"In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity."
Sun Tzu I believe. Or perhaps I made it up, in the end it doesn't matter, the words ring true. The Ministry is scrambling. Caught with their pants down, scampering around like headless chickens. It would be amusing if it wasn't so embarrassing.
I stand by the rocks edge, smelling the salt of the sea, looking out at the tower of obsidian, starkly illuminated by the occasional flash of lightning. Rough stone, no light from the windows and even from this distance, a miasma of misery and gloom.
I apparate as close as I can to the wards, hot and angry things to my magic. So in contrast to the biting cold of the North Sea. It is not just the Dementors that hold the prisoners of Azkaban, but the wards too. The play into the effect, make one more lethargic, weakening the spirit to ensure resistance against the Dementors is futile endeavour.
The skies continue to darken, rain continues to fall, nevertheless I remain warm and my clothes remain dry.
The wonders of magic…
There are no Aurors stationed here, with minimal Dementor presence, I wouldn't risk this otherwise. Their focus remains on Bella and Augustus, trying to figure out how they escaped and what they'd do next. It was obvious to me, I had all the pieces to put it together.
Lord Voldemort.
Originally, after the news broke, I was suspicious of Barty. Perhaps he had found a way to break free from his father's imperious curse. I needed to ensure that wasn't the case. It was for that reason that I delved into Crouches mind, not because he looked at me strangely. No, I received plenty of stares and looks wherever I went, his was in no particular way unique.
In his mind, I saw and felt that jr was still under the curse, still grounded as any parent would a disobedient child. But he was resisting, little by little. He would break free eventually, and we couldn't have that now could we? So I cast the Imperious on Snr, which transferred his control of his son unto me. What resistance jr had been building was swiftly crushed.
I was in a bit of a bind after. I couldn't hold them under the curse forever and I couldn't let Jr be sent to Azkaban, it had proven to be easily penetrated. So I took matters into my own hands. I would have done everything alone, but my friends…
When we got to the manor, I went through Jrs every memory, taking in all he knew about magic and the death eaters. Their secrets, their safe houses, their wants. The mark on his arm was darker, not as much as he remembered it being before Tom fell, but darker than it had been in years.
I had known from the start that Voldemort was responsible for the breakout, and it was all because of me.
I could see it from his perspective. A boy, prophecied to defeat me, is able to duel me with surprising competence after just one year of magical education…
Yes, I'd ensure my return as soon as possible as well, lest I give him time to grow into a problem.
I understood the reason to breakout Augustus, he was perhaps the smartest of the death eaters, barring Barty, from what Barty's own memories told me. He also knew his way around the department of mysteries. And if Voldemort was going to beat me, he'd need to know the full prophecy. I'll have to deal with that…
Augustus, I understood. Bella however… Perhaps he needed her for his revival. If I remember correctly he was in some sort of baby form before the graveyard…
Whatever, one problem at a time.
I wear no cloak of death, if it can be seen through by Moody's eye, it can be seen through by the demons in the tower. I have no need for it anyhow.
I force the air through my nose and down to my lungs. Centering my self, I feel with my magic, look with my eyes and taste the sensations of Azkaban that stands before me. I receive death and decay, sadness and suffering. I drink it in and reflect it, stepping through the wards.
It's not so bad out here but every step I take draws me to the tower, pulls me closer to the Dementors and their despair. I continue my approach, cloaking my mind in Occlumency, my only thought being of love and joy and the people who bring it to me. I fall deep into that state, thinking of only that which brings light as I step into the dark tower.
Fleur and her love, her laugh, her touch. Hermione and the joy in her mind at my presence, the emotions she feels for me, the happiness she has when we are together or just with Nev and Ron. The boys and their friendship and brotherhood, their belief in me and fierce loyalty. Sirius and his laughter, the pride in Dumbledore's eyes.
I taste the words as they form, pouring all the joy I have into them.
"Expecto Patronum."
A wave of white sparkling mist rushes from my wand and begins to take shape. As always, in the beginning, whenever I cast the spell, the patronus seems a tad uncertain on which animal it will become. I see scales just at the edges, and hear a faint roar, then the mist coalesces, forming flaming feathers and the true from comes together with a song of life and a flash of fire.
I don't let the Phoenix form in full, honing my intent, the mist swirls as I twirl the redwood in my hand, drawing close to me yet still flowing. I keep the patronus as a mix between corporeal and incorporeal, to ensure what I do here tonight is not traced back to me.
The Phoenix's head and beak forms over my right shoulder, resting there, turning into mist then forming again constantly, singing a sweet song that pushes the darkness away. Two wings, with lit feathers of ivory, take shape from the mist at my back and wrap protectively around my front like a shield.
I breathe in and out, feeling the warmth and love from my guardian. Less so than if I were to let it form fully, but more so than if it was just mist.
I make my way deeper into the prison, passing by cell blocks. The denizens of Azkaban moan as I glide past, my patronus returning to them feelings they have not felt in years. My passing is a cruel torture, they feel the love and then it is gone in a heartbeat as I pass them by, taking light and warmth away with my footsteps.
Not everyone is happy to see me however, the wardens—Dementors—infernal creatures rush me in the hopes of a fresh meal, they are rebuffed as they near. The head caws, spitting out flames of white mist and the amortal beasts are sent scrambling. I avoid observing their magic and despair, lest my concentration waver and I lose focus. I am performing two immensely complicated pieces of magic at the same time, the stoppage of either…
I continue my march, up, into the higher levels. The maximum security wings, where the worst of the worst are kept. There are more Dementors up here, which I would have inferred from the wailing alone even if I couldn't feel the world loss even more of its lustre. The Dementors from the lower levels follow behind me, a few paces away, hoping I will slip.
They hope in vain.
My senses and sight lead me to that familiar feeling. Less than a soul, but still holding a sliver of Tom Riddle's magic. I come to stop infront a cell, the man inside groans and shivers in greeting. My patronus highlights his face in cold white light, though aged and weathered by imprisonment, I know him still. I remember drinks shared and oaths sweared.
Rabastan. The memories tell me.
"W-who are—" He coughs raspy and pained. His voice is dry like sand paper and hoarse from the screaming. He receives no sympathy from me, he had none for Alice, he'll get none now. I unlock the door and step inside. His coughing reaches its end.
"Who are you?" His stare, lifeless before, begins to regain some focus as my patronus charm begins to dim the Dementor's effect.
"To you? No one of consequence."
"Rabastan! Shut it!" A voice snaps through the walls. It would have had more of an effect if it wasn't so weak. Rabastan doesn't get the chance to respond, I silence the room and fall into his thoughts.
What Occlumency he did have is useless now. He is, by all accounts, an open book. He has no strength left for resistance, I search, bypassing the countless memories of murder, rape and revelry, to take anything of value. I recede and Lestrange lays panting against the wall. He looks up at me in fear, a look he has reserved for the dark Lord at his worst.
"Y-you…" He had felt me, I wasn't subtle. There wasn't need for it.
"Your final words?" He grows even more confused. Then there is realisation, panic and a fresh budding of fear.
"No… no don't do this. Look, look!" He brings the dark mark up, waving his arm. The skull and snake writhe under my phoenix light. "My Lord still lives. His return is almost at hand. You broke in to Azkaban. You must be capable of breaking out. Release me, set me free. Set all of us free and the Dark Lord will reward you greatly."
"Voldemort—"
"You dare!?" He snarls, looking even more deranged. I silence him.
"I do. Voldemort is already dead, he just doesn't know it yet." I bring my wand up, two words at the tip of my tongue, intent surging and—
My patronus wavers.
I thought as much… Still, love and hate aren't that far apart.
I sharpen my intent, focusing on not just the need of him to die, but on the why. I picture the faces of my loved ones. I see what could come after.
I kill to maintain mine and their happiness
He is in the way
The Phoenix flares white and gives a song. One of life and death. The necessity. The interchangeable nature of them. The song comes to an end, the Phoenix flares once again.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Poisonous green lights the room and Rabastan lives no more.
The Dementors watch as I repeat the process, cell after cell of all the inner circle captured at the fall. I take everything of value from their minds and from Rodolphus, I take some hair also, it might be useful in allowing me to retrieve the cup.
Rabastan. Rodolphus. Jugson. Dolohov. Gibbon. Mulciber. Travers. Rowle.
They knew nothing of how their comrades had escaped, I wasn't expecting any different. Tom would reveal himself in time, in the meanwhile, I would continue to kill him, piece by piece.
I come to a stop before the final cell. The wards are different here. Another, layered over what was already established.
Stopping animals? …Pettigrew.
I remove the door and come to stop before his sleeping form. It seems not even dreams are safe here in Azkaban. He twitches and squirms unable to rest peacefully.
"Peter." He groans. I cast a stinging charm and he scrambles up, shouting in pain. He's more cognisant than the others, he's only been here around two years after all.
"Who are—" I remove the glamour, leaving my face bare. He squints, not used to the light my patronus brings, but eventually there's recognition.
"H-harry!?"
"In the flesh wormtail." He flinches, scurrying until his back is against the wall.
"How did you get here? …Y-you are actually here aren't you?" I raise an eyebrow. "I'm not going m-mad a-am I?"
"No, you aren't going mad." I join our eyes together, searching through the memories, sifting through self loathing and disgust. Childhood, Hogwarts, Secret keeper, Betrayer, Rat. I move quickly, his magic still repulses me. When I pull back, he hasn't even realised anything has happened.
"Erm… why are you here Harry? T-to get me out?" All I can do is laugh. He joins in nervously. Growing uncomfortable.
"I am here to kill you Peter." I confess once the merriment fades. The words crash down on him like a hammer blow.
"No." Pettigrew whispers, horrified. "No, Harry don't. Y-your parents… J-james and Lily, they wouldn't want this from you." I don't let the emotions rise up. I send them into the chamber.
"They're dead." I crouch down, bringing myself eye level with him. I clasp the back his head tightly, stopping him from looking away. "Do you remember wormtail, in your first year, on the train, when you were looking for a seat? You searched and searched, all you wanted was a seat, but no one would let you into their carriage. Two boys did however. James and Sirius let you in. You sat with them, and they talked about how a greasy, hooked nose boy sat next to the pretty girl James wanted to sit with in the other carriage." His eyes grow wide, I see the question in them.
"You wanted to be friends instantly. You followed them from then on, always at their heels. You wanted to be like them. You wanted to be popular. You wanted to be strong. You wanted and wanted and wanted. Even now, here in this cell… you still want! Because you are alive." He says nothing, his eyes grow moist, I feel my revulsion deepen. "…They're dead Peter. They're dead because of you. They want nothing." He begins to sob.
"Revenge won't bring them back." He pleads. "If it would, if it could… I'd have turned my wand on myself and the dark Lord and all the others. James and Lily, were two of the five people to ever care for me. I was never brilliant, but they cared all the same. I wish I had been brave back then, when h-he found me. He had been looking for Sirius a-and… I wish he had killed me then. That I had been brave but I wasn't, I'm not, I can't change the past. I just want to live!"
"As do I." I show him. I show him what I want, his tears double. "You and him. The Dark Lord. You are in the way."
"Harry." Wormtail whispers desperately. "Harry, please don't do this."
I feel my patronus flicker and remember to maintain that state of mind. Looking at Pettigrew now, snivelling and whimpering like the pathetic rat that he is, I can't imagine him as a threat.
"Alright." His eyes grow wide with hope. I stand up and turn away from him, replacing the glamour and making my way to the door.
As I approach, the Dementors back away, hissing in fear, my firebird begins to sing once more.
"I know you can understand me." I say to them. "You have watched me and done nothing. You could have alerted the ministry, but you didn't. You could have called for Aurors, but you didn't. You waited for me to slip, to falter. You want my soul. It must seem like the greatest dish you'll ever have. I have use for it still, you won't be getting it. This one however…" I gesture into the cell, Pettigrew grows horrified and scrambles to his feet. He tries to speak, the words do not come.
One of the Dementors tilts its head at me, not believing.
"I have no need to lie to you. Either you feast, or I do to him what I did to the others. Think of it as thanks for your silence." They groan, ice spreads across the corridor, Fleur's smile comes to mind, the song increases in strength. They screech. "Go, before I change my mind."
In the end, the outcome was inevitable.
"Harry!" She crashes into my chest, wrapping her arms around my neck. I spin her around, laughing.
"Put me down! Put me down you silly boy." I do as I'm told. "You didn't message." She says, still flushed from her own laughter, waving the ring in my face.
"Mione, I thought you'd be asleep." She steps back, my cloak around her shoulders, looking at me like I've just said something incredibly stupid. She frowns.
"How could I be? What if something happened!" She narrows her eyes, grabbing my face turning it this way and that, casting diagnostic charms. "Did something happen?" She asks, worried. I grab her wandless hand, lifting it from my face.
"No, it was fine. No problems at all." She doesn't seem to believe me. I don't know if I should be annoyed by that.
She throws the cloak over the both of us, leading us out of the night and into the castle.
"You should have let us come." I shouldn't have even let you come to Crouch manor.
"It was dangerous enough as it was. Keeping the wards from affecting you guys would have been even more taxing."
"Hmph." We slip past the great hall. "That's not what I meant. You shouldn't have had to do it alone." I see Filch and Mrs Norris approaching from the right, to the left Snape and McGonagall are making their way towards us. I turn, pulling Hermione into a broom cupboard.
"Well, this is cosy." Even in the darkness I can see her cheeks flushing with heat. I try to step back but there's no where to go.
"Harry, listen." She stops me, placing her hands on my cheek. She takes a breath. "We could have been outside, ready to help."
"We?" I ask, looking around with a raised eyebrow. She gives a little laugh.
"They were waiting with me but then the twins roped them into something and everyone's on edge due to…" She didn't have to say it. With the breakout and the manor, dementors were always flying around the castle. Prefects and teachers were patrolling constantly, Hermione was only out because I left them the cloak. "Don't change the subject. I-we… we're meant to do these things together. Bear the burden together. I know why you had to go alone, but doesn't mean I have to like it."
"I don't know what you want me to say."
"That's a first." She draws her face closer to mine. "Are you sure you're alright?" She wants a real answer. A sigh escapes me of its own power.
"Hermione… this burden I can carry. You guys are what gives me strength." I wipe the beginning of her tears away. "Everything I do and will do, I do for you. I do for us. I do for the future. I do for love." She wraps her arms around me, I hold her to my chest, letting her get all the emotions out.
We stand like that for who knows how long.
"We're going to have to convince the fat lady to let us back in."
"She'll probably report us, and I don't want to know how many detentions Professor McGonagall will give for being out after curfew. And in a broom cupboard at that." She says, sniffing and blushing as if it's something scandalous.
"How would she even realise we were in a broom cupboard?"
"That's not the point." She mumbles, looking away. "We can't go back to the dorms Harry." She sighs, turning her eyes back onto me. Her thoughts rise up to the surface, I pluck them, knowing what she wants. She shivers, pleased.
"You want to go the room."
"It'll have a big bed?" She says sheepishly.
"Riigght. That's why." I look at her, she just continues to smile. "Fine."
We exit the cupboard, making our way to the staircase in comfortable silence but always on the lookout for patrols. Hermione breaks the silence as we arrive at the room.
"Harry… I-we, you give us strength too." She grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers, she squeezes, as if still afraid I'll disappear, and brings our hands to her lips. Her brown eyes, now molten with fierce emotion, stare out at me over the top of our hands.
"Wherever it is you want to go, you'll always have me. You'll always have us."
I feel the honesty in the words, the faith she has in me and the love she feels. There is no guilt in me, I shred and dissect the emotion with Occlumency.
All I have done, all that I do, all that I will do… is to protect moments like this.