Promises Unbroken

Promises Unbroken

Chapter Thirty-Five: Padfoot Returns

"Everything ready?"

The half moon was glistening off the water, and waves were lapping gently against the Leaky Lady's sides. Aside from that sound, it was a quiet night in Aberdeen, where old Martook's yacht had waited in obscurity until just a moment like this. Over a month of planning had gone into this mission, which made secrecy extremely important and crucial to success. Even Arthur hadn't known that they were going in until barely an hour before, but he'd been preparing for weeks. Standing on the bridge, he could barely hear the soft footsteps of the Aurors as they made their way on board, and had been convinced that he was quite alone until the unfamiliar voice spoke from behind him. Arthur jumped.

"Yes," he replied, turning and looking into the blue eyes of a wizard he did not know. "Who are you?"

"Sirius Black," the wizard replied, holding out a hand. He wore an Auror's robes, which helped him to blend into the rapidly darkening night, and after a moment, Arthur recognized him from the numerous pictures that had been pasted all over the Daily Prophet and other publications.

Arthur took it after a moment's hesitation, chiding himself that he shouldn't have been so surprised to find Azkaban's one escapee along for this mission. "I was expecting James."

"Change of plans," Black said quietly, his shadowed eyes surveying the waters around them. Outwardly, the Leaky Lady didn't seem big compared to many Muggle yachts (Martook had always been a cheap one), but on the inside she was far different. Wizard space made the yacht comfortable, even spacious, which Arthur supposed was a good thing considering what their mission would be.

"Why, if I might ask?" he wondered.

"Dumbledore." Black paused slightly, then looked back at Arthur. "You needn't worry. The plan James was using originally was mine."

That, at least, was a relief. Arthur had seen more raids fail due to a lack of information than anything else, and his relief must have shown on his face. The corner of Black's mouth twitched into what might have been called a smile.

"So, you know how to drive this thing?"

"Yes. Mostly," Arthur admitted. "I still think that brining Perkins along might have helped matters, but I suppose it's too late for that now."

"You're in the Order," Black pointed out quietly, revealing that he, too, was at least a member. "He's not."

"So is this a Ministry or an Order mission?" Arthur had to ask. The answer, however, was predictably vague.

"Both."

Footsteps interrupted their conversation, and Arthur turned to see Alice Longbottom step onto the bridge. Her brown hair was tied back in a tight braid, and her round face, which was usually smiling, was more serious than Arthur had ever seen it. She looked at Black with steady brown eyes.

"Everyone's on board," she said calmly. Her face betrayed none of the nervousness that Arthur felt; Alice didn't seem to worry over the fact that they were about to enter the Dark Lord's own den. But then Arthur spotted the lines around her eyes, and remembered what she had at stake. Frank was still in Azkaban. Just like Bill.

Black turned to face Arthur after nodding thanks to Alice. His face was dark and somewhat tight, but he, too, seemed calm. "Ready to go?"

"Sure," Arthur shrugged. "You two might as well get comfortable. Even with as fast as this thing goes, it will take us almost three hours to reach the island."

"Just keep an eye on the course. About three miles out, the Muggle Repelling Charms will wreck havoc with that compass," Black warned him.

"Right." Arthur already knew that, of course, but he understood the need to repeat the information. As six other Aurors filled onto the bridge, he noticed that the tense atmosphere that permeated the group, and they weren't nearly as calm as their leaders seemed to want him to believe. Suddenly, Arthur frowned. "There are only eight of you?"

"A reliable source has informed us that Voldemort--" Arthur shivered "--will not be on the island tonight," Black replied quietly.

"Oh. I guess that means there won't be much other than Dementors, will there?"

Did he see Black quiver? "Probably."

Nodding, Arthur checked to make sure all lines were clear before easing the throttles forward. Slowly, the Leaky Lady pulled away from old Martook's dock, yet he was acutely aware of eight sets of eyes following his every movement. What might have been a fun experience with Muggle technology was instead a deadly serious situation, and Arthur found himself longing for the solitude and enjoyment of all his test runs with the yacht. It had been so much simpler before he had spectators. Finally, though, Black turned towards the others.

"Let's go below," he said quietly. "Try to get some rest if you can. We'll do a last minute brief in two hours."

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James crept silently through the underbrush, waving his team forward as he went. They were all volunteers, like he was, there to ensure that the Azkaban mission didn't fail. Snape's information had, as always, been true; Voldemort had indeed ventured forth from his island base to conduct a personal strike. However, many Death Eaters had gathered at Malfoy Manor in preparation, and it appeared that they, and the Dark Lord were simply waiting there and socializing until the right moment. James smiled bloodlessly. They were about to learn what waiting cost.

As soon as his entire team was in position, he gave the signal. This wasn't meant to be an all-out raid, of course--although it would certainly seem that way to Lord Voldemort. The raid on Malfoy Manor, though, was designed to fail, and spectacularly. But in failure, they would buy Sirius and the others time. Dumbledore was right about one thing: Voldemort would not believe James would send Sirius to Azkaban without accompanying him. The new head of the DMLE growled under his breath. He still didn't like it, but he had a job to do.

"Now!"

As one, the dozen Aurors leapt forward, assaulting both wards and windows. They could have removed the wards stealthily, of course--but it would have taken way to much time, and wouldn't have attracted nearly enough attention. The messy, sheer power method was guaranteed to light a fire under Voldemort's feet and make him furious, which was exactly what James was aiming for.

"They're coming out!" Francine Hoyt yelled from off to his right.

James grinned nastily. "Let them come!"

The first Death Eater--he thought it was Narcissa Malfoy, but could not tell--hit their first line of surprises and flew straight up into the air, screaming in rage. It wouldn't kill her, of course, but she'd be mighty uncomfortable for quite awhile, especially if she landed on something hard. James didn't wait to watch her, fall, though; instead, he immediately took aim at the Death Eater behind her and the fight began in earnest.

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The wind was whipping in Arthur's thinning hair when Black came up to the bridge again two and a half hours later. The open deck of the yacht was turning out to be less of a problem than he'd thought, although, in bad weather it could have been disastrous. He didn't know what the Aurors had been doing down below during the time since they'd left, but it had been nice and quiet on the bridge, and he'd been enjoying himself. Mostly. It wasn't so bad in the few moments that he managed to forget they were closing with Azkaban, the Dark Lord's own prison.

Black's footsteps were almost silent, but Arthur had been looking in the right direction this time. He nodded a greeting, which the Auror absent-mindedly returned, and then noticed that Black's eyes were fixed on the horizon, where Azkaban was just barely visible. Again, it might have been a trick of the light, but Arthur could have sworn that he saw the other man shiver.

"We're within two miles of the island," he said just to fill the silence. "It shouldn't be long now."

"Bring us up on the east side if you can," the Auror replied after a moment. "There's a dock there that you can use." He turned to face Arthur, and his face was tight in the dim light of the bridge. "If we aren't back within two hours of landing, I want you to leave. Or if you're approached by anyone who isn't one of us."

Arthur swallowed. "Got it." Then he looked at Black, who was again facing outwards, staring out over the silent water at the island on which he'd been imprisoned for five years. "You don't expect to fail, do you?"

"No. But it doesn't pay to take chances."

Ahead, on the deck, Arthur noticed the Aurors assembling themselves in silence, checking wands and cracking knuckles. Their eyes, too, were fixed on Azkaban as the island slowly emerged from the mist, and it occurred to Arthur that he was looking at the men and women who would save his son. Please let Bill be alive, he thought desperately. Let him be okay. He risked another glance at Black and caught him unawares; the Auror was still looking over the water, and his face was pale and tight now as he obviously remembered the years he had spent in hell. Suddenly, Black looked down.

"James told me about your son," he said quietly, startling Arthur. "And I met three of your boys at Hogwarts. They're good kids." Black turned and looked in his eyes. "We'll get him back."

Arthur swallowed again; there seemed to be an insurmountable lump in his throat. He could have pointed out that there were no certainties in battle, but the fire in Black's eyes prevented that. "Thanks."

Black only nodded, smiling slightly. His eyes still seemed haunted, but there was something else in him Arthur couldn't define; something ready. After a moment's more staring at Azkaban, he reached up and pulled his long black hair away from his face and into a ponytail. Then a voice came from behind them.

"You must be serious," Alice Longbottom commented. At Black's questioning look, she explained, "I've known you for years, and the only time I've ever seen you tie that hair back is when things get tough."

"I'm always serious." But he smiled a little, and Alice chuckled hollowly in response. "Shall we?"

Her face closed off all of a sudden, and for the first time, Arthur witnessed what Bill had always called an Auror's game face. "Let's go."

Arthur followed both with his eyes as they made their way off the bridge and onto the deck to join the other Aurors. He'd never quite understood what drove some witches and wizards to be Aurors, to risk their lives day in and day out, fighting people who would kill them in an instant. Arthur shared their desire to make a difference, to join the fight against Voldemort, but he'd always felt that Aurors were something else, something different. They were the risk takers, the elite--but here he saw what made the job worth the dangers. It was not about killing; it was about saving people.

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Spray was coming up over the bow and into Sirius' eyes, but he hardly paid any attention. His gaze was focused on Azkaban, a place he'd been plenty of times before but had fervently hoped to never come again. Now, though, he was here by choice, and he thought briefly of those who still existed in the hell that he had lived in for five years. We're coming, he thought silently, sending the thought flying over the waves. We're coming for you.

This ends tonight.

Arthur brought the yacht to a stop just short of the dock, and Sirius could feel the combination of magic and Muggle technology that kept the boat hovering in the water. They hadn't utilized many of the more magical aspects of the Leaky Lady on the way in because they knew that Voldemort had plenty of sensors in place to detect such things. If Sirius and James' assumption was right, though, Muggle technology that made it past the Muggle Repelling Charms should have escaped notice all together. If they were wrong, well, he'd find out soon enough.

He glanced quickly at the faces of his team. Several he knew quite well, like Alice, whom he had actually gone to Hogwarts with, and others he'd only recently begun to know. However, all the members from the failed raid had come along, expect for Mucia Coleman, who was still in St. Mungo's, recovering from her close shave with the Reductor Curse. But Oscar Whitenack, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Hestia Jones were all with him again, in addition to Derek Dawlish, Striker Williamson, and Christa Gambledon. Sirius didn't know the other three extremely well, but he'd been drilling with them for the last four days, and they were certainly competent and determined enough. Their expressions told the tale: tense enough to show that they understood the dangers, yet calm in the face of adversity. They were ready.

There was a gentle thunk as the Leaky Lady bumped against the dock. Sirius laid his hand on the rail, ready to vault over before the rest of his team, but Alice's voice stopped him.

"Sirius, that hole is too small for any of us to fit through," she hissed quietly, gesturing at the small opening to the left of Azkaban's drainage system, their intended entrance point.

But Sirius only smiled. The plan called for him to go first, squeezing his way through without triggering any of the wards that surrounded the area. Any use of magic would set those wards off, they all knew, which would doom their mission from the start and keep them from widening the opening at all. "Don't worry," he replied. "I've got it."

Sirius leapt over the railing and landed in a crouch on the dock. A moment's concentration brought him into his animagus form, and he paused to sniff the air. There was nothing, and he didn't smell the Dementors, either, which meant they were right on time. As Padfoot, he sprinted forward, covering the rocky ground in leaps and bounds; the journey to the opening was a short one. He slowed upon reaching it, and then carefully squeezed through the opening. There, he stopped again, using the more dependable senses of Padfoot to listen and to smell, but all he heard was the constant dripping of water and he only smelled the familiar scent of sewage and decay. The murky water and sludge came halfway up his chest in this form, which made it very unpleasant, even though Padfoot was a rather big dog.

He transformed again and turned to the heavy grate that sealed the sewer off. It was big enough that two large men could fit through easily while walking side by side, and could be opened using a lever on the wall to his right--which Sirius grabbed and wrenched downwards quickly, casting an alarm-disabling spell as he did so. The lever, he remembered, deactivated the wards for fifteen minutes...as long someone could cast the spell necessary to turn off the alarm, which escaped prisoners could not do. Or, at least that was how things had worked under Azkaban's old security system, and Sirius had yet to see a reason to believe that Voldemort had changed what worked.

The rest of the team charged quietly through the sewage and beyond the grate. After performing a quick head count, Sirius shoved the lever back up again. He turned to his colleagues, speaking quietly. "Remember that pushing this down gives you fifteen minutes to get past. Anything more and we're toast."

They nodded silently as Alice sloshed her way to his side. "I didn't know you were an animagus."

"How do you think I got out of here in the first place?" He spared a moment to smile, but it didn't feel very real. A chill ran down his spine that Sirius tried valiantly to ignore; Azkaban gave him the creeps. A deep breath banished his worries. "All right. We'll do this just like we planned. The tunnel we're in should split about a hundred yards from here. We need to go left at that point. Don't use any magical illumination, but stay close. We can't afford to lose anyone in the dark.

"Break into pairs now. Alice, you're rear guard. Oscar, you're with me." Quickly, his team joined with their pre-designated partners, with one of each pair moving to either side of the large sewage pipe. Alice Longbottom drifted towards the back; as the unit's second in command, she'd stay there unless Sirius fell, keeping them safe from an attack from behind.

Without giving any further orders, Sirius set out down the center of the tunnel. He moved as quickly as he dared, but struggled not to make much noise in the process. Oscar, he noticed, was having difficulties doing the same; the young Auror was struggling in the slush and seemed to be sticking. But when Sirius glanced over his shoulder at him, Oscar gave him a confident thumbs up, so he turned back to the task at hand, straining his eyes to see in the dark. For once, he was grateful for the years he'd spent in his dim Azkaban cell; his time there had sharpened his night vision beyond most other wizards, which was certainly coming in useful now.

Finally, he reached the T of the tunnel, and headed left after casting a quick glance to his right. He was growing colder, now, which told Sirius that they were getting close. The presence of Dementors always made him cold--but suddenly the feeling was more than a chill; he was freezing and voices were beginning to drift into his mind--No!

Sirius spun, wand in hand, just in time to see a Dementor floating out from far up the right hand tunnel. Think of a happy thought, he told himself desperately as the Dementor came nearer. Screams echoed in his ears, though, and his vision started to blur... He remembered pain and horrors, and angry voices shouting... Something happy...

"Expecto Patronum!"

Oscar's Patronus sent the Dementor fleeing, and Sirius let out a shaky breath. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"No problem, boss," Whitenack replied softly. "I saw you tense and figured that something had to be up. You sense those things from pretty far away, don't you?"

"Occupational hazard," Sirius replied dryly. He was starting to feel like himself once more and let out a steadier breath. I am not going to be caught by surprise again, he vowed, more angry with himself than anything else. "Let's keep going."

"Right."

Fifteen minutes later, the Aurors finally made it to the end of the tunnel, from which a narrow set of stairs beckoned. Sirius walked carefully, hearing faint crunches under his feet and those of his team. He stopped at the foot of the staircase just as Christa Gambledon let out a startled yelp in response to a loud crack under her foot.

"What was that?" Jones demanded.

"Bones," Sirius responded, glancing up the staircase. The metal door at the top was still slightly ajar, meaning that no one had come this way since he'd used it to escape. "They dump bodies here."

Immediately, Jones and Dawlish both went a little green, but Sirius only shrugged. The smell had been a lot worse when Padfoot had stumbled into this tunnel not too long before. He blinked once. It seemed so long since he'd escaped, but it really hadn't been all that long. Not even three months had passed... Sirius shivered, then shook his head, forcing himself to concentrate. This wasn't a time to get lost in the memories. He turned to Oscar.

"Stay here until I give the all clear signal."

"Got it."

Sirius crept up the stairs, trying to miss the spots he remembered as creaky. His attempts at stealth, however, failed when he discovered that all the stairs were rusty and creaky; abandoning the effort, Sirius climbed up the rest of the way as fast as possible and cast a quick Dark Searching Spell. Because he'd limited the distance of the spell, the results came back almost instantaneously. Nothing.

He sighed in relief. Sirius' worst fear had been to break into the prison and immediately encounter a score of Dementors, but it seemed that he had remembered Azkaban's schedule correctly. During the night, Dementors were allowed to wander in and out of cells freely, permitted to torment prisoners almost to the point of insanity--but never over that line, and never the Dementor's Kiss. Voldemort had a firm grip upon his disgusting creatures, and it seemed that they did not dare disobey him.

Leaving the shelter of the doorway, Sirius signaled the others to come up. The Dementors were scattered and otherwise occupied, which was good; it meant that no group of Aurors could encounter an overwhelming number of them, and Sirius felt safe dividing his group into sub teams. When they had all made it through the door, he led the forward another hundred feet or so, and then stopped, turning back to face them and speaking in a rapid whisper. "There are four rows of cells. Alice, Dawlish, Striker and Christa, take the two to the right. Oscar, Kingsley, and Jones, with me. We'll take the two on the left. Remember, we have twenty-seven prisoners to rescue, and some of them may not be able or willing to move on their own. Meet back here as quickly as you can, and let us know immediately if you run into trouble."

"Consider it done," Alice whispered, leading her team away.

Sirius watched them for a long second, and then turned left, towards the highest security of the Azkaban cells and where he had spent five years of his life.

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"Watch out!"

James ducked a red flash of light and fired a spell over his shoulder in that direction without looking back. "Thanks!"

Francine was too busy casting spells to answer, and James rolled to her side, coming up in a crouch that reminded him painfully of Sirius--Don't think about that now, James, he cautioned himself. You can't afford to be distracted!--and joined her effort. The Death Eaters slimly outnumbered his team, and the Aurors been fighting a splendid retreat, but things were beginning to get hairy. The forest around Malfoy Manor was only so big, and within ten minutes, if they kept up the pace they were at now, they'd run out of cover. At which point the Death Eaters would undoubtedly start to wonder why the Aurors hadn't simply Apparated away and saved what they could.

No one was down, yet, although James had acquired a nasty burn on his right shoulder that he knew would need attention later. Fortunately, it wasn't bothering him enough so that he had to switch wand arms, which would have been very bad in a fight like this one. They had to delay long enough to give Sirius and the others time. Everything depended on keeping Voldemort and the bulk of his Death Eaters away from Azkaban--

"James!" Austen Fenwick suddenly shouted, fear in his voice.

He had to cast a Shocking Spell in Lucius Malfoy's direction before answering. "What?"

"He's gone!"

"Who's down?" James' heart leapt into his throat. He hated to lose people, hated to sacrifice friends and allies in a cause that, although just, had claimed far too many lives in the last twenty years.

"No one! It's You-Know-Who! He's gone!"

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Remus couldn't sleep. The knowledge that one of his best friends was currently at Azkaban while another faced off with two dozen Death Eaters and Voldemort himself simply wasn't conductive to peace or rest. So he wandered Hogwarts and the grounds, simply drifting and waiting until there was news. It wasn't the first sleepless night he'd ever spent in his life, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. At least this one was on a better account than most.

Walking inside, Remus was surprised to see Sibyll Trelaweny sitting alone in the Great Hall, absently stirring a cup of tea. She sat at one end of the head table, with her huge eyes staring blankly into nothingness and not even noticing him as he approached.

"Sibyll?" he asked quietly. She did not answer, only kept stirring the tea and slowly began to lift the cup to her lips. "Sibyll? Are you all right?"

Trelaweny dropped the cup.

It shattered, but she did not seem to notice. Nor did Remus as she began to speak in a harsh and hoarse voice that Remus had only heard once before in Dumbledore's pensive.

"The choice has been made. The Dark Lord's bane will face him, weilding a power that darkness cannot comprehend... But he has chosen, and understood, and thus will bring an end... Thus shaped by pain, by blood, and by fate, he alone will choose to stay... Yet abandoned he will perish and the dark will remain... The world has changed and tonight marks the choice of the Dark Lord's bane... The choice has been made..."

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Author's Note: It begins. Next Chapter: "The Choice."

I have started a Yahoo! Group for the "Unbroken Universe". It's free to join, and I'll post updates plus other tidbits, like the trailer, that way. The address is: www.groups.yahoo.com/group/Unbroken_Universe. Please do not email me to be put on the update list now; joining the list is much easier.