The Unforgiving Minute
VI: The Sixth Hour
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16:00
With a slight pop of displaced air, Harry appeared on a flat slab of black rock, overlooking a dark, storm-tossed sea. Despite being late in the afternoon, the black clouds blotted out all of the sun's rays, throwing the island into a state indistinguishable from night.
Waves beat incessantly against the rocks below him, throwing surf high into the air, while a torrent of rain poured from the sky, soaking him to his core. Wind battered against his robes, its fingers grasping at him, trying to pull him into the sea.
Even on the brightest of days back home, the island prison Azkaban remained gloomier than ever. Perhaps their relationship was inversely proportional.
Oblivious to the elements, Harry turned and began to ascend the perilous path before him, haphazardly carved into the black stone. His boots splashing against the small river which poured down from the path, Harry bent over slightly, decreasing his body's resistance to the wind.
Following the mass breakout during his fifth-year at Hogwarts, this emergency Auror apparation point had been destroyed. Had it not been active, obtaining passage to Azkaban would have been nearly impossible.
If he succeeded today, it would never have to be disabled.
Various washouts peppered the walk as he made his way through the twisting crags of ebon stone, but it wasn't until fifty feet up that he met his first real challenge.
Taking a sharp right, the path cut across the face of the rock, parallel to the sea. Up ahead, a ten foot section of the path was washed completely away by a raging torrent, emptying out onto the rocks below.
Had he time to go to Diagon Alley, as originally planned, it would have been a simple matter to acquire a broom, and fly straight to the prison entrance. Fate, however, cared little for his plans, as this day had already proved numerous times.
Sparing a quick glance to the left, he observed several footholds and cracks in the rock face, spaced closely to one another. Pouring down the rock, however, was a thin sheet of water, making an already challenging climb even more difficult.
Fuck that.
Backing away for the edge of the washout, Harry withdrew Dawlish's stolen ash wand. Raising it aloft, he began to gather his magic within it, coiling it like a snake preparing to strike. Charging forward, Harry sprinted across the rain-slicked ground. Mere feet from the edge, Harry leaped into the air, swinging his wand behind him. Unleashing his magic, he flung an overpowered banisher aimed directly at the air beneath his feet.
Like a hard shove, the resultant concussion from his spell flung him across the channel. Moments before he hit the ground, he brought his wand forward, throwing a cushioning charm on the ground below. Despite the awkwardness of his descent from the air, Harry landed softly upon the ground, as if he had merely stepped across the chasm. Continuing up the path, he crested a small rise, revealing the fortress of Azkaban.
Constructed of the same stone which comprised this desolate crag nestled into the North Sea, only its unnatural flatness distinguished it from the island. Dark walls, thirty feet high enclosed the prison, making escape over the walls impossible. Four towers, each placed in close proximity to the walls, rose above the rest of the structure, providing the Aurors with an eagle-eye view of the island. Not that it did them much good in the driving storms so common to Azkaban.
There were only two ways in and out of Azkaban.
The first was the personnel entrance, located at the front of the island. All Aurors, employees or wizards possessing enough clout with the Ministry to grant visitation with a prisoner were admitted through the front door, into the entry way. Within the large entry way was the Auror control center, providing a communications hub for all human personnel. Branching off from the entry way, to either side, was access to the various locker rooms, break rooms and the kitchen.
Directly across from the front door was the entrance into the prison itself, a wide gate with four Aurors always on duty. All potential visitors were thoroughly searched for contraband or any magical items, and divested of their wands. Only Aurors were allowed into the prison with their wands.
The second entrance was on the opposite side of the island, where the walls actually reached out into the sea. The shipping entrance carried all supplies to the island, as well as prisoner transport. Numerous detection and defensive wards littered the watery entry way, while four Aurors with access to high-grade magical weaponry were stationed at the North tower, poised to blow any unwanted visitors out of the water.
Had Harry the time he needed, he would have been able to blow through the defenses with judicious use of runic mines, and fought his way into the processing center. Dispatching the three Aurors there, he would have been within the prison.
Alas, fate had robbed him of his trip to Diagon Alley, and all the supplies he needed.
Through the front door it would have to be.
Making his way down the crest, Harry slid smoothly down a small slope, landing on the wide road that connected the small dock at the island's edge to the front entrance. Blessed with more stable footing, Harry began to close the distance to the front door at a jog. Withdrawing his wand, he cast a quick disillusionment upon his body. Blending in with the storm, they wouldn't see him until he was right under their noses.
As he got closer, a deep chill began to penetrate his core, infinitely more potent than that of the storm.
The Dementors, the silent guards of Azkaban, had maintained their vigil for hundreds of years. So long had they been here, that their malice had even begun to penetrate the very stones which comprised the prison.
His heart growing heavy within his chest, Harry ascended the short set of stone steps, and stopped at the overhang directly above the door. Free from the incessant beating of the rain, he took a slightly winded breath, his fingers brushing against the dark stone. Without warning, he began to shiver violently.
"Please, Harry," Ginny begged, the tears in her warm, brown eyes betraying the hardened contours of her jaw. "You don't have to do this."
"There's no other way," Harry answered sadly, shaking his head slightly. "If there was any other…believe me, I-I don't want to do this."
Angrily, Harry shunted aside the memories. His time was short, far too much so to spend it on the past.
His hands shaking visibly, the memory still echoing faintly in his mind, Harry placed silencing charms upon his feet. Pointing his wand towards a rock close to the doorway, he altered its shape into a long, thin cylinder, perhaps a foot in length.
With another wave of his wand, he levitated a larger rock into the air. Thrusting his wand forward, he banished in into the unbreakable steel doors, where it collided with a loud bang.
Moments later, a woman adorned in crimson Auror robes stuck her head out the door, her wand held aloft. Though her form was good, her muscles were relaxed, as if she expected the culprit to be nothing more malevolent than the wind. A break-in hadn't been attempted on Azkaban in over a hundred years. As far as this witch was concerned, the chance of an attack was virtually zero.
Unfortunately for her, the hundred year streak had just officially ended.
As the middle-aged witch stepped away from the door, Harry pressed his wand into her back. Before she could react, he had hit her with a point-blank silencer. She tried to spin around to face her attacker, but Harry grabbed her robes and spun with her, using her momentum to fling her down the steps. She bounced down two of the steps, before landing face down at the bottom in a puddle, her wand skidding across the soaked ground.
She quickly scrambled across the wet stone, using all four limbs to gain traction. Diving, she scooped up her wand, and brought it up sharply. Hesitantly, she waved it in Harry's general direction, but couldn't get a fix on his location.
"Fuck," she mouthed silently, the charm preventing her from warning her fellow guard.
"Having a little trouble with the footing, Barnes?" came a jovial, male voice from within the building. His face a wide grin, a second Auror stepped out of the doorway, his hands on his hips.
The witch went to shout out a warning, temporarily forgetting her silenced state, until the reality of the situation hit her. Horror dawning in her eyes, she could only watch helplessly as her partner crumpled to the ground. Furious, she launched a cutter towards the left of where her fellow guard had been standing.
Harry neatly side-stepped the spell, before stepping over the stunned wizard. Moving inside the doorway, he reached back and closed the open side of the double-doors behind him. With a swift movement, he stuck his makeshift bar between the door handles, fusing the bar to the handle.
Sharp bangs rapped against the door, but Harry ignored them, facing forward.
Time to go to work.
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The entryway was just as he remembered, though the atmosphere far more relaxed. Enveloped in bright light, the room provided a sharp counterpoint to the prison's exterior, despite being constructed of the same stone.
Carefully creeping forward, Harry pressed himself against one of the six square columns in the entryway, completely hiding his disillusioned form. Peering around the corner, he took inventory of the room's other occupants.
Taking up most of the far left corner was the control center, where a single Auror sat with his back to the door, conversing with two of his fellow guards.
Straight ahead, standing astride the magical scanner, were two more Aurors, talking to one another. Sturdy granite blocks four feet high flanked each side of the scanner, providing cover in the event of an attack.
To either side of him were corridors leading away from the main prison entrance, leading to various other rooms. All Aurors stationed on Azkaban worked one week rotations, creating the need for sleeping quarters, kitchens and recreational areas. Right now, there should have been eight Aurors in the entryway. Where was the missing one?
"Another seagull, Barnes?" the Auror sitting behind the control center asked without turning around.
Ignoring the guard, Harry quickly began to scratch Germanic runes onto square column in front of him. Closing the figure with a vertical slash of his wand, he quickly sidestepped to the column to the left, and began to scratch the same figure.
"Maybe she and Weatherbee decided to bump uglies out there," one of the other Aurors at the control center suggested.
Finishing the second rune, Harry moved forward to the next column, half of his ward complete. Just a little more time…
"Yeah, right, in the soddin' rain," a female voice said sarcastically. "Don't you two worry about it, I've got it covered."
Hearing footsteps, Harry quickly finished the third rune, before creeping over to the right-hand column.
Right as he began the final rune, the female Auror spied his handiwork on the door.
"Shit, guys, someone's sea-"
Harry's stunner caught her in the face, felling her. Turning back, he crossed the final line of the rune, and activated his hastily constructed box ward. Magic flared up around him in a bright arc, before fading away to nothing.
"Fuck, intruder, behind the column!" a male voice yelled. Whipping his wand around the corner, Harry launched a devastator at the command center. The grey spell struck with the force of a bomb, detonating the control center in a concussive blast that shook the room. The two Aurors were thrown backwards by the blast, hitting the wall with twin crunches.
The two remaining guards took cover behind the granite blocks, one of them launching a bludgeoner at his general direction. The spell bounced directly off of his one-way deflection ward with a shower of sparks, barely missing the caster's arm.
"He's got a fucking deflection ward!" the caster screamed.
Waving his own wand in a high arc, Harry sprayed forth gasoline from it, soaking the area near the prison entrance. Hurriedly, one of the Aurors began to transfigure the oil back into water. Jabbing his wand forward, Harry flung a concussion hex. The hex struck the granite with a gong, and interrupted the transfiguration. Pointing his wand downwards, Harry sprayed a wide column of flame from it, igniting the large puddle.
One of the Aurors screamed as fire lit beneath his feet, beginning to trail up his legs, before his partner hit him with a flame-freezing charm. Before he could react, Harry's stunner downed him, sending him tumbling to the ground.
"You fuckin' cunt!" the lone remaining Auror screamed, his voice filled with equal parts anger and pain.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Cursing to himself, Harry quickly conjured a physical shield just as the green killing curse struck the ward boundary. His quickly scribed runes detonated with a roar, spraying chunks of black stone around the room. They struck his shield like a hammer, driving him backwards.
Stumbling backwards, a bright blue spell barely missed him, colliding with the damaged column to his left. The spell burst like a balloon filled with water, spraying blue paint in every direction. Copious amount of it splattered upon his disillusioned form, rendering the charm useless.
"Take that ya fuckin' wanker!" the guard exclaimed, flinging a cutter, before ducking back behind the barrier. Moving forward, Harry swatted aside the curse, following up with a kinetic hammer.
With a curse, the Auror threw himself to the left as the granite block exploded. Dust and chips of stone rained down as the guard rolled to the left, directly into the path of Harry's leading stunner.
Following the dull thud of the Auror hitting the ground, silence reigned over the room, a heavy mixture of dust and smoke collecting in the air. With a wave of his wand, Harry cleared the smog, and extinguished the flames. Moving forward, he leapt over the remains of the control center, and approached the two Aurors downed in the blast.
One lay slumped at the base of the wall, a spreading pool of blood beneath his head. Casting a quick body-bind on the seriously hurt Auror, Harry surveyed the other one. Sitting against the wall, his wand arm bent at an unnatural angle, he spit a mouthful of blood at Harry.
"Death Eater scum," he spat, his eyes burning with hatred. Without hesitation, Harry brought his wand forward.
"Imperio."
The man's eyes glazed over upon contact with the curse.
"Rise," Harry ordered. As if he could not longer feel the pain of his internal injuries, the Auror rose swiftly. Speaking quickly, he commanded the guard to grab a prison key off one of his fellow jailers. Swiftly, the man plucked his nearby partner's key from his robes, handing Harry one of the two keys.
Wasting no time, Harry went to the far right of the main gate, and placed his key into the lock. On the opposite side, the guard did the same. On the count of three, they turned the key simultaneously.
The main prison door, a barred gate ten feet wide, slid open immediately. Without a look backwards, Harry ran through the date, his disillusionment charm fading into nothing as he passed the gates. No magical concealment was permitted within 'The Abyss', as the Aurors referred to the main prison complex.
"Protect your fellow guards should any Dementors come this way," Harry ordered, before stepping into the gloom which permeated the heart of Azkaban.
Getting past the unprepared, relaxed Aurors was the easy part.
Dealing with the Dementors would be much harder.
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All was silent within the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters, deep within Twelve Grimmauld Place. Each of them, the ones that had promised to follow Harry to the grave if it meant destroying Voldemort, dealt with their failures in different fashions.
After nine long years, it had seemed the end was at hand. After discovering Slytherin's underground temple, deep beneath the Fens, the hiding place of Voldemort's final horcrux, they had waited. For months Bill, Hermione and Harry studied the wards, deconstructing them so that they may be turned against their caster.
Six months later, they had done it. Intentionally tripping the wards had brought Voldemort to them. As he watched his final horcrux disintegrate into ash, Bill brought down his own wards, trapping the now-mortal Dark Lord amongst the entirety of the Order.
Victory was at hand.
Except, it hadn't been.
Voldemort had been ripped in half, had his brains painted across the floor, and yet still, somehow, had lived.
How?
All of his horcruxes had been gone. He should have died that night.
Except, he hadn't.
Hope, which had returned to them leading up to the night, had fled just as quickly as it had arrived.
Hermione Weasley leaned over several thick Dark Arts tomes, desperately searching for some clue as to how Voldemort could have survived. Despite the wealth of material in the Black library, he didn't expect her to find anything.
Zacharias Smith sat, his arms crossed stiffly over his chest. Angrily he gazed out at the other survivors, as if daring anyone to meet his stare.
Parvati Patil clung tightly to Dean Thomas, tears bright in their eyes, both of them mourning the loss of Padma Thomas.
Pomona Sprout, the last surviving professor from his time at Hogwarts, merely stared unblinkingly at the wall. From the sleeves of her large robes trailed leaves from the Reaper Vine she had successfully fused to her arms.
Oliver Wood, his expression a snarl, stalked from one end of the gloomy room to the other, dragging his false leg behind him. The sound of him slamming the quaffle from hand-to-hand was the loudest sound in the room.
Hannah Longbottom, her hair in ragged tangles, silently wailed upon Susan Bones' shoulder, devastated by the loss of her husband.
Octavius Pepper. Colin Creevey. Millicent Bulstrode. Martin Croaker. Ernie the conductor.
With a sigh, Harry wondered whether he should even rise at all. What could he possibly tell them that would inspire them to keep fighting, to carry on?
Gently, small fingers grasped his chin, and turned it to his right. Giving him a slight smile, she squeezed down reassuringly on their entwined hands.
"We're with you no matter what happens, Harry," she said, her smile hiding the sorrow that hid behind her eyes.
"How can I ask them to continue fighting?" he replied, shaking his head.
"You can't," Zacharias snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at Harry. "You said that we could end the war. Were you lying, or are you just bloody clueless?"
Meeting the blonde's angry stare, Harry rose to his feet. Ginny turned toward former Hufflepuff, a snarl upon her face, but he placed his arm upon her shoulder. She stilled beneath his light touch, and sat back down, her eyes narrowed. Ginny would never back down for him, but would temporarily dam the floods of her own anger.
Surveying the room, he saw that all pairs of eyes, even the tear-brimmed ones, had turned towards him. Even if they had already mentally checked out of the war, at least they still wanted to hear what 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' had to say.
"Hours before Albus Dumbledore's untimely death," Harry began, his voice low, "he revealed to me the secret of Voldemort's survival. Information that I have shared with each and every one of you."
"The horcruxes," Hermione said softly.
Harry gave a single nod.
"As we have discovered, Voldemort believes in the magical significance of arithmantic laws. According to him, one possessed of a seven-part soul would be forever beyond the grasp of death."
Zacharias shook his head in denial, but said nothing.
"Due to all of your help," Harry continued, matching gazes with all, "we were able to destroy his four remaining horcruxes. Locket, snake, diadem and cup."
"Why didn't he die?" Hannah asked with a wail, before re-burying her face within her hands.
Harry shook his head.
"I can't say. We're trying our hardest to figure it out, but we still have no idea."
"Could he have made more horcruxes?" Susan asked hesitantly.
"A week ago, I would have said no. Now…I think so. However, that's not what I want to talk to you about."
At their confused glances, Harry took a deep breath, while Ginny reached up and squeezed his hand. Grateful for her support, he continued.
"As you are all aware, following my sixth year at Hogwarts, I cut a deal with our former Minister, Rufus Scrimegeor, to endorse the Prophet's claim that I was 'The Chosen One'."
With that one sentence, even those whose interest had waned snapped back to attention.
"Before my birth, a prophecy was made about a child whom would be born on the last day of July."
Clearing his throat, he recited the words that had haunted his entire life.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."
Dead silence met his words.
While some faces wore surprise, most of the other reactions were more varied. He saw understanding, sympathy, fear and even some anger.
"Ever since the contents of the prophecy were revealed to me, I've known that in the end, it was either going to be me or him. No matter what I did, no matter how far I ran, Voldemort would find me."
"Those of you who are thinking about leaving Britain, I cannot say that I blame you. Without fate hanging over my head, I may had even thought about getting as far away from my home as possible. Any that do choose to leave, I can't say that I blame you. Fighting a war for a home that's already been destroyed, against a Dark Lord that seems immortal?"
Harry shook his head.
"That's a burden that no one should have to face. Really, I can't even say that we're ever going to discover the secret that keeps Voldemort alive. And, maybe we'll never see victory, but you know what?"
He took a second to look around the room, locking eyes with every other person. Some looked away, but most never dropped their gaze.
"I can promise you, however, that I'm never going to stop fighting."
"Never."
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The heart of Azkaban, or, as the Aurors called it, 'The Abyss,' was laid out in a giant square, with cells outlining the edges of the quadrilateral. Four levels were stacked upon one another, each successive one digging deeper into the ancient stone of the island.
Taking an immediate right, Harry moved swiftly down the tunnel, lit by sputtering, flicking torches placed into the heavy buttresses between every cell. The all-encompassing cold of Azkaban was not the ideal atmosphere for fire to thrive.
Most of the cells were empty, as short-timers on Azkaban were a rarity. The few that were occupied he passed before their pale inhabitants could even register his presence.
Mere feet before the corner, Harry felt the chill of Azkaban increase ten-fold, penetrating his very core.
It was time.
Turning, Harry withdrew his wand, ripping the heavy cell door off its hinges. Suspending the barred iron door in midair, he began to wave his wand in a fast spiral, causing the metal to lose its shape. Concentrating fiercely, he drew his wand in, focusing the formless iron blob into a thick length of chain fifteen feet in length. With a slice of his wand, he carved the front of the chain to a spear-point's edge. Levitating his creation in front of him, he stepped around the corner.
Fifteen feet away, rising impossibly large before him, was an ebon-cloaked Dementor. Immediately, a familiar scream tore across his mind's eye.
"We fucking trusted you, Harry!" Hermione screamed, spraying forth a fine mist of blood and spittle. "You were supposed to save us all, not kill us!"
Ahead of Harry, the Dementor stretched out one of its arms. The dark cloth pulled back slightly, revealing a grey, slimy hand covered with scabs. Its breath rattling in his ears, it curled a single finger back towards itself, as if beckoning him closer, imploring for him to succumb to sorrow.
Fuck that.
With a snarl, Harry jabbed his wand forward. The length of chain surged forward into the chest of the Dementor, impaling it as it ripped through the dark fabric, before exiting through its back, blowing out scraps of cloth.
Twirling his wand around, he directed the chain to wrap around the silently struggling creature, forcing its arms to the side. With a slight flick to his right, Harry sent the Dementor flying to its left, directly into an empty cell, where it crashed against the stone wall.
Walking briskly, he slammed the door shut, before twisting the bars with a wave, fully trapping the creature inside.
Dementors may not have been killable, but were still perfect capable of being rendered helpless with a little transfiguration.
Up ahead, twenty feet or so, two Dementors glided out of the doorway leading to the east stairs. They had a second to turn towards him before he tore another cell door off its hinges, and banished it at high velocity. The large projectile knocked the dark creatures aside almost casually, sending them flying backwards down the hall.
Without hesitation Harry ignored the downed creatures and entered the hallway they had come from, casually summoning the length of chain from the first imprisoned Dementor. Clanging wildly as it flew past the twisted steel bars, a few moments later it had flown into Harry's grasp, just in time to step through the doorway. Beyond was a dimly lit landing, leading to a wide flight of stone stairs. He leaped down the ten steps with a single graceful movement, landing softly upon the stone floor. Turning, ice once again welled up inside his chest.
At the foot of the stairs leading up from the third level landing were two Dementors, gliding towards him. Whipping his wand at them, the chain surged forward, impaling the creature on the left. Obeying his command, the chain exited the back of the Dementor and swung back around, penetrating its companion through the back. Thrashing wildly, pinned like two insect specimens, he pulled the chain taut, forcing the two Dementors together. With a wave of his wand, he looped the chain ends around their legs and necks, before pulling his wand sharply inwards.
The two end of the chain met, bending both of the Dementors in half with a sound akin to brittle bones breaking. He quickly banishes the writhing mass of black robes and mottled skin back into the doorway it had arrived from, moving further down the stairs. He summoned his length of chain from the broken Dementors as he passed, Hermione's accusatory screams ringing in his mind. Ignoring them, he continued down to the second level, and rushed out into the hallway.
Swatting aside a single Dementor, Harry ripped the doors off of the nearest cell. He quickly deformed their shape and joined them with his length of chain, tripling its length. With two more Dementors closing in on each side, he ducked backwards out of the hallway.
The smell of rot grew more pronounced as he left the second level, onto the lowest level of Azkaban. Mold festered on the damp stone walls, barely lit by flickering, dying torchlight. In the icy depths of Azkaban dwelt the worst of wizarding society, incarcerated without hope of reprieve.
Harry had originally planned to execute every former Death Eater in Azkaban, but time had robbed him of the pleasure.
He'd only have time for one.
Splashing through the thin puddle of dark water which covered the bottom landing, Harry rushed out onto the lowest level. Shrouded in darkness, a single Dementor stood to his left, while further down the hall in the opposite direction, three of the creatures were gathered in front of a single cell.
Right in the direction he needed to go.
Swinging out with the long section of chain, Harry hammered the first Dementor into the wall, smashing it into the heavy masonry. Darting forward, past the momentarily stunned demon, Harry coiled the chain over his shoulders, before pointing his wand downwards, casting a tunneler. He quickly conjured a physical shield right as the grey spell struck the stone with a large explosion. Large bits of stone bounced harmlessly off his shield as a large crevasse appeared in the middle of the hallway.
"Has the Dark Lord finally returned?" a deep, Russian accented voice asked from his left. Turning, Harry beheld the cool, calm gaze of Antonin Dolohov. Despite his pale skin and wild facial hair, he had clearly maintained far better than most Azkaban prisoners.
"I do not remember you from before, perhaps you are a new recruit?" the Death Eater asked, gazing at Harry speculatively.
"I'm going to kill your Master," Harry stated plainly, before jabbing his wand forward. Dolohov's eyes had only a moment to grow wide before a short burst of napalm flame engulfed him. The Russian went up like a torch, his skin bubbling, his eyes liquefying within their sockets. With a scream of agony, the man leapt towards the toilet, attempting to douse himself.
Certainly he hadn't needed to kill Dolohov, but given a chance to kill one of Voldemort's most powerful followers, it had been hard to turn down.
Turning his gaze back to the right, the felled Dementor peeled itself off the wall, and began to advance on him. The chain immediately uncoiled from his neck and swung forward, batting the Dementor into the hole in the floor. It fell like a ragdoll, out of his line of sight, quickly followed by a heavy splash.
Turning back up the hallway, he saw five more of the creatures advancing towards him, their breath rattling even louder than normal.
"I'm so sorry, Harry," Ginny said, her eyes bloodshot and tear-rimmed. With a trembling hand, she raised her wand in his direction, regret etched onto every line of her face.
Shaking his head, Harry shook himself free of the Dementors' mental shackles.
"Are you scared?" Harry asked with a snarl, before jabbing his wand forward. The sharpened chain flew forward, impaling the lead creature in the chest. It exited its back and wrapped itself around the Dementor's chest a single time before moving onto the second one in line. It tried to sidestep the link of chain, but moved far too slowly to avoid the sharp tip of the chain.
As the third Dementor in line was speared, the first one wrapped its death-like hands around the chain, and began to slowly pull itself forward.
"I don't think so," Harry said mockingly, bending to pick up a large rock with his left hand. He launched the rock at the Dementor's face, the blow knocking the creature's face back, jarring loose its grip on the chain. Still directing with his wand, the length of chain impaled the fifth Dementor and wrapped around the struggling creature.
Waving his wand in a hard inward arc, the chain rapidly changed direction. Unwillingly, thrashing as they flew through the air, the prone Dementors were dragged one-by-one into the crevasse, each creature splashing loudly as it hit the icy water below.
Without looking, Harry turned his wand downwards into the tunnel, and cast a powerful freezing charm, encasing the soul-stealers in ice.
Maybe the rest of their brethren would now think twice before approaching him.
His path clear, Harry sprinted down the hallway, turning left at the corner. Four cells down, on the left, was his target.
Positioned at the front of her cells, her pale, long fingers wrapped around the bars, Bellatrix Lestrange was dirty, smelled like an empty sewer, but her vitality had not yet been sapped away. Her violet eyes were wide with equal parts excitement and rapture, her mouth formed into a wide smile.
"Has our Lord decided to deliver his most faithful servant?"
With a dark chuckle, Harry waved his wand around. Like an accordion, the iron bars on the cells to either side of them stretched across the hall, blocking off any incoming access, should the Dementors decide to grow brave.
"The Dark Lord did not send me," Harry admitted, a cruel smile upon his face, "but I have come to deliver you."
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With a simple flick of his wand, Oliver Wood tore Wormtail's right ear away from his head with a heavy tear. Carelessly flinging his wand to the side, Wormtail's ear, trailing bits of torn flesh and drops of blood behind it, flew out of sight.
At Harry's slight nod, Padma cancelled her body-bind. Wormtail immediately began to openly weep, spasms wracking his body.
"How the fuck did you ever gain my parents' trust?" Harry asked, shaking his head with disgust.
Wormtail went to reply, but Neville surged past Harry and struck Wormtail with a Cruciatus Curse. The small, emaciated man fell off his chair, screaming in agony. As if in the grasp of a seizure, he thrashed upon the dirt floor.
"That's enough," Harry said quietly, after a few seconds. His breathing heavy, Neville cancelled the curse. Freed from the bonds of the pain curse, Wormtail began to scuttle backwards, but Wood was quicker. The former Keeper quickly forced a vial of clear substance down Wormtail's throat, before holding his mouth and nose shut.
The traitor resisted for a few short moments, but the years had worn away much of his fight. Wormtail's eyes quickly glazed over, the veritaserum breaking down his mental defenses.
"What's your name?"
"Peter Pettigrew," the man in question replied, his voice a dull monotone.
"Why did you betray the Potters?" Neville continued, his eyes hard.
"The Dark Lord would have killed me if I hadn't h-helped h-h-him," Wormtail answered, his voice hitching slightly. Had the years eaten away at the man's conscience, finally making him see the magnitude of his betrayal?
Well, the serum was clearly working. He sent a sharp nod in Padma's direction, urging her to begin.
"What do you know of Hufflepuff's Cup?" the dark-toned woman asked softly, providing a sharp counter-point to Neville's harsh words.
"After the Dark Lord won the Battle of Hogwarts, Bellatrix Lestrange presented it to him. He thanked her for keeping it safe all these years."
"Did Bellatrix have the Cup prior to his resurrection?" Padma asked, seeking clarity.
"Yes."
Internally, Harry cursed. Hufflepuff's Cup had been in hiding the entire time, they had just failed to find it. Where had that psychotic bitch hidden it?
Not one to dwell on the past, Harry shook his head. Nothing could be done about it now. Putting a hand on Padma's shoulder, he moved past her, and crouched down, so that he and Wormtail were at the same eye-level.
"Do you ever regret betraying my parents, Peter?"
"Every day," Wormtail answered, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Why?" Harry asked, his hand wrapped around the smooth handle of his wand. If Wormtail answered wrong, his days were numbered.
"I thought living a cursed life would be better than death, but I was wrong. The day I became the Potters' secret keeper, Lily hugged me close, her eyes filled with tears. Crying, she thanked me for being so brave, and I felt her love for me, for all she thought I was sacrificing. That…that was the first, and last time I ever thought that someone truly cared for me."
At his confession, all eyes in the room turned towards Harry, their unquestioned leader. They may not like his decision, but they would stick by it.
"If you had a chance to fix that mistake, would you do it, Peter?" Harry asked.
"Yes," he answered, without hesitation.
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"Crucio!"
Bellatrix's eyes widened for a moment before the scarlet curse struck her in the stomach. She let out a long screech of agony as she crumpled to the floor, wailing. He took a perverse sort of pleasure in her pain, viewing it as a pre-emptive payback for all the people she went on to kill after escaping Azkaban in his fifth-year at Hogwarts.
Sirius Black. Minerva McGonagall. Aberforth Dumbledore. Molly Weasley. Padma Thomas. Neville Longbottom.
All of their faces crossed across his vision as he raised his wand, canceling the curse. Bellatrix, gasping, gazed up from the damp floor, her body wracked with post-Cruciatus tremors, her violet eyes filled with hatred.
"You will never take milord's place," she said defiantly.
"A more likely guess than your first," Harry conceded, before hitting her with another torture curse. Her screams rolling across the darkened spaces beneath Azkaban, the ghosts of his past began to pull at his mind.
As in slow motion, he saw Sirius fall into the Veil. He saw Bellatrix laughing maniacally as her killing curse struck McGonagall, sending the former transfiguration professor crashing down onto the Hufflepuff table. He saw Aberforth shoving him into the fireplace in the Hog's Head, moments before Bellatrix's curse decapitated him in a geyser of crimson. He saw-
"No more," he whispered to himself, canceling the curse. Crouching down, moving closer to the bars that separated him and the youngest Black sister, he addressed her.
"However, once again incorrect."
She spat a mouthful of blood at him, which Harry ignored.
"Where's the Cup, Lestrange?"
There was no visible reaction on her face, only a quick shake of her head.
"What cup? I don't know-"
"Legilimens!" Harry shouted, cutting her off, entering her mind, following the strands of thought his question had provoked.
Reverently, Bellatrix sank down to the ground. Where the hem of Voldemort's obsidian robes hovered an inch above the floor, she kissed the ground.
"I have an important task for you, my most loyal servant," Voldemort rasped.
Before he could pursue the thought more deeply, another image rose to the forefront, shunting aside the important memory.
Her ringing laugh, only tinged with the barest traces of insanity, echoed throughout what once may have been an opulent living room. Smoking debris covered the plush crimson carpeting, burning holes in the floor.
Stepping carelessly on it, her boots crunching over shards of broken glass, she stepped over a fallen bookcase, and approached a cream-colored wall, where a young red-haired man was pinned to wall by small silver knives, through the wrists.
"Gideon, 'tis such a shame you chose to defy our Lord," Bellatrix crooned, shaking her head sadly. "Blood as pure as yours is such a rarity in this world."
Gideon grinned wide, displaying a mouth full of broken teeth and blood.
"Perhaps that's true, but why then do you bow before the spawn of a muggle? Perhaps the kettle should stop call-"
Before he could finish the sentence, Bellatrix had wrenched his jaw open with her wand. Deftly, she reached into his mouth, and pulled out his tongue. Reaching into her robes, she withdrew another one of the silver knives and thrust it upwards, skewering his tongue. Pulling her arm backwards, the polished blade tore through the pink of his tongue, splitting the appendage in half.
Heedless to both the splatter of blood and Gideon's garbled screams, she addressed him coldly.
"If you cannot speak the truth, Prewett, then you are not deserving of a voice."
Breaking eye contact with Bellatrix, Harry flung another Cruciatus at her. As she continued to thrash upon the floor, he shook his head slightly.
"It's going to take a bit more than that to make me blink," he said grimly, as Bella's body, in full throes of a seizure, began to smoke slightly from prolonged Cruciatus exposure. He cancelled the curse, causing Bellatrix to open her eyes with a gasp of relief. Moving quickly, he raised his wand, eye contact re-established.
"Legilimens!"
"Rise, my faithful servant," Voldemort commanded. At once she complied, regaining her feet swiftly, her head bowed in respect.
Lightly, her Lord's fingers brushed against her neck, causing her to shiver. He gently raised her chin upwards, so that their gazes locked.
"I have an item of unparalleled value in my possession," Voldemort rasped, a small smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. Releasing her chin, he reached into his dark robes and withdrew a small golden cup. Twin handles with jewels set into them adorned each side, while an engraving of a badger covered the rest of the cup.
The memory quickly faded, morphing into something else.
Her robes stained with bright crimson stains, a pregnant witch skittered backwards across the white tiles, not unlike a crab.
"Where do you think you're going, Marlene," Bellatrix said mockingly, before swinging her wand down in a wide arc.
With a wail of terror, an unseen force grabbed the struggling witch by the foot and swung her around, slamming her into a nearby wall. Issuing a cry of agony, the witch fell from the shallow impression she had created in the sheetrock, spilling back onto the floor.
Bellatrix, moving quickly, jumped atop the woman and use for forearm to force the struggling woman's head against the floor. With a casual slash of her wand, she cut away the bottom of the witch's robes, carelessly slicing into her flesh.
"No, please!" Marlene McKinnon begged, "you've already taken the rest of my family! Just leave my child alone!"
"Shhh," Bellatrix urged softly, forcing the woman's legs open with her knees. "It will all be over soon."
Bringing her wand down, she forced it between the woman's spread legs and thrust inward with it, penetrating her most sensitive area. Heedless to the cry of agony, Bellatrix fired off a spell into the woman's womb. Immediately, sticky bloody covered her hand. Satisfied, she withdrew the wand and got to her feet, leaving the sobbing, broken woman to herself.
"Isn't that much better?" Bellatrix asked with a chuckle. "Doesn't it feel so much better to have that impure blood purged from your womb?"
Her only reply from Marlene was more sobs, while a growing delta of crimson spread out from between her thighs, staining the while tiles.
Rage filling his vision, Harry broke eye-contact and sent a third Cruciatus at Bellatrix. He held the curse for much longer this time, long after her body had started smoking. After a minute, the blood-vessels in her unfocused eyes burst, staining her corneas crimson. Abruptly stopping the curse, Harry lashed out with another legilimency attack.
"Is that…" Bellatrix began, before closing her mouth quickly.
"Indeed it is," Voldemort answered. "The last remaining Hufflepuff artifact. Needless to say, its value is inestimable. While I devise an appropriate spot to store it, I need you to keep this hidden in your vault at Gringotts. I care not what protections you place upon it, only that the Cup's safety is assured. Can I trust you with this task, Bella?"
"Yes, milord," Bellatrix answered, bowing her head.
Triumphantly, Harry withdrew her mind. Hufflepuff's Cup was at Gringotts.
In the background, Bellatrix began to wail, fully cognizant that she had betrayed one of her Lord's most precious secrets.
Her usefulness at an end, Harry banished Bellatrix into the opposite wall, which she struck with a dull thud. Before she could fall to the ground, Harry followed up with a yellow curse. It melted through her midsection like it was butter, before impacting the wall behind her.
The curse exploded with the force of a bomb, detonating Bellatrix's body in a spray of blood and gore. Opening the cell door, Harry cleansed himself of her gore, and gazed out the hole in the wall.
"That one was for Sirius," he said softly as the crashing of waves met his ears. Thirty feet below, the interior section of the square which made up 'The Abyss' faded into seawater, through one of the many fissures in the island's surface. Gazing upwards, he noted the bleak black stone which led up onto the upper levels of the prison. On the highest level, prisoners had the "luxury" of a small, barred window, so that at least they could see the sun rise in the morning.
Looking back behind him, Harry ripped the bars off the opposite cell. Merging them with the bars to Bellatrix's cell, he transfigured the steel into a long, thin chain. Unlike his previous one, this was not suited to combat, but its lack of girth allowed him to stretch it out to a length of close to a hundred feet.
Moving back to the hole in the wall, Harry shot his wand out it, pointing towards the window high above, on the opposite wide side of the dismal oubliette which made up the center of the island. The chain followed his command, flying out into the early-evening air. Squinting, he watched as it wrapped around the bars on the window high above. Taking a tight hold of the opposite end of the chain, wrapping it around his fists, he jumped out the hole.
For a moment he fell, before the chain pulled taut, the recoil nearly spilling him into the water. His fists ached as he clung on for dear life, his body slamming into the cold, damp stone.
Shrugging off the blow, Harry disentangled his wand-clenched hand from the chain, and pointed upwards. At once, the chain began to lift him upwards out of the dark depths. Pulled through the damp air, he gritted his teeth as the metal began to grate painfully against his hands.
Reaching the window, Harry lurched out to his left, his right hand closing around a small outcropping of black stone. Releasing the chain, Harry reached up with his left hand, leaving his wand-hand free. Whipping his wand backwards, the chain ripped the bars out of the stone, taking half of the wall with it. It fell swiftly into the water below with a large splash.
Taking a deep breath, Harry summoned the opposite end of the length of chain. It affixed itself to the steel bars of the empty cell. Grabbing onto it, he held tight as it pulled him into the prison cell.
Ignoring his aches and pains, Harry ruthlessly banished the cell door, sending it flying across the hall.
"What the fuck was that?" a strong voice yelled from within the corridor, to left.
Shit. The cavalry had arrived.
Conjuring a spherical magical shield around him, Harry leaped into the hallway, darting his head rapidly back and forth. To his left, two Aurors stood with their wands raised. To his right was a clear path to the south tower.
Perfect.
Backpedaling, twin stunners bouncing harmlessly off his shield, Harry backed into the entry way to the tower. Sealing the door shut with a wave of his wand, he turned and began to sprint up the square tower's stairs, taking them four at a time.
Blood pounding in his ears, Reductor Curses breaking through his rudimentary barrier, he increased his pace. Beginning to taste blood in the back of his throat, he reached the top. As he suspected, the tower had been vacated, with all island forces directed to stop the intruder.
Giving one final distrustful glance towards the stairs below, Harry quickly pointed his wand at his left arm, then his right arm, concentrating fiercely. Before they could shift, he placed the handle of the wand in his mouth, biting down hard. The wand placed, his arms began to burn painfully as the bones of his arms began to grind and flatten, spreading outwards. His skin stretched, before beginning to sprout crimson foliage. His fingers curled inwards and flattened, joining the bone structure of the wing.
He took a moment to spread his wings, which he had modeled after Fawkes foliage. While Pomona Sprout's forays into self-transfiguration had been met with distrust by some members of the Order, Harry had immediately realized the potential they possessed.
Taking a running jump, he leaped from the tower, maintaining its silent vigil over Azkaban. Instead of falling to the ground and splattering on the rocks below, his wings caught the wind and took hold, allowing him to soar away from the island.
Though his teeth were still clamped down on the wand, a smile still formed, born from the freedom he always felt while flying He thought of the Auror forces, positioned at the Azkaban gates to prevent him from using the emergency apparation point.
Little good it did them against his self-transfiguration.
Soaring towards the horizon, the wind and rain beating against his body, Harry considered his next move. While his first inclination was to go straight to Gringotts, logic stilled his hand. Breaking into the Lestrange vault would be by far the hardest part of his ordeal, if everything went according to plan. No, he couldn't just storm it unprepared. Without a broom, at the very least, he'd be fucked. Not to mention the healing potions, there was no way he'd get through the goblin's catacombs unscathed.
No, what he needed was a re-supply point.
At once, inspiration struck, an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. A rather unsettling smile upon his face, he passed the anti-apparation wards surrounding the island. With a small pop, he apparated away from the most desolate part of the North Sea.
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Author Notes:
Here be the second chapter. The next one will cover Harry's seventh hour in his desperate quest to stop Voldemort. It might be up in a week or two, depending upon how much writing I do during vacation.
Any guesses as to Harry's next destination?
Many thanks to the lovely Princess Serine for the beta work. That girl never fails to amaze with her quick turnaround.
Any questions or comments will be replied to. I love feedback, as it serves to keep my muse interested, and is very much appreciated. A simple "liked it" or "it sucked" is all I ask.
DLP Thanks:
Inert, shinysavage, neren, Einstern, Mog, Solcry, Portus, Jeram, Teresoul, Hashaheen, samkar, jjack1003, richardc269, Aldanon, drolly, vorenus, Sniz, animekingmike