and his guards were reaching the mound, he drove the device above them, unnoticed.
Rookwood got out of the boat and was immediatly grabbed by the two people waiting for him. Meanwhile, Arthur Weasley turned around, maybe because he was looking out for an external threat, maybe because it was too hard for him to look at his son's murderer.
Detonmium. Harry said, keeping the ball in his wand's aim.
The Levitation spell fell off, and so did the bomb, falling in the middle the six men, next to the tea pot.
"What the..."muttered one of them.
He did not get to finish, as the ball quickly turned to red, and exploded with great force. Harry had expected something like a gas maybe, or a magical wind, but nothing like that. Without any fire, the detonation blew everything and anyone away, and was clearly destined to more than just putting people asleep. Two of the men were thrown into the air like broken dolls, while Arthur, the furthest away from the blast, still turning his back, was cast into the water. Augustus Rookwood was pushed back into the boat.
"Fuck!" cursed Harry. This was not at all was he had planned, but he reacted nonetheless.
Accio Augustus Rookwood! he yelled, his wand in the air. The body of the man quickly flew across the air, above land and water, and came to hit him with full force. Harry barely managed to dodge thanks to his exceptionnal Quidditch reflexes.
"What the hell?" Rookwood clearly had no idea what was happening, and Harry would not give him a chance. He punched him in the jaw, twice, to make sure he would be knocked out, briefly losing his cloak in the process. It hurt, the pain jolted through his joins, but he felt the satisfaction on the impact and the sight of a tooth flying off. He grabbed his broom, put his wand back in his pocket, made sure his cloak was still somewhat covering his head, and as he heard Arthur cursing, swimming in the cold waters, and his colleagues trying to react, he apparated away.
He landed hard on the wooden floor of his "work room". His bones protested and ached at the impact, a couple of muscles probably bruised. Next to him, the muffed sound of the incouscious body hitting the floor resonated between the wall.
"What happened" he tought. "This was supposed to put them to sleep. No blow them into the skies! Fletcher! That goddamn rat, he tricked me, gave me some shitty gear. He will pay for that!"
But maybe he was cheated as well, the black market was not known for the honesty of all its participants. Maybe it was best and safer just to leave him alone. That would anyway be a matter for another time.
He tried to get up, checking the damage on his body and his clothes, when a thought hit him in the face. Arthur. Was he hurt? Did he hurt Mr Weasley?
He focused, tried to remember. He heard him yelling, heard the splashes in the water, of that he was sure. But was it really him? Could it have been one of the other four men? It sounded like his voice, but maybe he was just trying to convince himself. Fear grabbed him by the guts, while the hand of guilt choked him. How could he ever forgive himself if Arthur had anything more than a cold because of the icy waters? It was not, not, not! supposed to go like this! Nobody but the bad guys were supposed to get hurt!
Speaking of bad guys, Rookwood was starting to regain consciousness. Mumbling nonesense through his bleeding mouth, movements restrained by the iron cuffs, his eyes finally opened wide when pain caught up with him.
"Fuck! Fuck! Where am I? Who are?"
He turned around, face against the food, and spat some blood.
"My tooth! You knocked my tooth out!
Harry didn't want to put up with this rambling, so he just stupefied him, knocking him out once again. The room had been prepared, everything was ready already, he just didn't expect to get in here this way.
"Kreacher" he summoned. "Help me put him on the chair, like I told you. Tie him up, like i showed you. Did you send the owl like I asked you to, yesterday?
"Yes Master!"
"Then hurry up. Our guest should arrive soon."