3. Azkaban
Harry could taste the salt borne in the air with the perpetual, freezing spray of seawater, as mighty black waves pummelled the huge, teeth-like rocks encircling the small island. Set in the centre – visible by a purplish haze that mysteriously emanated from each individual block of basalt that formed its seamless, smooth walls – was the fortress of Azkaban. It wasn’t raining, but the sky was starless; a faint, grey tinge on the eastern horizon was the only evidence that the sky and sea didn’t just converge into one dark conflux.
The group of Aurors were already moving. Punching the darkness as one with light from their wand tips, six Aurors peeled from the main group and began circling the island on their brooms; Harry, on the other hand, flanked Savage with the remaining Aurors as they proceeded swiftly toward a small, stone building set beside the main fortress; Azkaban itself had no physical entrance and the only access was via a magical gateway within the outhouse.
A few paces from the roughly hewn door, Savage halted his team and conjured an eagle Patronus, which flew straight through the stone and delivered a message to the guard wizards within. Harry stood with the other Aurors, shivering, waiting for their welcome.
The door didn’t open.
Seconds dragged by…
Interrupted only by the rhythmic pounding of the waves, the silence was absolute, penetrating the air almost tangibly. Harry wasn’t sure if it was just the tension of the silence, but he thought he could sense traces of magic – a faint, tingling aura seemed to permeate everything, from the faint drizzle of spray in the wind to the impending silence itself. Something was wrong.
“Blasting spells,” murmured Savage without moving his lips. “Aim for the door.”
Harry was a little surprised at this tactic; the Death Eaters could be inside Azkaban breaking prisoners out, or even standing guard in the outpost at this very second. Entering by stealth was surely the most sensible option…
Savage obviously didn’t think so. “Now!” he roared.
Harry and nine other wizards jabbed their wands in unison, with a cry of “Confringo!” ; the thick, stone door shattered with a huge explosion, as if made of glass, leaving only a thick cloud of rubble amongst the strewn debris.
The Aurors entered the threshold with haste, coughing as they inhaled the dense dust; nothing was visible.
“Will someone take care of this damn smoke,” came Savage’s voice from somewhere in the gloom.
As the other Aurors began to siphon the dust with their Vanishing Charms, Harry’s foot connected with something on the ground, almost making him lose his balance. Something soft.
Adrenaline invaded his veins like poison as he peered down through the clearing air and saw, with a hot surge of dread, the outline of a human body emerging at his feet – and it wasn’t the only one.
Gasps replaced the dust as the terrible scene met their eyes. The bodies of what appeared to be the entire wizard guard of Azkaban littered the large stone chamber. Some were still staring, lifelessly, though a shadow of terror lingered on their rigid faces; others lay face down, their bodies covered in hex marks, some of their robes still faintly singeing from burns; and others, Harry noticed numbly, were bathed in dark pools of blood, their robes gashed in several places, their skin chalk-white.
Though he had suspected a break in, Harry couldn’t have been prepared for this. The only other time he had seen so many dead bodies at once was at Hogwarts seven years ago. Harry felt like he had returned to an old nightmare – the days of fearing for the lives of his loved ones, of co-existing inexorably with the threat of death, had been the scar of a horrific past, a relic of some previous life, until this moment. His attack earlier that night had certainly been disturbing, but only now did Harry understand the sickening reality, as if the corpses on the floor were radiating it.
It took a few moments for Savage to react. “Proudfoot,” he choked. “Go back to the Ministry. We need reinforcements.”
One of the Aurors swept through the empty doorframe into the darkness, and a second later Disapparated.
Harry stood in silence. Some of the other Aurors were fidgeting uncomfortably, determinedly gazing away from the bodies; others were casting their eyes about sharply, their fingers twitching on their outstretched wands as if fearing imminent attack; Harry, on the other hand, simply looked into the lifeless eyes of the victims.
Was this his fault? If he had acted sooner, or killed more of his attackers earlier on, would these people’s lives have been spared? Harry consoled himself with the fact that fifteen dark wizards alone surely couldn’t have massacred the thirty-strong guard in this chamber – it seemed unlikely that the perpetrators were his earlier pursuers…not that this was much cause for comfort, thought Harry miserably.
The sight of one of the bodies plucked him from his thoughts. One of the unmarked, staring faces a little way into the chamber belonged to Lavender Brown, an old classmate. She had joined the newly formed Azkaban Security Branch in the aftermath of Voldemort’s fall and the banishment of the Dementors. Harry tried not to think of Seamus, whom Lavender had married just last year…
A few minutes had passed when a sudden series of cracks sounded from somewhere outside. Harry automatically pointed his wand toward the empty door frame, mirrored instantly by the other Aurors – but the tension eased a few seconds later with the arrival of a massive, silvery bear Patronus, which said, in Proudfoot’s deep voice, “I’m back with the reinforcements. Don’t attack.”
The Patronus disappeared, and moments later a troop of about twenty wizards were slipping into the chamber. Harry didn’t recognise most of them, so presumed they were Hit Wizards: a separate department from the Aurors who were highly trained in duelling only; if the Aurors were the brains, the Hit Wizards were the brawn. Harry had never needed to work with them before.
Savage took a few careful steps into the chamber, avoiding the bodies, and turned to address the mass of congregated wizards and witches.
“Well, we don’t know if the scum who did this have already escaped, or if they’re breaking the prisoners out right now,” said Savage, his voice more a growl than a whisper. “If they’re still inside, we want them alive if possible. If we are being overwhelmed, you have permission to use whatever force necessary. Understand?”
Harry understood perfectly. Savage was authorising them to use Avada Kedavra, the only Unforgivable Curse Harry had never used – and he had decided a long time ago that he never would; having grown up dreaming of terrible green flashes and screams, which he later learned to be the memory of his parents being murdered, Harry had come to subconsciously associate the Killing Curse with everything he fought against – it seemed the epitome of evil.
Savage was still giving instructions. “We can only enter the fortress three at a time and they could be guarding the entrance, which would make us sitting ducks, so three Hit Wizards will enter first. If the coast is clear, they will return and then we will proceed in small groups; if they do not return, we wait here, call for more reinforcements and siege the fortress.”
Three Hit Wizards obligingly stepped forwards and approached a great marble archway at the far side of the chamber. While the rest of the wall around the room was dull stone-grey, the wall-space behind the archway emitted a similar faint, throbbing purple tinge to the walls of Azkaban.
The Hit Wizards stepped through the archway and, upon disappearing into the apparently solid wall, a jet of black flames suddenly shot across the surface of the archway and cascaded inwards, blocking the entrance. Harry momentarily discerned the words ligatio est vindico burning across the arc in white lettering against the black fire, before the flames disappeared as suddenly as they had arrived.
A few tense seconds later, the three Hit Wizards reappeared and declared the way clear.
“Very well,” said Savage. “Form groups of three and enter in turn.”
What did this mean? Had the new Death Eaters already rejoined the prisoners and escaped?
Harry – flanked by another Auror, Dawlish, and a Hit Wizard with short, dark hair and a scarred face – was the first to step through the archway. Walking straight into the purple wall, much as one would access Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Harry immediately found himself exiting a twin archway into a huge black-walled room, dimly lit by sparse torches protruding from the walls at random intervals. He had entered Azkaban.
When the entire party had assembled in the Entrance Chamber, they unceremoniously crammed into a generously proportioned lift set in the centre of the room. There was a hole in the high-ceilinged roof above, though no sign of anything that could suspend the lift.
“Welcome to Azkaban,” said a cool, female voice, sounding identical to the familiar voice within the lifts at the Ministry. “Please state your destination.”
“Level Five – High Security Prisoners,” responded Savage.
The doors closed and the lift soundlessly began its ascent. Harry gripped his wand, concentrating, in case the Death Eaters were still there, waiting at the top. His gut feeling, though, was that they were too late. Right now those deadly, new Death Eaters were probably housing Voldemort’s remaining followers, nursing them back to strength, plotting to overthrow the Ministry perhaps…
The lift halted and the doors slid open. Harry stepped into a large, spacious room, identical to the Entrance Chamber but for the fact that barred cells lined the walls. The chamber was empty but for five dead Griffins scattered across the ground. These dangerous creatures, with the body of a lion and head of a giant eagle, had been employed by the Ministry to guard the top-security prisoners, in place of Dementors, in recent years.
So they were too late, thought Harry miserably, his eyes scanning the bare cells. Voldemort’s oldest supporters had escaped prison and joined an already deadly force…
Harry suddenly did a double-take. The cell he had been glancing at was not as empty as he had first thought; a body was lying, still, in its shadowy corner. Confused, Harry peered closely at the other cells and saw other unmoving figures lying on the stone floor.
The truth hit him in one moment of baffled enlightenment.
The prisoners hadn’t escaped. They were dead.