A History of Magic

The North Sea, 1473

Admiral Black smiled as he noticed a small speck appear on the horizon. Azkaban. The last great stronghold of the goblins. It was all that stood between wizardkind and final victory over that wretched lesser race. And he was about to take it.

Black had waited all his life for an event like this. Born into society, head boy at that greatest of schools, Durmstrang, leaving to join the magical army, and then finally to be chosen by the Wizards' Council to lead its ships into battle ... and now. Now, about to receive the jewel in the crown. History would remember him.

"Demere, get here!" Black barked, and a small man robed in plain black rushed over to meet him from somewhere on the rocking ship.

"Tell me again about ... about the place we go to attack, captain," Black ordered.

"Azkaban," said Demere, sounding somewhat overexcited. "From Gobbledegook azke aban, literally meaning 'shadow fortress', or possibly from ask ibban, 'dark rock' or 'dark island'. A fortress built two hundred and fifty years ago in the middle of the North Sea, and used by the Köbelv goblins as a way of protecting their assets in northern Europe, thus being one of the most important strategic bases ever constructed. It has also been suggested by some of the leading wizard scholars that the fortress may be used by the goblins as a means of extracting some sort of hidden treasure from beneath the sea floor. Built with the finest iron- and stonework, Azkaban Fortress is notoriously hard to take. Over the years, as many as a dozen wizarding generals are said to have been defeated whilst trying ..."

"Yes, yes," said Black hastily. It wasn't that this put him off or anything - indeed, it would only increase the rewards when he took the island. "What forces do they have?" he asked. He knew already of course - he didn't bring so many ships out when he didn't actually know what he was doing. But it was good to be sure, all the same.

"The fortress probably holds between five hundred and one thousand goblin soldiers, most of whom have fled from our previous victories and many of which are therefore in something of a bad state. Only five of their most influential leaders remain. This contrasts with our own fleet of just under twelve hundred men. They may have as many as a dozen ships, which in all likelihood they will send at us in an attempt to see us of early."

"Firepower?" Black inquired.

"As previously, these goblins are well-versed in the magical arts and many of their soldiers are expected to be armed with wands. They will also no doubt have cannon, those crude replacements for magic which are infamous for the danger caused to the user and their limited use. But the goblins love all things made of metal, and these are no exception."

"How will we penetrate the fortress?"

"The walls are of solid rock, many feet thick, and in any case will be magically strengthened. Our best chance of getting inside is through the doors - although these are reinforced with iron, the goblins are not nearly as good at working their magic with wood as they are with metal. Our forces are superior, although if it transpires that we will not be able to win through today, we could easily choose to instead lay siege to the island, in the hope that ..."

"Thankyou, captain, that will do," said Black, and the little man hurried off. Captain Demere was, it had to be admitted, somewhat annoying, but he was also incredibly useful, a library on legs. Black strode up to the very front of the ship, and looked out at the rapidly approaching island. "Let the attack begin," he said simply.

The ships rolled out over the waves, sails billowing, flags flying. Azkaban Island was getting larger every second. Suddenly, as had been predicted, there was something else. Rounding the featureless rock, which was topped with an imposing stone fortress, twelve enemy ships were approaching the wizarding fleet.

Admiral Black retreated to somewhere less conspicuous. He hadn't come here to get killed, and had no intention of that changing now. Death was the job of the common soldier. He would be quite happy standing near the centre of the boat, as far away from the roaring cannons and spitting wands of the enemy as conceivably possibly, all the time shouting orders to his crew.

He barked a single word, and every sailor who wasn't involved in manoeuvring the ship jumped to attention, moving to the sides of the vessel. On the other boats, men were doing the same. Every wizard had his wand out and was ready to scream curses as soon as the enemy drew near enough at the command was given. Black strode between the ranks of nervously waiting men.

"We are drawing ever closer to our goal," he bellowed in the voice of the admiral he was. "The enemy have sent a small party of ships to attempt to face us off early. They will not succeed!"

His words seemed to spark courage into the men, and as one they let out a cheer. The abruptly, just as the shout was dying down, there was an explosion from nearby. A cannon ball soared from one of the enemy ships, and landed with a resounding splash in the water, perilously close to Black's own boat.

"ENGAGE AT WILL!" the admiral barked. "DESTROY EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM!"

Suddenly the air was alight with multicoloured sparks and jets of light. Wizards and goblins alike were being hit, falling down to the decks or into the icy waters. More explosions rocked the air as cannon roared and badly constructed wands backfired. A spell shot worrying close to Black's own head; he ducked to avoid it and watched as it slammed into the mast behind him. Thankfully, it held. Forgetting the architecture of the ship, the admiral continued to bellow orders and even fired a few shots of his own into the smoky haze. He hit one of his own men with a Stunning Charm. "Get out of the way, you idiot!" he yelled, as the wizard crumpled to the floor.

There was a crash, and Black spun around. One of his own ships had been hit in a critical spot by a goblin cannon ball. It was slowly become submerged under the waves, water pouring in through the gaping hole. The admiral ignored it. He could let the ship sink. But he couldn't let his heart do the same.

The men seemed to be thinking the same; they were fighting now with a new vigour. Most of the goblin ships were by now operating with next to no crew, and certainly not enough sailors to fight. Some of the wizards were pounding shot after shot into the sides of the enemy ships, while others were conjuring shields to protect themselves and their enemies. A goblin boat went down, and another, their crews screaming as they descended into the water, many of them already in pain. Black ducked another stray curse, and deflected a third with a hasty Shield Charm. Across from him, a goblin cannon exploded, sending bits of metal and wood into the wizarding fleet and - more importantly - the boat it was itself mounted on. Some goblins were trying to board the wizards' ships on gangplanks and bits of wood from the wreckage of their own boats, but they were being cut down by spells and magical swords as they did so, and falling down into the sea.

On a nearby ship, Black suddenly noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Standing there was the leader of the now almost defeated goblin navy - Admiral Nolbig. Nolbig the Nasty. He may have been short, but he was deadly - an old adversary of Black. Many times the two had faced each other in battle, but neither had yet succeeded in killing his opponent. Nolbig was smiling, a wand - not one of wood, but of gleaming polished metal - held aloft in his grubby hand. Black raised his wand, preparing to deflect whatever his opposite number sent at him, but before he had a chance -

A soldier standing somewhere to the wizarding admiral's right shot a single curse at the goblin leader. Even the finest goblin armour was no use. Nolbig the Nasty toppled, and fell to the deck, his wand rolling away.

The wizard who had killed him looked pleased with himself, and turned to smile proudly at his admiral. Black knocked him down with the same killing curse the man had just used. He didn't like people to take his prey from him like than. Besides, he had plenty of other men to spare.

Slowly, what was left of the goblin fleet started to retreat back towards the island. The first part of the battle had been won.

Black returned to his position at the bow. The only real suitable place to land was on the other side of the island. The rest of the barren rock was edged with high cliffs, unassailable for the unprepared sailor. It had probably been a mistake to attack from this direction. Nevertheless ... it could be done.

As the boats rounded the island, Black's fears were confirmed. The goblins were taking this as an opportunity to fire more cannon balls at them. Blasted things, Black thought, and smiled at the pun. Then he turned around, and shouted:

"Send out the winged horses!"

The idea was to attack the fortress from the air, knocking down unsuspected goblins from their tower. There were around a hundred wizards in the cavalry, most of them on horses, but a few on hippogriffs and one brave soul on a griffin, spread around the various ships. Black watched as the beasts rose steadily into the air, rocking the boats as they left. Their commander, General Mallock, would lead them now. And he would lead them well. Black and Mallock were old friends.

The ships continued, as did the goblin's attempted bombardment. But their cannon shots all missed, all splashing into the water short of reaching the fleet. Black surveyed the battle in the air. The hippogriffs were picking goblins up from the ground and smashing them down on the rocks; whilst the flying horses, many of their riders armed with magical self-firing bows, were attempting to land on the top of the fortress itself. It seemed like a win for the wizards could be the only the result. But then a cry rose up from the men on board the ships:

"A dragon! They have a dragon!"

Sure enough, a huge black beast with bronze horns and a ridged back was rising up from the castle. For the first time, Black was struck with something like fear. The things this creature could do ...

The dragon was leaping at the horses in midair, taking them down like flies. Black put his head in his hands. They couldn't ... they couldn't ...

He looked up again. A goblin seemed to riding the beast, though he didn't have much control. In fact, as Black watched, he fell from the dragon's back, down into the sea below. But then a blast of fire erupted from the dragon's mouth - the admiral looked on in horror as it engulfed a nearby ship. This was far more dangerous than any cannon.

Then the dragon turned. It clearly wasn't selective about its prey. Now the fire from its jaws was aimed not at the ships, but at the goblins. They were screaming as they too were engulfed by the flames. Some of them were firing at them with their cannons and their wands, though they were having little effect but to bait the beast further. Black breathed a sigh of relief. Not only had the dragon turned on its own supposed owners, it was now causing a distraction in addition ...

The ships had now rounded the island. The pitiful remainder of the goblin fleet was floating there, its crew fled to the black-walled fortress, apart from those so cowardly they had attempted to desert the island altogether, making away in some of the smaller of their boats. There was no point chasing them in Black's mind. He didn't waste time on enemies who could only run.

"Lower the boats!" the wizards' admiral commanded. He checked he had all of his own equipment - wand, cutlass. He watched as the men slowly descended into the landing boats and started to row towards Azkaban Island, then followed suit, getting into a boat with his most trusted captains. He nodded to them, and tapped the vessel once with his wand. It sped across the water ... closer ... closer ...

They were there. Black leapt out of the boat. His own superior forces were pushing forwards, forcing down any goblins who dared try and stop them. He followed, shooting down the occasional enemy with spells from his wand, shouting out orders as he did so.

"The gate! Head for the gate!"

He was commanding his troops confidently, but all the same he couldn't help feeling a bit apprehensive. They could kill any number of goblins, so long as they could reach them, but already most of the enemy's forces had retreated inside the fortress. The walls of Azkaban Castle would not be broken. As his strategist had suggested, their only real chance was to break the gate - or to lay siege. Black didn't want to try for the latter. This was war, and he wanted to be remembered for a heroic attack and victory, not sitting around an island in boats until the enemy ran out of food.

His men had reached the front gate. It was a wooden door of huge proportions, backed up by metal supports and a great iron portcullis. Even this would not be taken easily. To further complicate matters, the goblins were defending their fortress with every last ounce of strength. Arrows and spells shot out of narrow windows in the castle walls, every now and again hitting wizard soldiers. And the goblins had worse weapons. As the men battered at the gate with spells, hoping for a breakthrough, rocks and boiling liquids were poured on them from above.

Through the din of the battle, Black heard a clattering of hooves behind him. He turned around; General Mallock, the cavalry leader, had landed on his winged horse. He dismounted, and saluted the admiral.

"We have penetrated the fortress from the top," he told Black, smiling as he reported the good news. "Even now my men are pouring into the upper chambers of the castle."

"That is good," said Black, though he did not smile in return. While confident in his friend the general's abilities, he didn't want too much of the glory to go to the other officer. "But I daresay you will not be able to take the castle on your own?"

"No, of course not," replied Mallock, looking slightly annoyed.

"No, you don't have nearly enough men. Don't worry, I am here. It will only be a short time before my own men break through the lower defences."

"I'll try to distract the goblins," Mallock said.

"Yes, that will do. But ... stay away from their inner chambers. I think it's only fair that I may take the final blow to their leadership, don't you?"

"Yes sir," said Mallock, though he looked annoyed now. "I will. But you owe me one."

And with that, he saluted again, mounted his steed, and took flight.

Black turned to face his own troops again. He collected himself, then called in a loud voice: "HALT!"

Every last wizard snapped to attention.

"This random firing at will will not cause much damage!" Black barked. "I expect more!"

The soldiers looked confused.

"You must attack," Black continued, "as a team! Wands out!"

Every wizard had his wand out already, but now they all held them in an offensive position, each one pointing towards the gate.

"Reductor curses!" the admiral yelled. "Aim for the very centre of the gate! With luck, we can break it!"

He inspected the troops and the doorway silently for a few seconds, then bellowed, "FIRE!"

"REDUCTO!" shouted the soldiers as one. Their spells hit the door with stunning force: it shuddered, but did not break.

"Again!" Black roared. "FIRE!"

"REDUCTO!" There was a crash, but again the gate remained intact.

"FIRE!"

"REDUCTO!"

"FIRE!"

"REDUCTO!"

Again and again the spells rained upon the wood and metal, but they seemed to be having little effect. With each curse, the soldiers' energy lessened, and all the while the goblins continued to shoot down their attackers one by one.

"FIRE!"

"REDUCTO!"

Still no effect. Black gritted his teeth. They had to break through. They could not give up. This time ... surely ...

"FIRE!"

"REDUCTO!"

Yes - the gate was broken, a gaping hole blasted into it. A cheer rose up from the men as they rushed forward, ripping away the planks of wood, breaking the metal supports which remained with further barrages of spells from their wands. Black breathed a sigh of relief. They were through.

Men were pouring into the castle as goblins were pouring out, but the wizards were filled with a new courage, not to mention having superior numbers. They forced the enemy back into their fortress, or else cut them down with swords as they ran out. Black pushed his way through the ranks of soldiers, shouting "With me!" as he did so, and knocking goblins out of his way. Now to march to the Azkaban's fabled great hall, which no human being before him had ever seen and lived to talk about it afterwards. The admiral forced his way through the corridors, blasted his way through a magnificent pair of gold-plated doors, and entered the marvellous chamber to come face to face with what remained of the goblin leadership.

"Admiral Black," said one particularly worn-looking goblin "And -" another high-ranking wizard had entered into the highly decorated hall - "General Mallock."

"General Bugo," Black replied. "General Braknash. General Nagnok. I trust you have the papers of surrender ready."

Braknash, a younger but no less battle-scarred goblin, extended a piece of parchment. "Alas," he spat. "You have won. This time."

"This is the final victory," Black replied, taking a quill the goblin general offered him, and signing the treaty before him after reading through it quickly. The terms were obvious - total surrender. "There will be no other chance for you to win."

"Maybe that is what you think," Braknash said coolly, as he and the other goblin generals signed the parchment, followed by General Mallock. "What are you going to do with us?"

"I think this fortress will make a very nice addition to our army's collection," Black replied, smiling. "Even if we do not use it to fight, it would be very convenient for locking our enemies up in. Azkaban. Maybe they will rename it Fort Black. Nevertheless, with adequate defences it is impossible to take alive. Unfortunately, it will also be impossible to escape from." He nodded to Mallock, who clicked his fingers.

"Take them to the dungeons," the general ordered his soldiers, and, with that, the goblin leaders were handcuffed, chained up, and led away. Caught in their own castle. Black couldn't help grinning to himself at the irony.

In his euphoria at finally taking the castle, Black failed to notice one small detail. When the attack had begun, there had been five goblin leaders in Azkaban Fortress. One of them, Admiral Nolbig, had already been killed. Three, Generals Bugo, Braknash and Nagnok, had been imprisoned. But the fifth had escaped.

Sailing quickly away on a small ship, Urgus the Undelightful felt a strange hint of confidence as looked back at the fortress he had left. Azkaban had been taken. But the goblins would be back.