CHAPTER 3
14 June 1993 - Longbottom Manor, 12:21PM
(7 Days Before Azkaban)
The sound of a body flopping out of the guest Floo jerked Harry out of his reading of his copy of Aegis Mentalis (cover transfigured of course). Gently placing the book aside, he quickly rushed over to provide help as Cassie quickly grabbed some phials of Stomach-Soother and anti-nausea potions to administer to her would-be patient.
It was Marcus, his expression sickly green as he oscillated between groaning and clutching at his very discontent stomach. He gratefully leaned into Harry as the younger boy hoisted him up and led him to the divan. The change from standing to sitting caused a terrible bout of nausea to rush through the older boy, exploding out of his mouth in a spray of vomit. Thankfully, the Longbottom house elf conjured a very large bucket to capture the deluge before it spilled all over a horrified Harry.
"Thanks Hoskins!" The disembodied voice replied to the young Potter with a "Welcome!" as Harry watched Marcus hurl out his guts with morbid fascination. Cassie busied herself with casting diagnostic charms, ensuring that nothing more serious was the matter.
The Floo sounded once more, revealing Regulus, Lucius, and Tom, the latter two of whom bore extremely green faces as they stumbled their way into the room. As attentive as ever, Hoskins conjured buckets for the new arrivals, lest they spilled their guts all over his Mistress' 12th century Persian carpets.
Regulus sat besides Marcus and gently patted the boy's back as he experienced a rather violent bout of upchucking. Lord Malfoy had eschewed the divan and curled his body a few feet away from the Floo, trying not to breathe too deeply as to not inhale the stench of his own sick. Tom was slumped against the windowsill, clutching his bucket while he took quick shallow breaths and tried to meditate in the face of his all-consuming nausea.
It didn't work.
Severus rushed into the room carrying trays full of Electrolyte Potion that he placed next to the healing potions, wincing at the sound and strength of Tom's heaving. "How are they?" he asked Cassie worriedly.
"How do we bloody look man?!" Marcus immediately paid for that retort with a brutal wave of nausea, before lowering his head into his bucket as he heaved. Cassie tutted as she cast a series of Cooling and Anti-Vertigo Charms over the younger wizard's body to try to quell the sensations. It seemed to work as his queasiness subsided long enough for him to ingest the plethora of potions the older witch practically forced down his gullet. Satisfied, the mediwitch moved on to assist Tom as Severus did the same for Lucius, smirking as he watched the man cradle his potions to his chest as though he were a small babe.
"Which - pant - batch - pant - was that?" Tom ingested more Stomach Soother, pleased to feel his sickness subside as he followed up with two doses of Electrolyte Potion.
"Batch 16," replied Severus as he vanished their sick buckets. "This is Fred Weasley's unique recipe brewed in a copper cauldron. It confers the longest transformation time of 2 hours and 13 minutes, however due to the interaction of the ingredients with the cauldron's material, it is the most nausea-inducing. Case in point." He grimaced at the foursome, whose pallors were slowly returning back to normal. "Batch 11 has yielded the best results as it pertains to your bodies' reactions - Weasley's same formula imbued with Stomach Soother brewed in a pewter cauldron. Lasts for exactly 2 hours and 3 minutes with minimum nausea. Assuming that your mission is complete by then, you will be able to successfully Portkey out of Azkaban, then perform a series of synchronized apparitions to lose whatever tail you may incur. The primary con, as I am sure you are already aware, is that you will have an extra 11 minutes of untransformed time wherein you may or may not still be in Azkaban proper."
It was quite a bit to consider.
Batch 11 seemed the most promising as far as the effect on their bodies' was concerned. No nausea meant that they would be able to focus and successfully apparate their way through their pre-selected points to confuse any real aurors who may end up tailing them.
However, that extra time they would be without their stolen forms posed a serious potential threat.
"We could use Glamor Charms?" Marcus' question was hopeful as he feebly nibbled on a cracker Cassie had coaxed him to eat.
"That could work," replied Tom thoughtfully. "I could incorporate the magicks into yours and Lucius' cuffs as a failsafe." Marcus felt his hopes rise. "However…we need all the power our cuffs can hold to successfully activate the explosive portkey. There will be just enough reserve to help focus our apparitions." Flint sulked, wondering why he'd even bothered.
"I believe we should have some extra portkeys on hand, just in case we incur an emergency. I know a very competent artificer who can create a few for us and consent to be Obliviated of the knowledge."
Lord Gaunt nodded thoughtfully. "A compromise then: we utilize Batch 16 for its full 2 hours and 13 minutes. We will endeavor to be as efficient as humanly possible given the circumstances. Lucius, please pay your artificer to create two extra portkeys we will carry on our person. We will perform two apparitions with me as the focal point. We will then use the Portkeys."
The mood grew a touch more grim at the prospects.
"Severus, status update on the potions we will be needing?"
"My most potent batch of Living Death is almost complete. They will be partitioned to their appropriate phials to prohibit detection. I will of course include real Veritaserum as well, just in case. Sleeping and Befuddlement Droughts are also complete, as are their containment capsules. Dobby has volunteered his…tailoring services to support on that end." The Potions Master's expression turned guiling. "The Erumpent Potion will soon be completed." Several brows raised at that.
"Erumpent Potion?!" Marcus looked bewildered. "What in Merlin's name do you need that for?!"
18 June 1993 - The Lord's Laboratory - Prince Palace, 5:22AM
(3 Days Before Azkaban)
Team Azkabal - save Augusta Longbottom - were gathered around a large desk in Severus' personal lab, reading over the three massive parchments with keen eyes. Quite a few of the adults had eschewed their usual tea for coffee due to the early hour. Sameer was also present, to provide any needed logistical support, having been fully read into the plan weeks prior.
Lord Kolumbiko wanted - needed - to be there when Tom finally interrogated Antonin Dolohov.
"So," Harry said in a yawn, "how is this going to work?" Lily affectionately rolled her eyes, unable to cajole the boy to stay in bed.
"This here," Tom gestured to the parchment on the left, "is a floor plan of the entire prison. This one," he gestured to the chart on the right, "is the blueprint for the entire North Tower, including the floor holding our prisoners. This one," he gestured to the diagram in the center, "illustrates the weakest fault lines in the prison's infrastructure. The places that are most vulnerable to a bit of…fire power."
Marcus slowly perked up, bleariness slightly lessening. "The Erumpent Potion…blimey, you trying to raze Azkaban to the ground?" Tom smirked.
"Not raze to the ground per say…but provide enough distractions that should draw the attention of the prison guards should they gain consciousness and decide to pursue us. If not, well, they can take their time and dig their way out of the rubble. Win-win situation for us." Though Marcus was lightly horrified, neither he nor anyone else could argue with sound Slytherin logic.
With a light swish-and-flick of her willow wand, Lily wordlessly levitated a parchment containing the spellwork for the explosive Portkey Team Breakout would need to escape the prison. Several runic algorithms dotted the page, combinations that made Marcus and Harry's eyes cross in unison. The latter understood a fair few more of the formulas than the former, but not really by much.
"I've added the final parameters, the spell is good to go." Tom nodded whilst committing the spell to memory. Sameer - holder of an Ancient Runes and Arithmancy Masteries - peeked over his shoulder to read through the calculations, nodding appreciatively at Lily as he did so. A minute or so later Tom finished, and gestured to the cuff-bearers to present their wrists so he and Lily could cast the Parsel-based spell.
"Will Milburga be joining us?" Lily's tone was tighter than normal, causing Cassie to bite back a snicker at the two frenemies.
"She won't be involved in this," Tom replied indulgently. "Milburga will continue to handle our…soft-touch logistics, nothing in the field." Lily just sniffed.
With a nod, all the cuff-bearers brandished their adorned wrists to the center of the table, their symbols glowing:
Tom the Basilisk - He-Who-Possessed the Vision to shape the Path those of the world would follow.
Sameer and Lucius the Pythons - The ones who could forge unbreakable alliances between friends and foes alike.
Cassie the Boomslang - Guiling charm personified, a tempting guise that felled many an unsuspecting enemy.
Lily the Krait - a warrior born of sorrow and suffering who wielded ruthlessness as both her blade and armor.
Severus the Cobra - a brilliant mind that flourished from the concrete of adversity.
Regulus and Marcus the Ashwinders - the unwitting soldier who'd forged his own redemption with the tools of his cunning and cleverness. For Marcus, the symbol represented the depth of his potential only he could unlock.
As one, Tom and Lily hissed the spell in unison, the joint sibilance of their voices hypnotizing. The symbols on the cuffs glowed in tandem, cycling between shades of red, gold, and blue. From his vantage Harry could feel a steady thrum of magic rising in the air, and Dilating his perception just a touch, he focused on the electric buzz he could feel lightly dancing across his flesh. He briefly wondered if that feeling was a consequence of the Parselmagic or just magic in general. The young Potter then wondered if there were any nargles and wrackspurts dancing in the air and what their colors would be. 'I've got to ask Luna about that sometime.'
Soon, the spell was finished and the feeling subsided. The cuff-bearers admired their wrists, basking in the warm sensation dancing across their skin. While Team Breakout were the only ones that had the explosive Portkey magic integrated into their cuffs, the others would serve as a power boost if need be.
"We should be good to go," said Lily quietly. Tom nodded in acquiescence.
Cassie clapped her hands in girlish delight. "The game's afooooot!"
21 June 1993 - North Sea, 1:09PM
(10 Minutes Post-Polyjuice Ingestion)
'I should have picked the longer straw.'
That was the most palatable thought running through Marcus Flint's mind, sitting as primly as humanly possible whilst wearing the form of Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge, outfitted in a surprisingly comfortable pale pink women's tweed suit. He tried not to jostle too much given the capsules of aerosolized Sleeping and Befuddlement capsules that Dobby had magically attached to their clothing. The elf had insisted the pills were stable and wouldn't break until the right time, but Marcus was still unconvinced. Still, the stockings itched like mad, and it took all of his willpower to not vigorously scratch his legs. He did his best not to show his discomfort, sitting with his back ramrod straight and nose turned upward, just like he'd seen his mother do all those times at formal pureblood events.
He was currently sitting beside Tom Riddle (Polyjuiced as Minister Fudge), and they both sat across Malfoy and Regulus - the former Polyjuiced as Auror Potter and the latter metamorphed as Auror Yaxley. 'Lucky bastard.' Fudge was making small-talk with their ferryman, a gnarled yet very friendly old squib by name of Deagmund who charted the Kharon. Their nomenographic significance was not lost on Team Breakout.
All four were currently being transported across the ominous waters of the North Sea to The Halfway Point, the 45 mile radius from Seabase Acheron and the only accessible point of apparition to access Azkaban. A raised sea platform installed at the command of Minister Rowle at the start of Azkaban's service as Wizarding Britain's prison, the anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards that covered Azkaban Island prevented direct access to the prison proper, with only a small entrypoint in the ward schema that granted access to the Seabase.
Some minutes later, they reached their first destination."'Ere we ur! Guid luck tae ye fellas. O' - 'n' tae th' wee lassie 'ere o' coorse." Deagmund tipped his weathered hat flirtatiously in Umbridge's direction, who nodded with as much polite dignity as she could muster given the situation. The Minister boisterously thanked Deagmund before nodding to his three compatriots. As one, they disapparated with a soft pop.
1:14PM
(15 Minutes Post-Polyjuice Ingestion)
Auror Potter glared with impunity at the foreboding prison as he and his compatriots were pelted with rain. The only reason they were still dry was thanks to the impervious magicks woven into the fabrics of their clothing, and that of the shield Fudge had non-verbally cast to protect their heads and faces. The foreboding tower loomed ominously above, every bit as mighty and monstrous as when it'd been first discovered in 1443 by non-magical traders, whose authorities had dismissed the fantastical reports as a consequence of too much liquor. The Wizengamot had not, sending an expedition force to investigate the concerning rumors.
Hell, they'd discovered, was already on earth.
Raised from the darkest depths of the seabed by the dreaded Emeric the Evil sometime during the previous century, the Dark Lord constructed an indestructible tower, his personal citadel for which he'd be master and commander. His mad reign inevitably ended with his capture and execution, however, his disciple Ekrisdis claimed the island and tower for his own ends. Hidden behind impenetrable wards and invisibility charms for well over a century, the acolyte conducted wretched experiments into the darkest arts, research drenched in the blood of innocents that violated any semblance of passable humanity.
Like his master, he too eventually perished.
However, his death did not collapse the island's protective and impregnable wards. They endured for nearly twenty years after Ekrisdis's death before failing and leaving the island visible to the world.
The depth of horrors discovered there were scrubbed from the history books, so frightfully heinous that many of the few who'd survived thought it better to perish by their own hand.
Even still, the greatest horror of Azkaban could not be purged.
For in the caverns and tunnels beneath the tower lay something that was beyond the worst possible nightmare – a nest of Dementors numbering in the hundreds.
Prior to that, Dementors were considered legend in Britain and most of Europe, dark phantasms conjured of fear meant to scare overly curious children and adults from venturing into the abyss of the night.
For what could be more terrifying than that which could feast on your very soul?
History had painted the beings as mere myth, ancient wraiths that rose from the depths of Hell to feast on the lives and spirits of warriors who bore the misfortune of perishing in the battlefield.
Before Azkaban was revealed, most magicals would not have believed there to be more than a handful of Dementors in the entire world, let alone in a single place. But the great pit that lay beneath the foundation of Azkaban teemed with the creatures. The very few aurors who could produce a Patronus Charm had only succeeded in temporarily staving the beings off as they fled in terror.
A Dementor could not be killed.
Frightened at the implications the Wizengamot withdrew, sealing the island away with its most powerful wards and Notice-Me-Not Charms in the hopes that the folly of Emeric and Ekrisdis' could be safely forgotten.
And it was forgotten, for almost three relatively blissful centuries. Until the International Statute of Secrecy was passed into magical law and the wizarding world was changed forever. Among the unforeseen difficulties imposed by the Statute were certain problems inherent in wizarding criminal justice. Despite the best efforts of the aurors, jailbreaks had always been surprisingly common among the wizarding criminal classes, for few local jails could be built to withstand the power and versatility of magical rescue attempts perpetrated by inmates and outsiders, even when the former were stripped of their wands. Freedom was but a spell away in the hands of a determined magical.
Before the imposition of the Statute, such escapes would result in local authorities, both magical and mundane, joining forces to track down escapees under what British common law would later call posse commitatus. But after the Statutes' passage, the magic used during such jailbreaks risked drawing the attention of Muggles, and as such, collaboration between the magical and non-magical law enforcement teams was no longer a feasible option. As if that wasn't bad enough, the British Isles were increasingly plagued by wild Dementors who were eventually traced back to lost and fabled Azkaban. Horrified and increasingly desperate, the Wizengamot directed the newly established Ministry of Magic to devise plans for a new prison in some remote location from whence escape would be impossible.
Damocles Rowle's ingenious little solution pleased very few. However, desperate times called for desperate measures.
In 1718, Minister Rowle journeyed to Azkaban and somehow initiated a dialogue with a representative of its Dementor population. Together, they brokered the Treaty of Azkaban. The exact text of the Treaty was classified at the highest level by Ministry security, but the general terms are fairly well-known among modern British wizards and witches. The Tower of Azkaban would become the new prison for Wizarding Britain. The Dementors would act as guards under the direction of a skeleton crew of brave aurors and other DMLE personnel. The Dementors would only give the Kiss - the act of sucking out the soul - to inmates under very specific circumstances but were otherwise free to feed unfettered upon the misery of the inmates. And those inmates would consist of every wizard or witch convicted of treason, murder, rape, assault on the person of a member of the Wizengamot or their families ... or nearly any lesser crime upon a second offense. Life imprisonment in Azkaban was also the penalty for escape attempts, successful or not, from any of the Ministry holding facilities where persons convicted of lesser crimes were detained, while escape attempts from Azkaban itself were punished with the Dementor's Kiss.
While all of those terms were well-known across Wizarding Britain, there were three additional treaty terms that were deemed Level 13 Classified information and known to only three individuals: the Minister of Magic, the Head of the Unspeakables, and the portrait of Damocles Rowle currently housed in the office of the Minister.
As such, the members of Team Breakout hadn't a clue what terrible consequences their little expedition would unleash on Wizarding Britain.
Entry Cavern, 1:20PM
(21 Minutes Post-Polyjuice Ingestion)
Warden Stark was unamused.
Granted, unamused and disillusioned was his default setting since the start of the last Blood War, however, his disposition was ever more severe with the arrival of his unwanted guests. Unwanted because it always pained him to deal with posh little bureaucrats who only saw fit to saunter in at their convenience and strut about in self-imposed importance. Though he typically held a touch more regard for aurors than naught, Stark very much considered Aurors Potter and Yaxley as part of the hoity-toity old guard who would cower in the face of real danger, nevermind that he was certain Yaxley should be one of the murderous shits rotting in the North Tower. 'Little arsewipes couldn't last a day in this shithole.'
"So just to clarify, what is your purpose today?" Stark's guardsmen were busy inspecting Fudge's briefcase and Umbridge's little purse while the warden himself checked over their wands and their identification papers.
The Minister sighed as his Undersecretary sniffed imperiously. "As mentioned earlier Warden, we are here to conduct the semiannual inspection of the prison. As you are also already aware, the specific date needn't be confirmed beforehand." He leveled a significant look at Stark, who merely snorted.
"But today is most…curious, no?" Fudge sighed once more at the warden's persisting orneriness.
"Yes, we decided on today, the 21st, due to it being the solstice day. As we both know, the magicks of the prison and the Dementors are a touch less…aggressive on the longest day of the year. Though we're covered in darkness seemingly untouched by the light, the magic of the day still lingers over us all." He smiled in a passably amicable manner.
Snorting, Stark and his men stepped out of the cavern, the door slamming down with a rattling CLANG!. The group looked surprised (Umbridge looked visibly spooked) as the Warden barked out a sharp command and a deluge of bitterly cold Thief's Downfall poured in through a grate in the entry cavern's ceiling. All four visitors cried out in surprise and shock. After five seconds of this, the downpour stopped, but the aurors kept their wands trained on the now-drenched foursome. Casually, Stark removed his own pocketwatch and began timing.
"Kindly remain still, gentlemen and lady, for another twenty seconds. I wouldn't want one of my men to become alarmed at some furtive movement and slice your head off. We don't use Stunners at Azkaban." Then he smiled with all his teeth.
The group of four stood perfectly still save for bitter shivering before Stark finally put his watch away. "All clear. No Imperius or illusions. No immediate signs of Polyjuice." He nodded with mock respect towards the drenched group. "Mind you, we will be waiting for a solid hour before proceeding to the prison itself, just to be on the safe side. Protocol, you know."
He turned and headed towards a heavy door. "Get them dried off and then send them to my office." At his command, the aurors stepped forward and administered Drying Charms followed by Pepper-Up Potions. Umbridge swallowed hers with a faint but detectable nervousness at the Warden's words, but if they troubled the three men, none showed it. Moments later, all four brusquely ushed from the cavern down a narrow tunnel into Warden Stark's office, presented with paltry servings of lukewarm tea and stale biscuits.
The wait was on.
2:20PM
(81 Minutes Post-Polyjuice Ingestion)
After an hour of the most banal conversation Potter had ever suffered through, Team Breakout were finally cleared to proceed to the prison proper. Their cuffs projected a mental clock of their remaining time. While 51 minutes seemed rather abundant, Potter wasn't foolish enough to allow himself the manna of hope. Fudge was doing too good of a job playing overly chatty bureaucrat whilst Yaxley - in typical sneering pureblood fashion - kept a bony nose upturned at almost any and everyone.
They traversed yet another dark and narrow hallway before arriving at a massive elevator built into a deep vertical groove. Inside the elevator was a large mirror that occupied almost the entire back wall. Team Breakout was ushed in first, before doused in an even more frigid deluge of Thief's Downfall and made to face the mirror, enchanted to produce reflections that appeared nude but with any metal or wooden objects on their person still visible. A few minutes of that humiliating process, the Warden and his men boarded the elevator as the group ascended, making small talk on their journey to the command center. In the midst of conversation, two things happened that the warden and his men did not notice.
The first was the release of five invisible pythons, made entirely of spellstuff and specifically charmed to blend in the environment of black and rugged rock. Contained in the small bulge of their bellies were phials of Erumpent potion, specifically time-stamped to be released at the most opportunity moments. They slithered to the first set of fault lines Tom had identified in their meeting three days ago, waiting for the right moment.
The second was the release of most of the Sleeping and Befuddlement capsules - odorless and colorless. Team Breakout had ingested the customized antidote, a unique recipe painstakingly curated by Snape to not interact with the ingredients of the modified Polyjuice. The effects were not immediate, but would be soon enough.
Soon they reached the Command Center, where Team Breakout were handed their wands, Fudge's briefcase, and Umbridge's purse. "We checked again as is protocol Warden," said Command Guard Aylward Hornsby. "The case contains several files, a few quills and an inkpot, and a number of vials containing Veritaserum and Pepper-Up Potions. The lady's purse contained some Honeydukes chocolates, some Pepper-Up, and a few quills. Nothing more." Fudge and Umbridge nodded in thanks as they retrieved their items, their clothing releasing the last bit of capsules that would incapacitate Hornsby and his three men.
The toughest part (in the Minister and Auror Potter's eyes) had worked.
"Alright, you lot," Warden Stark addressed the aurors in the command center. "Our guests are here on business, so let's hop to it." Then, he moved over to the center of the room where there was a circular hole in the floor roughly fifteen feet across. Stark softly cast "SONOROUS" and then called down the hole, his voice reverberating through the entire prison.
"THIS IS WARDEN STARK. TWO SECURITY PERSONNEL AND FOUR APPROVED GUESTS WILL ACCOMPANY ME TO LEVEL TEN. NO DEMENTORS ARE TO RISE ABOVE LEVEL THREE UNTIL ORDERED OTHERWISE OR UNLESS THERE IS A LEVEL 3 OR HIGHER DEVIATION FROM PROTOCOL. SECURITY CODE ALPHA-GRANIAN-FIVER-TWO-FARAMIR. CONFIRM!"
Curious, Auror Potter moved over to the hole and looked down. Then, he staggered back as if struck by vertigo. The hole appeared to cut all the way down the center of the fifteen-story tower, and staring down into the depths made his head spin. Nevertheless, he leaned over for another look just in time for a terrible rasping voice to rise up from the depths below.
"sECuRiTyyyyyyyy CoDe RecOgNIzED [{I/WE} LOATHE YOU!].
InStrUc-StrUc-StrUc-TioNs cOMprEHenDEd [{I/WE} HUNGER, {I/WE} FEAST, {I/WE} CONSUME!].
ShaLL OooooobeY [{I/WE} MUST MUST MUST DEVOUR ALL SOULS!]"
The voice and its sick mixture of vicious abhorrence and reluctant obedience made Potter's head spin with shocked horror. What made it worse was that Potter suddenly realized that he had not heard the Dementor speak with his ears but in his head. And what made it worse still was that the Dementor spoke with the voice of his long-dead (and much hated) father.
"Have you faced a Dementor before, lad?" Stark asked quietly and with much more kindness than he had shown so far that day, especially to him.
"Once," Potter replied in a tight voice. "And I can do the Patronus Charm."
"You don't know if you can do a proper Patronus in front of a Dementor until you're actually in front of one." He levied a passably respectful look at the auror. "My men and I are here to support, you will be safe. You and your party have nothing to fear so long as you do nothing to break protocol."
Potter nodded very slowly at that. The Warden turned to his men. "Abernathy. Brown. With me. Wands out." Then, Stark led the assembled group to a nearby lift door which he unlocked by touching it with a brass rod attached to his belt by a chain. Seconds later, the six men were descending down into the bowels of Azkaban Prison.
"Well Aurors," Fudge said softly and with some amusement. "Are you satisfied with the prison's security protocols so far?"
Potter nodded. "Very much so. Everything so far is exactly as it should be." He felt his cuff warm and relaxing his shield, allowing the undetectable mind-link to establish.
Tom: "Are you alright Lucius?" The tone was much more gentle than Malfoy would've ever expected.
Lucius: "I'm… alright. Thank you."
Regulus: "Bloody creepy that was."
Marcus: "Obviously! Blimey there's hundreds of them down there!" His panic was palpable, and it took a few encouraging words from Regulus (surprisingly enough) to prevent the emotion from showing on his face.
They soon reboarded the lift, ascending upwards for six levels before receding into the wall and rapidly descending for several feet to access Level 10 - the North Tower. A purposeful misnomer, the maximum security section of the prison was hidden in a deep subterranean alcove, only one level above the pit that housed the Dementor horde. During the descent, Stark and his men felt a small wave of dizziness overcome them, but it was gone as soon as it had come on. Blaming it on vertigo, they dismissed the abruptness of the sensation.
Tom: "Alright team, listen up. We have exactly 31 minutes to execute our tasks. The hardest is seemingly behind us, but I am not content to leave anything to either chance or optimism. The Warden and his men are slowly but surely coming under the effect of the potion, they ought to be down for the count the minute the Warden takes us to the prisoners. Execute 'Operation Extraction' once they're down." A resounding "Aye!" sounded in Tom's mind as the connection was terminated.
North Tower, 2:38PM
(99 Minutes Post-Polyjuice Ingestion)
The lift finally slowed, the ancient rusty machinery grinding to a loud halt. The screams for mercy punctuated the open air, the desperation and despair so poignant it felt as though it was pressing on all sides against them. Umbridge fought back a shiver at the sensation. They disembarked in a large circular room with a massive hole in the middle of the floor. About twenty cells ringed the room along the exterior wall, twelve of them occupied. Their olfactory senses were bombarded with the stench of human waste as their ears were pelted with unending moans… and the sound of a strangely childish woman's voice singing a most vile nursery rhyme. Fudge's expression wrinkled in disgust.
"Who do you want to start with, Auror Potter?" asked Stark. Though Yaxley was amused by the Warden's blatant dismissal, he did his best not to show it.
"Bellatrix Lestrange." His tone was curt and professional.
Without response, Stark and his men led the foursome to the cell of the maximum security level's sole female prisoner. Within, Bellatrix Black-Lestrange - covered in more filth than feasibly possible - was rocking back and forth, oscillating between giggling inanely and clapping her filth-covered hands as she sang her "children's song" in a disturbing "little girl" voice. Wincing at the perturbing sight, Stark produced the plain brass rod he'd use to activate the lift.
"Only one key for every cell?" interrupted the Undersecretary in surprise. "Seems a touch…lax, no?"
Stark smiled. "The key is linked to my biomagical signature. If anyone…" he paused suddenly, raising his hand to his head in alarm as he was suddenly overcome by a wave of vertigo. His eyes widened in alarm as he witnessed his men drop down stone cold, before they narrowed at the foursome in open accusation. "YOU B-" Warden Stark dropped like a sack of rocks with the key still in his hand.
Yaxley made a move for the key before screaming at Fudge's mental cry of "DON'T!"
Tom: "Not a muscle Regulus. As Stark said, the key is linked to his biomagical signature, if we attempt to move it, I imagine alarms will sound. I will levitate and use him to give us access to the cells and the prisoners we require. Lucius, Marcus, you two will take care of the Dementor Pit. Remember, nothing corporeal that can be used to identify us." He terminated the connection without waiting for a response.
A sharp flourish of his yew wand levitated opened the briefcase, allowing the potion phials to float out alongside him and Yaxley as they made their way through the cells. With a hissed "WINGARDIUM LEVIOSsSA" Stark's stocky form rose like a frozen ventriloquist dummy as the Minister directed his key-hand to press against the bars of Bellatrix's cell. The witch screamed in maddened rage at the duo's entrance, attempting to rip them apart with her bare hands. A hard "STUPEFY!" from Yaxley ensured she wouldn't get up. One phial of Veritaserum - which was really Draught of Living Death - poured itself into the maddened witch's throat. Satisfied, Yaxley conjured a straitjacket and manacles around her hands and feet, before magically gagging her. He touched his wand to her head and transfigured her into a brick labeled 'B. Lestrange', which he quickly deposited into the Minister's open case. The duo quickly moved on to Rabastan Lestrange's cell to replicate the process.
Potter and Umbridge hadn't been idle. Levitating the inkwell out of the case, Potter directed it to land above the hole that housed the pit. A whispered spell tipped it over, and both watched with fascinated expressions as the black ink poured forth and spread across the space, starting to shimmer with a strange luminescence not unlike the stars in the night sky. It continued to expand, forming a massive and stretchy film-like barrier over the pit that prevented the Dementors from escaping.
"What is that?" asked Umbridge in open wonder.
"Phantomlight," replied Malfoy mentally, not willing to risk a spoken conversation. "Besides the Patronus Charm, it is the only known mode of defending against a Dementor. It draws on the dark ambient magic of wherever it is placed to power itself to repel a dark creature in equal measure. Given it's Azkaban…" Umbridge nodded in amazement. As one, the two softly cast "EXPECTO PATRONUM" to provide extra coverage, making sure to cast shields and not their forms. Unbeknownst to them all, Malfoy was secretly relieved at not having to reveal the corporeal form of his Patronus.
In Rookwood's cell, Yaxley and Fudge encountered their first problem.
"You've got to be bloody joking! How the hell does he still have brain activity after a whole dose of Draught of Living Death?!"
'"It's Rookwood," Fudge hissed. Thinking fast, he instructed Yaxley to feed him three more doses, before casting a Parseltongue-based spell for the advanced Coma Charm. "That should do it, cast the diagnostic charm." Yaxley waved his wand, sagging in relief. He conjured a double straitjacket, manacles, and an iron gag and mask over the prisoner's face, before transfiguring him into a brick stamped 'A. Rookwood' and levitating him to land in the case. A sharp flick of his wand shrunk the case and levitated it to land in his moke-reinforced pocket of his inner robes.
Umbridge sighed in relief. They'd been able to incapacitate the Warden, his men, and capture the Death Eaters with relative ease, without any interference from the monstrous Dementors. They had around 12 minutes remaining of time, which meant they could escape with some time leftover. 'Blimey, we might actually pull this all off!'
As with these things, the gods of irony immediately took serious offense.
Tom ended the levitation on Stark, slowly and gently placing him down on the ground. It wasn't gentle enough, as the brass rod key finally slipped out of his hand.
AH-OOH-GA! AH-OOH-GA! AH-OOH-GA! AH-OOH-GA!
BOOOOOOOM!
WEE-OWW! WEE-OWW! WEE-OWW! WEE-OWW!
"What the bloody hell was that?!" exclaimed Yaxley.
"The first alarm is linked to the key," Tom mentally replied. "Should the warden lose custody of his key whilst he is unconscious, they sound. That second sound is the Erumpent Potion, meaning there shouldn't be reinforcements coming our way because they would be too distracted tending to fallen masonry at critical points. Which leads to the third alarm. Time to remove the Phanthomlight and get the hell out of here." More explosions sounded, causing the second alarm to crescendo in volume and frequency.
"...What the hell?!" Umbridge and Potter's joint exclamation drew Fudge and Yaxley over to gaze into the pit. Four sets of eyes widened in alarm.
It was the Dementors.
Those closest to the Phantomlight shield were bumrushing it, using their physical bodies like a battering ram to breach the shield. They screamed in pain, but they continued the action with a determination that sent chills down Team Breakout's collective back.
"Are…are they multiplying?!" Umbridge's eyes bulged at the sight. More Dementors seemed to be appearing, a black horde of horror and death, swelling…
In HUNGER…
In RAGE…
In DESIRE…
TO CONSUME!
The Minister was acutely disturbed; from all he knew of Dementors, they should not have been multiplying in the manner they were. Nor should they have attempted to broach the very shield that actively caused them harm. It's almost as if they were being…
Dilating his perception and amplifying his latent Legilimency, he focused his attention past the Patronus shields, past the Phantomlight, and into the depths of the Dementor abyss.
Horrified disbelief.
Yew flashed as he cast an identification spell he'd learned from the Gaunt Codex. Six interlocked sigils in cubic formation appeared in the space above the pit, causing Fudge, Potter, and Yaxley to choke in unison.
Regulus: "Is…is that what I bloody think it is?!"
Tom: "Summon the Phantomlight Lucius."
Marcus: "They'll devour us!" His panic and terror was palpable, obvious on Umbridge's too pale face.
Tom: "We haven't a choice. If we leave that here it'll be traced back to us, and we'll end up back in this prison in one of these cells. Regulus will provide extra shield cover, buying us just enough time to escape. We cannot afford to linger any more. On my mark, lapse your shields long enough to summon the Phantomlight and recast. 3…2…1…NOW!"
The shields lapsed as Potter furiously cast "FINITE! ACCIO PHANTOMLIGHT!", guiding the shrunken artifact into the inkwell and placing it in his pocket. The effect was instantaneous as the temperature plunged with the horde of furious Dementors rushing upward, only to shrivel back in pain as they crashed against a triple (non-corporeal) Patronus shield.
Naturally, prison guard personnel popped in at that exact moment.
3:04PM
(124 Minutes Post-Polyjuice Ingestion)
THUMP.
A sharp twirl over the Fudge's mouth created a unique distortion field that obscured the movement of his lips to their newest additions, preventing his vocalized spells from being heard or recognized.
"SsSTUPEFY! DEPULSsSO MAXxxIMA!"
Three of the ten-man group immediately went down, banished into Bellatrix's previous cell which he spelled shut. Yaxley wasn't idle either, brandishing his wand as he unleashed a torrent of Stupefys, Laceros, and Flipendos on their enemies, having to switch to Protegos at the choice curses hurtled his way. Two guards received massive gashes against the wand arms, causing them to drop their wands before they were banished into a corner wall, completely unconscious. A few feet away Umbridge and Potter fought to keep their Patronus Shields active over the pit, beginning to shake and sweat at the tremendous strain on their cores.
THUMP.
"WADDIWASsSI!" Slime bullets slammed into the eyes two, before an overpowered Ventus blew them straight into Dolohov's old cell.
THUMP.
"MUCUSsS AD NAUSsSEUM!" One screamed in pain as his nostrils split, causing massive bat-shaped bogies to fly out of his nose and begin attacking him. Yaxley's cry of "STUPEFY!" flung him into a wall unconscious.
"REDUCTO!"
THUMP.
Yew flashed as an Aegis Maxima rose to protect him and Yaxley from the barrage of debris. From his vantage, Yaxley cried "RICTUMSEMPRA!", causing the man to double over in uncontrollable laughter as he dropped his wand, before a Stunner rendered him unconscious.
Only one remained, and he decided to go out in a literal bang.
"BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"
THUMP.
"IMMOBULUSsS MAXxXIMA!"
The guard gawked in shocked amazement as the ensuing debris from the would-be explosion froze at the sheer force of Minister Fudge's magic, before he knew no more as Yaxley's double Stunner slammed into him.
Twirling his yew wand in a series of concentric circles saw the debris transform into a mercury-like material, before flowing in a makeshift dome to shield Fudge's body. Allowing his Dilation to lapse, he summoned Yaxley to his side with a sharp "ACcCIO!" before opening Team Breakout's mental comm lines.
Tom: "LAPSE THE SHIELDS!"
Marcus: "YOU MAD?! THEY'LL KILL US ALL!
Tom: "ON MY MARK, 3…2…1…NOW!"
Potter and Umbridge dropped the shields as the latter screamed in primordial terror, before they were summoned into the Minister's side. The Dementors rejoiced at finally being free and they immediately swarmed towards the foursome, eager to consume them whole.
Tom: "Sync your wrists with mine!" All four thrust out their wrist and synced their cuffs, causing the symbols to glow by deep red.
"EXCcCELSsSIOR!"
The nearest Dementor was less than half a foot away from grasping Umbridge's shoulder when suddenly, there was a blinding flash of red light followed by impossibly loud sizzles of electricity and the pungent hair-raising smell of brimstone. The Dementor was recoiled, flung across the length of the hallway as it screamed in pained rage.
A massive explosion rocked Azkaban proper, before the tower dropped almost five levels as the subterranean Maximum Security Level was blown to smithereens.
Thurso, Ten Seconds Later…
(130 Minutes Post-Polyjuice Ingestion)
The foursome dropped to the ground with a large thud, before resyncing their cuffs and disappearing once more.
Halkirk, Eighteen Seconds Later…
A small flock of blackbirds took off in fright at the loud 'CRACK!' of sound that echoed through the small marsh. They circled around for a few moments before landing some feet away, only to take off once more at the terribly loud sound of an activated Portkey.
Bradford, Two Minutes Later…
Dizziness and keen discomfort. The Polyjuice was wearing off, and the nausea started to build in earnest.
Wolverhampton, Seven Minutes Later…
Retching. Lots and lots of retching.
Thankfully, Regulus was coherent enough to vanish the evidence of their presence, before the foursome disappeared once more.
Leeds, Nine Minutes Later…
More retching. More vanishing. Rinse, repeat.
Edinburgh, Fourteen Minutes Later…
A particularly violent spray of vomit from Marcus landed on Lucius' robes, causing much screaming and arguing. Thankfully none of it was heard as Regulus was quick to cast a Muffliato as he vanished the evidence away.
Of course, his wand and those of his compatriots chose that exact moment to self-destruct into dust that blew away in a soft wind.
As one, the foursome shakingly disappeared.
Longbottom Manor, Fifteen Minutes Later…
The roaring of the guest Floo sounded, spitting out a pale and exhausted Team Breakout.
Hoskins appeared with his Mistress, and immediately summoned buckets for the foursome. Cassie immediately got to work casting Cooling and Anti-Vertigo Charms over a hurling Tom, instructing Harry to do the same for a retching Lucius. Once they were stable, they'd be fed a steady diet of Stomach Soother, Pepper-Up, and Electrolyte Potions.
Marcus barely made it to the divan as he heaved out the contents of his stomach, groaning in discomfort even as Regulus diligently cast the same charms over his person. Lily, Snape, and Dobby appeared (the former two apparated in by the latter), depositing a large tray of potions as Tom shakingly removed the briefcase containing the prisoners. "They-pant-are-in there. Reverse-pant-transfigurations and -pant pant- get them situated." Lily and Severus nodded as they jointly levitated the case, before they disappeared with Dobby in a soft pop to the dungeons.
It took some time, but eventually Team Breakout stabilized and calmed, enough to tell their harrowing tale to an enraptured audience. Some moments passed in comfortable silence, before Marcus tiredly asked:
"So… what's next?"
"We take a few days off to recuperate," Tom quietly replied. "Ensure there's little to no fallout from our expedition that may change our plans. It is inevitable that the Wizengamot will be summoned, so we will allow that to pass according to plan before we interrogate the prisoners. There can be no room for any unnecessary error."
"I reckon the hard part's over," said Cassie quietly. "Things can only go up from here, right?"
Somewhere somehow, Harry was convinced Blaise Zabini was screaming in agitation at the witch's unintended inciting of the gods of irony's wrath.
AN 1: Lots of action; I'd considered splitting it into two, but ultimately decided that this version flowed much better.
AN 2: Tom's use of non-lethal spells was intentional; he doesn't seriously maim/injure/kill enemy forces that aren't Death Eaters.
AN 3: The Codex Spell & Sigil Tom cast will be relevant later on.
AN 4: Phantomlight is completely of my own creation, sounded fun *shrugs*.