Ground Zero

The Settlement by the Sea, Time Unknown

Sirius Black was a tragic story. The outcast and disappointment of his dark magic fanatical family; the member of a secret organisation that cost him everything he held dear and now - a man trapped in a desert by his godson whom he had failed.

The only thing that kept him going was the deluded idea that he was a good man despite all that he had survived. He never wanted to hurt anybody. All he cared about was laughs.

He was sitting by the edge of the sea, his feet planted in the wet sand, sinking deeper by the will of the gentle waves washing the surface of the sand.

He could see Azkaban clearly now. Its black walls rising high, radiating malevolent energy that the dementors fed on during the day. Even the muggles could feel it.

Daphne had already left to find Harry. He had tried to stop her and show her that she was more useful and wanted in the Settlement, but there was no changing her mind. He felt she had lost her hold on reality.

Sirius sighed.

Without Daphne, he was unsure where the settlement would go. Despite her young age, she had captured the hearts and minds of all and created a haven for all kinds of humans with bias or prejudice. She had injected in the survivors, the will to keep surviving. Without her, it was up to him, as one of the first settlers to ensure the camp did not fall into disarray.

It was why he sat by the beach more often nowadays. He had to figure out how to prevent Azkaban from coming into range of their protective magical shield.

Arthur joined him to watch the sunset.

"They left," Arthur said with a sigh. "Daphne was hoping to see you. She had instructions for you."

"They're idiots," Sirius replied sadly. "We have something good going on here. She rebuilt a society and now she's gone to pursue a freaking mad man. She's not going to find peace in that."

"She's hunting for her heart," Arthur said with a smile. "She just doesn't know it."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Don't be corny Arthur. She's just obsessed. He's the one who destroyed her dreams."

"Not just hers," Arthur said quietly. "We've all lost things precious to us."

"Hopefully he's dead," Sirius muttered darkly. Thinking about Harry always put him in a bad mood.

They lapsed into silence, just staring over the ocean at the solitary island and the red horizon that had almost swallowed the sun whole when suddenly, a tremor rippled under the sands.

"Did you feel that?" Sirius said with a start.

Arthur stood up, his eyes widening with each tremor. "It's coming from Azkaban."

He was right. The island was shaking.

Another violent tremor hit them hard and panic could be heard from the camp as people ran out of their huts and headed towards the beach.

"What's going on!" many shouted in panic.

"Is it an Earthquake?!"

Cracks began to appear in the walls of Azkaban and the sky began to crackle with unnatural electricity.

Everyone was struggling to hold onto their footing as the Desert shook uncontrollably.

And then, to everyone's disbelief, the island exploded into black flames and its shattered rocks spewed into the sky, with fiery smoking trails of debris.

"Take Cover!"

An inhuman screeching sound pierced the skies and brought everyone to their knees with the pain and terrifying nature of the sound.

It was over in a manner of minutes.

The silence that followed was too bizarre to understand and was summed up by Marla; Sirius's shagging partner.

"Well fuck me upside down," she muttered. "Did those creepy monsters just get blown sky high?"

The entire camp had arrived at the beach and was staring at the remains of the sinking island, bubbling poisonously in the sea.

"Are they gone?!"

"What happened?"

The sun had set, and the half-full moon cast enough light down on them to notice a body wash up the shore, face down, clothes mangled and missing an arm that was crudely cauterised.

"Is he alive?" someone whispered.

"Move!" The Camp Doc came running.

He flipped the body cover and grimaced at the sight of his sliced face. It looked like something thick and sharp and sliced through his face, taking away one of his eyes.

Sirius stared at the body. He couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity and dread.

"He's still alive," the doc whispered, as he checked for a pulse. "Ada!" he shouted for his assistant. "Levitate him back to the clinic!"

Arthur joined Sirius with a grim look. "It's him isn't it."

Sirius's breath shuddered. He knew who it was despite the state of his mangled face. Emotions whirled inside him chaotically. "Doc!" he shouted. "Keep him sedated but don't bind him."

The Doc frowned and then nodded.

"What do we do?" Arthur asked.

Sirius just burst out laughing. "Ah, Daphne," he chuckled, his mind rueing the irony. "Fate, it seems, keeps denying you your dreams."

Arthur glared at Sirius. There was nothing funny about that.

Harry.

Her voice held him together in his battle for survival against the black dragon.

What if I decide to destroy the world?!

Do what you think is right, Harry.

He had fought with all his might.

Harry.

Its breath was not fire but the embodiment of fear. He had walked through the painted tunnels and out on the other side unafraid of death. He had realised it was the personification of despair he was to be facing.

He had never been more afraid in his life. And at the bottom of that paralysing fear, he discovered the love in his mother's voice gave him the strength to survive to fight back and make it through the gateway.

The courtroom was the first memory he had been forced to relive. Those terrible Dementors had revived the terror of being a magical child under the boot of the Dursley's and that had almost made him give up, surrender to the fear, but her voice pulled him out of the darkness, even as Dragon claw tore through his arm and face, ripping through the void like it was recycled paper.

He tried to burn away the sight of the massive winged creature that had death in place of its eyes.

Come back, Harry.

He woke up to his surroundings with a groan and whimpered as his pain returned tenfold.

I'm alive, he thought in amazement. The image of a Dragon the size of a mountain glaring down at him was burned into his eyes and he was afraid to open them.

"Damn, he's moving," a voice muttered.

Do what you think is right, Harry. That's all that matters.

Harry opened his eyes and saw a dull grey cloth flapping against the wind. He was in a tent.

A face appeared in his line of sight. A middle-aged man wearing a surgical mask and had gloves on. A doctor? he wondered.

Function was returning to his brain and he instinctively reached out to the void. It was still there and was still strong. He closed his eyes and focused on healing his wounds. His vision felt a bit strange and he wasn't able to feel his right arm.

"Oh my god. Are you healing yourself?!"

The pain subsided but the feeling in his arm didn't return and when he opened his eyes it still felt like he was seeing only half the picture.

He felt numb. The memories returned. The sheer desperation in his battle against the dragon still burned under his skin and he took deep slow breaths. Panic still reigned in his heart.

The dragon hadn't just sliced through him, it had cut through his arm and had almost taken his head to if not for him pouring all his magic into protecting it.

Luckily the impact force had hurled him through the portal and into oblivion, away from the deathly grasp of the black dragon.

He now knew what it was like to be in a one-sided fight on the losing side.

Harry stared at the flapping cloth numbly. It was dark out and the tent was lit with numerous candles and lanterns. A cool breeze wafted through the tent and calmed his frayed nerves.

He pushed down the phantom sensation of having a right arm and used his left to sit up. He'd deal the physical damage later.

"Hey!" the Doc shouted in alarm. You shouldn't be moving."

Harry looked at the man. A tired-looking middle-aged fair man with dirty blonde hair wearing a white lab coat and dirty grey clothes. He had removed the mask.

"Where am I?" Harry asked, breathing slowly. His body ached with fatigue and as his encounter with death and fear faded into the background of memories, new questions began to form in his mind.

The Doc smiled, "We call it the Settlement by the Sea and we owe you a great debt."

Harry frowned. That didn't make any sense. "What?"

"You destroyed Azkaban, didn't you?" he asked.

Azkaban; the wizard prison guarded by those vile Dementors.

"Oh!" Harry gasped. Suddenly the nature of the dragon and its connection to this reality made sense. A cold sweat trailed down his back when he realised that's where the portal had taken him: into the heart of Azkaban!

When he had felt that ice-cold sensation of looming despair in the portal, he now realised it had the nest of Dementors feeding of the energy of the Black Dragon through the portal. The last thing he remembered before waking up in the tent was screaming and lashing out with every fibre of his being and will to survive.

That revelation hadn't been written in any book and Morrigan had not mentioned it in any of their brief chats. Bitch, he thought with annoyance. All she had said was it would take him where he needed to go. No wonder no one ever chose to go through that portal. Did Bellatrix know about this, he wondered. And if she did, where did she hear about it? Where was that information hidden?

"The Dementors are gone?" Harry asked in return. Had he destroyed them? Was Azkaban another portal to the Badlands? Had he destroyed the portal?

"We don't know but now is the time they usually turn up and they haven't yet which means it's a good chance you succeeded. What's your name? How did you end up on the island? And how the fuck did you destroy it?!"

Harry stared at the man, surprised by the burst of questions. He didn't feel annoyed by them, which, he noted, was new. That thought made him grin.

"My name is Harry Potter," he said and watched carefully for the reaction.

The Doc went still, and the colour drained from his face. "O-oh, I see," he stammered. "Are you here to destroy us too?"

"Relax," Harry said. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm not a psychopath."

The Doc took a deep breath and nodded, choosing to ignore that last bit. "Duly noted," he said weakly. "I see now why Sirius said what he said."

"Sirius Black?" Harry asked sharply.

"Y-yes."

It will take you where you need to go. Morrigan's words echoed.

"So, he survived," Harry muttered. Sirius was with him at the trial. Who else had survived? "Where is he?"

"Well, Azkaban's fall has created quite the confusion among everyone. We're in a medical tent on the outskirts of the camp, close to the distortions until things settle down."

Harry latched on to the word distortion. So, he was back in the desert in a camp where Sirius Black had made camp. Was it just a coincidence? He had stopped believing in coincidences after they had led him to the Badlands.

He slid off the makeshift bed and tested his leg strength.

"You should really take it easy," the Doc warned. "You've lost an arm and an eye and god knows how much blood. You need to take time and come to terms with it."

"I have come to terms," Harry replied shortly. He focused magic into his palm and summoned his wand from his personal pocket dimension and conjured a full length floating mirror.

"Wow," the Doc gasped.

The damage wasn't too bad, Harry mused. There was a deep scar rising from his jaw and cutting through his old almost faded lightning bolt scar. His eye was a mangled cauterised black hole and felt a phantom pain behind it.

His clothes had been changed to a white gown and he stared at the empty sleeve where his right arm was supposed to be.

"Damn," he sighed and transfigured the gown into grey trousers and a sleeveless shirt. He wanted his deformity not to be hidden. He was probably the only known survivor that came through the portal guarded by the dragon. He left a strange sense of pride in that.

"Err, that's not a good idea. You need clothes to suit the weather and the night is pretty damn cold. Our tent is protected by a warming spell… oh, right, you probably have one protecting yourself." The Doc laughed. "You know, so far, you don't seem like the picture Daphne painted for us."

Harry's eyes widened, and he banished the mirror and looked at the Doc with surprise. "Daphne Greengrass? She's here too?"

It will take you where you need to go. Morrigan's words echoed again.

"She was," the Doc replied nervously. Maybe he should stop talking, he thought to himself warily. He rambled a lot when he was nervous. Sirius could have mentioned the fact that his patient was a legit mass murderer before sending him to the far edge of the camp.

Harry sat back down on the bed and absently massaged the stump of his right arm. "Daphne," he murmured. Now that his green was actively interacting with the rest of his colours, Harry was drawn in his memories of her.

She had been a manipulative Slytherin who had wormed her way into his mind during the Hogwarts days. She was the only one whom he could almost call a friend.

He couldn't predict what he would feel when he met her again. So much had changed. Had she evolved as well?

"Wait," he said suddenly. The Doc's last words penetrated his swirl of memories. "What do you mean she was?"