Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Chapter 11 - In Which Good Men Die

Part III:
Through all the cunning and sly
moves, it has become clear that
the playing pieces possess souls

Auror Division
Ministry of Magic
10:27am

"Shacklebolt!" Remus called down into the far end of the Auror cubicles. "Assemble squads three through seven in full battle wear in five minutes. Tonks, brooms and Portkeys for forty five men."

Remus swept commandingly down the passage between cubicles in the Auror division at the Ministry. Dumbledore walked silently at his side, both recognising the need for haste.

"Portkeys keyed to where?" Tonks asked quickly, her hair changing black subconsciously as she recognised the seriousness of the situation.

"To the port island town of Tiree out on the west Scottish coast," Dumbledore said next to Lupin. "Please be quick, Nymphadora."

Tonks nodded and used a nearby floo hub to floo to the magical transportation department to have the voice activated Portkeys created. It would take her about twenty minutes.

"They've been on that island at least four hours," Remus said quietly to Dumbledore, as he took down a pair of Azkaban blueprints from the wall and laid it out on the table in front of them. "The Dementors should have overpowered them."

Dumbledore studied the magical documents for a moment before responding. "Perhaps there are not as many on the island as we think," he mused.

"Or they've been kissed in that time," Remus said, but instantly knew he was wrong. "No... the Aurors were still coming in to St. Mungo's when we left a moment ago."

"Which is all the hope we have at the moment," Dumbledore said, "that any of them are alive."

Remus nodded slowly as the Auror division buzzed around them with an anxious anticipation. "Broom flight from Tiree puts our estimated time of arrival at... four hours from now," he said carefully, calculating it in his quick mind. "Near one o'clock."

"A lot can happen in four hours..."

Remus fell silent and, after giving them another quick glance and committing to memory all the important details, returned the Azkaban designs to the large shelf of documents attached to the wall. He took a deep breath, and turned back to Dumbledore. "Who is this boy, Albus?" he asked after a moment. "Is he arrogant enough to think he can take Azkaban alone?"

Dumbledore smiled gently. "No, Remus... it isn't arrogance. This boy, this other Harry Potter, has suffered beyond anything he has ever told us, and likely to tell us. I think the one reason he went to Azkaban this morning was because he truly believes it cannot stand against him."

Remus sighed. "But there are Dementors, Death Eaters and Voldemort himself is probably there! What power can stand against that?"

"I do not know of any that can," Dumbledore said unexpectedly.

Remus shook his head. "That's because there isn't one, Albus," he said. "Magic simple isn't strong enough for that."

To his surprise, Dumbledore laughed gently. "Oh, Remus," he said. "I have walked on this earth for over one and a half centuries. I have been around long enough to know how ignorant I am in the workings of the universe and magic. Having been using magic for thousands of years you would think we would know more about its origins, why it exists... But we know next to nothing. And that is why we should be prepared for anything if we are willing to dabble in something as uncertain as Magic."

Smiling slightly, Remus said, "I'm willing to bet you've spent a lot of time studying all we do know though, to know our limits. To know what we can and cannot do."

"As I said," Dumbledore shrugged. "There are no certain facts in this subject."

"But what do you believe?" Remus asked.

"I do not believe for one moment that Magic obeys our preconceptions of what it should be. But I think in Harry we see a glimpse of what Magic truly is, in its rarest form - that has existed long before humans first acquired it, and will exist long after the human species ceases to be." Dumbledore's face took on a far away dreamy look, and also one of surety. "In Harry, Remus, we see the strength - the Magic - that keeps any universe alive. Now tell me, if you can, what could stand against that?"

****

"Incendio Aduro!" James roared, and the fourteen sharp blades of pure ice shooting through the air towards him melted in mid air.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry and his companions stood at one end of a long corridor on the fifteenth level of Azkaban prison, and were as of right now duelling for their very lives with seven Death Eaters. Surprising James, Dermas and Cedric, Harry ran forward to meet the Killing curse and took off at a run they didn't think possible in his tired and weary state.

"HARRY!" Cedric called, but Harry did not heed him.

Working fast, Harry wrenched two of the prison cell doors from their frames as the curse approached with a deadly accuracy. In the split second between life and death, Harry threw the door in front of the pointed green light as he ran and it exploded with a deafening boom that rocked the stone walls.

"Amos Cri!" he cried, ducking under the falling remains of one of his doors and using the other one as a shield in front of him and to his left. His palm glowed amazingly - blindingly - for a moment and then six silver arrows shot out of the glowing light in his palm.

Being real, physical objects, the arrows were not slowed down by the Death Eaters small shield charms. Three of the seven fell as the arrows, travelling just short of the speed of sound, passed right through them and came to a quivering stop seven inches into the wall of the prison behind the Death Eaters.

"Vestic," spat one masked man.

Harry moved the other floating door into its way and five seconds later he was stepping over the wreckage of that one as his companions came running up behind him to stand at his side., and as one they raised their wand arms towards the four remaining enemies.

"Reducto!" James said.

"Derius Nos!" was Trask's incantation.

"Prisux Ex!" cried Cedric.

"Vestic!" Harry whispered, but the curse shot out of his hand with more power than the other three curses combined, and reached the Death Eaters first.

The battle was over with that.

Checking the remaining cells for any sign of life, James, Harry, Dermas and Cedric stepped over the fallen bodies of the Death Eaters and on up to the stairs that led to the sixteenth floor of the accursed prison.

Harry was dizzy with fatigue and his legs protested every step up higher into the prison. He knew the others were probably feeling the strain as well - Cedric probably the most, but they all kept their silence. Complaint was useless and what they still had to do was more important (and worth) than their pain.

"Anyone else missing daylight?" Trask asked quietly after Harry blasted the door out of their path. "Detus Nosum! He cast the familiar detection spell down the long dark corridor.

"What's daylight?" Cedric asked with little humour. Having been in Azkaban for two weeks and seeing nothing but stone walls in that time, he had little to no sense of humour left.

"I think we have to be approaching the top of the fortress now," James said quietly, a harsh whisper was all that came out of his mouth.

"Floor sixteen, I think," said Harry. "Although I may be one or two floors out either way."

Halfway down that corridor they came across an Auror in one of the dark horrible cells. They portkeyed her out, and knew she was Auror number sixteen; so that strengthened their resolve that they were approaching the end of this ordeal - however it would turn out. The next corridor was tripped with three magical mines that Dermas' detection spell picked up. They had to jump over the far one as it was two laid across the entire width of the corridor.

Level seventeen of the prison was, of course, identical to its sixteen predecessors. Harry swayed a little as his vision went all blurry for a few moments, but it mercifully passed and the four of them moved on. Another Auror was portkeyed to safety from this level, near death and in possession of a leg wound that had turned gangrenous. Harry thought the Healers would probably take one look at it and then amputate it. He severely doubted magic's ability to heal that wound.

It was then though, that Harry, James, Dermas and Cedric were knocked to the ground, as a loud explosion sent shudders and power through the rock above them. Something, somewhere, had just collapsed.

****

"Their progression up the castle was expected, sir," Bellatrix Lestrange told Voldemort's son. "But not their ability to remove the captured Aurors from the island. There is a man with them who can create Portkeys."

"The loss of the Aurors is acceptable," the teenager said in no more than a whisper. A whisper that carried to every corner of the roof, that all the Death Eaters heard. Melissa heard it as well. "You said one was helping them?"

Bellatrix nodded. "Shall we proceed with the Master's orders?" she then asked.

The evil youth considered this for a moment. This order would require the use of the new destructive spell his father had created and perfected in one of the many dark creation chambers deep within the tunnels of Slytherin Fortress. It was a spell created for the sole purpose of destruction. It was a spell that could, and would, destroy Azkaban.

"Of course you should," he replied harshly, and Bellatrix took a step back as she felt the hot power exude off him. "Take Malfoy and Nott... and; yes, take Dolohov, Macnair and Rodolphus as well. This will need the combined strength of all of you. Go down to the front of the castle, take your brooms, and cast it in exactly one and a half hours. We will slow down Potter."

Bellatrix bowed, not as low as she would have for the Dark Lord, but still enough so respect was shown to his blood. As she and the other members of the inner circle who new the incantation and movements for the new curse, flew down to the castle entrance, the hooded teenager turned to another group of Death Eaters.

"You twelve," he said, and the group stood to attention immediately. "Head down to floor eighteen and collapse one of the passages. The intruders must be slowed down. Go now."

Melissa watched and heard all of this through tear stained eyes and cheeks. She was bound and tied to a chair near the cold teenager who had spent the better part of yesterday torturing her. And damn it, she thought, she had talked. Although she suspected she hadn't said anything the man hadn't already known or assumed.

Still, she felt hope blossom in her heart. Harry had come for her. She wasn't sure of him, didn't trust him, but she knew instinctively that her life was in his hands, and she knew he was the type of person that would die before leaving her here. And the torturer had said that there were others with him, and the Death Eaters had whispered the name James Potter. She hoped they made it through alive; she hoped and wished for longer than she ever had in her life up to that point.

****

Harry, James, Dermas and Cedric were approaching the staircase to the eighteenth floor when there was a sudden and ground shaking crash that had all of them reaching for a hold on the damp walls as dust and small bits of stone rained down upon them. It wasn't as bad as the previous crash, but all of them could grasp what it meant.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Dermas asked.

"I think we'll find out in a minute," Harry said.

They progressed onto the eighteenth floor of the island prison as wearily and as resolutely as they had the seventeenth. A cloud of dust hung in the air and made breathing not only difficult, but also painful. It did not last long though, and no sooner had the four companions begun to walk through the dust clouds, did they begin to settle on the damp and filthy stone of the prison.

Harry coughed as he checked the nearest cell for life, and with a weary sigh, wrenched the lock from the splintered oak of the black barred door. It fell open, just like the previous eighteen, and half a minute later another Auror had been transported by Portkey to safety.

The reason for the dust became apparent when the four tired wizards turned off the first corridor of the eighteenth floor and onto the second. It was dark here, so dark that Dermas didn't even see the obstacle in his path until he had fallen over it, hitting the floor hard and cursing extensively under his breath.

"Rock there," Cedric mumbled.

"No shit," Dermas stated and then got achingly back to his feet. He had barely taken one step before he said, "Aww shit."

Harry had his hand on the black broken wall to his right, the other arm - with his broken wrist - tucked protectively against his side. In one moment of swift realisation, two things became apparent to the band of weary wizards. One, they now knew what had caused the mass of dust, and two, they now knew what the crash and shaking had been of a moment ago.

The second corridor on the eighteenth floor had been destroyed, or rather, blocked off by the rock from the ceiling - what was the floor of the nineteenth floor, and from the two walls that ran parallel along the corridor. Tonnes upon heavy, heavy tonnes of black dusty rock was piled in their way. The work of many blasting curses and destructive dark magic had created an almost impassable maze of sharp rock in their path.

"Well this is bollocks," Trask stated eloquently.

Harry was too tired to be bothered by it, and with only one goal in mind (to see this through to the end - to never give up) he began to destroy the mountain of jumbled rock in their path. He began with searing hot blasting curses, and disintegrated rock that way, but that soon became too hard. He moved on to simply vanishing the rock, which was less exerting - and his three companions began to do the same.

"This was meant to slow us down," James said, casting a vanishing charm on a large piece of rock that may once have been a piece of the left wall. He watched it disappear to nothing, and then moved on. "We got here faster than they thought we would."

"Which means whoever's on the roof has a plan that they want to see carried out before we get there."

"Well at least we know not everything is going there way then," Harry said, and with a thought three large slabs of dark rock blinked out of existence. His power was changing again.

It was slow going, and in the end that had been the point, one hour later and Harry, James, Dermas and Cedric finally blasted through the debris and turned onto the third, and clear corridor on the eighteenth floor.

Harry's forehead was alive with a deep throbbing pain that was a headache brought on by the Dementors. He knew they had taken too long blearing that rock, and his arms ached as if he had moved it all without magic, and now whatever plan the Queen on the roof had, it was probably too late to stop. But not to save lives, Harry thought, and quickly fell back into the routine of checking the cells for Aurors. He just hoped none that no prisoners had been in the cells on the ill-fated second corridor.

"I've got a funny feeling we're all going to die soon," Trask said humourlessly. "And with that said, does anyone want a Portkey out of here?"

Dermas had to say it, but he didn't even bother to make one because he knew they were in this to the end - whatever that may be. He felt inexplicably drawn towards this Harry Potter. There was something about him that brought out the best in anyone, and right now he would follow him into hell and back. Had, he thought. Followed him in anyway, he might be damned to die in this place.

It was nothing he could explain, and it was this feeling more than anything else - more than the threat on the life of James' daughter - that had caused him to turn the key in the ignition of his old speed boat nearly eleven hours ago, and foolishly storm the fortress of Azkaban.

"Just as well," Trask said. "I don't think I've got the strength in me to create another one."

Harry's blurred and sleep deprived mind was doing some quick calculations as they traipsed down the dark corridors on that floor. He was trying to work out how many Death Eaters to expect on the roof, if Barty Crouch had been telling the truth nearly seven hours ago, and that there were fifty five Death Eaters on the island, not counting the thirty Harry had punched through to make it to the doors of the prison.

He couldn't recall with any clear certainty how many the four of them had fought within the dark corridors, but he felt certain it was more than twenty, but less than thirty. Can probably expect at least two dozen to be standing against us, he thought as they walked along the nineteenth floor, Trask occasionally casting his detection charms. And Ethan... maybe Voldemort.

"There are still two Aurors somewhere in here as well," Cedric said, thinking of his comrades.

"Whether they're living or dead we'll find them," Harry whispered with a sense of finality, suspecting the men were dead.

Up ahead, a small spot of light flooded the floor. It was tiny, but it fell from above the floor and it was no torchlight. James recognised it for what it was instantly.

"Daylight..." be breathed.

"There's a rather... ominous feel to it, don't you think lads?" Trask whispered.

Harry glanced at his swollen wrist and saw the dark purple bruising - almost black - had covered his entire forearm just short of the elbow. He also took a few deep breaths, ignoring the sharp stab of pain from his cracked ribs. Shaking his head of weariness as well as he could, Harry finally turned to his companions and nodded to each of them in turn.

"Whatever's up there..." he began carefully, straining to hear any sound at all besides the constant drip of some unseen water source. "Whatever's up there, we give it our all. We won't be given mercy and I'm not going to show it. Perhaps we can convince them to just surrender, but they'll be confident. I have a feeling the Death Eater's up there are loyal to Voldemort's cause and are not just following him out of fear. If any stand in our way, you know what to do."

Maybe its fate, thought Harry, as the four of them marched silently towards the daylight. Maybe it was his fate to always be the one to take a stand. Fate who always helped him survive, whilst his companions around him always made the ultimate sacrifice - moving on without him to whatever lay beyond life.

Harry didn't know why he was such a key figure in the workings of universes. He really didn't want to believe in fate... didn't want to believe that some force greater than he could choose his actions for him, and lay out his life already planned before his feet. It didn't seem right somehow. What was he? The creation of some writer in a far away and inaccessible universe? No... that was wrong. He was real, what he lived in was reality - merely a different version of it.

I could get a headache thinking about this, he thought with a small smile. The small faded somewhat when he realised he already had a headache. Oh well, he then thought as he took the first step into the light and the first step onto the last set of stairs that led up.

"It was fun, guys," Trask said defiantly, against the misery of this place. "We saved a lot of lives..."

"That we did," whispered James, flexing his sore hand. "And we have a few more to save yet."

The sky was overcast over Azkaban Island as the four tired, and nearly defeated, friends struggled up the last stone step and on to the roof of the prison. For a few brief seconds the pale light was too much on their eyes, and a long moment of glare blindness followed this ascending up to the roof of the fortress.

Harry was the first to recover, as he always was and always would be, and therefore he was first to see the lines of dark robed wizards and witches, standing atop of this prison silently along with him. Death Eaters, at least thirty, with wands drawn and hooded eyes. They stood thirty or so feet away, and Harry didn't even bother to defend himself. They were close enough to wipe him out if they chose to.

James, Dermas and Cedric had already risen to his side, and now stood bravely against the wave of masked enemies. The silence was absolutely deafening - nothing moved, even the wind that blew their robes around them in smalls clouds was quiet, as if nature itself had sensed the tense atmosphere atop the prison.

The only noise that did reach Harry's ears, and even then it was faint, was the crashing sound of the sea against the rocky outcrops of the island coastline. His palm twitched expectantly, and he glanced expertly to his left then right, not fearing but anticipating an ambush. There was no need however, they were outnumbered and outgunned straight ahead - and the Death Eaters knew that.

"This could be bad..." whispered James. "I don't see Melissa anywhere."

His voice carried well over the roof, and everyone standing upon it heard what he said. Slowly, and mockingly, a pair of hands came together behind the assembled Death Eaters in a rough round of applause. The black robed servants of the Dark Lord cleared the way between their lines and a figure dressed entirely in black, his hood hanging around his shoulders and his black hair moving in the wind, smiled despicably at them and continued to clap.

Harry took one look at this figure and stepped forward thoughtlessly, his companions falling into step behind him. Harry marched across the roof with no emotion showing on his tired and pale face. He supposed he struck a frightening figure for the Death Eaters ahead of him. His clothes clung to him with sweat and blood, and his face was both slick with, and stuck with, dried blood. Half his face was a red bloody mess.

His hair stuck up every which way, just like his father's on the left, and both of their glasses were missing a single lens, making their job now all the more difficult. Harry closed the gap between himself and the Death Eaters to nothing more than fifteen feet, before coming to a silent - unblinking - stop.

"Well done, Harry," the familiar yet entirely different version of Ethan said. "Most impressive. My father has lost another fifty servants today - really a small price to pay to end your interference."

Harry remained stoically silent as Ethan spoke. His voice was cold, harsh and his eyes were tinted red. He had been submerged in the Dark Arts for too long - probably since birth. Harry thought he could actually see his pulsating black aura, but perhaps that was just his fatigued mind playing tricks on him.

"Where's my daughter?" asked James, who stood strongly next to Harry. "Where's Melissa?"

Ethan, or whatever he called himself, never removed his eyes from Harry's, but clicked his fingers and nodded with his head. Crouch appeared from behind the gaggle of Death Eaters, holding a bound and gagged figure in front of him with his wand. He had that infuriating smile upon his face and ac cold glint within his eyes.

"MELLISA!" James cried upon seeing his daughter unable to move before Crouch. He thought she looked beaten, sick, and he recognised the after effects of Cruciatus. It was in the eyes.

"Make one move, Mr. Potter," the teenage youth said, still staring at Harry, "and Crouch kills her now."

James glared defiantly at the boy who, in another life within another universe, had taken a completely different path. James saw reason though, and he also felt that Harry didn't want him to move.

Silence again. So easy to obtain, and yet so easily broken.

"Have you nothing to say, hero?" Ethan asked Harry. "Final words, perhaps?"

Harry swallowed and blinked away the black dots before his vision. "Where is your father?" he asked quietly.

"My father does not trouble himself with the likes of you, Potter," Ethan replied.

And it was Ethan, Harry would always know him as Ethan. A boy who, in his world, had made some terrible mistakes, but all the right choices.

"So in other words," Harry whispered dangerously. "He's licking his wounds. He's scared."

Fury rana cross those red eyes viciously, and Ethan waved his hand. The Death Eaters moved aside once again, and there kneeling behind them were two blindfolded men, in dirty white robes. There were the final two Aurors, and standing behind them were Lucius Malfoy and Vincent Crabbe. In a blur, Ethan brought his hand swinging down - a command of some type.

Dermas and Cedric both cried out in shock as, with a flick of their wands, long scythes grew out of the tip and with no more than a brief cutting motion, the two blinded Aurors were beheaded... executed. James' eyes widened in shock and revulsion as the men, whose only crime was to get caught in the way, died on their knees - killed by men they would never see - their heads rolling a few useless feet from their necks. Blood began to pool soon after.

Voldemort's son, Voldemort's only heir if his quest for immortality failed, watched Harry Potter's reaction to this display of murder, and was, for the first time in his life, unnerved by what he saw on the face of his enemy. Two men had just been beheaded in cold blood for his insolence, and Potter didn't even blink, moreover it looked like he came to some sort of decision.

'You just lost any chance of leaving this island alive," Harry said calmly, and glanced briefly out over to where he knew the coast of Scotland lay - although he was too far out to sea to be able to see it. The black dots were swimming before his eyes again, and this time there were dozens of them. He shook his head, and they didn't disappear. He turned back to Ethan quickly.

He had seen what would happen to those Aurors a moment before it actually happened. Harry had taken their lives within his hands and sacrificed them for the rest. He knew to act then would have sentenced probably everyone on that rooftop besides himself to death, so he had... for all intents and purposes... let them die. He was very nearly sick.

"Do not be a fool, Potter," Ethan snapped, fire glowing in his eyes. "You're tired, you're broken, you're friends and father are on the same path. There are thirty two of us, and only four of you. What could you hope to achieve now?"

Harry shrugged, knowing they had a chance. He knew those dots in his vision were not brought on by sleep deprivation - some of them were- but the majority were not an illusion. Reinforcements were only a few minutes flight from the castle. Behind him, Cedric looked over the shoulders and heads of his enemy, and saw the same thing. He realised in that moment what Harry's entire plan was: To keep them talking for as long as he could, to keep them all alive.

"I've had worse odds, Ethan," Harry said, and then caught his tongue.

The boy in front of him, Ethan, frowned. "Are you all brawn and no brain, Potter?" he asked bitterly. "Why do you call me Ethan?"

"Because that's who you are," Harry shrugged. Confusion was always a powerful ally. "Or rather... that's who you should be."

"You're not making sense, Potter," the boy who was once Ethan said, his eyes still glaring frightfully. Behind him the Death Eaters still stood as silent as statues, even Malfoy and Crabbe, who were standing in blood. "But I've grown tired of this... you're marked for death and so it shall be."

Faster than even Harry could see, Ethan had drawn his wand and now had it pointed directly between Harry's eyes. Dermas almost fell back in surprise at the speed of that draw. "I'll ask again," Ethan was now smiling. "Any final words?"

"A few," Harry said, not flinching even though he could feel the raw power on his face from the tip of that wand, which rested only three inches away. "Surrender or die."

Harry didn't expect a response, and he had already pooled some magic in the palm of his hand before giving Ethan a chance to, but if Ethan was going to give an answer, Harry didn't get to hear it, because at that moment the very foundations of the fortress - which had survived the centuries - shook as magic ripped into its core.

It seemed then, that some force both light and dark tore through the sky above Azkaban, as everyone bar Harry and Ethan fell to their feet as the castle shook, Bellatrix Lestrange and her group having now fulfilled their task. Harry didn't know it then, but the fortress would now fall - it was only a matter of time.

"WHAT HAPPENED?" he called above the noise of the shaking, glancing quickly at the approaching dots on the horizon. Aurors, and lots of them.

Ethan was smiling, sadistically. "This is what happens to those who challenge the Dark Lord," he spat, although with obvious pride. "This prison will collapse in on itself soon enough, under the power of my father's new destructive curse."

The noise died down for a moment and the shaking stopped as well, but Harry could still feel the magic at work in the bowels of the castle, working its way up to the top. The magic, whatever the incantation was, sought out the weaknesses and structural integrity points within the fortress... and pushed. The fortress would fall, and the only thing any of them had left was time.

If not for what happened next, James and Dermas would probably have died in those next crucial minutes, and while what saved them may not seem a good thing at the moment, it did, in the end, save a whole deal more.

"SIR!" Bellatrix Lestrange called, flying up and onto the roof of the castle from down below. Four more Death Eaters followed her. She appeared over the fortifications, a wild look of anticipation in her eyes.

Most were still getting back to their feet after the initial tremor, but Ethan was as alert as Harry was, and he still had his wand trained on him. "WHAT IS IT?" he called, watching his nemesis with a calm anger.

Beware the fury of a patient man. The same could have been said for Harry.

"In the distance," breathed Bellatrix. "Aurors, several dozen..."

Ethan, for half a second, took his eyes off Harry and turned to look out to sea. Harry knew the game at this point was up, and made his final move. It was a mistake, but he did it. When he saw Ethan's gaze leave his own, Harry closed his powerful right fist and knocked the pure magic there out of existence, instead - with a lightning fast reflex, he balled his hand into a fist and brought it up under Ethan's jaw - fast and hard.

If Harry was fast though, then Ethan was nothing short of miraculous. Turning so fast he'd done it before any of them registered what they had seen, Ethan grasped Harry's rising fist with his own, and Harry had a moment to realise the strength in his limbs before he squeezed hard. Momentary surprise shook Harry, and the castle shook again with him, as Ethan had caught his jaw breaking punch a second before it would have done just that.

He saw the brief smile on his face, and then his hand erupted in pain as Ethan brought his wand around quickly, and placed the tip on his middle lower knuckle. "Cusindeo!" the Dark Lord's nameless son said, and the dark red light that flowed from his wand broke every bone in Harry's right - and up until that point only functioning - hand.

"Christ," James said sharply, and pulled Harry back as Dermas and Cedric raised their wands.

Two blue conical shield charms burst into existence in a flash of white light - directly in front of Harry and James. A brief wall of protection.

Ethan was still smiling as he raised his wand again and tapped the tip against the blue wall. The Death Eaters behind him had sprung into action, as Malfoy had taken control, and were now lining the castle fortifications and awaiting the approaching Aurors.

Harry's hands - both of them - were useless. He fell back on top of James as the shield charms were raised, his right hand beyond pain. It was a monumental struggle to get back to his feet, as his legs refused to hold him now that he was down, but with help from James he did it.

Vaguely, as if through a haze, he heard and saw the first round of curses being fired at the approaching Aurors, who had spread out along the sky to take back the fortress. The prison shook again and the stone floor underneath Harry's feet cracked, but held. Near death, but still going strong, Harry returned his gaze to Ethan, as a few useless curses impacted against their shields.

Small drops of rain had begun to fall now, from the weak storm clouds overhead. A cool wind blew as two very familiar and devastating words cut into Harry.

"Avada Kedavra," Ethan said calmly.

Both Dermas and Cedric widened their eyes in surprise and then fear. It was one of the last things one of them would ever do.

****

"We're still about thirty minutes flight from the island," Remus said, raising his voice a little as he flew alongside Dumbledore. "We'll feel the wards any minute now."

The forty five men and women flew on strongly, having now been flying for a few hours. All they knew was that Azkaban had been broken, and it was their job to take it back and make sure no one left the island. No one knew anything else, except for Remus and Dumbledore. Rumours were abound though, and the strongest one among the Auror squad was that the boy, Harry Potter, had already stormed the island earlier that morning.

It hadn't been denied.

When they past through the wards they went slow as the strength within the large ward bubble was enough to throw even the most accomplished flier from their broom. No sooner had Remus broke through the wards than his eyes fell upon the island prison, or more accurately the dozens of darkly cloaked figures upon its roof.

Lupin also noticed the Dementors. At least fifty stood guard at the entrance to Azkaban on top of the hill in front of the fortress's great wooden doors. Landing would prove difficult, although he suspected few of them - if any - would be.

"They'll see us soon," Remus said to Dumbledore. "What do you think, full on attack against those on the roof?"

Dumbledore sighed and raised his broom handle a little to slow himself down. "Yes, Remus," he said. "Although not everyone on that roof may be an enemy."

Remus nodded and then motioned to his designated lieutenants. With a few arm and wand movements he passed the message to attack down the line - also to do it from the air and watch for friendly fire.

Their approach was seen as they were still half a mile out, and Lupin past another message down the lines. Be ready to use evasive action.

The Aurors were closing the gap fast, and could now see the Death Eaters on top of the prison swarming into place along the long fortress walls and defensive positions. Curses would soon be hot in the air.

As one, the entire Auror battalion - the large body of organised troops - put on an impressive burst of speed. They flew through wind and rain as the choppy sea beneath them tossed and churned in the ever growing weather conditions. Remus' face was soon slick with water and his hair clung to his head, as did his robes to his body.

When it happened, it happened fast.

Colour... greens, reds, blues, yellows... shot forth from the rooftop of Azkaban in a large arcing rainbow. Synchronised, impressive, deadly. A barrage of colour that carried death and destruction within it. Lines and lines of curses streamed through the air from over thirty different wands as the Death Eater onslaught began. For one brief moment the entire front side of the upper castle glowed with the magic, and then the Aurors were flying for their lives.

Remus held his course steady for a few hundred feet, and those who watched him then thought for one brief moment he was going to intercept the curses head on, but just as they met in the middle, Remus dived sharply, cutting a path through the rain and dodging all of the curses.

Dumbledore was no where near as fast, but he was still agile. The old headmaster didn't begin to fly rings around the curses, nor did he do anything overly spectacular. He kept a steady course, and deflected all but the most deadly curses from his path. He saw Aurors fall - struck dead by Killing curses - out of the corners of his eyes. Remus saw the same thing, and they pushed on regardless. There were always casualties.

Remus dodged the green light of death and took a severing charm across his left arm for this manoeuvrer; it cut his white robes open and straight through his flesh and muscle, sending a brilliant splash of blood streaming through the air behind him. It was a clean cut, and it began to sting immediately.

Remus held strong though, and was soon soaring over the prison. With forty good men behind him.

****

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry moved fast and pushed James back as he had done to him only a moment ago. Both of them fell to the ground just as Cedric and Dermas both turned to jump out of the curse's way. Death was faster though, and Harry gritted his teeth in an all too familiar pain as the green light - the jet of pure death - struck Cedric high on his left shoulder, and sent him spinning in a tumble of broken limbs back over Harry and James, his dead foot kicking James in the face as he flew, knocking his glasses off and bruising his cheek.

Once again, Cedric Diggory was dead.

Harry watched him die as the body past over his head with the last tendrils of green light still clinging to his chest. The sky above had opened up and a single ray of sunlight almost blinded his vision, so Cedric appeared as only a black silhouette as he tumbled over and over silently. He hit the broken rooftop with a thud, and there was no more.

'Wands out, d'you reckon?'

'KILL THE SPARE!'

Harry lay on the cracking and falling rooftop and - in one brief and painful moment - relived all his worst memories up until that point. It wasn't brought on by the Dementors either. His head lay against the cool stone and he could see Cedric's lifeless eyes staring at him, guiltless even in death.

It was one of those brief moments for Harry, where time slowed down and he had the wit and ability to see everything that was happening in a crystal clear clarity. Dead, he thought emotionlessly, glancing at Cedric. Murderer, he thought just as calmly, glancing back at Ethan, whose lips were slowly curving up into a hateful smile.

What now?

Above him raindrops fell gently, slowly - a few only now just breaking on his weary and bloody face. Aurors flew in amazing arcs and loops, outrunning the inevitable that came in the form of three dozen colourful curses. And beneath him, the fortress of Azkaban cracked and groaned as it was brought down from within.

Harry's gaze also fell on something else, something behind Dermas (who had hit the ground in a graceful arc of his own) Why does it always have to be graceful?

Heading down the stone stairs that led back into the prison was Barty Crouch Jr, and in front of him floated Melissa - held in place by a body binding jinx, and a levitation charm. Harry frowned at this, and then the world sped up again - a thousand sounds assaulting his ears.

In a flash Harry was on his feet, broken wrists and hands hanging uselessly at his side. James was seeing stars and struggling backwards over Cedric's body searching for his glasses, and Dermas wasn't moving at all. Harry briefly hoped he was alive, but had bigger problems for now. He did spy Dermas' sword hanging in its sheath around his belt though, and an idea began to form. More death...

"One less Auror to worry about," Ethan... no, this boy was too evil to be called that... said. "What now, Potter?"

Harry didn't blink or move as curses of death and pain flew around them, and rained down upon them - fired from both Aurors and Death Eaters alike. A man fell screaming to his death barely three feet away from Harry and his broom tail was burning purple flames, but he didn't even bat an eyelid. He was beyond caring now what misery these Death Eaters could still cause... all that mattered was getting out of here alive.

"In another world you could have been so much more," Harry said, directing his thoughts towards the sword hanging on Dermas' belt. "Were so much more."

And with that, Harry drew the sword with his mind, and cast it through the air in a shriek of shiny silver. Voldemort's son saw it coming and his breath caught in his throat. He tried to move, but this was beyond him.

Harry's levitation charm, cast with the power of his mind - a silent spell, threw the sword (point first) at his enemy. The blade pierced him high in his left calf, and passed clean through, taking a chunk of his flesh with him. The boy's leg gave out underneath him and he screamed in pain and agony as the sword clattered unheard against the dying stone of the castle.

The foundations snapped and the fortress shook again. Harry stumbled and for a moment saw nothing but black and his vision was still blurry as he regained it. He laughed harshly and mirthlessly. I'm gonna fall asleep, he thought. On top of Azkaban as it falls apart...

Harry wasn't going to fall asleep though, he was beyond rest now and had, for what it was worth, just got his second wind. He saw a few of the Aurors landing on the roof alongside Dumbledore and Remus and he felt relieved. The Death Eaters had been defeated and even now Aurors were portkeying those who had surrendered into Ministry holding cells.

Battered and bruised, both arms useless, Harry turned back to Ethan and with another thought levitated his wand away and off the edge of the fortress - not that it mattered, he was holding his skewered leg and roaring with pain. Checkmate, Harry thought sardonically and then turned to see that Dermas was trying to pull himself to his feet. He had taken an Impediment jinx in the chest and it was just now wearing off.

Bodies, of course, littered the roof which was now cracked in several places, and the deep rumbling Harry could feel under his feet was enough of an incentive for him to start screaming that they had to get out of there.

"THE CASTLE IS FALLING!" he called, although his voice was as cracked and broken as the rooftop. Behind him James was on his feet and began to search frantically for Melissa among the bodies that covered the breaking roof.

"HARRY!" called Dumbledore, stepping over and clearing a path to the teenage wizard. Remus was next to him, and as soon as he spotted Ethan lying in a pool of his own blood, the sword must have taken a few veins and arteries, shoved a Portkey into his hands and sent him into a Ministry holding cell. Healers there would see to him.

"Professor," Harry said quickly, ignoring the growing pain in his arms and chest. "The fortress is going to fall, you have to get everyone off it."

"WHERE'S MELISSA?" James called hysterically, joining his companions.

"Prongs," Remus said gently, to clam his friend down as the very ground they stood on began to crumble.

A few Aurors here and there were still duelling with those Death Eaters who would never be taken alive, but the battle was all but over. The burning smell of magic was heavy in the air, carried on the wind and rain, and several Aurors began to take flight as they saw what was happening to the prison.

"Did you see what happened, Harry?" James asked nervously, fearing the worst. Did she fall off the roof?

Harry held both his arms against his side and Remus winced when he saw the deep purple bruising in both. Broken, he thought. "We have to retreat now," he said. "Azkaban is lost. Prongs..."

"Never without Melissa," James said simply.

"Crouch took her..." Harry frowned, remembering what he had seen a minute or two ago. "Back down."

A loud and devastating crack shook the fortress again, and a large portion of the roof in the far corner crumbled and plummeted to the ground several hundred feet away.

]

"I'm going," James said, and pushed past Harry. Dumbledore called him back but then, viciously, the ground upon which James was walking fell half a foot. It didn't give way to the floor below it, but it was enough for James to lose his footing and fall forward as his right foot was trapped between two fallen bricks.

Snap, Harry thought, a millisecond before James' ankle did indeed break. He cried out in pain and frustration, but Harry knew they were now out of time.

"I'm going," he said as Remus and Dermas rushed forward to pull James up.

"Wait..." Dumbledore said, but he saw the fire of determination upon Harry's face. He also saw his broken limbs, and wondered what Harry thought he could do. "Take this then," the headmaster said, and tucked a piece of stone into the top pocket of Harry's torn and dirty shirt.

"What-"

"A Portkey," Dumbledore said. "It will transport you into a Ministry holding cell, but you'll be safe."

Harry nodded and then, as Dermas and Remus were struggling with James - trying to pull his leg free, Harry turned for one final run. He set off at a jog as a hundred thousand tonnes of rock shook underneath his feet, and then began to sprint towards the stone staircase that led down into the castle.

Here I go again, Harry thought dizzily as he stepped back into the darkness of the prison. The breaking and humming was louder down here and it rang in Harry's ears as he ran blindly down the poorly lit - and in some places dark - corridors.

His mind swayed with this exertion and he felt feverish as well as tired. Both his wrist and his right hand burnt and ached, and they were both heavily bruised and immobile. Harry tried to move any of his fingers, and was rewarded with numbing pain for his effort. He had to slow to a stop after only half a minute of running, as his chest begged for air which his lungs could not provide without affecting his snapped and bruised ribs. How many? he wondered, trying to recall when he had actually broken his ribs.

The fortress was cracking and breaking around him, and age old dust and chips of rock fell as he ran struggled along the dark corridors. He wondered what Crouch was trying to do, running back into the castle. Perhaps he'd gone mad? Well, Harry thought, more mad.

He came to the corridor on the eighteenth floor where he, James, Dermas and Cedric had had to clear the entire way with magic. In a way that had been a blessing, as it had given the Aurors an extra hour or so to arrive. It had saved their lives.

Harry tried running again, but could only manage a short burst of speed before his lungs and chest protested. The walls on either side of him cracked as he progressed parallel to the wall. Doors to the cells fell away from their hinges and great clumps of stone fell and broke on the floor around him.

The seventeenth floor was in a worse way, and the cracking was now deafening. Large slabs of ancient stone fell all around Harry, and he didn't try to move out of the way. If it was going to hit it would hit. He couldn't change that. All his limbs, joints and senses cried out for him to stop - it was too much, give up, have a rest. But he ignored that. He briefly thought, and this was something that came to him again later, that he should be in better shape, more properly trained. An explosion of stone from the wall next to him ended these thoughts.

When Harry reached the fifteenth floor he could actually feel the fortress of stone swaying under his feet. His hair, which was damp from the rain, was now covered in dust and he wiped the grime from his glasses on the run. It was here though, that he caught up with Crouch.

"COME ON, GIRL!" he was screaming, as Melissa was now free. Crouch's eyes held a glint of the madness inside of him, and he was pulling Melissa along the broken corridor.

"Crouch!" Harry spat, running up as fast as he could.

Crouch was fast. He pushed Melissa hard into the wall where she fell, and then turned to Harry with his wand already glowing with dark magic. Harry didn't bother to use any magic whatsoever, he just through his tired and battered body into the wizard, causing fresh stabs of pain all up and through his arms.

Both of them went toppling over one another and Harry's blood soaked trousers were torn open on sharp rock, which was still falling around them dangerously. Unable to use his hands, Harry lost the advantage quickly, and Crouch soon had his own hands wrapped around Harry's throat.

"YOU JUST COULDN'T DIE, COULD YOU!?" he shouted, sending spittle into Harry's face. "WHAT ARE YOU? WHERE DO YOU COME FROM?"

Harry's wrist and hand roared with absolute pain as the air was pushed from his lungs and his throat, which was coated in blood, was squeezed. He coughed and his eyes bulged as crouch pulled him up so their faces were mere inches away from one another. Harry could feel his hot breath on his cheek, as his vision blurred again.

"DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!"

Not really thinking anymore, Harry did the only thing that made sense and brought his forehead crashing down into Crouch's face, breaking his nose. Barty Crouch screamed in pain and stumbled, both he and Harry dizzy as they dropped to the floor - Harry landing on top. Briefly, he saw Melissa scrambling to her feet across the corridor, but then he returned to Crouch.

With a thought, Harry levitated the small disc of slate from within his top pocket, the Portkey, and thrust it into Crouch's wide open mouth, as he was screaming. "Tell your dad I said 'Hi'," Harry breathed, and then rolled off the mad Death Eater. "Activate," he said, with a thought towards the Portkey.

And just like that, Crouch was gone, but so was Harry's ticket out of here. The fortress was now collapsing around them.

"Harry..." Melissa said, and fell down next to him as he struggled to catch his breath and get to his feet. She grabbed his arm and he ignored the pain, as best he could, as they both staggered to their feet. "Can you walk?" she asked desperately, the corridor floor cracking and churning.

Harry could almost see the destructive magic at work, spreading through Azkaban within its brick walls like water flows in a river, shooting off at different intervals - joined by more tributaries. He knew there time was down to minutes, if that.

"The roof," he managed, the entire world spinning and every part of his body hurting. "Let's go..."

Harry staggered back down the corridor they way he had come, with Melissa on his arm - walking alongside him. She didn't seem to hurt, but tears were streaming down her face and her nose had been bleeding. The castle shook again, and this time Harry felt it going over, before it stabilised again.

Only a few torches remained lit and in place on the walls, and it was with this light that they guided themselves up to the seventeenth, and then eighteenth floors. Harry was now leaning slightly on Melissa for support, as his owns legs were shaking so bad he could barely stay standing. Too much, he thought... almost there.

They were two floors away from the roof, and Harry only hoped that there were Aurors nearby that could either give them another Portkey or carry them out of here on brooms. Those two floors though, felt like long, agonising miles. Step after step he felt they took, and they seemed no closer to their goal.

"Come on, Harry," Melissa said, catching him as he stumbled. "Who's rescuing who?"

Harry smiled at that and pulled himself up, just as a large section of the floor behind them caved in with a puff of smoke and noise. They came to the stairs on the eighteenth floor, and Harry could no longer manage anything other than a hurried, limping walk. His very soul was crying out for rest, whilst his mind and heart told him to keep going, just that extra step.

The stairs were agony beyond agony, and he had to crawl up the last three. At the top Melissa pulled him to his feet again, and the staircase collapsed behind them. Taking that as a sign to hurry, Harry actually managed a short jog along this final corridor and they were halfway through the floor and had just turned onto the final corridor, where daylight was visible, when there was a brief flash of blood red light and Melissa fell to the floor, crying out in pain.

Harry stumbled and fell with her, and turned to see why she was screaming. He saw that she was grasping at her leg and frowned - that was until she puled up the hem of her robes and he saw the piece of bone that was protruding out of her flesh. Harry took one look at it and the knowledge of what had happened came crashing down upon him like a hammer blow. She had triggered one of the magical 'mines', the preset curses. A bone breaking one. Harry had completely forgotten about it, and hadn't seen it without the detection spell.

Meanwhile, the destruction of Azkaban was still in full swing, and Harry felt the floor on which they lay was buckling, straining under the force of destructive magic. He managed to get to his knees and he saw that Melissa was valiantly pulling herself up through the tears of pain. She managed to stand first, even with the broken leg, and Grabbed Harry's broken wrist to help him the rest of the way up.

They relied on each other now, as neither of them could escape alone. Melissa threw her arm around Harry's shoulders and used him for support. Stones and rock were raining down upon them and another section of the floor gave way behind them as the two of them struggled the final few feet painfully towards daylight.

Just one more step, Harry kept repeating in his head - a silent mantra. Hold on for just one more step. His gaze had fallen to his shuffling feet, and he struggled to lift up his head occasionally to see how much closer they had managed to get. Melissa was weeping and crying out as her broken leg was disturbed, but she stayed strong. Unlike Azkaban, which only had one minute of existence left.

The strain on the lower levels, which had also been collapsing, had become too much. The weight of the rest of the fortress would bear down on it soon, and the prison would fall. The only two living beings still in it, were Harry and Melissa, and Harry knew that they'd have no time to be saved by an Auror. Another option was needed.

They reached the crumbling steps of the final floor and rain drops lashed their faces as they struggled up them. Melissa going up backwards, dragging her leg and Harry on his knees. He could see black dots above him in the sky but they were too high up to be of any use, as the fortress began to fall.

Melissa screamed again, and this had nothing to do with the pain in her leg. Azkaban was falling on its side as they reached the roof, and had already begun to tilt several degrees to the right. It crashed slowly, billowing clouds of dust rising from its base and smothering the Dementors down there. Harry was vaguely aware of his stomach in knots as they tipped.

They lay at the top of the stairs and the bodies of the dead that were still on the roof began to roll towards the tilting wall, gathering in piles against the fortifications until the piles became too high, and they fell off the castle only to plummet to the ground more than one hundred feet below.

And then, Harry saw a way out... or rather, a way off the castle. They would jump.

"Melissa," he said, and she turned to look at him with tear stained eyes. "Listen, get on my back...." Harry's vision went dark as he almost lost his fight to stay awake, to stay conscious, but he shook it off for what would be the final time.

"Wh- What?"

Harry frowned, he had no time to explain. He would just have to show her. Concentrating harder than he ever had on anything, Harry searched his tired mind for the familiar pull of his Animagus transfiguration. He hadn't transformed in almost three weeks, ever since that last day in his original world, and now he was near death. It was difficult.

The castle was still falling when Harry finally found what he was searching for, and pushed what he felt was a little button in his mind. A brief second later and he felt his entire body transform, as the fortress tilted to an almost dangerous angle. His front two claws gave way beneath him as they were broken, just like in his human body, so Harry pushed all his remaining strength into his hind legs, and dug was sharp claws into the stone, holding him in place.

Melissa knew what she was supposed to do, and Harry thought she wasn't going to make it. His lions body shook with fatigue and he cried out loudly from his eagle head as she pulled herself onto him, throwing her broken leg under the wing joint of his right wing. That'll have to do, he thought as the stone tower was now almost tilted to thirty degrees.

He pushed his back legs hard into the ground, and kicked off just as there was a loud, unbelievable snap within the castle and the entire structure from the fourth floor up simply fell away, tearing at its foundations and plummeting to the hard earth of the island in a cloud of brick and dust.

The twenty five or so Aurors who had seen this change on the roof, were now watching both the large griffin fall, and preparing themselves for Azkaban's impact on the island. It was incredible... tonnes upon tonnes of rock crashing into the hillside upon which the tower had stood for centuries.

Harry felt and heard the castle falling behind him as he spread his wings with a phenomenal effort. He may not have flown like this for awhile, but it was something he could never forget how to do. His wings grasped the air and he tilted his griffin body, with a screaming Melissa upon his back, to catch the updraft. Unfortunately, he had neither the strength nor the power to do that, and they began to plummet to earth just as the castle was doing right now.

Harry flapped his wings once, but that only succeeded into pushing them into a steep dive. The wind had carried them a fair distance from the tumbling fortress though, and Harry saw that they were going to crash - but it would be into the sea. Where coming in way to fast, he thought, struggling to open his wings against the amazing wind power.

He couldn't do it.

Melissa was still screaming, her hands buried deep into the feathers around his neck, as they fell into a quick spin, spiralling dangerously down towards the water below. Several Aurors saw them fall, and pushed their brooms after them, but the crash was now inevitable, Harry was simply too weak to do anything about it, and it was then that his body gave up anyway.

He was back in his human form and already unconscious as he hit the cold, choppy Atlantic Ocean, and the freezing water was enough of a shock to bring him back to consciousness. Harry screamed out in shock, pain and surprise as he struggled for breath, and salt water attacked his open wounds.

The splash he had created on impact now came back down in graceful streaks and droplets of hard water. Melissa was floundering around next to him and she had grasped the collar of his shirt. Later, Harry would realise it was that which kept them both afloat.

Waves slapped them left and right and Harry could only manage one short breath before he was hit in the face with a wall of water. It wasn't over though. Rocks, large slabs of stone began to rain down upon them as Azkaban prison impacted onto the hard packed dirt of the hillside it had been built upon.

The impact sent debris and dust hurtling hundreds of feet up into the air and then gravity took over and sent it hurtling back down. Unable to do anything, Harry merely struggled for breath in the cold sea as water was splashed up around Melissa and him from the falling barrage of stone.

It's cold... was Harry's final thought, before he slipped into unconsciousness again. Stone was still falling dangerously into the water around them, but Harry was done. If he died, he died. As long as he got to rest... it was over now, it was over. Whatever happened now, he had done enough.

The dust from the fallen fortress would hang in the air for hours after the initial impact. And twelve hours later, Muggles living in the Firth of Clyde would report seeing an amazingly bright light out to sea, which glowed for fifteen minutes. It was the wards failing, as their magic had been tied to the prison.

Azkaban, also known as a hell upon the earth, had been completely destroyed - and wiped off the face of the planet. The island prison had fallen on one world, and it had not gone quietly.

****