Breaking Free
He checked his watch and nodded as Wilkins took his leave of The Stuffed Pig, tapping the door in an intricate pattern to seal it shut. From what Harry had observed of the man, he wasn’t so bright, and certainly not capable of creating such exceptional security measures.
No, those had come courtesy of another, another who had either invested considerable gold or time into putting them into place.
For the past three days, Harry had returned to the pub, had done all he could to discern that subtle yet distinct magic from everything else, only to be frustrated as it continued to elude him, became harder the longer he stayed in the presence of it.
It truly was quite the magical conundrum, so instead, he shifted his focus towards the proprietor.
He’d watched Wilkins close the place three times now, studied every detail, and Harry had reached one conclusion: He would need to question the man, which meant taking the risk of ensuring the two of them were alone for as long as that took.
Beneath his cloak, he followed Wilkin closely, barely a step behind him as he navigated his way through the troubling side streets of Knockturn Alley, giving him more of a clue of what it was he was up against.
Evidently, there was no connection to the floo network within the pub, patrons and even Wilkin were unable to apparate in or out of it, and either Wilkin could not or had opted not to create a portkey for himself to bypass his own security.
Perhaps he simply did not wish to risk losing it.
He certainly seemed nervous enough outside of the safety of his veritable, magical fort, shifty, his brow glistening in the dim light of the lampposts.
Did he somehow know he was being followed?
He either did or was naturally of a paranoid disposition. No matter what the reason, Harry knew he could no longer simply observe, and with only the merest hint that something was amiss, Wilkins collapsed, but before he could even hit the floor, the two of them vanished from Knockturn Alley.
Harry could not remember the last time he’d been sitting atop his broom, nor when he’d felt the presence of the dementors so strongly. Perhaps it had been the night he’d saved Sirius’s life from them beside the lake when he’d first met his godfather.
Here, above the island prison, however, it was so much more prominent.
Years of being exposed to the creatures had seen the effect of them rooted deeply into the very foundations, and even beneath his cloak, it was inescapable.
He could only imagine just how much worse it was for those within the walls.
It was no wonder any who spent any length of time here was likely to never be the same again.
Even Sirius, who had managed to maintain a semblance of who he’d always been had been left with a lingering expression of haunting, his skin incurably pale, and his nerves forever frayed.
Harry could only shake his head as he forced himself a little nearer, the heavy wind buffeting against him, necessitating the need to stabilise himself as he began peering into the windows to be greeted by the sight of exactly what he’d been informed he would see; men, women, and indeed children huddled pathetically in the small cells, any reprieve from a dementor brief as the creatures patrolled each floor.
He released a deep breath.
They could not be left here.
Most would not last more than a few weeks, and the children even less.
Already, their pale skin was clammy, their eyes devoid of life, and beginning to become inexplicably sunken. No, they could not be left here for any length of time, which meant that Harry would need to deviate from his original plan to see them released.
Still, perhaps there was some way that he could fulfil both, at least in part, in a bid to strike quite the blow against Riddle.
He nodded thoughtfully as he pondered his options, continuing his inspection of the infamous prison.
There were several approaches he could take, but there was one he preferred. However, for it to be successful, he would need to plan it meticulously and bring others into the fold.
Dawlish and the aurors would be needed, and he knew he would not be able to leave Fred, George, and Ron out of it.
He nodded to himself once more as he put the pieces together. As with all things, it was a risky plan, but the reward would be immeasurable. It would certainly serve as a reminder to Voldemort that even his most protected and useful of assets were not out of Harry’s reach.
Nonetheless, the risk was not negligible, and yet, he knew his decided upon plan was the most likely to yield the results he wanted, so, a visit to the twins was on the agenda, as was a conversation with Dawlish, but first, he would be returning to Nurmengard where a nervous Wilkin awaited him.
The man undoubtedly had information harry would need, and by hook or by crook, he would have it from the man.
(Break)
“It is so good to see you!”
She all but knocked the wind out of him, and Ron could only chuckle; something that had become something of a foreign sound to him these past months.
They’d been little to elicit a smile from him, let alone laughter in any form, but seeing Hermione again was exactly what he needed, even if she did proceed to fuss over him.
“Bloody hell, you’re worse than my mo-…”
He broke off and released a deep sigh.
He often slipped up like that.
It wasn’t until she was gone that he realised how much he’d spoken about her, how often she would come up in conversation without thought, and now just how guilty he felt that he’d ever complained at how attentive Molly Weasley had been to each of her children.
How she managed it with seven of them, Ron would never know.
“How are things?” Hermione asked tentatively.
He mustered something resembling a smile.
“I can’t say they’re better, but no worse,” Ron answered with a shrug. “I suppose I’m getting used to things being the way they are. Dad is struggling the worst. He spends most of his time in the shed, but I think Remus has been checking in on him.”
“Oh, Ron,” Hermione whispered as she took him by the hand.
“We will be alright,” he replied. “It will take some time, but we’re getting their in our own ways. How have you been?”
She deflated at the question.
“I know I shouldn’t complain but being stuck in here is driving me crazy. Harry does help me get out sometimes, but..”
“It’s not safe,” Ron broke in, “and it is only getting more dangerous. We see them in Diagon Alley every day. There must be hundreds of them. The shop is constantly being watched, and that patrol in large groups.”
Hermione nodded before frowning confusedly.
“How is it that the shop hasn’t been targeted?”
“It is,” Ron snorted. “The gits are always trying to get in, but they can’t. I don’t know what they’ve done, but we watch them trying, and Fred and George are almost begging them to succeed. Merlin knows what would happen to them if they did, but I doubt it would be good for them. The twins, they’re not playing anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
Ron shook his head.
“They’re different, I’m different. I never really understood Harry and the way he is, but after everything that has happened, I get it. He lost everything that matters, and that was without siblings and a father to help him through it. He was raised by people who despise him, and then when he did have someone, Sirius was taken away from him too. I get why he is the way he is, and how he can do what he does. I’ve never felt like this, Hermione. I’ve been pissed off with Malfoy, but never felt like I could really kill someone before. That’s why you’re here. Harry wants to protect you as much as he can. We’re the only family he has left.”
She nodded her understanding.
“I know he is planning something with the twins. He hasn’t told me exactly what it is, but I know they’re up to something.”
“They are, and it will be bloody bad for the Death Eaters.”
“I thought as much,” Hermione sighed. “It’s bad enough that the idiot is going to break into Azkaban…”
“He’s bloody what!”
“Another of his brilliant ideas,” Hermione snorted humourlessly. “That’s where You-Know-Who is taking the people who didn’t register in time at the ministry. Tonks saw them being brought in.”
“It’s a mad world we are living in, Hermione. A mad bloody world that only gets madder. Funny thing is it will be Harry who saves us from it. Do you remember him on the first day at Hogwarts on the train. Can you imagine that specky little git being the one to put an end to him?”
“Not then, but he proved us all wrong quickly enough, didn’t he? How he has turned out the way he is…”
“He could’ve easily become just like You-Know-Who,” Ron concurred. “Could you imagine two of them?”
“No, but that’s not Harry. He’s different from when we first met…”
“More than ever since what happened to Sirius. He is different because he needs to be, Hermione. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. He has to do things that most of us never would be able to. It’s shit, really. Harry should never have had to be the way he is.”
“No, he shouldn’t,” Hermione agreed.
Ron smiled as he stomach rumbled.
“Is there any food going?”
She rolled her eyes at him.
“Some things never change, do they?” she said amusedly.
“No, and some things do,” Ron murmured, his gaze roaming around the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.
The last time he’d been here had been when his mother had been preparing breakfast for them to send them away for his fifth year at Hogwarts.
So much had changed since then, so much that the world around him was barely recognisable anymore. There was no more Molly or Ginny Weasley at the breakfast table, no more Quidditch, and no more Hogwarts.
In two short years, everything was different, and Ronald Weasley did not care for the changes. No, he hated them and would give anything to go back to that morning, to have his mother fussing over him one last time.
That could never be, however. No, that had all been taken away, and now, what good was left in the world was left to try and claw something of what had once been back from the brink.
How they could do that, Ron did not know, but the thought of Harry leading them somehow brought him just a little comfort.
If there was anyone who could do what seemed to be the impossible, it was that bespectacled boy he’d met on the train to Hogwarts some six years prior.
(Break)
“I think you’re right, Potter, they can’t be left there,” Dawlish agreed. “Even visiting the place for a few hours leaves me feeling like shite for days. Merlin, I suppose you have a plan.”
“I do, well, it is three plans in one, really, and I’ll need as much as help as you can give me.”
“Of course, but what foolishness will you be getting us involved in?”
That was the pertinent question.
Harry was not entirely sure what to expect when he triggered the alarms of the island prison, though Dawlish and several others who’d worked there had assured him that there was little more than the dementors and perhaps a few other defences which hadn’t been upgraded for several decades to contend with.
No wonder Riddle had found it so easy to liberate his Death Eaters from there, but that did not account for anything the Dark Lord may have put into place.
Not that Harry wouldn’t thoroughly investigate the prison before acting, but with Riddle, he knew he must expect the unexpected.
“So, Wilkins, are you feeling a little more cooperative today, or are we going to have another boring day of me slowly picking your mind apart?”
“Fuck you!”
“That is a shame,” Harry sighed wistfully, not having expected anything less.
Wilkins, evidently, wasn’t a coward but he wasn’t so bright either, certainly not bright enough to realise the predicament he found himself in, or that Harry had been taking it easy on him thus far.
It had been the perfect practice in using the art of Legilimency, to subtly work through Wilkins’ mind slowly, precisely, and doing so without any lasting damage.
Of course, the man was plagued with minor headaches, but given what Harry had endured under Snape’s tutelage, it was nothing to complain about.
With a shake of his head, he pointed his wand towards the struggling Wilkins, preparing himself to enter his mind once more, and do so with a little more purpose.
“Legilimens!”
He felt Wilkins groaning internally, and though he put up quite the fight, just as he had every other time thus far, it did not take long until the fatigue set in and he was subdued.
It gave Harry ample time to begin sorting through the memories he sought, to navigate his way through what had become meagre defences, and settle on those pertaining to the security of the pub.
The series of charms on the door, and even the inhibiting potion had been given up readily enough, but not the source of the odd, fleeting magic, Truthfully, he suspected that Wilkin did not understand it himself, something that only became more apparent when he caught just a glimpse of a somewhat familiar face in one of the memories he was perusing.
Withdrawing from Wilkins’ Harry immediately understood why the man had not been so forthcoming.
He simply could not give him what he wanted because the magic was not his.
No, it belonged to another, one much more dangerous, cleverer, and slick than the likes of Wilkins.
He would not be easy to track down, but perhaps that would prove to be unnecessary, not if he could get the man to come to him instead.
“I’ll take some of these,” Harry murmured, eliciting a hiss from Wilkins as he relieved of a clump of his hair. “Now, Wilkins, tell me how I can contact Augustus Rookwood.”
(Break)
“Help will always be given to those at Hogwarts that need it.”
“That sounds like some crap Dumbledore would say.”
“He did say it.”
Nymphadora rolled her eyes at Harry.
“What help?”
“All you need to know is that you’re not alone in there. There will be others watching over the students.”
His words had been ominous, but he would not say anything else on the matter.
She understood why.
If Nymphadora was somehow compromised in her position, and others were indeed within the castle, it was not worth the risk exposing them, or them her should they be the ones discovered.
It was strange being on this side of the staff table, and stranger still seeing just how much bigger the Great Hall seemed to be, and how much longer the tables were.
She’d expected a significant influx of students given the Magical Education Act, but the numbers had at least doubled since she’d been a student.
Equally as strange was the many different faces among the professors, many of who she did not recognise.
Of course, Flitwick was here with Sprout, and evidently, Slughorn had returned to the castle. Burbage had been replaced, as had Aurora Sinistra, and Nymphadora was here instead of Babbling. There was no sign of Madam Hooch, and with the death of Minerva, the entirety of Hogwarts felt as though it had changed.
Those she did recognised wore stony expressions, and those she did not seemed just a little too eager for her liking, many of them all but chomping at the bit to greet the coming students.
Disguises.
Just like her, she suspected some or perhaps all of them were disguised as not to give away who they were, meaning that the students, old and new, had no idea what they were in for.
They had gotten word only a few moments prior that the Hogwarts Express had arrived in Hogsmeade, and the wait for the hall to begin to fill proved to be short.
It was easy to spot those that had never been within the castle before.
They looked up at the ceiling in awe, both older and younger children alike, enraptured by everything they could see.
The students who had been here the previous year were subdued, cautious, and some outright worried by what was to come. Had the law making their attendance compulsory not been introduced, Nymphadora suspected there would be less of them than there was, and that was without the absences that would undoubtedly become apparent soon enough.
There would still be those willing to flout the laws introduced by the new establishment, making the target already on them all the bigger.
She cursed internally.
Of course, Harry wasn’t here, nor were Hermione or Ron, and Voldemort would no small amount of glee in branding them fugitives of the Ministry of Magic.
Somehow, she already knew that Harry would wear it as a badge of honour.
Still, the small moment of amusement she felt evaporated as what was transpiring within Hogwarts could no longer be ignored.
It was no longer a school, and the students were no longer that. No, Hogwarts was now a prison and the students were little more than hostages that Nymphadora did not doubt would be used to suit Voldemort’s purposes.
Nonetheless, somehow, she had all the faith in the world that Harry would not allow them to come to any harm. She too would do her best to ensure it, but already, the tension was palpable, growing more so with each passing moment.
(Break)
Even after all that had happened, it was odd to see the twins without their trademark mischievous grins, the glint of anticipation in their eyes of one of their impending pranks, and the happy-go-lucky nature that had been the bane of many professors.
Now, both were as serious as any other Harry had met, and as they took in his proposal whilst consulting their map of Knockturn Alley, they said nothing.
“Won’t it let them know that we are onto their little hideaways if we do this?” Fred asked.
Both were wearing their robes with their nametags on today, so Harry did not need to guess which one he was speaking with at any given moment.
“No. If we make it out to be a huge victory for us, they won’t even suspect we know about the other places. They will think we’ve already played our hand. Wilkins can stay where he is for a little longer, well, for a week or so. I’ve put the word out that he’s closed the pub due to a family bereavement.”
“And this Rookwood…”
“Is incredibly dangerous,” Harry said gravely. “He’s a former Unspeakable, so, there is no telling what he is capable of. I will look into him but tracking anyone down from the Department of Mysteries who might be able to tell me anything won’t be easy. Besides, it’s not so much of a priority. He will die like the others.”
The twins nodded.
“We can’t leave them in Azkaban, George,” Fred sighed. “We know what it is like having the dementors around. There’s kids in there, and it’s not like our plans will change. They just need to be put on hold whilst we figure everything out. Isn’t that right, Harry?”
“Exactly,” Harry confirmed, “and I will need the two of you to help me with this. If we take out one of the potions suppliers, and the apothecary that’s providing them, it will be a setback for Riddle. He will need another, and most have disappeared to avoid the war.”
“And that will give you enough time to get them out of Azkaban?”
“Maybe,” Harry answered honestly. “It won’t be easy, but I’ll manage. I need as big a distraction as the two of you can manage. Maximum chaos that will keep them busy for as long as possible.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place, little Harrykins, mind, you’re not so little anymore. Don’t you just ever wish we could go back to how things were?” George asked with a wistful smile.
Harry nodded.
“Believe me, I’d give anything to go back just a couple of years. Maybe things could be different.”
“Not even magic can do that.”
“No, it can’t,” Harry murmured.
Despite how incredible it was, and all it had done for him, it wasn’t perfect, infallible, nor able to create such a miracle. He had learned that for himself over the years, and not even the resurrection stone could truly undo what had happened.
No, even the fabled Hallows had their limits, after all.
“We’ll do it, Harry, but where the hell are you going to put so many people when you get them out?”
“Dawlish and the aurors are already working on it. It will be a tight squeeze and they will need more supplies, but they will make it work.”
“It’s just a shame there won’t be any Death Eaters caught up in this,” Fred grumbled, gesturing to the map.
“This time,” Harry pointed out. “Next time, we will get it done. Just think of this as a warmup for the main event.”
And there it was, those matching mischievous grins were back, only this time, there was an undeniable darker edge to them, which could only spell trouble, but that was exactly what Harry needed from them if his excursion into Azkaban was going to be successful.
(Break)
It had taken almost three hours to sort the new arrivals, and by the time the feast had ended, Severus had been far too tired to give a rousing speech in any form. Instead, he’d dismissed the students and instructed the prefects and members of staff to carry out their duties.
He’d returned to his office, a place he’d come to loath given that all of the former headmasters had taken to glaring at him disapprovingly.
Why they did it, Severus did not know, and whenever he asked them, they refused to speak to him on the matter.
With their gazes burning into the back of his head, he’d drunk a generous measure or two of whiskey before turning in for the night, ready for a staff meeting before breakfast to catch his bearings of just how monumental. Task he had ahead of him in running the castle.
Already, he had come to despise being the headmaster, and cursed Potter for his part in seeing it so.
“I understand that this will not be easy,” he began when his peers had settled themselves around the table.
Most appeared as though they’d gotten little sleep, and Severus expected more sleepless nights ahead of them all.
“Are there any noticeable absences from your houses?”
“Several,” Filius snorted as he slid a piece of parchment across the table, followed by Pomona, Horace, and Hagrid, who he’d named as the Head of Gryffindor.
The Dark Lord would not like it, but he was now among the most senior members of staff, and it would be downright wrong and suspicious to name any other.
He perused the four pieces of parchments and nodded.
Of course, he expected to see Potter, Weasley, and Granger’s names listed, and he was not surprised to see most of the others. According to the Dark Lord, since Potter had made his presence known at the meeting of the Wizengamot, most of the neutral families had gone to ground, which was reflected in the absence of their children.
If Potter was to win the war, it would prove to be quite the stroke of genius on their part, but if he was to lose, it would be detrimental to them if and when they resurfaced.
Greengrass, Davies, Zabini, and even Bulstrode were absent among the Slytherins, with several other notable names from the remaining houses.
The Dark Lord would not like it. To him, there was no neutrality in the war, and those that had refused to comply with the Magical Education Act had chosen their side, and it wasn’t his.
Severus rubbed his eyes tiredly.
“This will take some adjusting,” he spoke once more. “The classes will be larger, but there is more than enough of you to facilitate it. If it does become necessary, I will employ more staff, and even personally cover lessons.”
He only received nods in response.
Filius and Pomona had been amicable enough, but most others did not wish to be in his company.
It seemed that there were so few that wanted anything to do with Severus, and already, he’d decided that if he did somehow survive the war, a miracle in itself, he would leave Hogwarts, and probably Britain with due haste.
There was no place for him here anymore, but for now, he needed to play his part to ensure the downfall of the Dark Lord.
So long as he was certain that would be, and he could see it for himself, it did not matter what happened to him.
No, Severus had long ago come to terms with his own mortality, and truthfully, death would likely be something of a reprieve from the guilt he carried for the many mistakes he’d made throughout his life.
What he was doing here was not one of them.
It was not a role he relished or ever envisioned would be his, but Hogwarts was where he was needed, and what came next was not something he would allow to cross his mind for any length of time.
He would either live somewhat absolved for what he’d done or die seeking that absolution.
To Severus Snape, it did not matter which.
(Break)
He did his utmost not to fumble with the intricate nature of the device he and his brother had created. It was volatile at best and were he to make just a single wrong move, well, George Weasley doubted he would live long enough to even begin to regret such an error.
Not that he was so concerned.
Over the years, he’d developed a rather adept level of dexterity in his fingers, which had become assured in their combined efforts to create the very best products for pranking.
Of course, there had been mistakes, several of them that had seen the twins in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, or needing the assistance of their long-suffering mother to put them right after a particularly nasty accident.
Fortunately, they’d never lost any limbs, nor caused any permanent damage to themselves with their countless experiments over the years, and through each mistake they had made, they’d learned a great deal from.
Keeping a steady when the pressure was on was one of those lessons, and as he finished piecing together the final elements of his pat of the plan, George breathed a sigh of relief.
“Easy,” he snorted unconvincingly, eyeing his creation cautiously.
Although it was as safe as it would ever be, it was still incredibly dangerous. Just one wrong move, or even a sneeze in its direction could be problematic.
“Done?” Fred asked.
His brow glistened with the sheen of perspiration, and both chuckled at the sight of one another.
“Done,” George confirmed. “I wouldn’t fancy being around this thing when it goes off. Merlin, what a mess it will make,” he added gleefully.
Fred nodded his agreement, and without saying another word, the two of them vanished beneath a disillusionment charm, leaving their gifts behind, ready for when they received the signal to implement their part of the plan.
“This will wake the bastards up,” Fred murmured. “I just wish it was more.”
George nodded darkly.
He and his brother had always been rather vengeful n nature, but it had always been petty revenge they’d taken against fellow students at school or their siblings.
What they were doing now was different, much more permanent, and just like Fred, George did not feel a shred of guilt for what they were going to do tonight, or any other night to come.
Their mother, brother, and sister had been murdered in cold blood, and only the blood of those responsible would suffice in return, even if such a debt could never be fully repaid.
No, there was nothing that could be done or given to the Weasley to suitably compensate for what had been taken from them, but that wouldn’t prevent Fred and George from at least trying to ensure that justice for their mother, Bill, and Ginny was served.
“Come on, Harry,” Fred whispered keenly, his grip tightening around the shaft of his wand as he nodded towards Ron, who was waiting just as keenly in a nearby alley.
They were all quite clear on what the effects of their efforts would be, but what they didn’t know was what reaction to expect. George did not doubt what they were doing would garner a significant amount of attention, but would it be enough to grant Harry enough time to do what he needed?
Well, if it wasn’t, they would have to find a way to ensure it was.
“That’s the signal!” Fred declared.
With only a shared nod, the two of them sprang into action before sprinting for cover and covering their ears.
The ground trembled beneath his feet, and George felt the air torn from his lungs as a blanket of heat washed over him.
“Bloody hell,” he whispered as he chanced a glance towards their targets. Both shops were up in flames with thick, black smoke billowing into the sky, joined by the several fiery creatures created by their own fireworks they’d invented.
Were it not for the severity of the situation, perhaps he would be able to enjoy his handiwork, but for now, George was focused on what the response would be, and he readied himself to meet it, his wand in hand as he silently wished Harry luck in his own efforts.
(Break)
“I cannot say that I am surprised,” the Dark Lord murmured as he read through the list of missing students Severus had presented.
Of course, he did not expect complete and utter compliance with the law, but he was surprised that so many had chosen to flout it, with some of the names he was reading eliciting a disappointed shake of his head.
“Greengrass, Macmillan, Boot,” he sighed. “I thought they would be smarter.”
“Fear does strange things to people, my lord.”
He nodded thoughtfully before pushing the parchment aside.
“Well, they cannot be treated any differently,” he pointed out. “They were warned…what is it, Wormtail?” he snapped as the rotund man entered the room, his breathing laboured and eyes wide.
“E-explosion, m-my lord,” he wheezed. “Knockturn Alley!”
“Explosion?”
“Apothecary and Potions,” Pettigrew choked. “Fire…”
“Then damned well respond to it!” the Dark Lord instructed. “Where is Scabior?”
“Already there, my lord, but, something strange is happening…”
He broke off as a shrill alarm began sounding throughout Malfoy Manor, and the Dark Lord scowled before his eyes widened.
“Azkaban,” he murmured as he drew his wand. “Something is happening at Azkaban… the prisoners!”
He vanished in a burst of dark smoke, and Severus wondered what could be happening. Well, there was only one explanation, and one young man brazen enough to replicate the feat of Lord Voldemort by releasing prisoners.
Potter.
The boy was on the island making a nuisance of himself, but with the foul mood the Dark Lord was in, he might just regret doing so.
“Well, get to Knockturn Alley!” he instructed the dumbstruck Pettigrew, who tripped over his own feet as he fled from the room.
Severus could only look on in shame.
Pettigrew truly was a pathetic man, but his thoughts were no longer with the damned fool. No, it was Potter occupying them, and just what the boy was doing.
Nothing good.
Where Potter was concerned, it was never anything good, and Severus did not doubt that before the night was over, he would’ve provoked the wrath of the Dark Lord once more, leaving him in a towering rage.
(Break)
With much of his time being spent in Knockturn Alley, Harry did not expect that the next blow he would strike against Riddle would be at Azkaban but given that the prison was now being used to house families who had done nothing wrong other than exist, he knew that, in good conscience, he could not leave them here to rot under the effects of the dementors.
With that in mind, he had concocted a plan he could execute hastily, which truthfully translated to him getting those captured by the group that had replaced the aurors as quickly as he could without giving much consideration to the consequences.
With Fred, George, and Ron assisting him, he would be granted some time, but already, he knew it would not be as long as he would like.
The cloak might help conceal him from the dementors, but the moment the protections in place detected his intrusion, Harry knew that all hell would break loose immediately after.
The dementors did not concern him so much. Harry knew he could keep them at bay without much trouble. What did concern him, however, was the inevitable reinforcements that would arrive.
Despite what would be happening in Knockturn Alley, Riddle would not allow anything unfolding here to do so without a swift response.
His grip tightened around his wand as he checked he’d left nothing behind for the umpteenth time.
Cloak…broom…wand…portkeys…
In his head, it all sounded so very simple.
He needed to only access the prison, hand a portkey to the prisoners he found in each of the cells, and tear through just enough of the protections to allow them to be activated.
That was what troubled him most.
Azkaban had stood as a fortress for centuries, but if Riddle could do it, then Harry did not doubt that he could too, especially with the help of the elder wand.
“Come Death, come,” he whispered, breathing a sigh of relief as the cold magic washed over him comfortingly.
Getting into Azkaban was not the difficult part.
Whoever had built the prison had evidently not cared to keep outsiders out, but after he’d slipped within the walls, even beneath the cloak, he could feel the weight of the magic here settle upon him.
It wasn’t just the presence of the dementors that kept this place so secure, but a cleverly constructed set of charms, protections, and even curses. Nonetheless, it was far from perfect, mostly relying on the creatures that roamed the halls, the fact that prisoners would be without their wands, and the location so far out at sea.
He'd idly wondered id Sirius had figured that out before he’d escaped and shook his head of the thought immediately.
No, that wasn’t his godfather at all. The man was impulsive, reckless, and belligerent, and would’ve simply wandered out of Azkaban as a dog without giving anything much thought other than wanting to throttle Wormtail.
Still, he would’ve gotten quite the kick out of Harry being here now, attempting a mass breakout of his own.
He was forced to cover the mouth of the first prisoner he came to; a man who’d evidently lost a lot of weight in a short amount of time given how loosely his skin was hanging around his neck.
“Blimey, you’re Harry Potter!” he whispered after he’d been released. “What’re you doing here?”
“I’m getting you all-out, well trying,” Harry replied, checking the corridor to ensure no dementors were nearby. “Here, this will activate automatically when you reach the main courtyard. When the door is gone, she need to get to it as quickly as possible. The dementors will be on your arse, and there’s no telling what else might happen.”
Somehow, the man seemed to pale even more as he nodded, and Harry left his cell to move on to the next, where he found a family of four; a mother, father, and two small boys who’s eyes were rimmed in dark circles from where they’d not been able to sleep.
“As soon as the door is gone, you need to run to the main courtyard. Turn right as you leave, and then straight until you’re outside. The portkey will take you somewhere safe.”
“Bless your soul, Harry Potter,” the father whispered, giving his shoulder a weak squeeze.
Harry merely offered him a nod before continuing with his efforts. For how long he went from cell to cell repeating his message, he could not be certain, but by the time he was done navigating his way through the corridors and avoiding the dementors, he was ready to be away from Azkaban.
It truly was the most dreadful of places, and despite being within his cloak for the most part, he did not doubt the effect it was having on him would linger for some hours after he’d left.
Even so, his work had only just begun, and in a bid to be out of here as quickly as he could be, he sent the signal to the waiting Weasleys before beginning his countdown.
A few minutes would suffice to see that a considerable part of Riddle’s forces were occupied, maximising the chance of success for the prisoners here to escape.
“Now,” he murmured when he’d finished his count.
Releasing another deep breath and bracing himself for the chaos to ensue, he began manipulating the magic he could feel in the air around him, wincing as the doors to every cell in the prison were torn away in a cacophony of screeching and crashing steel.
“MOVE!” he yelled, charging forward and unleashing his patronus to keep the already shrieking dementors at bay.
The prisoners had immediately spilled from their cells in a frantic bid for freedom, their laboured breathing, and even whimpers heard with each step they took closer to achieving it.
All the while, Harry did his utmost to ensure as many possible were not hindered, and even when the whimpers of the prisoners and desperate cries were drowned out by the alarm, his focus did not waver.
The dementors were swarming now, furious at the prospect that their prisoners were being taken, but they’d not been a match for Harry since he’d been thirteen years old.
No, they could screech and they could attempt to snatch up a meal for themselves from the scurrying men, women, and children, but they would be rebuffed at every turn.
The same, however, could not be said for the pale man Harry did not miss the arrival of.
Even through the magic of the dementors and the prison itself, it was impossible to ignore the presence of Tom Riddle, who was bearing down on him after quickly getting over the shock of the scene he’d come upon.
“POTTER!” he roared, raising his wand.
Instinctively, Harry followed suit and tore a large section of the ancient wall between the two of them, only for it to be reduced to rubble the second he did.
Riddle was certainly not pulling his punches this time, not wanting to verbally spar with him. No, he was furious at what was happening, and the next spell he hurled towards Harry spoke of it.
Although he managed to divert it towards the ceiling above causing yet more rubble to rain down on them, Harry had not been able to ignore the raw power his foe possessed.
It was exceptional, but in his state of mind, he was not thinking clearly.
No, if he wasn’t careful, the entire prison would be brought down upon them.
Nonetheless, as he felt the first of the portkeys being activated, he allowed himself a brief moment of relief as he too continued on his way, sending spell after spell towards Riddle, who barely missed a step as he pursued Harry through the corridors of Azkaban.
There was no denying he was relentless and drawing nearer and nearer towards him with every step, his own wand a blur as he attempted to tear Harry limb from limb.
Being on the backfoot and retreating whilst fending off Riddle was no easy feat, and even as he felt the chill of the outside air on his back, he knew he would not reach the courtyard before the Dark Lord was upon him.
Knowing this himself, Riddle grinned triumphantly, only for it to falter as he was forced to throw himself to the ground to avoid a black mass that hurtled towards him.
Whatever it was, Harry he did not know, but he did not hesitate to sprint the length of what remained of the corridor, firing another patronus towards the marauding dementors ahead of him before activating his own portkey, only to be gripped tightly around the ankle as he did so, sending him and his unexpected passenger spinning into the void.