Another little... well decent sized one-shot of an idea I had. This one revolving around Azkaban. Personally I loved the prison set-up in Chronicles of Riddik, an open environment for cell-mates to do whatever to each other and even the guards are hesitant to enter. Not really cannon but I liked the thought of doing something similar while messing around with some of the less explained magics like runes.
I don't own anything and make no profit from this work.
Just off the coast of the British isles a large mountain of jagged stone loomed. Chiseled from the reluctantly yielding stone a fortress had been constructed, but not to defend the lord or lady of the land. Instead the squat castle was designed to hold the most vicious, most heinous, and most depraved criminals of a society ninety percent of the world knew nothing about.
Men who murdered their own children with a smile had broken down in tears upon a sentence to the infamous prison. Those steeped in a tradition of dark rituals and twisted desires spoke of it in only the most hushed of tones. It was the ultimate deterrent for those who toed the line with the law, or those who controlled those laws.
Immensely aged stones weathered year after year of crashing waves, the moist chill working its way through the halls and stealing much of the sparse comforts of its inhabitants. The reek of salt pervaded the entirety of the structure, dulling the senses of all who even approached its walls. The only approach to the intimidating structure was a small footpath that wound treacherously along a twisted spur of slick rock, more then one potential inmate or member of their escort squad had fallen to death or serious injury. A few of those dead had even thrown themselves willingly to the sea rocks instead of pass through the salt-stained doors at the end of the path.
The island fortress of Azkaban. Home to over six hundred assorted criminals, guards, and government officials. The dregs of a society gathered and conveniently left to rot together so their influence wouldn't stain the rest of the culture that sentenced them. There was no law within the walls of Azkaban, those rights and privileges were left on the shore.
The upper levels of the citadel held cells for the highest profile and shortest termed inmates, their security practically flawless and routinely updated and revised. These levels were the only ones the guards dared traverse in anything less then a half-dozen. To wander Azkaban alone in uniform was a death sentence as assured as gravity. The prisoners contained on these levels were those who were suppose to be kept alive for one reason or another. Individuals who might be asked about by wealthy families, or had once held a seat of power. People who could prove useful for one political campaign or another.
The ground floors were split, the half closest to the doors housed the guards quarters and offices, as well as the kitchens and it's small staff that supplied the living inhabitants with energy to continue their miserable existence. From the upper floors to this level Azkaban stayed a fairly standard prison. It was the other half and the massive catacombs below that gave the fortress its reputation. Ancient protections and walled off corridors held back the ghouls that were quite literally capable of sucking the very souls of their captives with a kiss. Into this death-trap those individuals who lacked the luck to be of noble birth or potentially politically usefulness were condemned.
Inside the cramped, twisted halls of the true prison there was only one rule: Survive at all cost.
Survive the cold, wet environment. Survive on the meager amounts of food that made their way past the walls. Survive the other inmates. And most of all, survive the wardens of the true Azkaban.
Dementors.
Black ghosts that carried the chill of death with them everywhere they glided. Beings that no one knew the origins of, and honestly no one truly wanted to find out. Merely being within the halls of Azkaban allowed one to feel their presence, a sucking void that plucked every happy memory and replaced it with the most bitter and terrifying moments of ones life. Men in the upper levels went mad all to often and they never even came within a hundred feet of a Dementor for the duration of their stay.
Those in the lower levels rarely survived their sentences, though this fact was routinely forgotten. The few who did came back as something unrecognizable. Their very being crippled and riddled with scars so deep nothing could ever sew them back together. In this frost covered hell on earth nothing had thrived but the ghosts that haunted the halls.
It was in these forsaken halls that a young man finally found the strength necessary for an attempt to establish himself as the undisputed champion of his generation.
/=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-/
"We shouldn't be here." a hoarse voice whispered through moldy corridors.
"Nine-toes wants the shite's head. And he gets what he wants." another ragged voice hissed back.
"Except for this bloke. Com'on Francis, we both know Nine-toes has been trying to get this kid ever since he ripped Finch's head off."
"And you know if we wanna eat sometime in the next week we better at least try to get our hands on him."
two mangy figures ghosted down the halls, peering through the various bars and doors that outlined the cells along each wall. Robes that hung together by the thinnest of strings covered in muck and filth hiding the emaciated flesh underneath. A long sliver of sharpened bone clenched in the right hand of each figure twitched with every sound.
"Bloody hell." Francis muttered, shoving what once was dirty blonde hair from his eyes. "We might have to go take another pound of flesh from Twitter if he was lying about his hang-outs."
"I won't complain about some more body to the soup when we get back." his companion snorted, shoving another door open and peering through.
"Bloke's the only one our resident sociopath hasn't gutted just for seeing him."
"That's cause he was here when they brought him in, Twitter's was his mentor or some shite."
A creak drew the gazes of both men towards the walled off end off the tunnel. The slamming that followed had each a full foot off the ground then ducking into cells. Breathing heavily Francis glanced towards his companion before cautiously sneaking a glimpse of the hall. His quick intake prompting his partner to look as well.
At the end of the hall, standing in front of the pile of rubble that blocked them from the other half of the prison a slender figure paced. Midnight black hair fell around his shoulders in stringy, matted clumps, starkly contrasting with his almost luminescent skin. Instead of tattered robes the remains of a long-sleeve shirt and pants, now reduced to ragged shorts, floated about in the errant breeze generated by his movements.
"Bugger me." the shorter man hissed, "Harry Bloody Potter in the flesh."
"Don't say his god-damned name! You got a death-wish?" Francis countered frantically, still keeping his voice to a bare whisper.
"Fuck did you see that?" a look down the hall revealed their quarry had vanished.
"We have to go. Now." trembling Francis slipped out of the cell and hurriedly started to retrace their steps, head swiveling at an unhealthy speed. "Had to say that bloody name didn't you."
"It's just a name!"
"Just like You-Know-Who is just a name." Francis spit back. "You don't say the Ghosts name if you want to live!"
"I was wondering what kind of rats decided to visit." both men froze as a new voice drifted around them lazily. The third cell door ahead of them swung lightly open as the youth casually stepped out in front of them.
"Now what might two fine gentlemen such as yourselves be doing in my territory?" his voice was smooth, lacking the raspy quality that most inmates developed in response to terrible food and worse conditions.
"J-just got lost." Francis quickly sputtered, discretely twisting his bone shiv behind his leg. Dark green eyes flicked over the other two, then settled for meeting Francis' own pale blue.
"Well in that case I'm very sorry." with a sigh the boy started walking towards them. "Do forgive my rudeness and let yourselves out."
As the green-eyed boy drew closer Francis pressed himself against the wall, desperate to maintain as much distance from the living ghost as possible. The temperature dropped harshly as the youth stepped past him, causing a multitude of shivers to course through the larger man.
A sigh of relief was cut short as Francis' companion suddenly shouted in panic and lunged. Francis squealed and backpedaled as a practically glowing white hand flashed out and casually brushed the shiv away from him, causing it's wielder to stumble into an open cell.
As much as he wanted to turn and race away Francis couldn't pull his eyes from the boy as a slender rod appeared in his own hand. His eyes refused to move as the rod began to rip through the air in precise arcs, faster and faster until it and the arm attached to it disappeared into a shimmering blur. He couldn't blink, but his whole body cringed when the screams from the cell echoed out into the hall and raced past him to escape. His foot caught a stray stone and sent the man rolling, wet pops and crackling from the cell leaving him trembling on the floor without the strength to rise.
Unperturbed the boy continued his actions for a few more seconds before his arm stilled. Eyes and head rotating to fix Francis in their sight and the man felt himself grow cold at how feverishly bright those eyes had become. He almost missed the crumpled body of his former colleague as it hurtled into the wall, twisted and mangled beyond recognition. He could hear whimpering, and shortly realized it was coming from his mouth, as an eight-foot figure of brick and stone lurched out of the cell and loomed behind the boy.
"You should probably try to run." and the spell was broken as Francis scrambled like mad to reach his feet and throw himself down the hallway. His speed doubling when the tell-tale grinding and thuds of the boy's animated doll started after him.
Francis was in tears when the door from the hall came into focus, it was small for a door, much to small for the terrible animation to fit through. His heart thundering louder then the footsteps of the abomination behind him Francis almost screamed in victory when his hand reached the door. A quick twist, pull, and Francis found himself on the floor staring in horror as his relief curled up into a tiny ball and died in his mouth. All along the door-frame previously unnoticed scratches began to glow, highlighting themselves with the pale blue fire of magic.
"B-but this isn't right" he whispered. All the inhabitants of Azkaban had known how to do magic at one point in their lives, but most magic required a wand and those had been taken from the inmates long before they ever reached the island hell. Only a rare few had received training in magic that didn't require a wand, and even fewer could remember those skills after constant exposure to the soul-sucking presence of the Dementors. Francis was not one of those luck individuals, but it was becoming exceedingly clear to him that Harry Potter was.
Red stained stone fingers came to rest on his shoulders and Francis couldn't find the strength to even put up a token struggle. There was nothing he carried that had any chance of stopping a runecaster who had already locked him in a small corridor with an animated golem. Shortly he was lifted off the ground and facing the boy as he wandered into view and peered at the scratches around the door.
"Hmmm... I have to disagree, my work is... while horridly far from optimal at least adequate." rapping the door with the back of his hand the black-haired boy turned and smiled before pointing to the scratches. "These couple here are for locking, this for drawing ambient magic, surprising how much you can find in a place like this what with Dementors floating about willy-nilly. Where was I? Oh yes, this sequence here is the trigger, set to activate the locking runes fifteen seconds after anyone unauthorized comes through... Which is everyone really, maybe I should just make it go off for anything?" the shiver inducing calm in his tone bleed off into contagious enthusiasm as a slender finger rubbed over his chin.
"Oh, pardon me, got off on a bit of a tangent really. Don't have a chance to do this much these days." another closed eye grin then the boy fixed his gaze on Francis' eyes.
"Your going to die today." the utter finality of his statement left the larger man with no delusions about what Harry Potter, The-Bloody-Ghost-of-Azkaban, was going to do to him.
"Crushed into a paste then dropped in old Nine-toes soup pot. Don't feel too bad, it happens all the time. Best part is you'll be partly responsible for keeping the majority of the folk on this side of the wall alive!" another smile and Harry started trotting down the hall, his stone animation following and dragging Francis along.
"Really is for the Greater Good and all, I hope you don't feel to bad. Any kids? Wife? Family? Hell how about friends? I use to have a couple of those, great things they are. Anyway, let me know and I'll be sure to send them notice that their scumbag Father, Husband; Son, Uncle or Friend has finally slipped their mortal coil and gone screaming and pleading straight to hell. Luckily in a great act of selflessness you donated your body to the betterment of the inmates of true Azkaban, I'll leave that on your tombstone." pausing at the crumpled body of the second man Harry frowned.
"Drat, forgot to get his name... Oh well. We wouldn't want to lessen the impact of such a selfless sacrifice by doing it twice." the bone rod was once again in Harry's hand and a few short flicks latter Francis stumbled free and collapsed to his knees in front of the boy.
"Your a lucky man, you know that right?" green eyes peered into his own, cold slender fingers tilting his head this way and that for a few seconds before withdrawing. "You never said my name, so I suppose you can bring him back and tell his story... You know his story right?"
"N-no."
"Stupid. Haven't even been here that long and the Dementors already sucked away your brains. Shame really, they could have been useful once upon a time. Right, so your friend... you mind if I call him your friend?" Francis quickly shook his head. "Course, so your friend here has valiantly decided to commit suicide, all so that his remains can go in the pot and help the rest of you make it through another day here in Azkaban. Noble, so very noble... Must have been a true Huffelpuff to make such a gesture. Almost brings a tear to my eye." a quick swipe at imaginary tears and Harry's eyes were boring into Francis' again.
"Course... Your stupid so I have to tell you this right out so you get it." Like flicking a switch Harry was suddenly centimeters from Francis' face, eyes flaring as he roared. "He's your bargaining chip to getting out of this tunnel with your life. He's my message to the pretentious ass Nine-toes to stay the FUCK out of my business, and your gonna drag his sorry carcass right to the smug bastard and tell him exactly what kind of short, bloody reckoning is waiting for anyone who comes through my door without a god-damn invitation and wearing their best dress-robes. I OWN this little corner of Azkaban and I don't have any intention of leaving or sharing it till I'm feeling the need for greener pastures."
Once again the switch flipped and there was only a young man with bright green eyes and a half-smirk. "We clear?"
"Crystal." a full smile was his reward as Harry turned without pause and resumed his march to the end of the corridor where Francis had first laid eyes on him.
Freezing for a moment Francis scarcely believed it when the construct behind him melted away into the floor. Several more minutes were spent trembling and sweating before he came to his senses and gathered up the broken and bleeding mess that had been his partner for the day. No tears were shed, death was far to common a thing in Azkaban. Life, especially after an encounter with the Living Ghost, was a far more precious commodity and Francis was more then happy to accept it.
Stumbling slightly over the extra weight Francis made his way to the exit as quickly as possible, sighing in relief as the magic in the runes faded away and the handle turned underneath his palm. Jerking the door wide and settling his burden Francis looked one last time down the hall and saw green eyes fixed on him as the boy smiled widely.
"Your still going to die today."
Francis paled as the freezing tendrils, a tell-tale sign of their inhuman wardens, began to worm into his mind. His recent joy at being granted another day of life quickly sucked away into the endless void that was the Dementor's hunger. Frost raced down the hall he now found himself, only halting momentarily at the rune-guarded door of Potter's sanctuary before skipping past to continue it's stalled progress. Black cloaks swirled as they slowly seeped up the corridor.
Before Francis could even contemplate a course of action the door in his hand jerked free and slammed shut in his face, bricks sliding from the surrounding walls until it was nothing more then another unremarkable surface.
"You should probably try to run." Potters voice echoed in his head, and Francis was all to happy to comply.
/=-=-=-=-=-=-=-/
The sucking presence of the Dementors descended around him but Harry pushed it aside with practiced efforts. A young woman screaming and a man yelling for her to take their child and run in his head was nothing new, it had almost become a source of comfort in his time since entering Azkaban. Roughly reinforcing the meager shields around his mind Harry Potter turned to the cork of rubble and spells that had been stuffed into the corridor of Azkaban that had become his home.
The smooth feel of his runic catalyst relaxed him, half-giant bone soaked in Dementor ooze and then carved by hand. No one knew if the ooze was blood, waste, or saliva but it was a form of lesser catalyst that could be found within the sprawling length of Azkaban. Half-giants were rare, but more then a few had made their way to Azkaban over the years and they rarely lasted long, far more valuable as parts then as muscle, they ate too much. Even giants had to sleep, and their thick hide could only stop so many shivs.
'Half-giants usually get a mix of traits from their giant parent. Most giants eat very little in comparison to their size, it's actually their magic that provides most of the sustenance they require. The remainder goes into strengthening their body so it doesn't simply collapse under it's own weight. Giants are resistant to spells because their body is naturally accustomed to absorbing and utilizing magic unlike Dragons which...'
Harry felt his lip quirk for a moment before hastily cramming the memory back into the depths of his mind. A conversation with a friend, one of many conversations he had listened to half-heartedly and practically forgotten until his mental training had begun. These half-forgotten conversations had saved his life from the very second he had entered Azkaban, one girls chatter over her homework through the years had given him the tools to survive. And after months of mere survival he had begun to thrive.
'Runes are just another language. A language that tells both a story and gives instructions. Like this rune here... This one says 'Key', you can use it to turn a normal key into something like a skeleton key, of course most locks sold by wizards already incorporate protections for this sort of thing. The interesting part is that you could turn something else into a 'Key', like... Say take the King from Ron's chess set! We could make that piece 'Unlock' the game by placing it on the board, letting us play the game, or 'Lock' the game by removing it from the board. Does that make sense Harry? The best part is you can start writing whole conversations, like this here.'
The sound of shuffling papers and a fresh sheet was quickly covered in neat scrawl.
'This paper is the key to my Runes assignment.' she translated for him.
A slender wand lightly tapped the runes after the sheet was laid on top a roll of parchment. A brief flash latter smooth fingers lifted the sheet away and the parchment rolled itself up and was laid in his hands.
'Go ahead. Try and open it!'
He could remember the feel of the paper, and the paper-cuts he had nursed for the rest of the day, but her laughter had made it worth the trouble.
He had carved that rune for twelve hours during his first week in Azkaban, desperate to hold onto both the sound of her voice, and the priceless gift of her knowledge. Four months after he had carved every rune he had ever seen, even those he didn't know the meaning of. And now however many years later he had delved so deep into those lectures, studied the meaning behind each line and every stroke that he could feel them. They were his obsession, his focus, the constant revision and extrapolation keeping him from falling under the oppressive force of the Dementors.
Time lost meaning after the first few months, it wasn't hard to lose track of time and easy enough to find a new arrival to drag the date out of. He had socialized early on, as young teenager dumped in hell he had been more then willing to jump in line behind those who had proven crafty or vicious enough to survive. He had cried, thrown up, shivered and been taken advantage of in every sense. Those lessons proved the downfall of his happy Azkaban family. Harry had learned, incorporated, and adapted until he had sucked everything from those who originally tormented him.
How to survive almost entirely on his own magic force. Sure his Lumos spell would probably hardly light up a broom-closet any more but he could avoid food for a month if needed, and considering what the majority of the food in Azkaban included that was worth the trade. What magic he did have left was more then enough to activate most rudimentary rune schemes, and he could always eat if he needed access to more of his magic. One of the side effects of this method was the luminescence of his skin, and the fact that he had barely grown an inch since coming to Azkaban.
Runecasters. The title given to those in Azkaban who could still work magic in the form of runes. At first he had ignored them, wallowing in his depression, but then he had begun to watch. He began to learn, his secret memories safe as he had never practiced runes before, mastering the only craft that could protect someone within the dreary halls. How to repel Dementors, how to create his runic focus, how to imbue objects with will and direction. He had slaughtered the greatest rune masters of Azkaban the day he left their ranks, and left scores of others behind protections that would fail all too soon.
But most importantly, how to plan ahead. At age eleven he had been given a choice, the choice to charge danger recklessly and with selfless abandon, or the choice to see the pieces on the board and manipulate them. Desperate as a child to avoid evil he had chosen to be a pawn, to let others do the thinking while he charged ever forward at their pointing. Azkaban took in that little boy and broke him, gutted him, but gave the shredded remains time to make the needed changes before they could be ultimately destroyed.
He had always had potential, best student in Defense since Tom Riddle, perhaps even Albus Dumbledor. Gifted Seeker with incredible hand-eye coordination and natural aptitude on a broom that left him flying circles around almost any challenger. Always willing to turn another cheek when insulted, slandered, or manipulated. Steadfastly loyal to his friends and more then willing to take a killing blow for just about anyone if it made the world a better place.
It had all taken less then a year for Azkaban to smash the puppet and let loose an uncontainable beast with at best questionable morals. There was no room in hell for second chances, Harry's first death had driven that point home. Bound and used, his blood slowly drained to thicken the soup, Nine-toes laughing in his kitchen as Harry slowly faded away. All because he had trusted the wrong man to watch his back.
He had met death in that cupboard, and death took something away from him before sending him back to his personal hell.
'This is not the only time we will meet child. Your hand is far from played, and I will not take one such as you before their time."
Absently Harry's hand rubbed his forehead, revealing a red lightning bolt carved into his flesh for a brief second.
He had escaped the second cupboard of his life far more dramatically then the first. Cutting down those who stood in his way until he escaped into tunnels so deep even the most experienced Azkaban veteran trembled in fear. His lessons were put through the ultimate test immediately afterward as he battled for his life against the demons that infested the lowest levels. It was not a battle that could be won, Dementors were not truly living and could not be killed. But they could be avoided, blinded, circumvented, and Harry had survived long enough to sneak back and establish his own kingdom, population: one.
Retaliation for his death quickly followed and left Azkaban thirty inmates lighter and stories of a new horror stalking the halls. Runemasters who had survived for decades in Azkaban were found all throughout it's halls, the primitive council of leaders had been culled to the man, and none had seen them die. After the cull those who rallied to find and dispose of Harry Potter found their leaders turning up dead or 'kissed', and soon enough Harry Potters name became taboo throughout Azkaban.
With lust for revenge sated and lessons learned Harry finally turned his eyes to a new goal. Escape Azkaban island. Which was why he found himself pacing in a dead end corridor, runically warded from the Dementors senses, and plotting.
Myth: It is impossible to escape Azkaban prison.
Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, had done so. Harry had never asked how, but if his godfather had done it he could as well. While he lacked the ability to take an animal form he was not without his own unique advantages.
Fact: It is bloody fucking difficult to escape Azkaban prison.
After a month of observation and shadowing Harry was fairly certain his godfather had escaped from the upper level, while still an accomplishment worthy of praise it had to be easier then escaping lower Azkaban. Dementors randomly swarmed to different pathways, Wardens watched every exit twenty-four hours a day in groups of six for four hour shifts, and hundreds of passageways had been blocked off or collapsed. There was no hope to find a way out by going lower, Dementors only grew in numbers the deeper one traveled and even Harry didn't dare go too deep. The deeper you went the more vicious and hungry the Dementors grew, starving and desperate for any shred of emotion they could scrounge. Even an animal's emotions would be almost irresistible the further you delved into Azkaban.
"Step one." Harry muttered, pausing his pacing and beginning to sketch runes on a wall. "Discover any traces or evidence of Sirius' attempt to escape, incorporate or adapt anything useful."
"Step two. Devise plan of action, aim for minimum contact and exposure. Ideally escape without anyone learning a thing. Substep. Leave false trail?"
"Step three. Find someplace to hole up outside Azkaban. Avoid former friends, avoid places of importance. Secure sources of information."
"Step four. Secure funding, allies as required, and plan." stepping back from the wall Harry let his eyes drift over the outline. It was crude, but he had never been able to stack up with people like Hermione or Dumbledore for planning purposes.
He had something to do outside these walls, after all this time he didn't know what exactly, but it wasn't his time yet. Most likely killing or neutralizing Tom Riddle since the magical world seemed completely incapable of doing anything that involved him in any way shape or form. Equally possible that he would just tear down the wizarding government one individual at a time, perhaps then they could put something together that was capable of standing on it's own two feet without being alternatively sucked dry or pumped full of cash from one family or another. That information lay outside the walls of his prison though so Harry didn't spend too much time contemplating it.
For now he had enough to work off of.
"Start step one." a tap on the wall with his half-giant-bone focus and the runes faded from view.
/=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-/
"What do you have for me Twitter." an ancient looking man raised an eyebrow as he turned towards the door that had been his for the last decade.
"Mister Potter, do come in." the figure strode easily into the dim room. Furnishings included a sleeping slab and a roughly cobbled together writing desk of stone. One of the grander cells in lower Azkaban.
"What sort of things are you looking for today? Rumors of the contents of the soup? News of fresh blood ignorant enough to test your legend? Perhaps a remote location for a more... private liaison with one of the inmates? I have many answers, but only you can ask the questions."
"It will be a shame when lower Azkaban is stripped of your wisdom, Twitter."
"If only you knew Mister Potter." absently rubbing the stump of his left hand the old man seated himself on the slab
"I want information. Information about Sirius Black." the old man rocked back, pursing his lips as Harry squatted on his heels. "You were here when he escaped, probably were here when he arrived."
"Indeed I was. Young Black was a fierce thing when he was first dragged in, always raging and muttering about one rat or another. The Dementors quieted him soon enough, drawn to all that emotion, and were more then happy to part him from it. My second grand-son was still living at the time so I had a cell nearby, the Dementors use to swarm to him like nothing else every time they were given a walk about."
"Thirteen years is a long time, and here that might as well be an eternity."
"Don't speak as if you'd know boy!" for a moment the veneer of an old man slipped and cold fury burned in dark eyes. Loathing and disgust for the life before him sneering out of a grandfatherly face. Quickly enough emotions were once again hidden and the wise old man was back. "You've only been with us a short time young Mister Potter, and already thinking your ready to slip away from the halls of Azkaban."
"Just because Nine-toes is starting to take pieces of you is no reason to be surly old man." Harry snapped back, Twitters hand going to the stump of his left hand on reflex. "Give me something useful and I might even leave you a present before I vanish."
"I'm afraid our mutual friend Mister Black was quite... personal with most of his thoughts that didn't correspond with rats. There is simply nothing I can share about his plans with you Mister Potter."
"About what I was expecting. I suppose we shall part ways here then Twitter. I doubt I'll come for you again." rising smoothly to his feet Harry glided towards the cell door. "It's a shame I'll have to dismantle these repelling runes but you'll understand right?" his white focus suddenly snapping into his hand and starting to trace the runes that lined the door.
"Insufferable PRAT!" the old man roared, coming to his own feet and striding towards his antagonist as a focus of his own slipped from his sleeve.
"I knew these weren't Corgie's work, far to neat." Harry snickered as his focus slipped from tracing runes on the door to sketching them on the wall next too it, quickly dissolving into a blur of white.
"I took you in! I taught you everything you needed to survive! I bloody well helped you build that focus you ungrateful cur!" Twitters own focus snapped to the ground and started to sketch as well, his lowered posture the only thing that kept the spear of stone that shot from the wall where Harry sketched from ripping him in half.
"Indeed you did, and you taught me so very, very much Twitter. I know you have something in that head I can use. You'll give it to me or I'll simply crush you to paste like everyone else who thought they could get one over on me."
Abandoning his half-completed rune scheme Harry dove over a wave of spike rock that rumbled through the floor at Twitters urging. Even as he rolled past the sleeping slab his focus sought it out and scratched a quick series of lines. As Harry rose to his feet the slab morphed and spat a series of fist sized stones towards Twitter, forcing the older man to gracelessly dive to the floor so he could continue his rune work. His younger opponent had already finished another scheme and was quickly building up one of his greater constructs, massive arms slowly rising from the floor and groping blindly for something to pummel
"This stone shall become man, it shall bend to my will, this stone shall strike my enemies." Harry quoted. "This was always one of my favorites, it's a shame Finch couldn't be bothered to come up with more schemes. He had something of a gift."
With a grunt Twitter put the finishing scratches in his own scheme and activated it before one of the bricks thrown from the wall collided with his ribs and sent him tumbling across the floor.
"Very nice work Twitter. I'm impressed." even as he spoke Harry was ducking under a stone tentacle that burst from the floor and slipping behind his construct as it slowly pulled it's feet from the floor. A second and third tentacle soon followed the first and wrapped the humanoid golem in their length. A stressed groan played herald to the golems left leg and arm being ripped from the figure. Armed with new clubs two tentacles proceeded to lash out at the pale boy as he focused his efforts on avoiding the heavy blows.
Sketching furiously Harry had to abandon a handful of schemes one after the other as the tentacles chased him around the room. Frowning the boy sketched a rune while pointing his focus at the maimed golem. With another rumble the figure broke in half and began to reform into two separate dolls. The swinging tentacles, directed by Twitter, made short work of them but gave Harry time to double back and finish three of his previously abandoned schemes.
A large blade of stone swung out just over waist height and shattered two of the tentacles, and was quickly followed by two spears of stone that slammed into the far wall before exploding into shrapnel. Not expecting the explosion Twitter cried out as half a dozen finger-sized shards of stone peppered his arms, legs and back. A final rune scheme activated and gave birth to a tentacle similar to Twitters that quickly wrapped and contained the final piece of Twitters active scheme.
"Well that was entertaining." Harry sniffed, tugging the front of his rags as he stalked to the bleeding man. "Now, lets try this one more time shall we?"
A rag-covered foot slammed ancient bones against the floor and several pops leaked out before Twitter howled as his fingers were ground against the floor and his focus. A Second stomp freed the focus which was quickly tossed to the far side of the room and a final kick laid him out on his back as Harry straddled him and met a defiant gaze with his own.
"Now what the fuck do you know Twitter?" letting the man wheeze for a bit Harry sighed and pressed down with his knee, grinding the stone slivers deeper into the other man's body and drawing a fresh squeal of pain. "I can do this all day Tweets, your gonna bleed to death pretty quick if you don't hurry up. Right now I bet you'll even get some time in medical if you play your cards right."
"FUCK! Alright, alright already *cough* get off me for gods sake you bloody psycho."
"Not what I asked for." More weight on his knee drew a pained gasp and labored breathing.
"Amulet... Guards wear... Dementors can't... Can't feel you well with them."
"Well bloody lot of good that will do me, and Black was an Animagus, why the hell would he need an amulet that hides him from Dementors when he can just change into an animal and stroll past 'em?" More weight and the sound of stone grinding on bone.
"Went... Down... Told me... Always down... Had to get to the bottom. Dementors willing to eat anything... anything down there, needed to hide everything... even a Padfoot." Twitter was going deathly pale, the red ring around them spreading.
"Well I'll be, crazy bastard did go down." Harry muttered as he lifted himself off the dying inmate. "Fuck I'm hungry."
Looking down at the spreading pool Harry squirmed slightly as the blood soaked into his foot wrappings, then laughed. Stumbling over to the sleeping slab, now half it's original size as the rest of it had been launched around the room like spitballs, he collapsed and continued laughing. Soon hiccups followed and he curled into a ball, holding his knees and rocking as he stared at the cooling body.
"You know my dad's always die right? James got wasted by a wannabe-Dark-Lord, just over a year after I was born. Dumbledor went and picked himself up a cursed ring for some crazy reason, last I heard he was about to die. Two days later I'm sitting at your feet bawling cause no-one believes me when I tell them Riddle's back and I didn't even get to see Dumbledor's funeral. And now I kill you trying to get out of this hell-hole so I can gut the son-of-a-bitch. You all got rotten luck, having a son like me." chuckles interspersed with hiccups followed for a few minutes before the room quieted.
"Step one, complete... Was it worth it? To have a son for a couple years?" rocking back and forth Harry let his eyes close and soon slumped into sleep on the shrunken stone.
/=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-/
It was warm, just based on that information Harry could deduce he was in one of two places. The prison infirmary, unlikely since he hadn't been banged up enough for that and he didn't know anyone in lower Azkaban who liked him enough to drag his carcass up to the checkpoint. Much easier to bring him to the second location. Nine-toes Kitchen.
"..tter always did find the best toys. Full seven runes on this focus, probably used to be Finch's at one point or another, we'll hand that off to one of the new 'casters after some friendly competition. Go ahead and get them started redoing the Dementor rune-wards."
"Right away Sir."
He didn't need to open his eyes to feel the ropes that held his arms fully extended over his head, not that his arms were really feeling much after hanging with his feet a full foot off the ground for who knows how long. The warmth of the rune stove was a very pleasant change from the ever-present chill of the regular halls. Resolving to get it over with Harry cracked an eye and peeked around.
Large pile of limbs and assorted goodies? Check. Don't forget stink of said limbs. Double check.
Only obese man in Azkaban? Check.
Big pot bubbling on the stove that only Nine-toes knew the current contents of? Check.
Cupboard door behind him? Can't see it but check just for the hell of it.
Confirmed location: Nine-toes Kitchen.
"Bloody wonderful." Harry sighed, opening his eyes fully.
"If it isn't my favorite little ghost. Your gonna be the only individual who's been bled dry for the soup twice in history my boy." Jiggling chins and belly flopped about obscenely and Harry almost puked at the sight of so much obvious... overindulgence.
Nine-toes was probably the one individual in Azkaban that actually enjoyed being there. On his first day he had set up his 'kitchen' and donated his own toe to add a bit of body to the soup. From that day forward Nine-toes had defended his position as lower Azkaban cook from all challengers, and used their remains to feed those who worked for him. After Harry had burned a hole through the leadership after his return from below Nine-toes had been quick to step up and start filling in. His prodigious girth and fact that his men were noticeably healthier then most other inmates had lead to his rise as 'Cook-meister', and a more then healthy sum of power over the inmates around him.
All food that came to lower Azkaban, which was not a whole lot, went through his hands at some point or another. Harry would have killed him early, but the man did help keep a lot more inmates alive as a cook then he would as a corpse. The second option was rapidly becoming a very real possibility in Harry's mind though.
"Yippee. Almost forgot to ask, Francis bring you my present?"
"Gave me a full speech that one did. Lemme see..." swirling away far faster then the mans bulk would indicate possible Nine-toes poked through the pile of limbs for a minute before pulling out a vaguely familiar head and started moving the jaw in a talking motion.
"Bloody crazy ghost Sir, told me he's staying in greener pastures he did, said he might be moving on soon though. I don't think we should be bugging him Sir, I really don't think we should. Killed me mate he did, crushed him up like a pretzel and then summons the black cloaks to try and take my soul he does. I'm sorry Sir but he done scared the piss out of me... Can I have some soup?" roaring with laughter Nine-toes let the head drop back into the pile as he walked back towards his dangling company.
"Not gonna lie I like you Potter. Man's got to have a certain style if he wants to make it in this world. You got it my boy, you've had most of lower Azkaban jumping at their own shadows for damn near a year. Chances are those rumors won't ever really go away either." Sighing heavily the fat man leaned against his counter and fixed Harry with a stern gaze.
"Which is why it's a damn shame I'm gonna have to gut you for killing my men."
"In my defense I didn't actually kill either of them, you got one and another decided to commit suicide via bothering people he shouldn't, so really I don't see this being all that necessary personally." trying to shrug Harry wasn't surprised when his numb arms couldn't even manage to start him swaying.
Nine-toes threw his head back and laughed again, belly jumping around like a pack of rats were trying to squirm their way free. Shuddering at the thought Harry looked up at the ceiling, finding his rope had been hung over a fire-poker sunk into the wall a foot down from the top. Mentally judging the distance he started swinging his feet and swinging back and forth towards the closest wall.
Wiping his eyes Nine-toes watched him for a few swings before grabbing a cleaver, as with most of the tools in Azkaban it had been fashioned crudely from the bones of a former inmate or several.
"Alright Potter, I'll admit I like you and you got a sense of humor, but all good things come to an end and I'm afraid your times up." running his thumb down the blade the obese man smiled right before Harry's feet met the wall.
Kicking off with all the power he could force into his legs Harry grinned as the poker in the wall groaned and bent, then frowned when he didn't drop dramatically from the ceiling to the floor.
"Second times the charm?" he snarled, swinging back and narrowly avoiding losing a foot to Nine-toes cleaver. As he slammed into the wall his knees bent and once again he launched himself away from the wall as fast as possible.
There was a loud squeal this time but the poker refused to bend completely and Harry yelped as the cleaver cut a deep line down the back of his left leg. Spinning like a top from the sudden impact Harry wasn't able to orient himself and slammed face-first into the wall. The poker over his head finally giving out and dropping him in a heap as Nine-toes cleaver scrapped along the wall where his belly had been.
"Son-of-a-bitch!" Tears in his eyes Harry rolled awkwardly away from the dangerous cleaver as his shoulders burned with returned blood-flow. Nine-toes started screaming for help as Harry dove for the counter, eyes fixed on his bone focus. His hands stopped sharply a full foot and a half before the table but Harry's momentum pulled his legs out from under him and he ended up fully extended before gravity caught up and dropped him on his back against the floor.
Wheezing the boy's eyes widened as the bone-white cleaver screamed through the air towards his eye. Jerking his head Harry winced as the cleaver bounced of the rock and drew another deep line along his cheek.
"Watch it with that thing!" he groused, rolling to the side to avoid a stomp that would probably have flattened his ribs. Glancing around quickly Harry dove over the stove then shot back over on the far side of the pot. Racing full speed he quickly drew the rope taunt, dragging the massive pot from it's semi-permanent place over the burner.
Nine-toes gaped as the cookware groaned ominously before tipping over completely, spilling boiling liquid across the room. The fat man was quick enough to duck away from the initial spray, his minions racing through the door were not so fortunate and more then one screamed in pain as the fluid seared their skin. Harry had already reversed direction, coiling the rope as he ran before depositing the whole bundle on top the burner and swearing as it slowly crackled.
"How do you turn up the heat Toes?" he shouted, glaring at the rope that continued it's sedated progress towards charcoal. "Ah fuck." ducking a thrown brick Harry once again pelted towards the counter where his focus lay covered in near-boiling soup. The weakened rope threw his step off before snapping, spinning the boy around several times before he slammed chest first into the table.
"Hot! Hot, hot, hot!" he chanted, willing his figuratively and literally burning fingers to close around the rod of bone. "Bugger me."
Giving up on his fingers as Nine-toes pulled himself around the corner of the counter and another three goons trampled over their moaning companions to get in Harry jammed the focus into the knots that bound his wrists. Praying it would hold Harry rolled over the counter to avoid another wild swing of the cleaver and jumped towards the goons screaming. They parted like water, wanting nothing to do with the faintly glowing figure and Harry was in the hall pounding towards the checkpoint before they gathered their wits.
Tenderly prodding his nose Harry scowled for a moment before focusing on getting feeling back into his fingers. He already had Nine-toes and a small pack of inmates gaining ground on him. Losing them in his current condition would be difficult.
"Or I could do something... Gryffindorish." shuddering Harry took a turn and finally smiled as he saw the checkpoint appear before him.
There were three checkpoints from Azkaban prison into lower Azkaban, each had a full sift of six highly trained members of the wizard world police Auror's force stationed to hold any outbreaks until reinforcements showed up. With a very narrow corridor leading to the check point there was next to no chance of the prisoners overwhelming the guards before help arrived. Harry didn't even slow down as one after another the jaws of the guards dropped as he charged up the kill zone alone.
"Freedom!" he screamed as Nine-toes and his merry band rounded the corner and came into view of the six guards.
One of the Auror's immediately stepped back and pointed his wand towards his throat in preparation to sound the alarm as the other five stepped forward and blasted off a volley of stunning curses. Harry flopped to the ground and found he had finally worked up enough bloodflow to get his fingers working. Within the second his runic focus was darting back and forth across the ground and a wave of rocks were being projected into the defensive lines. Two slightly overlapping shields snapped into place immediately and the remaining three defenders stepped to their places with practiced precision before firing more red stunning lights at the boy who desperately rolled to avoid them.
"Prisoner break, checkpoint two. Repeat. Prisoner break, checkpoint two." an enchanted voice bellowed through the castle.
"Bugger." rolling back and forth to avoid stunners Harry focused on finishing several ward schemes, spending half a minute ducking back and forth before several tentacles sprouted and grabbed for the wizards behind their shields. Shortly after a second wave of bricks and rock was shot into the beleaguered defenders and finally a golem rose to it's full height. Panting and holding his stomach Harry crouched painfully behind the last titan and focused on directing his constructs. With so many going it was difficult to preform anything but basic maneuvers, but secured behind his golem Harry was fairly safe from return fire.
Several more seconds passed before he managed to pummel the line enough to grab on of the guards with tentacles. Blasting and boring hexes quickly reduced his constructed feelers into rubble but they managed to drag his victim close enough for the golem to grab before spinning around bringing the white faced woman face-to-face with Harry.
Snatching her wand and tossing it to the far side of the room Harry grabbed the collar of her uniform and with a quick "Sorry Miss." ripped the fabric open. Noticing two necklaces Harry sighed, apologized, and pulled both over the ladies head. A wave of blasting curses sent rubble all across the room and Harry, distracted by the slumping of his constructed defender, was quickly introduced to one of the disadvantages of being male. The Auror's knee slammed heavily into his crotch and Harry wordlessly dropped to his knees, the woman continued to rip free from the currently lifeless hands of the golem and darted towards her wand.
Seeing the hostage free the remaining Auror's opened up with every blasting curse and boring hex they could muster. The golem maintained it's form for a few rounds, but ultimately was crushed under the wave of firepower. By the time it had completely lost cohesion Harry had hobbled a fair stretch back down the kill-zone a stone wall oozing along behind him like a puppy.
Thankfully Harry was able to duck around the corner before a concentrated group of Auror's could be assembled to chase him. Leaning against the wall he groaned as his stomach, normally perfectly calm and quiet, roared loudly at his overuse of the magic that normally kept it sedated.
"Bloody tired." he was still panting, his body overheated and sweating bullets. The Azkaban diet was anything but complementary to excessive physical activity, and Harry had been nothing but excessively active ever since two inmates had woken him this morning. He had always been skinny, bordering the line of malnutrition his entire life, his body lacked muscle and fat. He had been tiny for his fifteen years of age when he walked into Azkaban, and it had not done him any favors. Shoving down his ravening desire for any form of food Harry picked himself up, it was time to get moving before either of the parties hot and bothered for his blood started calling.
Looking at the necklaces dangling in his hand Harry smiled.
"Part two. Start." maybe Gryffindor impulses still had some uses.
Didn't really like the later portions, things moved too quickly and didn't really make sense. But it was still fun to write.
~SimplyWaters~