Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Chapter 9 - Old Allies

Part I:
The board has been set.
The pieces are moving into place.
And the battle has begun.

"He- He came up behind us, as we were waiting for the floo," Lily cried into James' shoulder. "Oh God! I looked right at him, saw his eyes. Then he grabbed her and disappeared. Just like that she was gone..."

Harry's face was set stoically to show no emotion, but inside his heart was pounding in his chest and he was screaming in frustration. "Did you recognise him?" he asked quickly, calmly.

Lily looked up at him with tear stained cheeks, fear and anger reflected in her emerald eyes. She shook her head slowly. "He did seem... familiar, but I don't know..."

Harry nodded and then decided to take control of this situation, as a crowd had begun to gather at the sound of Lily's cries. "Right," he said strongly, turning to face his father, who looked grief-stricken himself. "Get everyone back to Hogwarts, I'm going to-"

"You going to get her back, Harry?" Michael asked quietly, hope mingled into his teary eyes. He understood what was going on, more than most.

"I'll find her," he said, and then Disapparated with a pop.

Harry reappeared instantly, back in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. He immediately set off across the highly polished floor towards the fireplaces against the blue and gold wall. He saw a crowd gathered around a bunch of Ministry spellworkers and headed in that direction.

"Definitely a Portkey," he heard one of them whisper, as he drew closer and made his way through the crowd.

"Can you trace its destination?" a familiar voice asked, and Harry emerged through the crowd and beheld Albus Dumbledore, still wearing his purple Wizengamot robes.

"Professor," he said quickly, seriously.

Dumbledore turned and didn't seem the least bit surprised to see Harry. "Harry," he said by way of greeting. "We believe it was Death Eaters."

Harry moved over to Dumbledore. "Was there ever any doubt?" he asked with a shrug. "Do you know who? I swear to God if it was Mal-"

"A man a lot darker I'm afraid," Dumbledore whispered as the spellworkers cast complex charms over the area. "Voldemort's son, or so I believe as the witnesses have described him."

For one brief moment Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Ethan..." he breathed, an image of Rafe dying on that street in Abingdon flashed through his mind. He made mistakes, we all did, but he was a good person.

"Sorry, Dumbledore," one of the spellworker's said, glancing at Harry. "Wherever they went, there are wards in place to stop it being traced."

"Thank you, Frank," he said, and turned back to talk to Harry, but he was gone. The only sound of his exit was a loud pop.

Harry reappeared hundreds of miles away outside the Hogwarts castle gates and set off at a run up towards the entrance. It took him five minutes and he was starting to feel tired. It had been a long day in the Wizengamot courtroom and his arm was aching terribly. Never a dull minute though, he thought, throwing open the castle door and entering the school.

There were a few people in the Entrance Hall who fell silent as he past, and Harry paid them no heed. What do I do now? he wondered. She could be anywhere...

The castle halls suddenly seemed very cold to Harry and a bubble of worry had begun to grow in his stomach. He stopped walking for a moment and leaned against the wall, trying to think of anything he could do. I'll kill Voldemort for this, he thought darkly. There were people passing him in the corridor but Harry didn't see them, he saw past them and into the ever uncertain future. Where do I go from here?

You find her, a voice in his head answered. It was the voice of reason. You don't let them win. Stand alone once again and fight back.

Harry nodded slowly to himself and picked himself up off the wall. "Right..." he whispered, and then turned left and walked straight into James Potter.

"Harry," James said slowly, coldly. His eyes were dark and rimmed with tears.

"Everyone get back from Diagon Alley?" Harry asked quickly. It was only James he could see, none of the other students passing by were his family.

"Yes," James again said slowly. "What do you know?"

Harry shook his head. He wasn't going to lie. "I haven't a clue where she is," he stated.

Suddenly, and unexpectedly, James grabbed Harry around the collar and pushed him back hard against the wall, knocking the breath out of him. "THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" he cried. "THEY TOOK HER TO GET TO YOU!

There were many gasps in the corridor as the assembled students from all years and houses watched their professor attack Harry, attack his son. For a moment no sound was heard, as James glared at Harry. Briefly, he saw the power behind Harry's eyes as they darkened and the emerald green became enflamed, but then it was gone.

"I said I'll find her and I will," Harry said quietly, not blinking or averting his gaze from James. "Let go of me."

A thousand conflicting emotions passed across James' face and then, with a sigh, he released Harry. "Whatever you're going to do, we do it together."

Harry straightened his collar as the crowds began to move again, all of them casting surreptitious glances out of the corner of their eyes at him and James. He then nodded. "Okay," he agreed. "Right now I'm heading to Dumbledore's office. Let's go."

****

"The best spellworkers the Ministry has cannot trace the Portkey signature, James," Dumbledore said gently. "She has disappeared."

Harry leaned silently against the wall near Dumbledore's desk and the window he had jumped out of half a week ago. He didn't want to sit down, he wanted to be ready for anything. He saw the pain in his father's eyes though. The thought of losing another child must have been tearing him up inside. Harry admired him for the simple fact of being able to carry on.

"Well," James began hotly. "Where could they have taken her? What about all the Death Eater hideouts we know about, or the Riddle house?"

Dumbledore stood up and moved around his desk and placed a comforting, commiserating hand on James' tired shoulder. "My friend, you know as well as I do that it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack."

James frowned but then reason saw through and he nodded sadly. "But what do we do?" he whispered, almost hopelessly.

Dumbledore appeared thoughtful for a moment. "Whatever we can," he eventually said. "The Ministry has, of course, taken the abduction of a Hogwarts student seriously. All avenues of investigation are being utilised... but what do you think, Harry?"

Both his Headmaster and father turned to look at Harry, who stood with his arms folded, almost casually, against the wall. The only noticeable sign in his appearance that showed he was prepared for anything was the subtle way his eyes flicked back and forth across the room, and occasionally out of the window. The rest of his body appeared slack, unprepared, but his eyes were more alert than anything else in that room.

"I don't think the Ministry has a chance in hell of finding her," he said honestly, knowing that even a white lie would not help any of them. "If Voldemort, and whoever's working for him, doesn't want her to be found yet, she won't be."

"We can't do nothing!" James cut in quickly. "I won't do nothing."

Harry nodded. "They're going to make us wait," he said carefully, frowning as he thought of how Voldemort's mind worked. He knew better than any man alive that he was a sadistic murderer, but Harry was unfortunate enough to share a link with the Dark Lord, and they had shared minds more than once. On some level he knew how Voldemort thought.

"Maybe a day," he continued. "Could be more, could be less. I don't believe they'll kill her though."

"Why is that?" James asked shakily.

"As you said," Harry replied. "They took her to get to me."

****

Darkness.

A pain in her side that she could not see or touch.

Melissa slowly felt life returning to her aching and cold limbs. As consciousness returned, so did the pain that came with that. Her side burnt terribly with stinging pain that bit into her every time she struggled for a grasping breath. She realised slowly that one or more of her ribs must be broken.

After a few moments Melissa saw the only source of light in the... room... was from a small barred window, that let in only a slit of sunlight which seemed to die away before it reached her. The floor she was lying on was cold, damp and covered in centuries of grime and dirt. The wall her back lay against was hard, and just as cold and damp as the floor. It was made of a jagged stone which was also covered in grime. As was her waist length hair, that clung in matted clumps to her head and clothes.

The only other thing Melissa noticed about wherever the hell this was, was the single solitary door that was carved into the rock, barred and made of stone. And she only noticed that because it had just opened.

Her thoughts were slow and muddled and Melissa knew the after effects of the stunning curse. Her father had taught her well in DADA. A figure stepped into the shadows of the dark cell, and his face was obscured but Melissa felt an unmistakable stab of sharp cold as she gazed up blurrily at this person.

"Who...?" she tried, but her throat cracked painfully.

"Silence," the figure whispered darkly, and the threat in his voice was unmistakable. Melissa didn't try to speak again. "Miss. Potter,' the male voice then said again. "Please let me be the first to welcome you to Azkaban."

Suddenly, Melissa felt her heart skip a few beats, and she knew from the simple pragmatic way that this figure had spoken to her that there was no lie in his voice. Azkaban! she thought. What did I do to end up in Azkaban?

"I am sure you are now wondering why, of all places, you are in Azkaban?" the figure then asked, never once moving out of the shadows. Melissa feared him simply because of this, and had she known more she would have learnt that her fears were justified. "Well, for curiosities sake, the Dark Lord controls Azkaban, and you are his prisoner."

Melissa had already got that far, but the thought filled her with despair and fear beyond comprehension. Her mind struggled to recall how she had come to be here. I was in the Ministry... she thought slowly.

"Now," the figure continued to speak, and even in the darkness Melissa saw the smooth polished wood of his wand as he removed it from within the pocket of his dark robes. "You are going to answer some of my questions, and please, for your own sake, answer truthfully."

Melissa suddenly found it difficult to breathe, and her head was slowly filled with the sounds of screams, and of that godforsaken day in Diagon Alley, when Harry had been killed. A tear fell from her bloodshot eye.

"The Dementors, those who remain on the island, are close," the figure whispered and Melissa heard a strange wheezing sound. It took her bereft mind a moment to realise the man in black was laughing.

"What- What do you want?" she asked quietly, her voice echoing loudly and harshly off the walls.

"I want answers," he replied. "Answers to questions that plague my Master's mind. Tell me, Miss. Potter, tell me about your brother."

Taking a deep shuddering breath, Melissa finally put all of the confused pieces together. This was about Harry. She had been taken because the Death Eaters wanted to know about Harry. And then strangely, she didn't have any idea of what to say. She didn't like this Harry, the one from another world. It wasn't the Harry she knew, the one she had loved, that her family had loved. He was a completely different person, and she couldn't accept him, hadn't accepted him... yet.

"Harry?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," the figure spat. "And do be quick about it! I have other lives to destroy."

Melissa swallowed slowly and more tears fell from her eyes. She didn't know what to say. He was from another world! He has an amazing power! He said he was going to kill your Master! "He's- He's just my brother..." she managed, looking up into the blackness, behind which this figures face resided.

"Ignorance will not help you here, nothing will," the figure hissed. "Crucio!"

****

Five Hours Later

Harry stared once more tiredly at the stars from atop of the Astronomy tower. He knew sleep would not come for a few days, not with Melissa missing. He barely even knew her, but she was, despite the fact that this wasn't his universe, his sister.

"God damn it," he whispered frustrated, angry more at himself than anything else. You should have stayed with them! his mind screamed at him. You should have known! How many more mistakes are you going to make? Lesser ones have gotten people killed before.

The sky was absolutely clear and the stars stretched on as far as Harry could see, across the heavens and out until his view disintegrated into darkness, like so much else these days. It was a warm spring night and Harry was still dressed in his Muggle trousers and black collared shirt. The breeze that blew up here on top of the castle and Harry's world was relaxing and did let him think.

Darker forces had other plans though. Harry saw it first a few hundred feet away, even in the darkness and small light provided by the stars and moon. The glint of two sharp eyes on the wind, and the whoosh of a pair of wings that flew through the night and towards him on top of the tower. It was an owl, and it was about a minute's flight away.

"Harry," a familiar voice whispered behind him, but Harry had already heard this person coming, and didn't take his eyes of the approaching owl.

"Hello, James," Harry said slowly, watching the pair of eyes that had locked onto his own. This owl was meant for him.

"I couldn't sleep," James said, walking over and standing next to Harry. "I didn't think you would be up here this late, I mean I know you told me you would be-"

"Look," Harry whispered, and pointed out towards the approaching owl, summoning a ball of bright light into his palm as he did, that for a few seconds illuminated the sky like a lighthouse does at night.

James saw it, and his heart constricted in his chest. "Do you think-"

"I do," Harry said as the bird was now on top of them, dropping its letter towards Harry without even landing, and then turned and was back off into the darkness of the night sky. Not wasting a moment, Harry snatched the letter off the stone wall in front of him and tore it open.

Azkaban. Before the Sun rises.

Harry read the letter and then suddenly it burst into purple flames, and a loud cackle was heard that rang out into the night sky. He brushed the hot sparks from his hands quickly and turned to James, who had paled considerably.

"We may have a problem," Harry said slowly, recalling all he knew about the island prison. It was off the west coast of Scotland. Dementor's and Death Eaters. Barty Crouch Jr oversaw it. Harry had to assume that Azkaban was under Voldemort's control, and he knew that Melissa wouldn't be leaving that island alive as long as he was.

"What is it?" James asked, fear and anticipation flowing across his eyes.

"She's in Azkaban."

It was a long moment before James spoke again, and Harry watched him intently in what little light there was. He once again saw all the conflicting emotions on his father's face, which finally settled into a look of stony determination. He was prepared to do absolutely anything.

"Will you go?" James asked.

Harry nodded slowly. "I don't know where it is, but I'll go."

"You have power enough to tear that island apart, Harry," James then said. "We'll go together." Again, Harry nodded but their was indecision in his mind and on his face. James recognised it for what it was. "You have a problem with this?"

"No," Harry replied, his eyes dark and hollow. "But besides Voldemort, Dementors are the one thing I have trouble killing. Can we handle them?

James shrugged, beyond caring. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Turning away from the balcony, Harry led the way down through the dark astronomy tower and then through the many ancient corridors of the castle. "We should tell Dumbledore," he began, but James cut him off.

"He's in London," he said quickly. "Sorting out the mess that is the Wizengamot. What we saw early yesterday morning was too much. The corruption is obvious."

Harry nodded and checked his watch. It was Sunday, but only just. Twelve thirty a.m. "What do we do then?"

James frowned but then led Harry down a corridor towards the moving staircases. "I want you to promise me, Harry," he said. "Promise me you're powerful enough to take that island alone."

"I believe I am," he replied. "Just get me their and I'll do the rest. How you planning on doing it?"

They descended the staircases quickly, taking the steps two at a time, until they came to the Entrance Hall. "I have a friend, an old friend," James said. "An instructor of mine during Auror training. He's retired now and lives on the coast of Scotland. Last time I saw him he'd just bought a Muggle speedboat. I'm hoping he still has it."

"What's his name?" Harry asked as they threw open the Entrance Hall doors and stepped back out into the warm night.

James took a deep breath and then spoke. "Trask," he said. "Dermas Trask."

****

Two lone figures cut across the dark Hogwarts grounds towards the castle gates and beyond the line of the Apparation wards. It was early in the morning, barely one o'clock and the world about them was silent.

"Shouldn't you have told Lily where we were going?" Harry asked, approaching the gates.

"With any luck," he said, "if she's asleep we could be back before she gets up."

Harry didn't say anything, but he knew that his life was never that simple. He was preparing himself for the worst, for the inevitable.

"Where we headed now?"

"Up and over the Firth of Clyde," James answered. "Further up the coast and out into the island chains up there, past Oban and onto a small island that has a seaside town and port known as Tiree. Azkaban can be reached from there."

They passed the ward line and James grabbed Harry's shoulder. Without even waiting a moment, he Apparated both of them dozens, if not hundreds of miles up the country.

Harry stumbled as he reappeared and the first sound he heard was that of oceanic waves crashing against the dry sea wall away somewhere in the darkness around them. He couldn't see much, but he could also hear boats bobbing in the dock around them. He looked around quickly and away to his left, a stream of lights ran from the boathouse and back out along the town of Tiree, stretching up onto a large hill and as far as Harry could see.

"This way," James said and Harry realised they were standing on a dock built on the water. There was not a soul around at this time of night, and Harry found himself clutching his wand instinctively.

He followed James through the darkness for about ten minutes, as they walked along the port and dock side of the town, towards a group of about a dozen houses that looked as if they belonged to Muggles, and probably did. Harry's eyes flew up to the sky but there was a fair amount of cloud cover out here, and the moon was obscured.

Neither of them spoke as they walked, and it was cold this close to the coast and they were close enough to the water that occasionally the spray hit Harry. In time they arrived at one of the old houses that lined the beach, built on the sand and pebble, far enough away from the tide line.

The house they approached was dilapidated, and one of the windows was smashed and boarded with wood. "I doubt anyone lives here," Harry said, thinking of what he knew of Dermas.

James' eyes were hard. "He's here," he said, motioning to a sea hawk that sat perched on an old chair that stood gathering dust on the front porch of this isolated house. "That's him."

With a screech, the hawk took flight and soared through the air towards them. Just before it reached them, Harry saw the glint of its eyes focus on him and then James, before, in one brief second, it blurred and standing before them was a tall man with a brown beard, speckled here and there with white hairs.

"James Potter," Dermas Trask said. "I knew someone had triggered the Apparation warning I'd set up, but I never thought it would be you. What can I do you for?"

Harry realised that Dermas may be the only wizard or magical being on this island, for an Apparation warning ward to work that would be necessary. He remembered suddenly that Dermas' fiancé had died in the war in his world, and he had gone into retirement.

Is this where he had lived before coming to train Harry with the sword?

"I need help, Dermas," James said seriously. "This is Harry, by the way."

Dermas looked him up and down coldly, untrustingly for a moment, but then smiled in a familiar way. "Well you grew up," he said, slapping Harry on the back. "James told me you were dead, probably for the best though if you were in hiding. Read about you in the Prophet the other day, of course. How've you been keeping?"

Harry shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "That's a long... and complicated story. Some other time would be better."

"We need you and your boat, Dermas," James said. "We need you to take us out to sea."

Dermas frowned and stroked his beard in thought. "Why would you want to go out into that?" he asked, waving his hand towards the millions upon millions of galleons of water that crashed against the shore a few dozen feet away. "There's nothing out there..." he continued, but then his eyes widened. "Except for-"

"Azkaban," James and Harry said in unison.

Dermas, for a moment, tapped his foot thoughtfully in some sand, before pulling out a hipflask and taking a deep drink from it, draining the silver flask. "I think," he said calmly, looking at the object in his hand. "That I may need some more whiskey, and that you need to find someone else's boat." Trask's eyes flashed dangerously. "I'm through with that damn war, James. Don't drag me back into it...."

Dermas turned to walk away, and Harry saw that he still walked with a limp, just like in his own world. "Please," he said, and Trask stopped moving. "Just listen to what we have to say."

Half an hour later, and the three of them were seated in Dermas' boat around the side of his house, discussing the situation. Harry and James had explained what they knew, that Melissa had been kidnapped and was likely to be killed unless they got to Azkaban. It was, of course, impossible to Apparate there and only Portkeys made on the actual island would work. The boat was there only hope.

"I'm still not entirely sure what you think you can do," Dermas said. "What you think we can do. Voldemort himself may be on that godforsaken island, and I know you couldn't have overlooked the Dementors, Death Eaters, hundreds of deranged prisoners and probably a nasty ward or two that will be standing against us."

"Harry can handle most of that," James said dismissively. "We just need to get to that island. Drop us off, you can turn around and head back here after that."

Harry looked around at the boat that was supposedly going to take them to Azkaban, if they could convince Dermas. There wasn't much light but he could tell this speedboat wasn't in the best condition. The wood was snapped in several places, along the sides and up the front on the panels. If it had ever been painted that paint had rusted or flaked away to nothing, leaving a cool grey of whatever metal held this tub together. The outboard motor, looked brand new surprisingly, and smelled strongly of oil and fuel. The windshield was just a frame, the glass long ago smashed, and the only chair on the 'boat' was torn and snapped along its support.

"Can this thing get us there?" Harry asked, waving his hand towards the cracks in the wood.

Dermas laughed harshly. "Probably not, but as long as you can cast some quick repair charms on the way we should be right."

"So you'll take us, Dermas?" James asked, leaning against the side of the boat.

Dermas Trask sighed with a weariness felt by many these days, and then turned and looked out towards the sea, towards the sound of crashing waves. He thought of the war, and how this mission, this attack on Azkaban, would probably kill them all. With that in mind, he slowly nodded.

"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked.

"You know," Trask said, stroking his beard. "Right now I'm reminded of a very deep and profound Australian proverb..."

"And what is that?" asked James darkly, not in the mood for much of anything anymore. He just wanted his daughter back.

Dermas stared at both of them seriously for a moment, and then stood up and walked out onto the panelled wood on the front of his speedboat, and took a deep breath. "I think it went a little something like this... FUCK IT! LET'S DO IT."

****

The small boat sped across the vast expanse of the sea. Dozens of miles of nothingness spread around them in all directions, and the cold spray of the ocean whacked Harry in the face incessantly, covering his glasses in small droplets of salt water.

The sun was slowly rising in the east behind them and it cast the pale light of dawn upon the ocean before them. It was enough light to see by, or to be seen by. The rising of the sun also meant they were drawing close to the deadline, and that Azkaban was near.

"WE'RE ABOUT A HALF HOUR AWAY! MAYBE LESS..." Dermas called. "I WOULD THINK. WE SHOULD BEGIN TO FEEL THE WARD LINE SOON. PROBABLY ABOUT FIVE MILES."

Harry cast a quick sealing spell on the deteriorating hull of the boat, and banished a few litres of water back into the sea. "WE'RE CLOSE," he shouted above the noise of the outboard motor. "WE'RE CLOSE." He sat down and shook his head of the sounds and images of the worst parts of his life, and took a few deep breaths to shake off the feeling of the cold he knew was only going to increase.

"Are you okay?" James asked, talking into his ear.

Harry nodded, but he felt sick. He could already feel the effects of the Dementors, even this far out.

"I DON'T SEE IT ANYWHERE!?" Harry shouted towards Trask.

"EH? OH! WELL YOU WOULDN'T," he replied. "NOT UNTIL WE PASS THROUGH THE INVISIBILITY WARD. IT SHIELDS THE ENTIRE ISLAND, ALSO HELPS TO MAKE IT UNPLOTTABLE."

"Reparo!" James whispered, repairing one of the wooden panels that threatened to snap off and fly away in the wind.

Suddenly, Dermas turned sharply and a thick jet of water spray hit Harry in the face. He shrugged it off and cast a quick drying charm over his clothes, which was still the fancy shirt and pants he had worn to the Wizengamot trials nearly twenty four hours ago. He hadn't slept since that morning, and his head was pounding with the pain coupled with the lack of sleep and the Dementors.

For the first time in months, Harry actually felt afraid of the approaching fight.

Dementors were his fear, and they were on the island in their dozens, probably hundreds. Although the ocean he could see around him for miles, in the rising light, was completely empty and devoid of life and any structures, he knew that the island prison was close. He took another deep breath and held his hand to his forehead, willing the pain to relent.

"ANY MINUTE NOW, LADS!" Dermas cried in his strong Irish accent. "WE'RE DEFINITELY GOING TO FEEL IT WHEN WE PASS THROUGH THOSE WARDS. LET'S HOPE WE DON'T CAPSIZE."

Harry had been on this boat for about four hours, and the constant sound and thrumming of the motor had become bearable in that time, but now, as the Dementors approached, it just drove into his head like a nail. He felt sick to his stomach, and the fight hadn't even begun yet. It may have been a mistake coming here.

BOOM!

Suddenly, the front of the speedboat was lifted six feet above the level of the choppy ocean, as a loud explosion was heard and a large spherical cone of orange light reverberated around the boat as it fishtailed wildly in the water, several of the cracks and repaired wood boards splintering and falling away.

Harry was thrown hard to the floor as water began to gush into the boat fast. He hit his head on one of the panels and for a moment saw stars. His clothes were drenched instantly as the freezing water bit into his skin. "REPARO!" he cried towards the biggest splintery hole. "REPARO! REPARO! REPARO!" He stood again and he and James quickly began to banish the sea water from within the boat, as Dermas struggled for control. The pain in his head was now pounding into his skull relentlessly.

"COME ON NOW YOU METAL BASTARD!" Dermas cried, accelerating and turning the wheel hard to the right, breaking out of the grip of the wards with another bang. The orange light instantly died down and they were soon skimming once again over the water, and it was then that Harry first saw Azkaban.

They had, obviously, just passed through the wards that surrounded the island in a one mile perimeter, and anyone monitoring it on the island would know of their coming now. But the island itself was an awesome sight to behold. Sharp jagged rock was thrust forth from the sea like a string of cruel teeth that formed a ring around the dark land, and sand of the single beach.

Harry could see a small jetty that would be the picking up and dropping off point. The prison itself rose up and high into the sky. It was solid stone and frowned menacingly down upon their small boat which sped defiantly towards the hideous structure, that seemed to deflect the pale sunlight that tried to hit it.

It was a simple structure, four walls and a flat roof on which more cells were kept. But it was undeniably affected and tainted from having the Dementors roam its halls for centuries. The brick seemed to collect grime, or just simply hadn't been cleaned in decades. There were windows along the different levels and some of them appeared to be nothing more than mere slits. It was a prison, and there didn't seem to be any sign of life anywhere.

So this is Azkaban, Harry thought. This is where Sirius spent twelve years of his life.

"ANYONE ON THAT ISLAND WOULD HAVE HEARD OR SEEN THAT!" Dermas called. "I THINK WE CAN EXPECT A WELCOMING PARTY."

"I'LL SEE TO THAT," Harry replied and turned towards the small jetty they were fast approaching.

At first he couldn't see anyone or anything on the rickety wooden jetty, and nothing but the sound of the waves breaking upon it and the boat reached his ears. But then they came swarming over the rocky, dark rise that led to the prison, and Harry braced himself as best he could for the fight.

"SHITE!" Dermas called, as twelve or so Death Eaters appeared on the jetty, with more following quickly, wands already drawn and the beginnings of incantations on the tips of their tongues.

"KEEP HEADING TOWARDS THAT PIER, DERMAS," Harry called. "BUT BE READY TO DO SOME QUICK DODGING."

"You got a plan?" James asked, standing next to him with his own wand drawn, observing the two dozen or so Death Eaters that had run to greet them.

Harry shrugged. "I usually just take it as it comes. We'll see what happens..."

James laughed harshly, staring up in awe at the peak of Azkaban prison. "Forgive me if I'm not overly inspired with confidence...."

The pieces have moved into place. And the battle has begun.

"IF THE MINISTRY CAN STILL MONITOR THE WARDS AS WELL," shouted Trask, swaying the boat across the sea sporadically, to keep the enemy on their toes. "THEY WOULD KNOW WE BROKE THROUGH THEM, AND AURORS COULD BE ON THEIR WAY."

"I DOUBT IT," Harry replied. "WE'RE ON OUR OWN."

Trask's collapsing speedboat, which seemed only to be held together by the rust now, boomed along the final stretch of sea towards Azkaban prison. As they approached, Dermas decided not to slow down, and instead increased his speed. With the current engine and weight on board, the boat could reach a top speed of no more than sixty five miles an hour. Still pretty fast, but would it be enough...

The brown wood panelled boat ripped along the ocean alone, cutting through the waves, at sixty miles per hour. The fastest Trask had ever tried to push it lately, since the last time he had performed any kind of maintenance on it would have been three years ago. Ahead of them, twenty six Death Eaters lined the pier and the slight incline of dirty beach and land beyond that.

They were close now, and Harry's head was ringing with the pain of the Dementors. He had no time for that though, as the curses began to rain down upon them, threatening to destroy their small boat, their lifeline, before they had even reached the island.

They were still several hundred feet out, so the aim and strength of some of the curses was not great. Torrents of water exploded up and around them as curses of destruction slammed uselessly into the sea. Dermas swerved these explosive 'mines' of water and magic with a fierce glint in his eyes that Harry knew well. It was a glint he had many times thought of as madness.

The noise was deafening. Cries of curses from the rocky island, the outboard motor, the explosions from the curses, and the sounds of screams in his head from the Dementors. Steeling himself against the noise, Harry raised his palms and began deflecting curses away from their small craft. Thankfully, none of the curses were the Killing curse at this distance, and Harry had no trouble redirecting all the blasting and destructive spells that lit up the early morning sky outside Azkaban.

He stumbled and almost fell though, as Trask pushed the boat over a larger wave, that was growing to crash against the island. James caught him under his arms strongly, and pushed him back onto his feet. This had, of course, left them undefended for a moment, and Dermas swore heavily and profusely as he swerved to avoid a dozen or so blasting curses.

"THESE BASTARDS ARE NOTHING IF NOT PERSISTENT!" he cried, turning the wheel so sharply and fast that the boat spun uncontrollably in a three hundred and sixty degree circle, narrowly avoiding the red light that would have destroyed them.

This spin had thrown both James and Harry to the floor hard, and it was only because of the quick reflexes that Dermas Trask possessed in those next vital seconds that they continued to live into the next few seconds beyond that. "WHAT NOW LADS?"

Harry stood shakily and threw a palm full of raw pure magic, into the path of a blasting curse. It hit it dead on in mid-air and both exploded in a ball of dark red flames that screamed into sparks, dissolving to nothing as they hit the salty water. Observing the pier, and the Death Eaters upon it and behind it, Harry saw an option, and with a small, dark smile he decided to take it.

Deflecting a few curses he ran over to Trask at the wheel. They were fast approaching the narrow strip of land that was Azkaban Island, and as such the water was becoming vastly shallower. In a few moments it would only be waist high, and one of the sea breaks that surrounded the island kept the waves and water relatively calm, although it was still dangerously choppy.

"Dermas," he said, leaning over to Trask and talking into his ear. "How much do you like this boat?"

Trask frowned but answered. "Only yesterday I was contemplating selling it to the Muggle scrapyard for fifty quid... why?"

Harry's eyes hardened and he looked towards the pier, as James cast a quick shield charm to deflect several curses. "Because... I want you to crash it into that jetty, as fast as you can."

For a few seconds Dermas only stared at him, but then swore as he failed to avoid a blasting curse, and a massive hole was blown into the front of the boat. Thankfully it was only the body on top of the wooden panels, and not in the hull or side. They didn't start taking on water. He then began to laugh and that glint of madness was back in his eyes. "How close do you want me to get before we jump out of this tub?"

Harry rubbed the small stubble that was growing on his face. He hadn't shaved in a day or so. "I'll put up a shield in front of us. Just drive as straight as you can towards those Death Eaters. When we're within twenty feet, jump."

Trask nodded and then pushed the throttle down as far as it would go. Harry stumbled back over to James as they put on an impressive burst of speed and told him the plan. His father nodded shakily and continued to deflect the curses. Closing in to one hundred and fifty feet, they were travelling above sixty miles per hour, and were practically skimming across the sea. Raising his arms, Harry called forth his strongest shield and kept it steady two feet in front of the point of the boat, which Trask had lined up with the side of the dock, as the approached it from the right.

Two dozen curses pounded against Harry's shield and sent ripples tearing across it, like a stone being thrown into water. He held it fast though and soon nothing could stop them. James stood beside his son and made sure his wand was tightly secured in his robe pocket. He knew this jump into the sea was going to hurt in more ways than one.

Trask screamed loudly into the air and pushed the boat for one final run. He had to swerve only slightly to avoid a small bank of underwater rocks and sand, as they could see the ocean floor now, but then it was done. The Death Eaters were still trying to destroy their approaching vessel, but Harry's shield saw to them. And then they passed the twenty feet mark, and as one Trask let go of the wheel, and he, Harry and James threw themselves overboard and into the freezing waters of the North Atlantic Ocean.

Harry hit the water first, and it felt instantly that all the air had been sucked from his lungs and a thousand short stabs of pain ripped into his body. The water was freezing, shockingly slow and he cried out in pain, both from the high speed fall and from the cold. He struggled viciously to stand and began to shiver uncontrollably as his feet came in contact with the sand and rock of the ocean floor. He managed to stand, and found that the water rose a little bit above his waist.

Dermas and James were floundering around near him, both equally chilled in this frigid water, but it was then that the small boat, still skimming across the surface of the ocean at top speed, collided and crashed into the pier. Harry watched as the Death Eaters began to scatter, realising all too late that the boat wasn't about to stop. A loose blasting curse destroyed the driver's side seat and then the boat slammed into the pier, killing three men instantly.

Half a dozen or so had made it off the jetty and were now retreating back over the rise and up the hill to regroup with their fellow Death Eaters, but seven or eight died as the boat exploded in a brilliant ball of orange flames, which cast jagged wood and shrapnel scattering in a wide radius, cutting one Death Eater in half.

The jetty collapsed in on itself and the waves caused by the impact knocked Harry, James, and Dermas back off their feet, which felt numb in the cold water. "Come on," Harry said, grasping their arms and pulling them through the freezing water. Harry found it strange that no Death Eaters could be seen, but right now his number one objective was to get out of this water alive.

The three of them staggered onto the sandy beach alone, cold, soaked through and having trouble breathing. Thinking fast, Harry cast a drying and warming charm over the immediate area and a few moments later the three of them stood up and drew their wands.

"Dear Merlin..." breathed Trask. "Did that just happen?"

"Where are they?" James asked, casting his wand in a large arc across the small beach and towards the nearby destroyed pier and boat. There were hundreds of rocks rising above them, not quite a cliff as the incline wasn't steep, but it was hundreds of places for an enemy to hide. And beyond this hill and field of rocks, stood Azkaban, towering dangerously over them.

"They're up there," Harry said. "Not far up there either. I'd say behind that row of large boulders," he pointed towards seven evenly placed giant boulders. "We have to go carefully."

They trudged up the beach and over to the remains of the pier, and began to follow the broken dirt path that wound up the hillside towards Azkaban. This island was by no means big, and they were now walking on the only patch of land within five hours of speedboat travel, and the rest of it was jagged, harsh rock. It was a terrible place, and at some level all three of them were beginning to feel the effects of the Dementors up in the fortress. And that is why none of them noticed the ambush until it was upon them.

They had descended only thirty feet up the dirt track towards the prison, their feet leaving tracks and prints in the muddy trail behind them. The dry clothes they wore blew in the wind and each of them was battling their own demons within their minds.

"I never thought I'd set foot on this island," Trask whispered, pulling his robes closer around himself, but keeping his wand raised in defence.

"I kind of always knew I would," Harry shrugged.

"I once delivered a shipload of prisoners here ten years ago," James said. "As an Auror, never entered the prison though."

"Was I still teaching then?" Trask asked James, and for the first time since meeting him again, Harry saw the glimmer of a sword underneath his robes. He was still a blade master.

"You may just have been," James said, but then sucked in his breath sharply. Up ahead on the path stood ten Death Eaters, all robed, all with their wands drawn.

Harry had noticed them first though, and he continued to walk towards them, his face set in a grim determination. He pushed the Dementors from his mind for now, but they still gnawed at his consciousness. He took a deep breath.

"Drop your wands!" shouted one of the Death Eaters. Harry didn't know this voice, and he wasn't about to drop his wand. He continued to advance.

James and Dermas followed behind Harry up the hill towards the only visible force of Death Eaters. None of them noticed those that appeared behind them, either from behind boulders and rocks or from under invisibility cloaks. They trap had been set, and sprung.

"Drop your wands now or die!" The same Death Eater cried.

Coldly, Harry raised his wand expertly towards this man. "Take it if you can," he said, and was surprised to hear the man laugh.

"Look behind you, Potter!" he said, and Harry turned sharply to see another dozen Death Eaters closing in on them from behind. As soon as he did that half a dozen more rose from behind rocks on his left, and five on his right. All in all there was about thirty Death Eaters surrounding them, and beginning to close in.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Trask whispered, keeping his wand raised on the approaching group. "But we're up shit creek without a paddle. Any ideas, Harry, James?"

"None spring to mind," James said. "But we're not leaving here without Melissa. Harry?"

Harry surveyed the approaching men and woman; all robed in standard issue Death Eaters dress, complete with mask. None of them wore masks that were red though, so these people were not of the inner circle. They could be inside the prison, or maybe elsewhere. Slytherin Fortress perhaps.

"We're going to have to fight our way through," Harry said, his eyes hardening again as he prepared himself to kill. "Take as many as you can... I'll do the rest."

"There are thirty of them," Trask whispered.

"Then that's ten each," Harry replied, just as the Death Eater who had spoken raised his wand above his head, to cast the Killing curse.

Harry knew that the fight was upon them and his awesome skills kicked in. His reaction was automatic, fast, and almost instantaneous. It came from six years of fighting and learning. He brought up his right wand hand and his glowing left palm. Taking a step forward he heard the beginnings of the Killing curse clearly in the frozen, sterile light of dawn.

"AVA-"

"AROS CRI!" Harry bellowed, waving his wand in a swinging motion. Just like when he had duelled Voldemort five days ago, six silver arrows shot out of the end of his wand. Three of the ten Death Eaters in front of him, including the man casting the curse, died only a brief second later.

And then it rained magic.

Instantly furious at the loss of more of their number, the Death Eaters began to cast every dark curse they could think of, as Harry, James and Dermas moved into defensive positions. Many of the curses hit Harry's newly constructed shield and deflective charms, whilst others hit the muddy ground.

Dirt and sticks flew through the air, and rained down just as heavily as the curses. Harry staggered as a small rock hit his wounded shoulder, but held on and started to fire his own curses, towards the Death Eaters above them, who held the advantage of higher ground.

Abandoning his shield, a severing curse managed to break through and sliced open his left arm. In the heat of the battle, Harry didn't feel a thing and only hoped Dermas and James could manage for a few moments as he destroyed the enemy. Running up the hill towards a group of thirteen Death Eaters, who had banded together and were advancing towards the three men, Harry's hands found his targets with ease and dreadful accuracy.

Three Death Eaters were at the head of the crowd, and Harry downed them with powerful Vestic curses which shattered their shields. Knowing those three had died instantly, he moved on. He dodged a killing curse by sidestepping it and then retaliated with two bone breaking charms, one from his palm and one from the wand.

James and Dermas stuck close behind Harry, and deflected curses that came from below. The hillside had become a pockmarked mess in only a few minutes, and more curses were hot in the air.

Six years of magic had changed Harry beyond most people's comprehension. He had, in the worst terms, become a killer. War always required sacrifices on everyone's part, and Harry had made more than most. He had bargained with his very soul at times and not just at the mouth of a Dementor - no. Taking a life also took part of the man doing the killing, and unless there is a damn good reason for it, or it is for the greater good overall, this leads down the path of darkness, and at the end of it is what Tom Riddle became.

Redemption sometimes didn't seem possible to Harry, and he sometimes wondered what he did to deserve the loyalty of those around him, and, of course, for Ginny's love back in his own world. But then that was what this was all about, and the killing came full circle.

Love and War. Two equal halves of a much greater picture, that has been painted over thousands of years and will most likely continue to be painted for thousands more. Human emotion, driven on by circumstance... and by morals and principles. Harry gambled with his soul, and only his emotions, governed by his morals, kept him sane and alive.

But right now he was taking life with a terrible ease, and no force in this world could stop him.

Three blasting curses erupted from his hand and wand, lighting up his face with red light. They hit two Death Eaters in the chest and they exploded in a bloody mess. A hot cutting curse flew past Harry's head, close enough to tear a line from beneath his eye and across his ear. Harry didn't feel it, didn't even know it had happened.

All three of them threw themselves to the ground as six Killing curses were fired simultaneously. They passed only inches above them, colliding in the air and rocketed up into the sky, where they turned and rained down upon the Death Eaters. Another four fell.

Not wasting a second, knowing lives depended on it, Harry retaliated with four fireball charms, two from each hand. Not many of the original group of Death Eaters were standing anymore, and those that were had ceased advancing and were now giving their all to stay alive.

Harry's fireball charms, coupled with his pure magic and sheer force of will, tore through their meagre shields and crashed into the group. Four of them burst into flames and screamed until dead, the others cast Killing curses, moving away from their smouldering friends.

James managed to take out three Death Eaters to the left of them, and one below and Dermas was on his fifth. Three minutes had past since they walked into this trap, and what was once thirty Death Eaters was now only eight. Harry had decimated their forces, gaining a few cuts and bruises for his trouble.

The speed at which his curses flew through the air was unrivalled. Nothing could stop them. Shields broke under his power, men fell before him, and he didn't stop. Only two Death Eaters were left twenty feet or so above them on the hill, and with a thought Harry levitated them into the sky, and threw them towards the rocks. At the last moment he caught them though, and his morality caught up with him.

"STUPEFY! STUEFY!" he bellowed, and the two men were unconscious for a very long time.

Harry turned on his heel, just in time to grab James and Dermas by their collars and throw them to the ground once again. Harry jumped to the left as six Killing curses cut across their path, all coming from the only group of remaining Death Eaters. These curses missed, and hit the land above them instead, throwing rock high into the air.

The shield Harry had conjured only a few minutes ago was long gone, but a few of his deflective nets and charms were still in operation, and thinking back now he knew it was those that had saved their lives under the barrage of destructive curses. He sighed and turned his attention towards the final Death Eaters.

Knowing the game was up; two of them produced Portkeys from within their robes and grabbed the person next to them, disappearing to safety. This only left two Death Eaters standing, with no hope of escape. Apparation was impossible and neither of them could produce a Portkey.

Harry advanced on them and raised his palm. It was glowing with magic. Seeing him, the two Death Eaters wisely dropped their wands and fell to their knees. Harry's face was impassive as he approached, stained with blood and his eyes glinting dangerously, he was a sight to fear.

A quick stunning spell and the man on the left fell unconscious. Harshly ripping the mask from the other's face, Harry pointed his wand directly between the fearful man's eyes.

"What's waiting for us in the prison?" he asked calmly, but the threat in his voice was unmistakable. James and Dermas watched silently from behind him. "Speak quickly or you will die."

Harry didn't recognise the blonde haired man, but he knew fear when he saw it. As expected, the man spoke. "D-Dementors," he managed.

"How many?" Harry asked. "I'll know if you're lying."

The man shrugged helplessly, looking at James and then back to Harry. "I'm not sure..." he mumbled. "Fifty... maybe. The Dark Lord moved most of them to his fortress."

"Where is his fortress?"

The man shook his head. "No one can tell you that."

Harry felt that the man was telling the truth in this matter. "Are there any more Death Eaters up in the prison?" The man nodded as Harry's wand tip glowed red. "How many?"

"More than enough!" he spat. "None of you will leave here alive."

"Stupefy!" Harry said, and turned away before the man hit the ground.

Dermas and James stood before him, both staring at him with a profound respect and awe. "We should keep going," Harry said and walked in between them and continued on towards the prison, which stood eight hundred feet above them, on the top of the long hill.

"I never knew such a power could exist," Dermas said carefully, falling in step next to Harry.

"It shouldn't," Harry replied, shaking his head. "But it has saved my life more than once."

"We're probably going to need it again," James said, limping on Harry's right. He had taken a rather painful curse to the leg during the fight. "Merlin knows what we're going to find in this place."

They walked in silence the rest of the way up the hill, until finally they stood before the impressive doors of Azkaban prison. On the left, next to a small guardhouse, lay a corpse in white robes. It was an Auror. From the looks of him, and from the smell, he had been dead several weeks.

Harry turned away and looked towards the doors, which loomed up threateningly before them, like a large guardian staring down with awesome power. The Sun had risen behind them, casting light on the door, Harry turned away and stared back from the top of the hill and out over the vast ocean.

There was nothing for all the miles of the sea in any direction. Smoke rose from the remains of the boat and pier down on the water's edge, and the hillside was littered with the bodies of those who had stood against them. Finally, he turned away from the sparkling water and looked back to the doors of Azkaban, just as they creaked open ominously, seemingly of their own volition.

The three of them stood before the doorway that no sunlight seemed to want to enter. They had battled against all odds to come here, and now it seemed as if they were expected after all. Had the thirty Death Eaters down below been a test? A freezing wind blew from within the prison, and nothing but darkness could be seen.

For a moment Harry, James, and Dermas Trask just stood there, before the doors of Azkaban, and waited. They all stared into the darkness and could not see farther than ten feet into the prison. Each of them felt a shiver of fear, and could hear the sucking rattling breath of the Dementors, hiding somewhere in the darkness.

Tired and bruised and reliving their worst memories, battling their inner demons, the three of them stared into the darkness. Harry took the first step onto the cold stone inside the prison, leaving the dirt track behind. James followed and then stoically, Dermas took up the rear.

The three of them walked into Azkaban alone, and no sooner were they clear of the doors than they came crashing closed behind them. Harry ignited his wand, and turned to face his companions.

"This is it," he said. "We have to see this through to the end now."

James had accepted this, as his daughter's life was on the line. He stood next to Harry and they both looked at Dermas steadily. They had dragged him into this, and now there was a fairly good chance he could die. In the end it was his choice to continue

Trask stared unwaveringly back at both of them. "Hard to believe that only five hours ago I was the proud owner of fifty quids worth of scrap metal," he said regretfully, and then sighed. "Let's just stick together, I hate Dementors."

Harry led the way, and each of them stumbled and almost fell over the rough tiled floor of the prison. The walls were damp but Harry kept his hand on one to steady himself, as there was no light but that of his wand. The rattling breath of the Dementors they all knew to be there seemed to be coming from everywhere and then nowhere. It was reverberating off of the walls and through their minds. Like a splinter that couldn't be removed, it just dug in deeper and got louder as they progressed further into Azkaban.

"Can you produce a patronus, Trask?" Harry asked as they turned a corner. There was a pinprick of light at the end of this corridor, and Harry knew instantly that Azkaban was a lot bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. The pinprick of light was at least half a mile away.

"Damn," Trask said. "Just like the bloody Tardis!" Both Harry and James stared at him uncomprehendingly, and Dermas just shook his head. It would be too much to explain now.

"Sometimes I worry about you, Trask," James said. "And you have a fox for a patronus, don't you?"

"Aye," Dermas nodded. "Large fox."

"I think we're going to need that all too soon," Harry said, staring at the light in the distance. "I believed that Death Eater when he said there were fifty Dementors here. There could be more."

"Let's just find Melissa and get out of here," James whispered. "I wish I'd left Lily a note now."

"Why's that?" Dermas asked.

"Because if this island doesn't kill me, she will!" he replied. "She'll be worried."

Harry continued to lead the way at a fast pace, swinging the light from his wand up and down the corridor and all over the floor, highlighting loose stone or dangerous steps. "No sense worrying about it now," he told James, as water dripped down their necks from above.

They walked on in silence for about five minutes. The only sound was their footsteps and the rattled breathing of the Dementors, wherever they were. James saw in the light of Harry's wand that his son looked desperately sick. He put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Just too close to the Dementors," Harry whispered, shuddering. "I'll be fine."

The light grew as they approached and soon Harry extinguished his wand, as it flooded the entire corridor. The cruelly cut brick was revealed under the low flames of the torches that lined the walls, and Harry saw a small wooden door up ahead. He put his hand on the wrought iron knob cautiously, and then turned it. The door swung open and all three of them beheld a strange sight.

"Welcome to Azkaban," said a familiar voice to Harry. It came from a man who was seated in the centre of the room beyond the door, and he was seated in a comfy plush armchair, sipping a cup of tea and smiling at them happily. There were three chairs to his left and he motioned to them now. "Please have a seat. We were only expecting one but allowances have been made."

Harry frowned and he stepped cautiously into the room. It was a simple square, with a set of stairs that led up into darkness on the left, and a few desks and holding chains. It appeared that no one else was in the room with them, but Harry remembered that some of the Death Eaters outside had possessed invisibility cloaks. He was prepared to tear this room down at the first sign of trouble.

"Come on," the man said happily from his armchair, reaching for a biscuit. "I assure you that I am the only one in this room besides you and your companions, Mr. Potter. Please, have a seat."

It was then that Harry really saw the man seated in the armchair, and for a moment the air caught in his lungs, and his eyes widened in surprise. He was looking at another dead man. He seemed a lot younger than the last time he had seen him, but that face was unmistakable. He was a pale man with straw-coloured hair.

It was Barty Crouch Jr.

****