Revised AN: I have no bananas!
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Chapter 6.
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"Please, Harry?" Hermione said, unconsciously directing her very best puppy-dog eyes at him.
Harry flushed deeply, and a warm, tingling sensation unfolded in his chest, warring against defensive instincts and fear. The sensations caught him completely off guard, and the warring emotions were readily obvious on his face, something Hermione could see and read clearly. Past patterns of behavior and habit began to win out in the battle, which Hermione decided just would not do, so she cheated.
Hermione stepped forward and hugged Harry again.
"Okay!" Harry blurted out, "But just for Christmas day!"
"Yay!" Hermione nearly squealed, and pulled Harry off of his feet, swinging him around in celebration.
Harry's mind nearly melted from the swarming mass of confusing emotions that were whirling through him. The physical disorientation of being spun around did not help, especially to one who was accustomed to being firmly balanced and centered both physically and emotionally. Unlike before, however, this time he did not go into shock, his mind did not shut down, and eventually, Hermione put him down, and just smiled at him, which made Harry feel all kinds of funny.
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Harry knocked on the door to the Granger residence, his Aunt and Cousin flanking him. Harry was surprised Dudley had decided to come; the boy had hardly spoken to him in the four years since Vernon had been sent to prison, and had seemed to avoid every mention of the magical world that he possibly could. Dudley was no longer fat; instead he was almost frighteningly muscular a boy of only twelve years, his body trimmed down from two years of intense dieting, and then two years of aggressive physical training for track and field events. He was dressed in simple semi-formal apparel, much like Harry. Petunia was dressed in a somewhat old-fashioned, but quite nice, dress, that Harry was certain had all sorts of social indicators for what occasions it was and was not appropriate for, but he, of course, was unfamiliar with them.
The door opened, and Harry found himself facing what had to be Hermione's mother, though it was difficult to tell by appearance. She was rather short, not much taller than Hermione herself, who had just gone through a growth spurt, and was possessed of midnight-black hair, and a slightly dusky complexion, that made Harry suspect she had Italian or Spanish blood in her. Her eyes, however, were the same milk-chocolate brown as Hermione's, and both the warmth in her eyes, and her smile, Hermione had clearly inherited from her mother. She was dressed in a white and red dress that Harry recognized was made of silk, and therefore must be at least somewhat expensive.
"Hello Harry," She said, ushering the trio into her house, "Miss Evans, and…?"
She trailed off inquisitively
"Dudley," Petunia said, "My son."
"Strapping lad," The Granger woman said, smiling at Dudley, "Come along, the others are in the dining room."
Harry and the Evans followed, and they entered what Harry soon realized was one of the additions to the house, a large dining room, around which were seated nearly three dozen people. Harry nearly stumbled as his mind froze for a second. When Hermione had invited him to spend Christmas with her family, she did not mention that it was her extended family. Her father's extended family, from what he could see, judging by the prevalent bushy brown hair throughout the various people seated at the table.
"Hello Harry!" Hermione said brightly, standing and rushing over to great him with a hug and a smile. She was wearing a rather dressy blouse and skirt, both colored green with red.
Something in Harry that had tensed at seeing the unexpected crowd of people relaxed when Hermione held him, even if only briefly, and he wondered why being in an unexpectedly social setting had begun to affect him that way in the first place.
"Come on," Hermione said, "You'll be sitting next to me!"
Harry allowed Hermione to pull him over towards the far side of the table, where, to his surprise, he found himself and Hermione sitting amongst the handful of teenagers who were a part of the group.
"Harry," She said, "These are my cousins, Roger," She indicated a boy Harry guessed to be fifteen of stocky build and bushy hair; the boy nodded a greeting at Harry,
"Sarah," She indicated a rather elegantly dressed girl Harry placed anywhere from a mature fourteen to a young eighteen, dark of hair and eye, wearing a pleasant smile. Her hair was the same color as many of the other Grangers, but was coiled into something elaborate with a braid, so Harry was unsure if it shared Hermione's bushiness.
"And Persephone," She indicated one of the few blonds in the room, who was wearing a skirt-suit, and looking curiously at Harry with eyes almost as green as his own. Harry placed her at sixteen or seventeen years old.
"And everybody, this is Harry Potter, my friend from that school up North I attended for a semester," Hermione finished, smiling brilliantly at Harry.
"Hullo Harry," Sarah said warmly, "We were quite surprised when Hermione returned from that oh-so-secret school, I'm glad to see that she made at least one friend there, however."
"Yes," Roger said, "She hasn't exactly been forthcoming about just what happened though. We were told not to ask her about it last Christmas, traumatic experience and all, but she hasn't been willing to tell us this year either."
Harry turned to face Hermione, an extremely subtle expression of inquiry on his face; she, and all the other Granger's paying attention, noticed. Hermione was not sure what to say, her mind whirling through possibilities, but unable to arrive on something that would both maintain the Statute of Secrecy, and not be a lie. After a long moment, Harry turned back to the three teens, and addressed them directly.
"Incompetence on the part of the school staff had allowed Hermione to come into a life-threatening situation," Harry said calmly, "I disposed of the danger."
Several raised eyebrows and widened eyes met Harry's words, and the Granger teenagers studied him intently. For several long moments, none of them said anything, the murmur of the other conversations around the table washing over them. Before any of the teens chose to speak, the man who Harry took to be Hermione's father stood to formally begin the Christmas dinner.
"Greetings," David Granger said, smiling broadly as he swept his eyes across the table, "To Friends, to Family, and those who blur the line between the two. Yet another family meeting, in good company, and good cheer! To commemorate the Birth of our Glorious Savior, from whose example we learned just how a Family truly should work; to be willing to sacrifice of yourself, up to and including your life, for the sake of those you Love, for in Truth, that is what Love is. In celebration then, of another year since His Birth, and another year closer to His Triumphant Return!"
With that, he raised a toast, and the meal began. Harry was struck by how different David Granger's address was than those he had experienced with the Dursleys, especially in that what he said was more than a ritual, there was genuine passion behind his words. He was distracted, however, by large dishes of traditional Christmas food being passed around the table, and Roger continuing the thread of conversation that had been interrupted by David Granger's toast.
"What 'danger,' exactly, did you dispose of?" He asked, blatant curiosity in his voice.
"An enraged wild beast slipped into the school," Harry said, pausing a moment for a bite of mashed potatoes, "I stuck my knife through its eye and into its brain. It died, and Hermione was no longer in danger. We are forbidden to speak of it in more detail."
The teenagers went quiet, while Hermione slid down in her seat until she was almost at eye level with the table. Harry continued to eat calmly.
"I can see why Uncle David pulled her out of that school," Sarah said eventually, "Why did you stay?"
Harry was honestly surprised by the question, and not at all certain how to answer it. Fortunately, Hermione decided to move to his defense.
"If he can take care of something like that himself, why would he leave?" Hermione asked.
Sarah looked at Hermione, amusement and affection mixing in her face and voice as she spoke.
"Really, Hermione," She said, "You should know better than to try fallacy distractions against family. Just because he is capable of dealing with a wild animal, doesn't mean he should. Besides, what would his parents say about such things?"
"My parents were murdered when I was fifteen months old," Harry said, neither his tone of voice nor the pace of depletion of his plate disrupted by his subject matter, "I would appreciate it if this line of conversation were dropped."
All three of the teens flushed in shame, some more than others, and quietly turned to their food, while Hermione compulsively reached over to give Harry a hug. Conversation between the group remained dead for several minutes, until Harry took some pity on them, and decided to provoke the conversation into re-engaging.
"I am curious," He said, "As to why Hermione apparently is regularly seated with those three or more years senior to her."
Sarah turned a grateful smile to him, before answering the question. Hermione, Harry noticed, appeared to be blushing.
"Well," Sarah said, "The Granger family as a whole tends towards rather high intelligence, averaging IQ's between one hundred and twenty and one hundred and thirty by the time we've completed our collegiate educations, with more deviating high than low, but Hermione here," She reached over to give the girl an affectionate pat on the shoulder, "Already scores higher than anyone except for Grand-dad, and is actually just finishing up her A-levels, so is at about he same level as Persephone educationally. She's also rather mature for her age in many ways, so she sits with us at family functions, as we get on better with each other than she did with the younger cousins."
Harry turned to look at Hermione, who was blushing madly, and raised an eyebrow.
"You were earning the best marks when we were at school together," He said, "But completing your A-levels? Wouldn't that put you five years ahead of the usual schedule, perhaps more considering that you missed a semester when you came to school up North?"
Hermione responded by burying her face in her hands, failing to hide her brilliant blush.
"It's a Granger family policy," Roger said, "Not to make a big deal about being more intelligent than most; there's more to life than just being brainy, and we shouldn't forget that. A lot of that translates to not bragging about yourself, but none of see anything wrong with bragging about how amazing our family members are. Hermione already has Uncle George, at Oxford, trying to get her to enroll there for Spring Semester."
"I keep telling him," Hermione said, sagging in her seat, her face still buried in her hands, "Mum keeps telling him, Dad keeps telling him, No more than part-time enrollment until I'm sixteen! But he won't listen! 'Don't worry about the dormitories, she can live with me and Jessica,' 'Don't worry about the boys trying to flirt with her, I'll assign one of my graduate students to be a body guard,' Merlin, the man just won't stop!"
Harry found himself fighting the urge to laugh; Hermione's cousins had no such compulsions, Roger nearly squirting Cranberry juice out of his nose. Hermione just sank lower into her seat, until she almost disappeared under the table. Something strange was stirring in Harry during this, something tied directly into the good humor of the conversation, and desire to laugh, that he couldn't quite place, but it made him want to both smile and cry at the same time, and he wasn't quite sure why. Trying to figure out why continued to distract him through the rest of the meal, as the teens discussion switched to their latest academic studies, something which Harry was not up to date on.
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An hour and a half later, Hermione took Harry up to visit her room, which Harry was unsurprised to discover had very little wall space not taken up by bookshelves, the best was neatly made, and the rather large desk, complete with a personal computer, was quite tidy. What did surprise him, was how nervous she seemed to be having him in her room. He turned his mind to trying to understand why, expression tightening slightly as he tried to figure out why she would be nervous. It did not take him long to recognize that he lacked the experience and knowledge to divine the answer, so settled for the simple solution.
"Why are you nervous?" Harry asked her directly.
Hermione fidgeted a little with the hem of her blouse before answering.
"This is my room," She said nervously, "It's my most personal living space, and what you think of it reflects directly on me. You're a very important friend to me Harry, and it makes me nervous subjecting my room to your judgement."
Harry paused to think a moment before speaking.
"Your room seems to fit your personality," He said, "Neat, efficient, and full of knowledge. I do not understand why my opinion would matter so much to you though, I am exceedingly utilitarian, something I believe you are well aware of."
Hermione shrugged, and Harry noticed a distinct shift in her posture, as she began to curl in on herself subconsciously.
"Harry," She said, her tone painfully honest, "You've met some of my family now; I have a very good family, but I've never had any friends outside of my family. People my age have always either tried to use me, or teased my for my hair, my teeth, my being a bookworm. Older people I've been around, who were at the same academic level as me, were always either jealous, dismissive, or just uncomfortable around me because of my age. You're the only friend outside of my family that I've ever had, and you became my friend by saving my life, and then not mocking me for my intelligence, my study habits, or my appearance. What you think is very important to me."
Harry realized, for the first time in his life, that someone was vulnerable to him, and cared what he thought about them. It made something inside of him ache, in a way he really did not know how to deal with, and it made him terribly uncomfortable. He could see in her eyes, in her face, in the way she stood, that she expected him to hurt her, even if only subconsciously, and someone expecting him to hurt them, was not something he was familiar with either. The emotions threatened to overwhelm him, but he came to the abrupt conclusion that Hermione was this way because she had been bullied, and Harry, hated bullies, and he was not going to let his own confusion prevent him from helping her, so he pushed through the rush of uncomfortable, aching sensation in his chest, and thought. And then he remembered, and acted.
Harry firmly stepped up to the taller girl, and just slightly awkwardly, wrapped her in a fierce, tight hug.
"What I think," Harry said roughly, "Is that you're the only friend I have ever had either."
Hermione hugged him back ferociously, almost causing Harry to lose his balance. Harry knew though, that when he heard her crying on his shoulder, it was a good thing, not a bad thing.
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"Draco," Lucius said, and his son turned to face him attentively, "It has come to my attention that Potter is in need of… punishment."
Draco's smile was not a pretty thing.
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McGonagall looked across the assembled Gryffindors, making sure to meet the eye of each and every one before speaking.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts," She said, smiling slightly, "You may have heard rumors during the return feast, I am here to set things straight before they get out of hand. Yes, I was petrified on the last day of term last semester, and yes, Mister Potter was involved in the situation. Young Harry both discovered who was setting a Basilisk on the school, and defeated this individual. Further, he acquired the ingredients necessary for the potion which revived me. He will be receiving an award for services to the school, and I will tell you now, the only reason he is not being made a Prefect, is that he is three years too young."
McGonagall paused for a moment to let that sink in, before continuing.
"I tell you these things so that you understand that when I say Mister Potter has earned my trust, you understand that I mean it. Consider also, that last year, Mister Potter saved Miss Granger's life from a troll that had broken into the school. If Mister Potter brings me word that someone is causing trouble, or there is a fight, and Mister Potter is either present, or part of it, unless given overwhelming reason not to, he will be the person I believe. I would hold him up as an example of how Gryffindors should behave, courageously, but not senselessly. You would do well to ponder upon that."
And with that, McGonagall turned and left the Gryffindor common room. The Gryffindors turned amongst themselves to look for Harry, but found that he had disappeared as well.
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"Hullo Harry!" The blond Ravenclaw said brightly, walking up to him, and with absolutely no warning whatsoever, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.
He was rather short for a second year boy, but she was quite short for a first year girl, and ended up with her nose in the hollow of his throat. Harry twitched violently at the sudden contact, but Luna just giggled, before looking up to smile at him.
"Thank you for protecting me," She said, impossibly bright smile shining up at him from point blank range, "You're the first person to do that since mummy died."
And with that, she released him, turned and walked away, leaving Harry Potter completely confused and bewildered for the first time that he could remember.
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"Harry!" Twin one said.
"Friend!" Twin two said.
"Ally!" Twin one said.
"Benefactor!" Twin two said.
"Busy man," Harry interjected.
"Yes," Twin one said, "Quite. So we were wondering if you, as our frequent ally and business partner, would be willing to tell us just what happened at the end of last semester?"
Harry looked at the pair long and hard, thinking for more than a minute before answering.
"If I tell you," Harry said, "Will you swear to keep the story a secret? This is not a schoolboy secret, this is a secret lives can, and have, been lost over."
"One minute," Twin two said, tugging his brother away for a swift, furious whispered discussion.
Two minutes later, they returned.
"Right," Twin two said, "Unless keeping it puts someone's life in danger, we swear to keep it a secret."
Harry considered their oath for a moment, before nodding, and turning down the corridor towards the stairs.
"Follow me then," He said, "And I'll tell you the story, in the Chamber of Secrets."
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"Pardon me Mister Potter," Dumbledore said, "I would like to ask for a moment of your time."
Harry, who had been about to enter the library, stopped rather abruptly.
"Why?" Harry asked, his tone utterly neutral.
"For two reasons," Dumbledore said, "I wish to assure you that I will be doing everything in my power to secure your Godfather's release, and apologize for my lack of attention to your care in the past decade."
Harry's arms twitched when Dumbledore said 'apologize,' but he said nothing in response.
"Harry?" Dumbledore eventually said.
"Save your apologies," Harry bit out, anger coloring his words as he turned away from Dumbledore, "For when you've sacked Snape, expelled Draco Malfoy, Marcus Flint, and a half dozen other Slytherins I've heard first-hand accounts of attacking other students. Attacking, Headmaster," Harry spoke the title like it was a dirty word, "Not bullying. My aunt apologized to me, and she meant it, her entire life has changed. Yours hasn't."
Then Harry entered the library, leaving Dumbledore alone in the corridor.
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"Harry?" Hermione said, cautious worry in her voice, "I know I've done it before, but it's always been in really intense situations, and you're generally very particular about your personal space, so I figured I should ask if I can have permission to hug you, just in general?"
Harry, sitting next to her while she helped him work through muggle school material appropriate to his age, closed his eyes and tensed at her words. Hermione's mother, ever perceptive, glanced across the private room in the Three Broomsticks they were occupying for a moment, but then turned back to her conversation with McGonagall. The two only saw each other every two weeks, when Hermione and Harry met at Hogsmeade, and the woman seemed determined to get to know Minerva McGonagall as well as she could. A long moment after Hermione's mother looked away, Harry relaxed slightly, then nodded, still not opening his eyes.
A small, sad smile crossed over Hermione's face, as she slowly reached over to him, and gently pulled him into a hug.
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"H-h-hello Harry," A small voice said, and Harry turned from the book he was reading, to see Ginevra Weasley sitting one table over in the library, nervously fidgeting with the book in front of her.
"Hello, Miss Weasley," Harry said courteously.
The girl was bright scarlet, her face a deeper red than her hair. Harry was both amused and perplexed by her apparent embarrassment, unsure exactly why she was displaying such.
"I wanted to say thank you," She suddenly burst out, then looked away, even more embarrassed at her sudden words.
"You're welcome," Harry said calmly, and found to his surprise, that he was smiling at her, "It's something anyone should have done for you."
Harry turned back to his reading, and Ginny, sensing an opportunity to escape her embarrassment, fled from the library. She didn't notice, but she was smiling as she did so.
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Harry stared at Draco Malfoy, halfway torn between disbelief and wary caution. The boy was standing before him in an odd posture, one Harry vaguely recognized from one of the dueling texts he had read and largely discarded as worse than useless. Draco was well balanced enough in the posture, but it focused solely on the wand as an offensive option, something that Harry considered beyond merely crippling.
"What do you want, Mister Malfoy?" Harry asked calmly, subtly surveying the corridor they were standing in, but finding no one else present save Crabbe and Goyle in their customary positions behind Draco.
"To duel, Potter," Malfoy said, a sneer crossing his face as his voice displayed an eagerness to prove himself, and a confidence entirely inappropriate to the situation.
Harry sighed internally, and crossed his arms, covertly slipping his hands inside his robes.
"I don't duel, Mister Malfoy," Harry said, and could see Malfoy's posture shift as he prepared to attack anyways.
Harry, expecting the action, responded by summoning Crabbe and Goyle, causing both of the beefier boys to slam into Malfoy's back. Withdrawing his hands from his robes, with his wand plainly visible, Harry summoned the three boy's wands, making carefully sure to let them see him make the motions for the spell, even though he cast it silently.
"I don't duel, Mister Malfoy," Harry said again, "I fight. I held a sword to your father's throat at the end of last semester, no doubt why he put you up to this. Remember that Malfoy, I beat your father, and I didn't even use my wand. Don't even try to attack me again until you're better than him."
Harry then stunned the three, this time speaking the spell aloud, and left them piled in a mess in the hall, taking their wands with him.
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"Malfoy attacked me again, Professor," Harry said, handing the wands over to McGonagall, where she sat at the staff table, "I subdued him without injury, here are he and his cohort's wands."
"Very good Mister Potter," McGonagall said, "You may inform Misters Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, that if they wish their wands returned, they should meet me at my office tonight for detention."
Harry nodded, and headed to the Gryffindor table for his own dinner.
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"It doesn't look good, Harry," Hermione said, "Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has started pushing for a trial, but the Wizengamot is the highest court of Wizarding Britain, and too many people are either friends with Lucius Malfoy, susceptible to his bribes, or he has some form of blackmail material on them."
Harry turned to McGonagall, a question clear on his face.
"He still has a chance," McGonagall said, but her tone did not suggest a great deal of confidence, "Right now, Lucius is mostly being an obstructionist, but he wouldn't be delaying if he didn't have a long term strategy as well. I don't know if it'll succeed or fail, it could still go either way."
"What more can we do?" Harry asked tensely, looking between the two more well-informed witches.
"At this point," McGonagall said, "There is very little that we can do that would be helpful. Albus is both extremely influential, and well-informed as to the mechanisms of the Wizengamot, and Amelia Bones is nothing if not an efficient woman. There is little either of you can do in that arena, as driven and intelligent as you are for your ages, you are still children, and will have neither standing nor respect from the Wizengamot. I myself, could possibly bring some weight to bear, but I would have to abandon my duties at Hogwarts altogether in order to spend enough time to make a difference. Perhaps opportunities to intervene will arise, but as things stand now, there is little we can do."
Harry looked down and away, his jaw tense with his frustration.
"I'm not willing to wait forever while corrupt politicians and bureaucrats hold an innocent man," He said, his usual courteous tone strained.
"Neither am I, Harry," Hermione said quietly, looking at him with concern written on her face.
"Well," Harry said after a long silence, "Perhaps-"
McGonagall cut him off with a raised hand.
"Harry," She said, "I know how your rather decisive mind prefers action to inaction, and what you intend to speak of next, should not be spoken of in front of me. If Sirius Black were to suddenly disappear from Azkaban, I would be amongst those questioned, as legally, I am the one who requested Black's trial or release, and it is important that I be able to answer all questions honestly without raising suspicion."
Harry nodded, and a sharp, predatory smile curved across his face.
"I understand Professor," He said.
"Just don't do anything too impetuous," McGonagall replied.
((()))
It made some degree of sense to Harry, after what had happened with Hermione the previous year, that the Weasley girl would start following him around, and to a lesser degree, the Lovegood girl. It did not explain to him, however, why they were simply stalking him, rather than coming up to him and speaking with him. They always sat one or two tables away from him in the library, then Luna had taken to sitting with Ginevra at the Gryffindor table, and they always sat one or two seats down from him, close enough to listen in should he engage in conversation with someone (which he rarely did), but far enough away to never be in an awkward position for not speaking with him themselves.
It was confusing to Harry, their behavior patterns, but they did not seem to hold any hostile intent towards him, so he decided to ask Hermione about it, and focused his mind on other tasks, like continuing to develop his magical control. He now had what he considered a basic repertoire of spells he could cast wandlessly, Summoning, Banishing, Shield, Stunner, Disarmer, Finite, and Blasting. They still drained him of nearly twice as much magical energy when he cast them wandlessly, and for some reason the Finite Incantatem spell was particularly difficult to learn wandlessly. Perhaps because it was an area effect, rather than single-target spell.
His list of abilities to acquire had grown as well, only a single item had been added, but the number of skills that were necessary to become a competent escape artist, much less a master, was immense. Flexibility was necessary for dealing with normal physical bonds, lock-picking and the ability to secrete a lockpick on his person was necessary for dealing with both handcuffs and cell locks, and that was just the beginning. Magic could substitute for a large number of mundane skills, but equally, as Harry had recently learned, there were magical means for securing an individuals captivity. And more than one piece of fiction he had read had incorporated things such as magical inhibitors, or anti-magic fields, so he was not content to leave himself wholly dependent upon his magic if captured.
Thus Wards, Ward-breaking, Enchanting and Enchantment-breaking, had all been added to his list of abilities to acquire, which necessitated study into Runes and Arithmancy, subjects that would not be offered until the next year, though he hardly intended to let that hold him back. With his developing control over his magic, however, he felt confident that he would soon have more time available for other studies.
Although he did feel obliged to attend at least one of Wood's practices each week, after how the Quidditch team had stood up for him while he was held captive.
((()))
Hermione raised a hand to cover her mouth, but Harry could still see the smile in her eyes. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Harry," She said, humor filling her voice, "They fancy you."
Harry blinked.
"Aren't they a bit young for that?" He asked.
"No, Harry," Hermione said, "Girls usually start developing crushes earlier, and besides, you're a hero. You saved Ginevra's life, and Luna from a much older bully, and you did both in quite dramatic ways. You're also always studiously polite, do quite well in school, and are rather famous."
Harry frowned, his thoughts turning inwards as he analyzed what he had seen from the girls with this new bit of information. Hermione was thankful for his introspection, as it meant he missed her own blush.
"They're eleven or twelve, and I'm only twelve," Harry eventually said, "And I'm hardly on a similar level of maturity to my contemporaries, you aside. They're entirely too young for me."
"Harry," Hermione said, "I saw their pictures in the Prophet over Christmas Hols, they're both very pretty witches."
Harry flicked a hand dismissively.
"They may be pretty," Harry said, "But they aren't even my friends right now, as they hardly have the courage to speak with me. I don't see what their being pretty has to do with them having a fancy for me anyways. This is a silly subject. Has there been anything new about Sirius Black's case?"
"Yes," Hermione said, someone relieved that Harry had elected to change the subject before he noticed how flustered she was becoming, "Amelia Bones has told Fudge that unless Black gets a trial, she'll be forced to release him, as they're already eleven years past how long they can legally hold someone without a trial."
"Do you think it'll make a difference?" Harry asked.
"It'll have to, one way or the other," Hermione said, "People are terrified of Sirius Black, apparently he was a very powerful Wizard, and according to popular rumor, he killed thirteen people before they could capture him. Fudge will have to do something, there's no way he can just let Black walk free like that."
"And our back-up plan, if that falls through?" Harry asked.
"Azkaban has too much ambient magic for electronics to work," Hermione said, "Not really surprising, considering the prison has had active wards for hundreds of years, but I think I can rig simple controls by 'coding' spells to respond to command with Arithmancy. I'm going to need your help with the spellwork though, I'm not powerful enough to make the spells last more than five or ten minutes, and we'll almost certainly need longer."
"What do you need me to do?" Harry asked, nodding.
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A deep, rumbling roar rattled every window and door in the castle, and flipped Harry over to full combat alert. It took him less than a second to roughly locate the source of the disturbance, and Harry relaxed somewhat, but still left the classroom he had been practicing his spellwork in.
I will have to speak to the twins about the definition of 'discrete testing' when I let them out of the chamber, he decided.
((()))
"They've sacked Amelia Bones," Hermione said quietly, a tinge of fear in her voice as she looked at Harry.
Harry said nothing in response, simply staring out over the Black Lake, and Hogwarts Castle above it.
"You're going then?" She asked hesitantly.
"Yes," Harry said, "Tonight, before semester ends."
"Be careful," Hermione said worriedly, and impulsively ran up to hug him.
He returned her embrace for a brief moment, before stepping out of it, and disappearing with a faint pop.
((()))
Azkaban was, on the whole, a very grim place. This was a result of both intention, and location; a wind-beaten rock in the North Sea had very little chance of not being grim, especially when populated by Dementors. As a prison, it had a reputation for infallibility that ultimately, was primarily a result of the Dementors, over time draining away the prisoners' wills to the point where escapes were not even attempted anymore.
This, however, did not mean that the prison had been poorly designed for security; it was built in a triple-ring format, the outer ring housing the prison staff and guards, the middle ring hosting (relatively) low-security prisoners, and the inner ring hosting the maximum security prisoners. Each ring of the structure had only two exits, on opposing sides of the ring, one on the interior, one on the exterior. This, in effect, forced a prisoner escaping from the innermost ring to enter the center ring, cross to the opposite side, exit the ring, cross to the opposite side, enter the outer ring, cross to the opposite side, then exit the outer ring, and cross to the far side of the island in order to reach either the dock, or the only portion of the island not warded against Apparition and Portkeys. This design also made attempting to break in to the prison incredibly difficult.
Azkaban's words were simple, but no less effective for their simplicity. Their strength came in the amount of magical power behind each ward, and the concealed locations of the wardstones. There were four wards in all; one ward that disabled magical flight over and around the island, one that blocked Portkeys, one that blocked Apparition, and one that rendered the structure of the prison nearly impervious to spell-damage. The wards were as ancient as the prison itself, and had over time gradually built in power as magic accumulated within them over the centuries. There were a number of smaller, independent wards, within the staff and guard's quarters, designed to ward out Dementors, but these were powered by personal magic, rather than drawing from the Leyline that Azkaban rested upon.
On the whole, Azkaban was the most secure prison in Magical Europe, with the possible exception of Nuremburg, but Azkaban hosted more than a single prisoner. Still, like any other human-operated facility, there was one potential breach of security that could note be completely removed; human error.
At 1:58 AM, June 5th, 1993, something that the designers of Azkaban prison had failed to account for, and the staff was unprepared for, came to Azkaban. Crafted more than a century before the Wright Brother's took their first flight, the wards did not protect against non-magical flight as a mode of entry or exit. Thus, when a hot air balloon charmed with an overpowered notice-me-not charm floated over the prison, lowering a mechanical device on a steel cable, the wards did nothing to impede its approach. The notice-me-not charm kept the Aurors from noticing the black balloon with the black basket in the overcast black night sky, and the mechanical probe descended on the prison undetected.
Landing silently on the roof, it swiftly scuttled across the stone surface until it arrived at one of the lightning rods atop the structure, and anchored its tow line there, to prevent the balloon that had carried it in from drifting. That task completed, the probe moved to the interior wall of the prison, and, using the crevices between the stones as gripping points, climbed down to the nearest window, whereat it extended an optical probe through the bars.
((()))
"That's a woman," Hermione said quietly to Harry over their satellite link.
"Affirmative," Harry replied quietly, taking a moment to apply another heating charm to the Hot Air Balloon's interior before returning his hands to the magically-operated probe's controls.
((()))
The probe moved on, quietly, but not silently, traversing the interior wall, progressing swiftly to the next window. That window contained a male, but not the one they were looking for. Then it moved to the next window. Then the next. It wasn't until the eighth window the probe investigated that a patrolling Auror team noticed the probe, and moved to investigate.
((()))
"I've got footsteps on the audio feed," Hermione said, "Bring the visual around to 305 degrees."
Harry complied, forgoing verbal response.
"That's an Auror team," Hermione said, "I'd recommend flashbang, then gas."
"That'll alert the rest of the compound," Harry said quietly.
"The third man on the team is Kingsley Shacklebolt," Hermione said quietly, "He has a reputation for being extremely competent, if we don't stop him, he'll stop you."
Harry nodded, and double-pressed a red and white button on his control apparatus.
((()))
A roughly cylindrical black shape dropped from the Probe as the Aurors approached, and they instinctively did what most do when a small, fast-moving object catches their attention; they looked directly at it.
The Flashbang detonated with an ear-shattering crack, and for a fraction of a second, it emitted a greater total amount of light than effectively reaches the surface of the Earth from the Sun during noon at the equator. Stunned, deafened, and blinded, the Aurors didn't even notice the gas canister that the probe hurled in their direction. Thirty seconds later, they were unconscious, and the probe, moving more quickly now that stealth was no longer a relevant concerned, had already reached the ninth window.
It was at the eleventh window that they identified their desired target.
"Sirius Black," A synthesized voice emerged from the probe, "Please move to the window for identity confirmation before we secure your escape.
The tall, gaunt, shaggy-haired man cautiously approached the window.
((()))
"That's him," Hermione said, "He's lost weight, no surprise, but that's definitely him."
"Initiating retrieval," Harry replied.
((()))
"Step and look away from cell bars to prevent injury and blindness," The synthesized voice said, and Sirius swiftly obeyed.
As two teams of Aurors, and a pair of Dementors, entered the central courtyard, the Probe deployed its second flashbang, and final canister of gas, before spreading a layer of Thermite paste on the joints between the cell's bars and walls.
"Close your eyes," The Probe said, and Sirius complied.
The Flashbang detonated, and the Probe ignited the Thermite. The Aurors were stunned, though one had banished the gas canister before it expelled its contents, preventing them from being rendered unconscious. The Dementors were unaffected, but could not differentiate effectively between the probe and other non-living objects. It would take more than half a minute for the Aurors to recover enough to be functionally aware of their surroundings again, and by that time, the Thermite had burned through the cell bars, and was eating into the stone beneath the window.
"Take hold of the proffered mechanical arm," The synthesized voice said, "Beware of the superheated surfaces."
Sirius Black nearly lunged out of his cell, scorching his ragged clothing, and earning a nasty burn along his right thigh as he grabbed hold of the probe's mechanical arm. Above the probe, an explosive bolt blew, detaching the hot air balloon from its anchor point, and the winch began to retract the probe rapidly. Sirius, weakened by years of hard time, nearly lost his grip as the probe began to ascend, but it wrapped its mechanical legs around him, putting painful pressure on his fresh burn wound, but ensuring he would not fall.
Two of the Aurors attempted to fire stunners at the ascending Black, while one with more presence of mind attempted to summon him. The summoning spell slowed Black's ascent for a moment, but the winch proved stronger than the spell, and the ascent continued, the stiff wind over the North Sea pushing the balloon above away from its position over the island. The Auror tried to summon Black again, but he had moved to far, and his spell had even less of an effect, and he had faded out of sight altogether in the night sky before any of them could think of something more effective to try.
((()))
Sitting at her computer in her parents house, Hermione sighed with relief, then turned to smile at her parents and Andromeda Tonks.
"We did it," She said smiling, "He's free."
"Well and good," Came a grizzled voice from her other side, and she turned, still smiling, to look at recently-retired Auror Moody.
"Amelia would be proud, if we could tell her," He said.
Hermione smiled all the wider.
((()))
"Sirius Black," Harry said, extending his hand to the man sitting on the opposite side of the basket from him, "I'm Harry Potter."
Black carefully put down the empty vial he had just drunk a healing potion from, and met Harry's grip firmly.
"Hello Harry," Black said carefully, "I must say I'm rather surprised to find my twelve-year-old godson staging a dramatic rescue from Azkaban on my behalf."
"I found out you were innocent," Harry said, "Dumbledore failed to get you a trial, and Amelia Bones got sacked by Fudge trying, so I took matters into my own hands."
"You pulled a break-out from Azkaban all by yourself?" Sirius said, eyebrows raised in surprise.
"No," Harry said, "I had a great deal of help from Hermione Granger, one of my contemporaries, and some assistance from others."
"How is he?" Hermione's voice came over the radio, "Is he lucid?"
"Surprisingly so," Harry said, activating his end of the radio, "Physical deprivation aside, he shows no signs of mental decay."
"That's Hermione then?" Sirius asked, nodding towards the radio.
"Yes," Harry said, nodding, "Now we're moving-"
And was abruptly cut off as Sirius pulled him into a massive bear hug.
((()))
"Aww," Andromeda said, watching her scruffy cousin hug his godson over the probe's video uplink, "So cute."
Hermione was more worried than endeared by the display of affection, Harry had finally begun to loosen up over the last semester, mostly because she visited Hogsmeade, and Hogwarts, with her parents every other weekend, but she wasn't sure if he was ready for spontaneous physical affection from a man he'd never met before.
To her surprise though, Harry, after freezing for a moment, tentatively lifted his arms and hugged his Godfather in return.
((()))
End Chapter 6
"So in war, the way is to avoid what is strong, and strike at what is weak."
-Sun Tzu, Art of War, Chapter 6, Section 30
Author's Note: You're not going to see much, if any of year three. Year four will be the final year that is covered by this fic; what comes after will, again, be the realm of the sequel.