Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Genres:
Action Romance
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Stats:
Published: 09/12/2004
Updated: 06/11/2005
Words: 341,488
Chapters: 30
Hits: 175,276

Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

joe6991

Story Summary:
After the devastating events of Sword of the Hero, Harry is flung into a strange and unforgiving world as he struggles against fate and destiny to find a way back to the people he loves and to a war that is waiting for its leader. As the year progresses and the days grow progressively darker, will Harry rise and become the true hero the world desires, or will he fade and be defeated by the strongest evil to have ever lived....? A boy with the fate of two worlds on his shoulders must find the strength to stand by his morals, even if it means giving up the thing he wants the most.

Chapter 10

Chapter Summary:
Harry, James, and Dermas have entered Azkaban alone. No one knows they are there, no help is coming... and the Dark Lord's forces are preparing for a fight on every level. Harry came to save a single person from the Dementors and Voldemort, but what will he do once he learns that there are over twenty innocent souls locked within the dark cells of the prison, and that the Dark Lord has sentenced each and everyone of them to death?
Posted:
11/14/2004
Hits:
6,338


Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Chapter 10 - War is a Game

Part II: In which the pawns fall and
the battle begins in earnest

A lone figure stood atop of the fortress of Azkaban, surveying the powerful magical battle being fought on the hillside below him. The wind was howling in his ears and the first streams of sunlight rose over the distant horizon.

He watched Potter, battling his way up the hill. His power was impressive, unmatched, but he could tell the Dementors were effecting him. One weakness that could be his undoing. Destroying three Death Eaters with blasting curses, Potter turned and avoided half a dozen Killing curses, saving all three of their lives.

The sounds and shouts of battle reached his ears and his eyes reflected the flashing destruction of the curses. He saw James Potter and another man he wasn't familiar with, but they were defending against the Death Eater onslaught. The true power was coming from Harry Potter.

"Lestrange," the teenage figure called harshly, and a black robed Death Eater ran across the roof towards him.

"Yes?" Bellatrix Lestrange said, bowing.

"Bring our special guest to the roof, and inform Crouch we will soon be joined by three other guests, not just one. Tell him not to worry, and that the plan remains unchanged."

Bellatrix nodded and disappeared down the stairs back into the prison, all the while the figure never took his eyes of Harry, who had finished his duelling and was now interrogating a single Death Eater. Then he was walking up the hill towards the prison, showing no sign of weariness anymore, not even that brought on by the Dementors.

Eyes hidden underneath his hood, the lone figure turned away and headed back towards the centre of the roof, wand drawn. The next few hours would be very interesting.

****

Twenty Minutes Later

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.

Harry immediately pointed his wand between Crouch's eyes and scowled frighteningly. "Crouch..." he breathed.

"At your service," the Death Eater said, nodding mockingly. "Have a seat, gentlemen. Then we can move on to today's business."

"Where is Melissa?" James asked harshly, pushing forward passed Dermas and advancing on Barty Crouch.

"She remains unharmed... to a degree," Crouch smiled, and again motioned for them to sit.

"I think we should sit down, lads," Trask said, and then himself moved across the room and down into one of the three armchairs cautiously.

Harry and James were apprehensive for a moment, but then they did sit. "That's better," nodded Crouch, who seemed truly happy that they had chosen to sit. "Now, on to the matter at hand."

"What is this?" James asked, sickened. The man in front of him was calmly sipping his tea as if this were anywhere else on the planet.

"All will be explained in time, gentlemen," Crouch said, waving his hand. "Tea?"

"Get on with it, Crouch," Harry said harshly.

"If you insist..." Crouch hissed, no longer smiling. "Let me begin again. Gentlemen... Welcome to Azkaban. As you undoubtedly know the sun has just risen today, Sunday the 9th of April, and I'm afraid that it may be the last time any of you see it rise."

"How dramatic..." Dermas whispered.

Crouch continued, showing no sign that he had heard him. "By now you have probably realised that Azkaban has been out of the Ministry's control for some time. As of right now, the Dark Lord is holding twenty one prisoners on this island, all of them sentenced to death for betraying their blood."

"Twenty one?" Harry frowned.

Crouch smiled again, and nibbled on one of the biscuits. "Two weeks ago I led a force of twenty one Aurors to secure this island. Sadly, none of them saw my ulterior motives until it was too late. One unfortunate soul, you no doubt saw at the entrance to the prison. He was the only one who put up any kind of fight, but none can withstand the might of the Dark Lord's arm indefinitely. The remaining twenty were captured and are now imprisoned throughout the fortress. Add them to your daughter, Mr. Potter," he finished, staring at James. "And that makes twenty one."

"Why are you telling us this?" Dermas asked, shaking his head.

"Because all of their lives," Crouch said, "are in your hands. Within the long and empty halls of this fortress roam seventy eight Dementors, fifty five Death Eaters and at least two dozen nasty wards and traps have been set. And within all of that are the souls of the twenty one innocent individuals, whose only crime so far has to have had too much trust in me and my intentions. They are all unarmed, all in separate cells, and they will all die unless they leave this island by sunset."

"And you want us to get them out?" James said. "You're helping us?"

Crouch laughed. "Oh no, no, no," he said. "Just think of everything you see and hear from now on as a game. I am merely here to relay the rules and stakes to you all. Those stakes being, of course, your lives and those of the innocent. Think of it as a very real game of chess."

"And if we refuse to play?" Harry said, itching to wipe the smirk of Crouch's face.

"Everyone dies now. The Death Eaters have been instructed to kill anyone outside of their cells and I can open them all with a keyword."

"Where is Melissa in all of this?" James asked.

Crouch shrugged. "At the Queen's side, a captive of the game."

"So..." Trask said. "Dementors, Death Eaters and God knows what else... and twenty one lives stuck in the middle. Why not just let them all go?"

Harry nodded. "I'll come quietly. Trade all of their lives, for mine."

Crouch merely laughed. "What fun would any game be if the innocent never suffered for everyone else's ambition?"

Anger flashed across Harry's face and he stood up quickly, his palm alight with magic. He pointed his hand directly at Crouch's forehead. "War is not a game, death... is not a game. Let them go unharmed or die yourself."

Crouch, unexpectedly, didn't even flinch. "Kill me and everyone dies. It's as simple as that. Fifty five Death Eaters, Potter, and only three of you. Tell me, how do you manage to sleep at night? The Dementors must affect you terribly, for all the life you so easily take..."

"Shut up," Harry whispered.

Crouch stood up himself now, and with a flick of his wand, vanished his chair and the table with the tea and biscuits. "Sadly, gentlemen, this will be the last time we meet. Azkaban will destroy you, and the lives of the twenty one bargaining chips. I have told you enough, this fortress is now a maze, full of traps and enemies. Should you survive, well... we'll see what happens then. Goodbye."

Harry, James and Dermas each had their hands firmly gripped around the long shafts of wood that were their wands. They all wanted to destroy Barty Crouch, but they knew they condemned twenty one souls to death if they did. So they let him go. He disappeared up the only flight of stairs in the room, leaving the three of them alone again.

"Everything just got a whole lot more serious," James whispered. "What are we going to do?"

"We're going to think this through," Harry said, pacing over to the stairs and back, a frown of thought upon his forehead.

"I think it's fairly self-explanatory," Trask said, shaking his head. "If we go through with this, we're dead."

"And if we don't, twenty one good people will die, including Melissa," James sighed. "That's all I need to know, let's go."

"It's all about me though," Harry said. "Voldemort want's me dead. There's going to be more to it than Crouch told us. If this is a game, then one side will definitely be cheating."

"Chess...." Dermas whispered. "He said it was like chess."

"White always makes the first move in chess," James said. "I guess we're white."

Harry clicked his teeth thoughtfully. "You said Portkeys can work if they're created on the island?" he asked James, who nodded. "Trask, can you still make Portkeys?"

Dermas frowned. "What to you mean 'still' make? How did you know I could do that?"

"Long, long story. But I've got a plan. We can't leave this island without these twenty one people, and I'm willing to bet some of them will be near death. So, we'll head up Azkaban one level at a time, searching each floor, every cell for survivors. Trask, if you're able, make some Portkeys to transport them to St. Mungo's, and... and that's it. Let's go...."

"Pretty unpredictable plan..." Dermas couldn't help but say, as all three of them headed over to the stone stairs.

"You got a better one?"

Trask shrugged. "I was supposed to be going to breakfast this morning with this lovely young Muggle woman I met at the market last week. That was a fairly decent plan..."

Harry laughed harshly as the ascended the winding stairs, lit faintly by a few dim torches, casting just enough light to see by. They didn't ascend very high, and at the top was a single solitary black door, with a large cast-iron handle. James reached out with his free left hand to grasp this handle, and his fist closed around it tightly.

"Ah," he managed briefly, a split second before the handle erupted in a dozen separate spikes of iron metal, which pierced his hand in six different places. He cried out in pain as his hand began to bleed profusely.

"Jesus," Dermas said quickly, grabbing James's impaled hand and pulling it up and off the trapped handle, which returned to normal as soon as his flesh left it.

"Ow..." James whispered, holding his wounded hand out in front of him, pain etched into his features.

"Here," Harry said urgently, casting the few healing charms he knew over the blood-slicked hand. The half a dozen punctures sealed themselves sloppily, but the pain and bleeding subsided a fair bit, and James muttered his thanks.

"Right," Dermas said. "Nobody... touch... anything. Every time we head on to a new corridor we cast detection spells."

Harry nodded and then turned to face the black door. "Reducto!" he said gently, but there was enough force in it to disintegrate the door, not even leaving ash.

The three of them took a few short steps into the cold and poorly lit corridor of the first floor of Azkaban prison. It was damp and dark, and all around them the rattling breath of the Dementors had returned, full force and Harry swayed under its power.

"Detus Nosum!" Trask said, swinging his wand down and casting a large arc of light across the length of the room, thrusting it forward and sending it into the darkness ahead of them. It hit the far wall of this long, dark corridor and dispersed into nothing. "If there were any traps along here that would've highlighted them as red markings. It's safe."

Harry and James nodded but they still progressed with caution, staying close together as their eyes grew use to the dimness of the long corridor, which forked up ahead both left and right. "How many floors does Azkaban have?" Harry asked, trying to remember the number of windows he had counted from outside.

"I'd say about nineteen, maybe twenty," James shrugged. "But it has been magically expanded, so it could be hundreds."

"No it'll be around twenty," Trask said. "For convenience sake, and because there's about fifty cells on each floor, if memory serves, and that's been more than enough over the past couple of centuries."

"Damn..." breathed Harry. "We're going to have to check one thousand cells!?"

Trask nodded grimly. "And from the design of this thing, I think we can expect five rows of ten on each floor. We'll just have to go up and down each one, checking them for any Aurors."

"And Melissa," James said quietly, but Crouch's comment about her at the Queen's side was not forgotten, and Harry had grasped its meaning.

And they started, as most do, at the beginning. Harry, James and Dermas swept each floor for any signs of life, and every time they turned a corner, Dermas cast his detection spell to search for wards and traps. There were none, nor was there any one else on this floor. Each cell Harry blasted his way into was empty, devoid of life.

Another set of stairs led up in the far corner from where they had entered, and Harry began to understand the layout of Azkaban prison. He was willing to bet that they'd find the stairs to the floor above this new one, in the far corner from where they stood now. It was built so they had to inspect every cell they passed, which, as Trask had said, was very convenient.

After Trask had sent his detection spell down the corridor - it was clear - the three of them began to check the cells. Five on each side of the corridor. Harry took the left as Dermas took the right. James was on lookout, he had to be if they were to believe that this fortress was infested with Death Eaters and Dementors. It didn't take long to find the first Auror.

"Over here," Harry said, looking through the bars on the wooden door of the fourth cell. With a flick of his wand, Harry wrenched the lock from the door, which swung open with a loud creak. Casting a quick detection spell, he walked into the cell slowly, and approached the huddled form in the far corner.

"Who's there?" breathed a voice in the darkness. It was harsh, cold, but fearful.

James, still on lookout, waited outside as Dermas entered the cell behind Harry - already working his magic on a galleon that Harry had just tossed him. Harry lit the tip of his wand and approached the figure, recognising her as an Auror from the white robes she was wearing, which were blood stained and covered in grime, but still unmistakable.

"Hello," he managed, kneeling down next to the woman. "My name's Harry."

The blonde haired Auror looked up tiredly, fearfully, and Harry knew instantly the signs of the Cruciatus curse. He could see it in her eyes. "Jenny..." she whispered, shaking as she struggled to sit up. "You-... not a Death Eater?"

Harry shook his head as Dermas passed him the galleon Portkey. "Far from it," he said, and she smiled for the first time in two weeks. "Here. This is a Portkey to St. Mungo's." He took her shaking hand and placed the coin in her palm, closing her fingers around it. She was too weak to do much more.

"He said we were going to die..." she rasped.

"Who said that?" Harry asked, but she had begun to cry. Whether from the fear or joy of being rescued he didn't know, but enough was enough.

"Listen, Jenny," Harry said quickly. "Tell the Healers to expect a lot more Aurors to be coming their way soon. We're going to get you all out of here. You understand?"

Jenny looked up at him with glazed eyes, but she wasn't an Auror for nothing. She nodded resolutely and then, with a nod from Harry, Dermas activated the Portkey. "Activate," he said, his wand pointed at her closed fist. She shimmered away to nothing, leaving no sign that she had ever been there at all.

"She was in a bad way," James said as Dermas and Harry exited the cell.

Harry sighed. "I just hope we find them all alive. From the look of that cell I'd say they've been fed - although not well. And she had been tortured. I think it's going to get worse as we get higher-"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Faster than any of them thought humanly possible, Harry tackled James and Dermas hard back into the cell they had just exited from, as the corridor they were standing in a fraction of a second ago was bathed in green light. There was an explosion of rock and dust as the Killing curse impacted against the far wall at the other end of the corridor, and then silence.

Harry was already back on his feet a moment after he'd landed hard on James's legs. Wand drawn and palm glowing, he ran from the cell to face whatever had attacked them. He saw them and calculated his chances instantly.

Six Death Eaters, at the end of the corridor where it turned left onto another one, and another row of cells. They were about twenty feet away, and Harry instantly began throwing a barrage of blasting curses, bone breaking hexes, and stunning spells. The once dark and damp stone corridor was now alight with magic. Reds melded into blues and greens as Harry deflected some dark magic into the walls, shattering the stone and sending small splinters of rock up and down the corridor.

Two Death Eaters fell under Harry's first assault, one with his neck snapped, and another blown to pieces under the power of a blasting curse. A severing charm, aimed at Harry's throat, just grazed his neck as the magic flew past him. The cut wasn't that deep, but it began to bleed profusely from the clean split veins. He staggered back as his warm blood flowed down his neck and chest, soaking his black shirt.

"Vestic!" he cried, taking another life and lowering the Death Eaters number to three.

James and Dermas had managed to join the fight at this point, and the three remaining Death Eaters didn't last long after Harry sent a stream of bright red stunning magic, that left sparks of red in the air behind it as it pounded into the chest of the nearest cloaked Death Eater. The shockwave form this impact knocked out one of the final two men, and the final Death Eater turned and fled - knowing his chances were next to nothing.

All was silent again and the corridor was smoking with the force of all the magic that had just zigzagged across it amazingly. Harry sighed and took a deep breath, just fully realising the pain in his neck was bitterly stinging.

"Damn..." breathed James, inspecting the wound in his wand light. "They hit a vein. Can you heal it?"

Harry nodded, placing his palm across the left side of his neck. Remembering the few healing spells he had ever learnt back in his original world, with his spell trainer, Grace Arnair. He wondered briefly what she was doing now, in another reality. He didn't even know if she had survived that final battle at Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest. He recalled a skin stitching charm, that rejoined skin - different from the one he had used on James earlier.

"Consanesco Sanescere Sanui!" Harry whispered the charm and his entire neck glowed blue for a moment, and he winced as he felt his skin tightening and rejoining. But it was only a moment's pain, and nothing to him really.

"I doubt Madam Pomfrey could have done better," James said, inspecting the wound again. "It left a long white line of new skin."

"Let's keep going," Harry said.

They found another Auror on that floor, near death in his cell on the fourth corridor of the second floor. He didn't respond to them but was breathing shallowly, so James coughed up a galleon this time, and the man was portkeyed to safety. The third floor was empty, but the rattled breath of the Dementors was steadily increasing, and Harry was sure they were only a few floors up - if that.

The three tired fighters - James and Harry not having slept in nearly twenty four hours - pushed open the door to the fourth floor of Azkaban prison, and Harry suddenly felt a nauseating cramp in his stomach. He blanched and then stumbled, but Dermas caught him under one arm and raised him to his feet.

"We're not alone on this floor," he managed. "Dementors..."

James's eyes darkened and he took the lead, in front of Harry as Dermas brought up the rear. The first corridor was darker than all the previous others they had been in, having now checked one hundred of the possible one thusand cells, and finding only two Aurors so far - with no sign of Melissa. They progressed cautiously, the rattling sound of the Dementor's breath growing in their ears and pounding in their heads.

The first ten cells on the first corridor were ominously empty. As they turned onto the second corridor, Trask cast his detection spells and found the hallway clear. James took the left side this time as Harry took the right, Dermas keeping guard in the middle. The floor here was wet with running water from somewhere, and it was slippery. The first three cells were empty, but then Harry came across the third Auror of twenty.

"James, Dermas," he said, once again wrenching the lock from the door.

James turned from the cell he was just about to inspect, and walked across the hallway to Harry as the cell door swung open quietly.

Harry stumbled again as he entered the cell, frowning and pushing the screams of his mother to the back of his mind. Had he not been affected by the Dementors so severely, he would have known that at least half a dozen Dementors were only a stone's throw away. Dermas was on guard though, and he was the first to spot them in the darkness.

"HA!" he said urgently. "JAMES! HARRY!"

Harry was in the centre of the cell with the Auror, who was struggling to speak now that Harry looked at him. He seemed vaguely familiar, but in the darkness Harry couldn't see him properly. He could, however, see his mouth. It was opening and closing urgently, and the man was becoming more alert. Harry frowned at him, barely hearing or understanding Dermas' cries as something in his mind clicked.

CRACK!

Something heavy hit Harry in the back hard, cracking two of his ribs and sending him sprawling onto the cell floor. His current situation instantly confirming his thoughts of a moment ago. The Auror had been silenced, because they weren't alone in the cell. Sure enough, Harry cried out in pain as a steel tipped boot was thrust into his stomach, driving the air from his lungs and bringing tears of pain to his eyes.

He hadn't dropped his wand yet, and he rolled over quickly - thinking only of survival, he still had way too much work to do across two worlds to die now. Struggling to breathe through the pain of his broken ribs, he dazedly made out the figures of two men in the cell, who had just thrown invisibility cloaks to the floor.

One of them kicked at Harry's hand again, and sent his wand spiralling up into the air and away to the far corner of the cell. Harry couldn't care less though, and his palms reflected this feeling as they glowed in response to his anger and pain. He wasn't quick enough though, and a bone breaking curse hit him in his left wrist, shattering the bone and making that hand useless. He couldn't believe it. The pain was immense, and just when Harry thought he had run his race, the chest of the man standing over him triumphantly, wand pointed and glowing between his eyes, exploded in a rush of blood, bone and flesh.

Harry, still struggling to breathe, sighed with relief as he saw the silvery point of Dermas' sword sticking out through the man's chest. He died instantly, but the other Death Eater in the cell acted quickly, and threw himself at Dermas, wrenching his sword from his hand as the impaled Death Eater fell to the floor. Dermas and the masked Death Eater hit the wall hard, and Harry felt the impact in the floor around him.

Dermas hit the wall and his nose was cracked viciously, blood gushing down his face and onto his robes. He was only stunned for a moment though, and calling on the skills he had had when he was an Auror, he thrust his elbow hard into the gut of the man holding him. The Death Eater grunted and his grip relaxed, giving Trask the opening he needed.

In a blur, he spun in the man's loose arms, and curled his hand into a fist before crashing it into the Death Eaters masked face. The mask - which was made of rubber - offered little to no protection from the blow. Repaying the favour, Dermas broke the man's nose and he staggered back.

Harry threw his leg forward and tripped the man up. He stumbled over Harry's leg, arms flaying about widely and fell against the wall of the cell, hitting his head sickeningly. He didn't get back up. Coughing, Harry struggled to sit up but the pain in his chest crippled him and the Dementors were now upon them.

James watched Dermas jump back into the cell to help Harry, and then turned to face the six Dementor's gliding his way. He shivered in misery and his wand hand shook as the hideous soul sucking creatures approached. Steeling himself, pushing the pain as far back as he could, James concentrated on his Patronus.

"EXPECT-"

The cell door to his left sprung open suddenly and unexpectedly. It was the cell he had been about to check before Harry had called him over to his cell. A masked Death Eater sprang from it and quickly fired a death curse at James. Using his instincts, James fell over his own feet purposely and landed on his back, the purple light of the Vestic curse sailing past him and hitting a portion of the wall near the cell where Dermas battled with a Death Eater.

Spinning on his back, James pointed his wand at the man and sent a fireball at him. "Incendio Aduro!" It caught and the Death Eaters robes erupted in orange flame and he screamed in pain. Those flames were searing hot. Pain blocked all his other senses, and he ran wildly down the corridor, and into the waiting arms of the Dementors - now only ten feet away.

James tried to summon his patronus, but his mind was screaming pain at him. With the last of his strength, he rolled across the wet floor and into the cell that held Harry and Dermas - crawling just inside the door.

Harry was blind with the horror of the Dementors. He heard his parents, his true parents, dying continuously over and over again. Voldemort's cold dead laughter... Ethan Rafe dying in Abingdon... Memories of the Chamber... Sirius dying... Dozens of slaughtered men and women in both attacks on Hogsmeade... Diagon Alley massacre. He was no longer capable of summoning a happy thought, and had he been aware of it - he would have known he was screaming.

Dermas cringed and fumbled for his wand as the first Dementor entered the cell, which now held James, Harry, the unknown Auror, two corpses, and himself. His vision blurred as he was forced to recall the day his fiancé had died at the hands of Voldemort. Dreaded certainty flooded over him, as he knew this was the end. What was he thinking challenging the power of Voldemort on Azkaban? Did he really expect to live?

James was the first in the Dementor's path, and he nearly fainted as two cold and clammy decaying hands wrapped themselves around his throat and pulled him up to the rattling mouth hidden beneath the hood of the lead Dementor. Strangely, as living death was so near, James had the strangest thought; Harry wasn't wearing white robes, he thought and then he was mere millimetres away from the rotten flesh of the Dementor's face.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Harry's mind cleared slightly as a faint white shield forced the Dementors from the cell. He was still lying on the floor, his memories having only retreated faintly. Standing above him though, was the last person Harry would have ever thought he'd see.

The Auror, the man who had been silenced so as to not alert Harry and the others to the plot on their lives, was no longer silenced. Through fate or just plain good luck the spell had worn off just as James was being lifted to his death by the Dementor. He grasped the wand that had hit him earlier - the one that the young man had been wielding when he entered his cell - and stood up strongly, casting the patronus charm.

Two weeks of pain had taken their toll though, and he could only manage a faint mist, which was just enough to drive the Dementors from the cell. It was enough to save all of their lives.

Harry struggled to stand and, for getting everything else for a moment, concentrated on what brief time they had, in thinking of a happy thought. His mind was clouded with the power of the Dementors, and the pain all over is body was crippling, but he knew this was either life or death. Having been expecting Dementor's, Harry had thought of a really happy thought that morning - as they approached Azkaban from the sea.

It was, of course, Ginny.

'EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he bellowed, raising his right wrist and facing his palm forward. Prongs erupted from his palm in a wave of bright silvery light and immediately flew through the door, tearing at the Dementors who were now shrieking as they were repelled, disappearing back into the darkness.

Harry was breathing heavily now that the Dementors effects had been lessened enough, and James and Dermas were getting back to their feet. He turned to face the Auror that had saved them, and knew he hadn't been mistaken in this man's identity a moment ago.

"Thanks..." Harry said, as the Auror leaned against the wall. He didn't look well, but he seemed to be in the best condition so far of the three Aurors they had found.

"It's okay..." he managed, and sagged further against the wall.

Dermas was wiping the blood from his nose and sheathing his sword as James stood and walked over to Harry. Holding his broken wrist close against his side, Harry struggled to remember any healing spells he knew about broken bones. He couldn't think of anything though, and sighed in defeat.

"Well I think it safe to say we just got the shit kicked out of us," Dermas said, picking up one of the many splinters of rock around the cell and working the Portkey magic on it.

"We're gonna get you a Portkey out of here," James said, approaching the Auror and then recognising him as well. "Cedric Diggory! Jesus, I never knew you became an Auror."

"Professor Potter," Cedric said, nodding to his old teacher. "Completed the training five months ago."

"I thought you wanted to study dragons...."

Cedric shrugged and glanced at Harry. "Changed my mind when my parents were killed by the Lestranges."

"Here we go," said Dermas, offering the Portkey. "This'll take you to St. Mungo's."

Cedric hesitated and Harry saw him do it. "Do you know how many Aurors are here?" he asked.

"Including you," Harry replied, talking to someone his mind screamed at him was dead. "Eighteen."

Cedric nodded. "I wanna stay then. I can fight... I'll come with you."

"You're in no condition to," James frowned. "Take the Portkey."

"How many came with you?" Cedric asked.

Dermas laughed hollowly. "We're the first, last and only wave," he said.

"Just the three of you!?" Cedric exclaimed.

"Let's just go," Harry said suddenly. "If he wants to come, let him. We could use the help."

Harry began to limp towards the door of the cell, stepping over the body of one of the Death Eaters. Dermas, James and Cedric followed him out into the corridor. It was deserted again, and the only sign that a battle had just been fought here was the three bodies of the Death Eaters - two in the cell and the third one smouldering in a heap further down the hall.

"Here's your wand," Cedric said, offering it to Harry.

Harry shook his head. "You use it. I can work magic without it."

Cedric Diggory frowned, but he wasn't about to argue, and held the wand in front of him expertly, his eyes - already accustomed to the darkness of Azkaban - scanned the corridor ahead of them unblinkingly. He was tired, he was weak, and he was hungry - but he was also an Auror, and as of right now that was all that mattered to him.

"We all okay?" Dermas asked, casting a few healing spells against his nose. It was only enough to stop the bleeding.

James sighed. "Ask us again in half an hour."

A lot worse for the wear, and still having only rescued three of the twenty one innocent souls on the island, Harry stumbled on down the corridor next to James and behind Cedric. His thoughts were not on the pain in his chest and wrist, but on that godforsaken graveyard where he had seen Cedric Diggory die. Seeing him alive again brought back a lot of painful memories.

It didn't take the four fighters long to find the next Auror, but this time they were careful in checking the cell. It was on the last corridor of the fourth floor, and the woman was wide eyed and terrified huddled in a corner as Harry blew the lock of her cell door with his wandless magic. Ignoring her for the moment, Harry quickly sent stunning spells into the other corners of the room, but they dissipated harmlessly on the stone of the prison.

"Are you alone?" he asked the woman, who nodded frightfully. "Trask-"

"Right here," Dermas said, and passed Harry the lock he had just wrenched from the door.

"Portkey," he told the woman, and five seconds later she had been transported to the safety of St. Mungo's.

The fifth floor of the island prison was utterly deserted and deceptively quiet. It threatened to lure them all into a false sense of peace, but the constant throbbing of Harry's wrist was enough of a reminder that death stalked these dark halls mercilessly. As was the routine, Trask - and now Cedric - cast detection spells for magical traps and wards. They moved through this floor without incident and reached the sixth floor, and another battle.

"Does the Ministry know you're here?" Cedric asked James as they walked down the first corridor of the sixth floor.

James shook his head. "They don't even know Azkaban has fallen. Harry, Dermas and I came alone."

Cedric looked troubled. "What did you think you could achieve? How did you even know we were imprisoned here?"

"My daughter, Melissa," James said sharply, "is here somewhere. It's a long story, but Voldemort wants Harry dead, and they took Melissa to draw him here - into this game. They've underestimated him though."

"How so?" he asked, as Harry wrenched the lock from another cell.

James turned to stare into Cedric's eyes, so he would see the truth in his. "Voldemort fears Harry, because Harry can and will kill him. He's stronger, smarter, and faster than Voldemort."

Cedric saw the truth in James' eyes, but his reason and common sense gave him doubt. "His wandless magic is impressive...."

Harry and Trask emerged from the cell, both looking slightly pale. Harry was holding his broken wrist close to his body and his breath was sharp and quick. "Wasn't pretty," Trask said at James' quizzical look. He wouldn't say more than that.

"That's four," Harry whispered.

Unexpectedly, they found another three Aurors within the first four corridors of that floor. All of them in a bad way, but all of them alive and unguarded. It was, again, deceptively quiet. Although Harry was more than prepared for anything the Death Eaters could throw at him. He was even prepared, perhaps even anxious, to face the Dementors - and get them out of this fight. Prongs (it felt strange to call his patronus that with James walking next to him) had sprung forth from his with nothing more than a brief happy thought. Harry knew that he may even manage two equal patronuses using the force of his rising power levels.

The turned onto the fifth and final corridor of the sixth floor of the prison, and Harry once again felt the nervous, nauseating feeling of anticipation and pain in his stomach. They weren't alone in this corridor. With his hand he motioned for the others to stop walking, and they did so silently.

"Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!" he said suddenly, three equal bursts of hot red magic erupting from his white glowing palm and streaming down the corridor faster even than Cedric's eyes could follow. Harry didn't stop there, not even waiting to see of his stunning spells connected with anything or anyone - he raised his palm again and with a series of incantations and thought magic, wrenched four of the prison cell doors from their frames and levitated them as a wall of steel and wood down the corridor.

"Avada Kedavra!"

One of the doors exploded in green flame, sharp splinters cutting up and down the corridor, but the wall made out of doors was moving too quickly for the Death Eaters. Two thumps were heard and then the clatter of metal against stone as the doors collided with the stairs and far wall at the far end of the dark corridor. No spells were cast back in their direction, and Dermas quickly performed his detection spell.

For the first time in six floors, a large patch of the damp floor began to glow dark red as the wave of detection magic passed over it and Dermas sucked in his breath sharply. Checking the first four cells as they hurried by them, Harry, James, Trask and Cedric approached the glowing patch of floor and frowned.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

They all shook their heads. "Impossible to tell unless it's activated," Cedric said. "Could be anything.... Walk around it, stay clear of the red."

"Most likely it's a medium level curse field," James said, keeping his eyes strained ahead into the darkness for signs of movement. There was nothing and no one all the way up to the stairs that led to the seventh floor, except, of course, for three crumpled bodies of which only one was still alive, but stunned.

"A curse - something like the bone breaking hex - that remains inactive on the patch of ground its cast over," James continued. "It will have a perimeter for activation, and if you trip it you'll be cursed. It could be anything, although it does take a large amount of power to create them and most can't even manage to create one using the stunning spell."

"You think it was Voldemort?" asked Trask.

"Seems to small for him," Harry said quietly, walking up the steps quickly and blasting the black door away - in case it was charmed or cursed.

"A few of the bad eggs in his inner circle could probably mange it..." Cedric said uncertainly.

"We'll just have to watch out for more," Harry said as Trask cast his detection spell down the corridor.

The seventh floor was a lot like the fifth, inasmuch as it was empty. No Aurors, Death Eaters, Dementors, or magical mines were to be found anywhere upon it. On the eighth floor they found two more Aurors, one almost in as good health as Cedric, but his leg was broken and they portkeyed him away. Another female Auror was unconscious and she would wake up in St. Mungo's in two days with a slight headache.

"That was Auror number nine," Trask said as they exited the dark cell. "Eleven to go, and your daughter James."

"I think she'll be on the topmost floor," James said thoughtfully. "A captive at the Queen's side."

"The Queen?" whispered Cedric.

"Voldemort's son," Harry said. "His second in command. Used a lot more than the King, though not quite as powerful."

"That kid's just as evil as Voldemort," Trask said harshly. "But he knows a lot of dark magic."

****

10:14am
Headmaster's Office
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Only one of them was coherent enough to talk to us, Albus," Remus said quickly from his position in the fire. "An Auror with a broken leg - man named Grayson. Assigned to the Azkaban protection detail under Crouch Jr. two weeks ago."

"What did he have to say?" Dumbledore asked quickly, staring into the fiery eyes of Remus Lupin as his head moved in the fire.

"He said a bloke that looked a lot like James Potter just gave him a Portkey off of Azkaban Island. He was a prisoner, Albus, but not the Ministry's."

Right then was one of the rare moments in life when surprise could be seen on Albus Dumbledore's face. "Azkaban!?" he whispered. "They went to Azkaban..."

"From the looks of things they're getting everyone off that island," Remus continued. "Here at St. Mungo's a new Auror comes in about every ten minutes, clutching something that was turned into a Portkey. Most of them are near death... Healers aren't hopeful for a couple of them."

"James and Harry are alone on Azkaban," Dumbledore said. "Melissa Potter must be there as well."

"There was a breach of the wards three hours ago," Remus said. "Something punched through the outer ring of protection surrounding the island. A squad was just about to be dispatched to investigate when the first Aurors began to arrive at St. Mungo's."

"I am not entirely sure how they made it onto the island, but we should send aid as soon as possible, Remus. Aurors and- yes... I will go as well." Dumbledore stood up in his chair as Remus' head disappeared from within the fire. He grabbed a handful of floo powder and soon stood in the fireplace at St. Mungo's.

He and Remus shook hands as he stepped clear of the fireplace. "How many Aurors were on that island, Remus?" he asked as the two of them began to walk impressively down the white corridor.

"Twenty two, led by Crouch," Remus said quickly. "We've been receiving his progress reports for the last two weeks and he said everything was fine, so we have to assume he's turned."

"Harry said as much yesterday morning..." Dumbledore whispered.

Remus led Dumbledore through the collection of clean white corridors and up several flights of stairs to the observation ward. Five minutes and they approached the Auror named Grayson, who was sitting up in bed tiredly - his leg bandaged and a Healer feeding him potions.

He smiled as Dumbledore came up alongside him and the headmaster recalled that this man had attended Hogwarts fifteen years ago. "Hello, Mr. Grayson," Dumbledore said. "Please, tell me what you know."

"Hello, Professor," he said. "Not much to tell I'm afraid. I've got people telling me here that a boy named Harry Potter was the one who portkeyed me here. But I thought Harry Potter was dead?"

"A lot has happened over the last two weeks," Dumbledore said. "Harry Potter is alive. Was he alone?"

Grayson shook his head. "Another man was there-"

"James-" began Remus.

"It wasn't James Potter. I'd know him if it was, because James was my instructor back at the division. No... this man had a wiry beard and was missing a few teeth. He carried a sword. It was him who made the Portkey, out of my shoe."

Dumbledore turned to Remus and in unison they said, "Dermas Trask."

"We have to get to that island, Remus," Dumbledore then said and then both of them Apparated into the Auror offices at the Ministry.

***

"How did you get those scars on your cheek?" Trask asked Harry as the four of them ascended onto the tenth floor of Azkaban prison. They had rescued ten Aurors so far and taken out another four Death Eaters on the ninth floor. The tenth seemed deserted so far.

Harry unconsciously raised a hand to his cheek and felt the rough lines of the jagged pieces of his healed flesh. "A Death Eater attack in Abingdon," he said, having to actually think back through all of his fights since then to pinpoint the moment this had happened. "I was hit in the face by a tonne of shrapnel, and didn't get it treated magically for a few days. Left a few scars."

Trask nodded. "You had to think hard about that one," he stated.

Harry clicked his teeth and looked thoughtfully ahead of himself into the darkness. "A lot has happened since then," he said. "Like ending up in this place...." Harry didn't mean Azkaban - he meant this world. Trask picked up on that.

"What do you mean?" he asked, examining a cell.

Shaking his head, Harry said, "Never mind."

"Another one of your long stories...?"

"Something like that," Harry shrugged, looking into another cell. "There's someone in here."

Dermas had made three Portkeys on his way along the corridors of the ninth floor, and handed one to Harry now. Half a minute later and they were on their way again, just as Harry felt another uneasy stab of pain in his stomach, and his head began to cloud with painful memories.

"Dementors," both he and Cedric said, one after the other.

It didn't seem possible, but the corridor around them grew even darker, and the faint light the small torches on the walls gave out was diminished as a wave of unrelenting cold washed over the four tired men.

Not wanting a repeat of what had happened last time, the four of them huddled together closely, standing back to back. Harry against Dermas and James against Cedric, all of them staring down to their end of the corridor - as they stood roughly halfway down the dark tunnel anyway. The reason for this was the suckling, rattled breath of the Dementors was coming from all around them, and from within their own minds.

The evil creatures seemed to be everywhere, and yet they couldn't be seen anywhere. Harry clutched his chest painfully with his good right hand as it felt someone had driven a spike of ice through his chest and into his beating heart. He shook it away after a few moments though, and raised his right palm defiantly against the cold.

"Expecto Patronum!" he cried, thinking of Ginny. His voice sounded no more than a desperate whisper on the wind as all of them had their own demons screaming within their minds, but if they had been able to hear properly, they would have heard Harry absolutely bellow the incantation.

White light swirled up and down his palm and small silver sparks erupted around and through his hand, emerging from the back of his hand. He could see his blood as a red light reflected on his skin from this surge of power and then, springing from his fingertips as well as his palm, a massive and impressive stag burst with all the force of his happiness and power and lit up the corridor with a light that had refused to be extinguished in all of Harry's sixteen and a half years spent in one world, and the few weeks he had spent in this one.

The pain in his heart disappeared instantly, like a splinter had been removed and replaced with soothing warmth. The stag, Prongs, took form silently and fiant sparks of silver fell off him like small stars that vanished as they were absorbed into the floor. Prongs the silver stag charged down the hall and his light shed on the approaching Dementors - at least a dozen of them all crowded in the hallway.

Having faced Dementors so many times in his short life spent in the magical world - only six years Harry had to remind himself sometimes - he didn't even flinch as Prongs tore into the dozen hideous creatures and repelled them fiercely. Harry watched as another Patronus - a griffin he recognised as his Animagus form - joined Prongs and together the two patroni sent the beasts back into the darkness, where they disappeared to wherever it was when this happened.

Had Harry looked behind himself at that moment, he would have seen a silver fox and a large badger tearing into the lines of another dozen Dementors that had somehow managed to approach from behind. For a few more brief moments the entire corridor was alight in such a way as it hadn't been for centuries, with the silver glow of warmth from the four patroni.

But then it was gone.

With the Dementors having retreated into the darkness from where they were born, the four silvery patroni converged about their creators and then flashed out of existence - leaving behind a shower of sliver sparks that lit the corridor for a final time.

"Well that was magical," Trask said, walking over to a nearby cell and checking it for signs of life, sweeping his wand light in an arc from one corner to the other. It was empty.

"I'd say we're about halfway there now," Harry whispered, holding his swelling wrist close to his side. It was really throbbing now, and the bruising was fast becoming extensive.

"Halfway there to what?" asked James.

"To whatever end is waiting for us at the top of this fortress... Melissa... another battle..." he mumbled. Ethan, he thought and kept it to himself.

"If Crouch is to be believed," Dermas said as they walked onto a new corridor. "Then there are still at least forty Death Eaters and Dementors roaming in these halls."

"Not much chance of seeing this through then," Cedric said, but without fear. He was the weakest of the group - having spent two weeks in the cells of Azkaban, but he could hold his own if pushed. He had the strength of youth, as well as the ignorance. He refused to be beaten.

Trask laughed harshly as Harry spoke. "It doesn't look like we're getting out of this one," Harry said, in a tone that suggested humour but was, at the same time, deadly serious. "So if we're going to go down, I, for one, want to go down swinging."

"Now that is a creed to live by," Dermas said, touching his broken nose tenderly.

One Auror was to be found in the last cell on the tenth floor of Azkaban, and she was portkeyed away to safety without incident. Walking up the now familiar stairs to the eleventh floor, Cedric slipped and almost fell as the stone was damp and slick with grime. Thankfully, he kept his footing as Harry blasted away another door from the top of the stairs.

"Avada Kedavra!"

It was the grime and slick stone that saved Harry's life this time, as his eyes widened as the green light of death shot towards in the instant he tore the door away. In the small time between seconds in which the mind could think, Harry's screamed at him to move, and just as the curse was upon him, his legs gave a sudden jerk and he lost his footing on the top slippery stone.

Harry fell, in a graceful arc, and the curse missed the bridge of his nose by a quarter of an inch. The green light ran along the length of his body as he fell, almost brushing his chin as his head fell back. James watched it all in what seemed like slow motion. He felt he had enough time to study ever angle of Harry's fall as the curse came within millimetres of his chest and face. But then he hit the stone hard, and the green curse of death smacked into the wall of the spiral stairs, above James, Dermas and Cedric.

All three of them shielded their eyes as the wall exploded deafeningly above them, dust and sharp stone splinters raining down upon them and cutting any exposed flesh on their arms. It tore open their robes and nicked skin beneath them on each of their chests and legs. Cedric saw stars as a blunt but rather large piece hit him above his ear.

A few dangerous feet above them however, Harry was once again fighting for his life. Having landed hard on his already broken wrist, Harry knew nothing but pain as the curse exploded above him. But his inborn reflexes and battle hardened mind and soul kicked in a nanosecond later, and his palm glowed strongly as he sprang back to his feet - only mindful to keep his footing steady on the slippery stone stairs.

The curse was already out of his mouth no sooner than having though of it. "Vestic," he said in a blur that was almost indecipherable. Magic knew what to do though, and purple light erupted from Harry's palm and flew like a sharp lightning bolt up and through the shallow frame of the broken door. He saw a Death Eater standing in the doorway, probably a man who was sure his Killing curse had ended Harry's life, but his curse travelled so fast that it didn't even register in the Death Eaters mind what had happened.

He was dead before he hit the floor.

"Cusindeo!" came the rough harsh voice from above them all, but James had already leapt up the stairs to Harry's side.

"Protego!" he cried. The bone breaking hex rang against the shield charm and was deflected back upon the caster, who only just managed a shield of his own - before turning and taking to his heels.

Harry coughed and winced in pain, leaning against the frame of the door. He was beyond tired now, sleep was just a faint longing, and his mind was focused solely and getting those around him who showed him such loyalty out of here alive. He wondered briefly what he had ever done to deserve such loyalty, because his sluggish mind could think of nothing. He yawned and walked through the door silently.

"I'm getting mighty tired of this," Dermas said, holding a piece of his tattered robes to the wound above Cedric's left ear. "You okay, kid?"

"Just a scratch," Cedric said, shrugging and taking the cloth in his own hand before following Harry up and through the broken door.

"Let's have a look at that," Harry whispered, and placed his hand on the bloody tangled hair above Cedric's ear. "Sanescere Sanui." The skin healed itself inexpertly, as these types of spells were always almost more art than actual skill. Madam Pomfrey could have done it in an instant, leaving nothing to show that it had ever been there. Harry had stopped the bleeding, but a scar would be left under Cedric's hair that he would carry for life.

Azkaban, Eleventh floor, Harry thought tiredly after Dermas had cast his detection spells and found another one of those floor 'mines'. All four of them avoided it without difficulty, and continued on down the dark halls resolutely, searching every cell they came across. Floor eleven was empty, again of anything; allies and enemies alike. They approached the staircase that led to the twelfth floor stoically, having now checked over five hundred (more than half) of the cells, and finding only eleven of them occupied.

None of them had any idea of the time, as none of them were wearing a watch. For all they knew, as Azkaban's darkness had taken away time's meaning, hours or days could have passed since they walked into this castle. Harry knew it was most likely hours, but the strain on all of them both mentally and physically played tricks with their senses. All of them kept going because of the goal of the game: To survive.

Dermas Trask was the most aware of the group, although he did have a bit of a hangover after spending most of the last night in the local pub with his Muggle friends, but Harry and James hadn't slept in over twenty four hours and Cedric had been trapped within these accursed walls without seeing sunlight for weeks.

The Death Eaters, on the other hand, were in ample fresh supply. And as Harry and his companions tired, the enemy grew anxious with anticipation, each and everyone of them wanting to kill the Potter boy and please their Dark Lord. Harry had also begun to guess that they were walking into a trap.

Well really there was no guessing about it. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they would probably only run into a dozen or so more Death Eaters within the confines of these symmetrical floors, and that the true force would be waiting for them on the roof. What then? he thought. Voldemort could be there, dozens of Death Eaters, Dementors. Was he leading his companions to their deaths? Obliging the Death Eaters by walking right into their waiting arms....

Harry thought they might be, as did the others. But none of them voiced their opinions as Azkaban was already dark enough. He glanced to his left and saw Cedric Diggory, grown into a man that Harry should never have known. He shook his head, Cedric was just one more life his defiance and morality had claimed back in his own world, and yet here he was doing it all again...

Why?

Harry took another quick look at his friends, his father. These men were ready to die for him, willing to sacrifice their lives, in the end all that anyone had, to follow him and fight by his side.

Why?

What inspired them to follow him, to Azkaban prison of all places? James had trusted him on nothing more than his word when he had said that he could beat this fortress, and now here they were, halfway between sunlight and death and whatever lay beyond. Harry frowned and took the deepest breath he could with his broken ribs.

They follow me because I've never quit, he thought, and thinking back he couldn't recall a time he had simply given up. And he quit trying to find one because he knew one didn't exist. His life was too dangerous, and if he had given up at one point, he would have been dead a long time ago.

"There's a man in this cell," James said as they neared the second corridor on the twelfth floor.

Harry turned and nodded wearily to James, who he could just make out dimly in the torchlight of the hall. With a flick of his wrist the lock was wrenched from the door and it swung open achingly on its hinges, another barrier unable to stand long against Harry's strength.

That's another reason, Harry thought as Trask went in to Portkey the Auror out. They follow me because I'm the only one they can follow, except for maybe Dumbledore. I have the strength to do this, and maybe that's why I have this power... because I should. There were many levels to his strength though, and Harry knew it was more than just physical or magical strength. It was at most times deeper than that, and it could rarely be defined.

He had fallen and failed many times over the long years. Sirius' death was just one example. And his strength had grown from these failures; his pure magic had grown through circumstance and trial. He had strength through suffering, a power stronger than anything any world had ever known. But, again, his true strength was deeper than that...

After all, thought Harry. His greatest strength didn't come from never falling, as he had fallen and failed many people in his short life, but the fact that he had managed to get back up after ever fall was where his strength really lied.

It was at these moments that those who followed Harry received a glimpse of some monumental strength that only he truly possessed... that can, at desperate times, change the fate of more than one world.

****


Author notes: One more chapter out of the way, another on its way as I wind down the long dusty road that is this story. Please read and review, and also join this Yahoo! group:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/hero_trilogy/

There we go,

joe6991