Holly and phoenix feather wand twirled between his fingers. The smell of the ocean air stung in his nostrils. He could taste the sea salt as they made their way through the cloudy night sky. Though it was cold, the heat emanating from the scales kept him warm.
Flap after flap of wings kept them afloat in the air. Powerful wings that brought them higher and then lower, motion after motion.
This was it. Harry gripped Fleur, she was already snug against him but he wanted to pull her tighter to him. The warmth of her body, the feel of her magic, he wanted more of it. He was confident but her presence was a comfort. The last time he'd gone on a mission, he'd been alone. This time, he wouldn't be.
Just as she had been in the forest, Fleur was with him, watching his back. And like then too, Viktor had come and he'd work together with them. And, of course, Cuddles was here, in her enlarged form, flying them to their destination through the sopped night sky.
This was what he'd been planning for sometime, this was what he knew he had to do.
And the timing couldn't have been more perfect.
49 rituals complete, Salazar's test passed, and the exact crew of aurors on shift that he couldn't have handpicked any better. If they hadn't been card-carrying minions of Riddle, then they had been silent supporters and bigoted scum that the wizarding world would be better off without. He'd talked with Cyrus, he'd worked with Patrice and he had all the dirty tidbits from Horace.
"You ready for this?" he asked after moving his mouth close to Fleur's ear.
The air whipped around them, making it hard to hear. Fleur turned her head and nodded as she squeezed his arm.
Harry pulled his arms tight around her and began to mentally prepare himself for this.
This wasn't a sure-fire plan that he'd put together. There were some parts he'd had to rely on others for and a key assumption that would either make or break this whole operation.
It all started with Viktor. His part was small but vital and wholly necessary. His presence also repaid any debt he had owed Harry from the Second Task.
Brothers in Arms, indeed.
The young Bulgarian superstar seeker looked like carved stone made flesh.
It wouldn't be long now, he could already see the island ahead of them. A cloudless sky and on the horizon a fortress of stone; a fortress once made to repel invaders and now used to house the vilest and most despicable of wizards and witches.
Azkaban loomed ahead and Harry's anticipation built. But this wasn't like when he went to kill Lucius. This wasn't like the 49th ritual, the Second Task, or anything like his previous adventures.
This was of his choosing. This was a preemptive strike that would rock the wizarding world.
As if reading Harry's thoughts, Cuddles began to descend, aiming for the shoreline of the island. Already, even hundreds of feet away, he could feel lingering of the oppressive magic of the dementors.
The spot they were aiming for was the key to this undertaking. The island's protective wards did not extend into the water. There was a beachhead for them to get set up on. One that is used to transport people to and from the island. A place for guests and new prisoners to be brought in without being subjected to dementors.
As Cuddles began circling over the landing spot, Harry's magical senses swept out and he knew the information his advisors had come up with was correct. This first part was on him, after Viktor gave him the go-ahead.
As his feet made purchase with the ground, rocks being pressed down under his weight, Harry looked about. No boats had been scheduled today and nobody should be around to observe their arrival. Azkaban guard duty revolved around feeding inmates, checking in on them periodically and mostly hiding out in the guard room, to stay away from the dementors.
Harry's mind was focused, he knew the plan inside out and he began working through his checklist. First, he'd shrink down Cuddles. Where he was about to be going, the dragon couldn't come. He'd be going in solo and would have to use the emergency portkey to get out. Fleur would take her away if things went south.
Fleur had already disillusioned herself and Harry quickly cast it on Viktor. The young man was on his knees and preparing the specialized and illicit material they'd brought along.
"It works," he said, turning to look at Harry.
"Okay then, wish me luck," Harry said before turning his eyes up to the foreboding fortress in front of him.
The disillusioned Fleur stood in front of him and grabbed his face with both hands. She pulled him into a searing kiss. "Come back to me," she said, caressing his cheek with her thumb.
Harry nodded and slipped on his cloak. He had no idea if his ancestors had truly understood the capability of this cloak. Walking through wards and being undetected was a priceless ability. If it hadn't been for Krum's Unbreakable Vow to not speak on any aspect of this operation, he'd never have risked letting him know.
Whether the Bulgarian knew it was Harry's cloak or whether he thought it might have been something else, Harry didn't inquire and Krum wasn't forthcoming.
But Harry put all that out of his mind. He'd set this all up well and needed to concentrate on the task at hand.
He looked over to where he had to go. A set of stairs, cut right into the daunting rockface Azkaban was built on. They were more than likely wet, soaked from the ocean spray and as he trudged his way toward them, he felt an unnatural coolness build with every step.
Though the pathway he was taking was unguarded by the dementors, their disgusting magic was prevalent. But ever since he'd completed the ritual set and balanced his magic, he'd been marvelling at his magical control, even his mental control. Everything about him just felt whole, balanced.
Where any sort of proximity to the dark creatures would have been debilitating before, now his mental fortitude and magical awareness were enough to fend off their effects. He could feel their magic try and penetrate his, to infect it and let its insidiousness affect him.
He hadn't known what he'd been doing but as the effects grew, as he'd gone deeper into the island, he'd kept a thin magical presence around himself. A barrier where he let none but his own magic touch him. It wasn't a concept he'd heard of, or anything postulated in something he'd read. This was just a natural reaction to feeling how disturbingly vile the dementor's magic is.
As Harry reached the top of the staircase, he noticed that the entry into the fortress lacked a door. He shook his head. It was almost comical how little effort there was in keeping people out of this forsaken place.
Then again, who in their right mind would be coming to an island teeming with creatures that wouldn't hesitate to devour your soul?
Harry suppressed a chuckle, he had to be silent and keep his presence unknown. The plan couldn't work if he was discovered. The first potential derailment had been passed already. Viktor could bring down the wards. Now the second one stumbling block was for Harry to bypass.
After his harrowing experience in Malfoy Manor, this was less anguishing. He already knew his cloak would keep him from being sensed and he was capable of sneaking up on them, especially without the possibility of a house elf popping in randomly.
As he made his way down to the end of the halfway, he turned left, knowing exactly where to go, having memorized the route. He just had to go down to the end of this one and the room he was heading towards would be there.
His breathing started to pick up. He'd mentally committed to doing this but preparing himself to end the lives of three men and actually doing it were entirely different things. Plus, this wasn't just a single man who wasn't even holding his wand. These were three, armed, Aurors.
His holly and phoenix feather wand twirled in his fingers and his pace slowed to a crawl. While they shouldn't be on alert, any mistake now could be deadly. Nobody could know they were here today.
Ten feet out from the door, he heard the first signs of life within the fortress. While he couldn't make out what they were saying, he could now hear male voices talking. He could feel the beginnings of the effects of a Patronus. The dementors' cold and foreboding presence wasn't as severe as he got closer to the open door.
"Did you sign yet?" Harry heard a voice echo out of the room as he was within two feet of the door now and he could hear the conversation.
Harry crept closer, his back almost scraping the wall. It would be, if Harry hadn't been concerned that it might dislodge the cloak.
"Not signing tha'," a second voice came from the opposite side of the room.
Harry was no more than a foot outside the door and he could see the man who had just spoken. He'd never met the three aurors who were supposed to be here and so he did not recognize him.
Holding his breath, he peered in through the door and quickly scanned, from left to right.
It was a spartan room containing a beat-up old table, mismatched chairs, and barred windows that hadn't been cleaned in at least a century. One of the men was doing something near the far wall and another sitting down, with his eyes closed and feet up on the table.
Harry withdrew from the room. One hand went to cover his mouth as he tried to control his breathing and the other went to his heart, his heart that was trying to beat out of his chest. If any of the men had been outside the room, Harry would have been in for a hell of a fight. He'd just noticed that one of the men's breath was visible every time he exhaled.
This wasn't good. He couldn't creep into the room. Cloak or no cloak, the second they looked towards his direction, he would be discovered.
Harry quickly crept back. He had to rethink his plan. He thought he could sneak up on them, set up a transfiguration, stun one and take the least prepared one by surprise. But this…this could be a problem.
"Scrimgeour won' take me off Azkaban duty til I do," one of the men groused.
"Why do you think I'm stuck here? I'm not signing a magical contract that forces me to be loyal to them first," a slick oily voice said.
That was interesting to hear. Horace had told him that Bones was trying to clean up the place and ensure Ministry employees couldn't work for Voldemort. Aurors being forced to sign magically binding contracts sure was something.
Harry took a deep breath. He was going to have to go in and take out two right away.
Wait...where was the Patronus?
He had felt a Patronus but he hadn't seen one.
Where was it?
Harry sucked in his breath, he couldn't breathe when he poked his head in the door. There were more words being said but all he could hear was the pounding of his heartbeat. Now that he was thinking about it, he'd only seen two aurors and there should be three.
From right to left this time, one auror with his feet up, another with a sandwich in hand, walking back to the table, and no sign of the third one.
Harry crept backwards, still doing his best to hold his breath. One foot moved behind him, the other repeated the motion. Harry shut his eyes and released a breath, the warm air feeling good on his face as it rebounded off his hand.
This wasn't good. He had to find the third person. He either had to deal with all three or get out of here and attempt this another time. It had been hell to convince Patrice, Horace, and Cyrus of the necessity of this. They all understood the payoff but the risks were just as high.
Harry let his head rest against the cold stone wall for a moment. Perhaps it would be best to ambush the two and wait for the third guy to come back?
That could work. It was probably his best bet. Stun the two, so if he messed up with the third one, they wouldn't have any bodies haunting him, leading to investigations.
Harry crouched forward and moved to put his face back in the door. It'd be best to see where they were and then see how it would be best to take them both down. Both were at the table. One had his hands together, holding a few cards. The other had a couple of cards in one hand and his sandwich in the other. Both of them were focused on their game, making it an ideal time to strike.
With his wand already in hand, Harry brought it up in front of him, aiming towards the man that had the better view of the door as he prepared to move.
His wand was shaking, two or three inches with each jittery movement, as Harry struggled to keep his hand steady. This wasn't something he wanted to do, this was something he had to do.
The plan would never work if he left anyone alive. Especially not these three. He had to kill them and that was all there was to it.
He took a deep breath in, carefully, trying to keep from making any sort of noise and snuck in. Harry closed to within six feet as he held his breath; at point-blank range, he couldn't miss. Neither man had a wand in hand and wouldn't be able to shield against a stunner.
Harry pointed his wand at the man on the far side, ignoring the words coming out of his mouth. As much as he might've liked to have heard more of the conversation, he couldn't be distracted. With practised ease, he silently and without even a flick, stunned the first one.
The second man kicked away from the table, falling backwards over his chair, his surprise evident on his face. His mouth opened to yell, or say something, but Harry didn't give him a chance to do so. A stunner leapt from his wand and smashed into the man's chest.
Two spells, two down, a good start.
His fingers ran to the end of the cloak and he was just about to remove it when he realized he still had the third man to find.
Fuck. A sudden thought came to his mind. He couldn't just leave them sprawled out all over the floor, the sandwich broken apart, strewn across the ground. The first man had collapsed over the chair and the second had been thrown back across the room.
Harry knew he had to get this cleaned up right away. He levitated the further man away, off to the corner of the room, so the last auror would have to come in the room to see him. He strode over to the chair and quickly righted it. A single wave of his wand and the mess the sandwich had made was gone.
Another flick of Harry's wand and the second man was pushed off into the corner. Harry bound them with ropes and then looked over the room again, just the one overturned chair looked out of place. Another deft movement of his wand and it was back in place. Though, now that the chairs were in place, Harry realized the cards were still a mess.
One more charm and he just needed to get himself ready to ambush the third auror. He began summoning the cards to him while wondering if he should do it in the hallway or wait until the guy came into the room.
The hallway would have less room to manoeuvre and, as long as he got the drop on him, it should work out. However, if the man was spooked or on his guard, the hallway would be brutal for manoeuvrability. The man might defend, make it around the corner, and then raise the alarm.
Harry finished summoning the cards and floated the deck off to the side of the room and he headed towards the exit. Just as he was turning to look out the door, he heard a voice.
"Yaxley, you fookin' lazy lout. Get your arse out 'ere, you were supposed to have done so!"
Harry froze, that voice wasn't far and their normal schedule was off. He finished making his way to the door and saw the man was only a half dozen feet outside the door. He held his breath and quickly considered whether it was better to try and take him down now, before he noticed things were wrong, or not.
Harry had never duelled an auror and he had precious little experience at all. He could only rely on Salazar's and Fliwick's training.
"Yax?" The man asked as he slowed his approach, his hand reaching into his cloak.
Harry knew he couldn't hesitate now, or he'd lose any surprise that remained. Plus, Flitwick had harped on and on about never letting your opponent gain the initiative.
His wand arm flew forward, almost of its own volition, and he sent forth a piercing hex. Then another, and then a third one, as fast as he could.
It was just like his target practice, sending one spell cascading after the other, trying to hit multiple moving points in rapid succession.
A look of surprise came over the aurors face as his hand was still fumbling around, trying to grab at something in his pocket and working to withdraw it at the same time. The man's eyes widened as he must have come to the same conclusion that Harry had.
The man wouldn't have had a chance to shield himself in time.
He tried to dodge, the first spell was coming right for the middle of his torso and that wouldn't be easy to avoid in a tight hallway. The three spells were closing fast, the hall wasn't wide enough to dive out of the way of all of them, and they were spaced as such that there was no way he could dodge right or left and not get hit by one of them.
Harry stood there, numb, his mind was comprehending what was about to happen, his stomach clenched in anticipation of what was about to occur.
The man went to his left, trying to evade the first one coming for his chest and then, somehow avoid the third one that was around his hip-height.
It was as if time slowed down and each second became ten. Harry saw the man abandon trying to get his wand out as his eyes squinted with concentration, his knees bent in anticipation as he lowered his centre of gravity.
Then, as if he was releasing a loaded spring, he sprang up and to his left. He rotated in the air and tried to prepare himself to hurdle over the final incoming spell just as the first one reached him and clipped his shoulder.
One moment his arm was helping to provide momentum for his jump and the next, the spell took it right off, obliterating his shoulder, detaching his arm from his body.
The arm changed direction and flew down the hall, with the bloody pulp that used to make up his shoulder, spraying out behind him. The man's mouth formed into an 'o' as a scream of pure agony rocked him. Just as Harry was about to feel sorry for him, he realized the second spell was heading into his crumpling form.
Whatever upward momentum he'd created had been curtailed by failing to dodge the first one. The formerly hip-height spell connected, right with the middle of the man's torso.
Harry had long known what a piercing hex could do. He'd seen it smash explosive holes through the middle of targets after targets, hour after hour, day after day, week after week. Yet, seeing it go through a man's ribs and organs wasn't something he was prepared for.
The vomit left his mouth before he even realized he was about to expel the contents of his stomach. The stench mixing with the rusted iron smell that had permeated the darky musty stone fortress hallway.
Harry's haunted eyes stared forward, switching between the detached arm, from hand to a few inches above the elbow, and the bloody red mess that was closer to him. Having decided that he'd smelt the stench enough, he cast a bubble-head charm and then removed his invisibility cloak. He no longer had a need to wear it.
With a wave of his hand, the puke was cleaned from the floor, a flick of his finger took care of the vomit that had dribbled down out of his mouth.
His body was still shaking, his legs wonky underneath him, but he had to soldier on. His actions could swing the war and there was no turning back now.
Harry steeled himself and conjured a torrent of flames, sending them, expanding them, and making them as hot and corrosive as he could. The plan was to burn the evidence away and vanish the ashes.
There could be no evidence left.
Using a tendril of his magic to keep the flames contained and burning under his control, he made his way back in the room. He had two more two wizards to dispose of.
Harry looked at the two stunned men, lying side by side.
He swallowed hard, noting the lack of saliva as his mouth was dry from breathing so heavily. He shut his eyes for a second and then hit them both with a cutting curse to their necks. Best to make it quick and easy. He was about to torch their bodies when he remembered what Ivan had told him.
The items that each person had on them, including their wand, if it had been recovered, were kept in this room. Unless his intel was wrong, finding the cache was a valuable side-objective to achieve.
The obvious place to start looking was the old battered and rusting filing cabinet. Opening the first drawer presented him with an endless set of paper files. Oddly, they were not secured at all. Harry felt no magic, other than expansion and preservation charms.
Harry closed that drawer and moved to the next one. It was just as Ivan had said, the drawer was full of labelled pouches. Each one had the name of a prisoner and, upon opening the first one, a wand was atop a set of clothes.
He shut that one and opened the final drawer, the bottom one. Inside were more pouches. As quick as he was able to manage, he packed them up and let his fire in the hallway burn out. He approached the place where the auror had died, after completing his prior task, and saw the body had been incinerated. He vanished anything he could, even did his best to take a layer of grime and muck off the rocks.
With that done, he moved back to the room and focused on creating another controlled fire. One that would burn out most of the room, save the area immediately around the doorway, where Harry stood.
Second after second ticked by as sweat collected on his forehead and dripped down his face. Keeping the inferno going and away from himself wasn't difficult in the least but in an enclosed space it was quite hot.
He let the room burn until he was sure everything turned to ashes. After Harry repeated the cleaning and vanishing charms, he was certain this was the cleanest this room had been for decades, the stone almost glistened.
But those thoughts were pushed aside, he had to get moving if he wanted everything done before shift change.
Harry quickly donned his cloak again and followed his earlier path back down to the beach. Not much reason, though, to wear the cloak, as the dementors could not signal an attack to the Ministry of Magic and they were warded from this path. Cyrus had mentioned a guard had lost his soul while on break and so their access to this part of Azkaban had been taken away.
The journey back to Viktor and Fleur was over almost as soon as it began. Harry had been so numb by taking the lives of the three men that he'd just done his best to keep his mind blank and focus on moving forward, one step at a time.
Ten feet out from his fellow champions, he took off the invisibility cloak and sank to his knees.
He'd kept it together but the full force of his actions had hit him. As tears pooled down his face, he dry-heaved, even though the contents of his stomach had already been purged.
He tried to remind himself that he'd just killed one former death eater and two men who had been, at the very least, sympathizers. More than likely though, they had provided tips or had delayed auror actions until Riddle's raids were well underway, their objectives completed.
Still, he saw in his mind, over and over, the gory display of a man's chest cavity being blown clean through, bits of bone, organs, muscle, and blood spraying everywhere.
Bile rose up in his throat again and he tried to swallow it down.
Just as he was successful, a body impacted his, wrapping him up in a tight embrace. It must have been Fleur. He sniffed but couldn't make out her smell. Just generic clean air. He lifted his chin up and saw it was Fleur, her silvery-blonde hair filled his vision.
Words were being spoken in his ears but Harry wasn't listening. He was feeling the warmth of her magic, of her body. She felt so pure, fiery and agitated.
He shook his head as more comforting words filled his ears. What a young woman he'd gotten. One who had trained for hours with him and Flitwick. One who loved him and had volunteered to come to Azkaban with him. Well, not just volunteered, demanded and told him she was coming.
Harry ended his bubble-head charm and breathed in her scent, squeezed her back, and brought himself back to a proper state of mind.
This was necessary. This was essential to dismantling the power base Riddle still had.
He breathed out and began to stand, "Thanks, Fleur."
As Harry got back to his feet, he looked into Fleur's worried blue eyes and nodded.
He was okay. He could do this.
He took a step back and looked at Viktor. The stoic young man was standing there, watching, his face unemotive and body rigid.
"It's done then?" Fleur asked, from beside him, her hand taking a hold of his.
"Yeah," Harry responded.
"You're good for this next part?"
Harry nodded with purpose. "Yes," he replied, his voice strong. He knew what she was asking. Because if he wasn't prepared for this next part, there was no point in going further.
"Are we doing this?" Viktor asked, giving them a flat stare, his cloak being blown around by the wind.
"Just give me a second to prepare," Harry said as he called for Cuddles.
The little dragon flew to Harry's open hand and the process began again. Where before she'd needed to be ready to flee, if things hadn't gone well, now Harry needed her ready to fight a horde of dementors.
When Cuddles had reached her full form, Viktor once again asked Harry, "Ready?" seemingly in a hurry to leave this forsaken place.
Harry shook his head and looked to Fleur. "You ready?"
The plan here hinged on something Harry had learned from Sirius' memory. The inmates were protected from dementors going rogue. The bars of each cell were impassable for them and were always secured and locked, unless an auror was there.
When the wards came down, the only souls available were going to be on the beach. Fleur's responsibility was to keep a Patronus up while Harry went on the offence. The second the wards were down, Viktor was gone. He owed a debt but not enough of one to stand on a beach and be swarmed by dementors.
"We're ready," Harry said, walking over to him. He clasped him on the shoulder. "Thanks for this, and good luck."
Krum shook his head. "Keep it. You'll need it," he responded gruffly, turning back to his task.
Harry shot him a strained smile and then prepared for what was to come. He'd faced a huge amount of dementors but that had been a hundred.
Here though. Here. This was their home.
Every dementor that the Ministry had under their control was here.
The second the wards came down, they were going to be swarmed.
There was no time turner, there was no Buckbeak.
There was only Fleur, Cuddles and Harry.
This was a gamble but one with a caveat. That, if things weren't going well they could take a portkey and escape.
Harry looked at Fleur as he heard Viktor begin the countdown.
Un.
The macabre sight of her in the forest came to his mind.
Deux.
It had been burned into his mind and he'd never forget it how she valiantly stood tall against insurmountable odds.
Trois.
Harry could feel it. The air filling with magic. Viktor's prepared devices built to take down these wards.
The magic was thick, viscous and Harry shivered as he swore he could reach out and touch it.
Then, when the magic permeating the air all around them reached its zenith, the wards shattered. A great crash could be heard, and the presence of magic began to fade.
Harry turned his head and watched as Viktor disappeared from sight, his portkey yanking him to safety.
"Expecto Patronum," Harry incanted, thinking of the incredible young woman right beside him. The feeling of love was so pervasive, he could have fueled his and hers.
Harry heard Fleur's incantation and looked over to see what form hers took. Right in front of her was a dragon. A dragon that was eerily similar to his familiar.
"Cuddles," Harry whispered, a smile coming to his face unbidden.
Just as he came to that realization Harry looked for Prongs. But...it wasn't there?
Harry narrowed his eyes and looked, but all he saw were three dragons.
"We 'ave the same Patroni," Fleur said, giving him a one-armed hug. "I thought yours was a stag?"
Harry looked into her blue eyes as he answered, "I thought so too."
Now that he had a second to think about it, it certainly made sense. A lot had gone on since he'd last cast this spell. The first time he'd successfully used it, he thought he was his dad. Now...now, things were different.
It had started as a trickle but it was growing steadily worse now. Though they had two strong dragon patroni in front of them massively dampening the effect, the dementors were still coming.
As Harry stared towards the fortress, uncountable black specks were coming towards them. It was like a murder of crows had taken to the sky and was making its way towards them. Except they were silent, ominous crows that were innumerable and had the ability to suck out your soul.
"Mon Dieu," Fleur said, her free hand covering her mouth, muffling her words.
Harry looked to Cuddles and took a deep breath in, trying to steady his wavering nerves.
He gave the mental cue to her.
As his familiar bellowed out a torrent of flames, Harry suffused it with his magic and took control. He focused all of his mental fortitude and clearly had the picture of what he wanted in his head. He forced the magic to bend to his will and put every ounce of power into it that he could, his eyes shutting as he did so.
Harry opened them up and saw what his magic had wrought. Standing tall before them was a gigantic, massive minotaur. It had to be taller than thirty feet, with horns on its head, and an incredible two-handed axe balanced on its shoulder.
Harry sank to his knee. That feat had taken a lot out of him but he couldn't rest, not yet.
He didn't get up, he just gave the next cue to Cuddles and prepared for the next phase of their defence. He shut his eyes again since he always thought it helped him to concentrate and better picture what he was creating.
He felt the heat and the presence of the unnaturally hot and corrosive flames. Like before, he focused and made the flames into what he'd envisioned. This time, a dozen large stags were formed, each made out of white-hot flames, matching the colour of the minotaur.
Harry watched as Fleur took hold of him under his shoulder and pulled him to his feet. "One more, mon coeur."
Once more, he let Cuddles do her work and then he shaped the white-hot fire into the final creation. Miniature dragons. While the Minotaur tanked and destroyed everyone and anything before it, the stags were to be on equal parts offence and defence. Half were going to go and murder as many dementors as possible while the other was instructed to keep a tight ring around them.
The third and final part of Harry's plan were the dragons. They were to keep a net above them and to go on the attack themselves. The plan was for Harry to use his Patronus to herd the dementors into his creations and then let them do their magic. Fleur was in charge of keeping her Patronus near, preventing any dementors from getting through to attack.
She was equally responsible to portkey them to safety if they got overwhelmed. Their lives weren't worth losing.
But this really all came down to one thing. Could his fire creations kill or destroy dementors?
Fire was an effective measure of delaying and combating them. However, it wasn't known to kill.
What Harry was betting on was that his fire, their fire, was different.
Cuddles' flames weren't just regular dragon fire. Already, it was more. It could wear down wards that were designed to hold up against dragons.
And it was that clue that led him to this belief. To the understanding that their combined fire was corrosive.
The only explanation Harry had been able to come up with was that the basilisk venom and phoenix tears from second year had an effect on him, magically.
It was these properties that led him to believe his fire would destroy a dementor, making this whole operation possible. Basilisk venom destroys things at a magical level that leaves them incapable of being repaired by any known magical or otherwise means. Phoenixes were creatures of light, of fire. There was something pure about them. Having fire imbued with a sliver of their essence must be good then, when fighting demonic soul suckers.
This had to work.
He'd murdered three people, all on the assumption that his hypothesis was correct. And, it wasn't like he could have tested it. The entire operation required absolute secrecy and that they could misdirect the investigations afterwards.
The plan was workable and it all depended on this final assumption.
This had to work.
The tiny specks were getting larger now. Their menacing presence could be seen. The air was dropping in temperature, the spring day was beginning to feel like a crisp autumn day.
Their insidious magic was building in the air and Harry had to redouble his efforts to keep them from affecting him mentally. The last thing he could afford to happen was for him to pass out and see his mother die.
"'Arry," Fleur said, her voice shaken. She looked at him. "There-there are...so, so, so many." Harry could see the horror in her eyes. And yet, there she stood, her Patronus in front of her, and she wasn't fleeing.
"We got this," Harry said, projecting more confidence than he felt. "Keep your dragon close and light up a ring of fire for my stags to patrol."
Giving her a task to accomplish would get her mind off of the overwhelming number of dementors on their way to try and collect their souls.
Harry swallowed hard and then looked to his familiar. She was going to be a heavy hitter for them, again. Flying through the air, crushing those that got close to her and lighting any ablaze that came within her range. Harry released her, allowing her to take flight and breathe wrath and ruin upon those that would dare to try and harm Harry and his mate.
As an uncountable number of dementors descended from Azkaban, their faces hidden and tattered black cloaks whipping in the wind, Harry felt as though the very air around him was freezing.
The plan was for him to send his dragon off but the sheer combined might of their magical presence was overwhelming him; them.
He heard it...again. Someone was screaming, screaming inside his head...a woman…
'Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!'
Harry knew that voice, he knew what was happening.
''Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside, now…'
No, not now! The dementors were closing, getting close to his minotaur's range, nearing the air defence of Cuddles and his miniature dragons.
'Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead–'
"No," he snarled, defiance welling up inside him. He'd worked too hard, he'd trained too hard, he'd sacrificed his goals, his dreams, his moral, his ethics. He'd done everything to survive! This couldn't, wouldn't, be the end of him
'Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy…'
Mercy? There would be no mercy. There could be no mercy. Every single one of these damned demons needed to die.
A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming…
"No," he snarled again. He wouldn't succumb to them, no more, and never again.
Harry's eyes shifted from the battle which was about to commence to Fleur. Though he'd been around a hundred dementors before, he knew Fleur had no experience with them.
She was standing there, speaking in rapid french. Her eyes were glassy and she looked like death warmed over. The strong Patronus she had before was faltering, dimming before his eyes and before blinking out of existence.
This is why he'd wanted to do this alone. Facing a horde of dementors wasn't something one could adequately prepare for. But Fleur was adamant. She was strong and fierce. She could do this.
Harry closed the distance between them, "Fleur," he called out. "Fleur!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.
He shook her again and called her name once more. The third time finally had an effect on her. She blinked and her mouth stayed open, her lips no longer moving. "'Arry?"
He didn't know if it was the right thing to do but he had a gut instinct and they were almost out of time. Harry closed the distance between them and kissed her, hard. His lips pressed into hers and his tongue invaded her mouth. He moved his hands up and down her body, one in the front and one on the back. He kept up his assault, warming her with his body, kissing her with a passion that was the antithesis of the creatures bearing down upon them.
Fleur moaned in pleasure as her fear-induced paralysis was broken and Harry knew she'd be okay now.
"We'll finish that later. Get your Patronus up." Harry stepped away from her but didn't take his eyes off of her.
Fleur's eyes were ablaze and he could see her resolve build up. Nothing was going to put her out of action now. "Expecto Patronum," she incanted, a blinding light shot out of her wand and another dragon was protecting them.
Harry turned his attention back to the horde descending towards his battle lines. The contrast between white-hot creatures and the cold black dementors was making him anxious. Having had enough of waiting, Harry sent his enormous minotaur forward.
The two-handed battle axe slipped forward, off the shoulder, settling into the minotaur's hands. The gigantic creature stepped forward while simultaneously drawing the battle-axe backwards. With another step forward, it swung the axe forward, the speed leaving a burning line as the sharp edge tore through the air.
With bated breath, Harry watched as it swung at the closest dementor, the creature had no chance to dodge. Burning death was bearing down on it and there was nothing it could do.
As it was on its path to bisect the creature, Harry couldn't help but worry. Would the axe hold up? Could it cut through the dementor? Could it truly hurt it? Kill it?
The answer came in a millisecond. The staggeringly large axe made contact and a shrill, piercing cry ripped through the air. A black cloak incinerated, burning up in an instant.
The sound of the wailing hurt his ears and yet, at the same time, it filled him with immense joy.
His minotaur killed a dementor.
The unearthly screech that had torn through the air signalled the start. A ferocious battle commenced. Miniature dragons bit, clawed, and flew into dementors with a vengeance. Stags lowered their heads and rammed them with the majestic antlers. And the minotaur… That deadly beast wielded its axe with a maliciousness that was bestial in nature.
Unholy screech after unholy screech took to the air.
The entire first wave had been decimated. His creations were destroying dementor after dementor and holding up while doing so.
This could work.
The first wave had no more than fifty dementors. As Harry looked around, the sky was littered with them. The ground before them was a sea of faceless black cloaks. As much as the opening salvo had been theirs, it was just that, an opening skirmish.
The oppressive dementor magic continued to hammer at him, them. As he looked to his partner, he could see she was struggling with it, though she continued to maintain a ring of fire around them.
'Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!'
Harry looked back at the battle, the massacre. It was just like he'd hoped, just like he'd pictured.
His enormous minotaur was dominating the battle. Standing in the middle, swiping it's large axe back and forth, with nothing being able to withstand its hew. Those that snuck past the axe were met with knees, feet, shins and the occasional swipe of a hand or the pole of the weapon it wielded.
The stags danced around, prancing to and fro, their horns lowered and gouging into the enemy. Meanwhile, the miniature dragons continued to bite, claw, and scrape at anything they could. While they lacked a ranged attack, their agility in the air and effective attacks made up for it.
Yet, with all their success, Harry wasn't sure it would be enough. Over a dozen dementors were coming from his left and there were only two stags out there. The inner circle of stags was still alive but they could get overwhelmed too.
''Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside, now…'
The voices were in his head, the cold was biting at him, and his head felt sluggish, off. Dementor after dementor was felled but he was struggling. Struggling to control and direct the small army he'd created.
Still, the abominations of magic were being taken down, one ear-splitting screech at a time.
'Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead–'
Harry shut his eyes for a moment and pushed the dementor's magic back, recreating the magical blockade around him. He couldn't let his grip on his creations falter. He swivelled his head and looked all around him. The ground forces were holding up but the air was teeming with them and they were coming from all sorts of directions.
The veritable army of miniature dragons was struggling to stem the tide.
'Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy…'
Harry focused on his creations, pushing more magic to them. Reinforcing the minotaur, even as it stepped on one, swatted another with its hand, and arced its axe in a line that bisected three dementors in one swing.
Yet, even still, the dementors were closing in. They were pushing back his creations and Harry already knew he was at the limit of what he could sustain, if not just past it.
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off-"
Harry looked to his left again and the stags were being pushed back. He directed two of his circling six to go assist. That flank couldn't collapse. Dementors were making it past the minotaur, it simply had too many to contend with to get them all.
A high, cruel cold laugh, 'Avada Kedavra.'
Harry looked over to Fleur, her wand was whirling, her silvery-blonde hair was reflecting the light from the fires, giving her an angelic glow. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her lips were twisted into a snarl.
She was so fucking glorious.
Harry shook his head as he turned back to direct his white-hot creatures wrought from magical flames.
A blinding flash of green light. A burning sensation in his scar.
White mist was filling his head, the toxicity of the dementor's magic seeping into him, dulling his senses, projecting thoughts and visions right into his head. Harry lifted his head to the heavens and saw his dragons were being overrun. He had to buy them more time.
He focused on his love for the woman beside him, he brought forth his unwavering resolve to protect her, and strengthened his dragon Patronus. He focused on it and directed it above them, forcing the dementors back, giving his dragons a chance to regroup and push them back again.
A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming…
Harry looked to the centre, the minotaur was holding firm but there were too many to kill. It was like he was trying to cast a net across the entirety to a river, hoping to catch every fish that was going downstream, but they found ways under it, over it, around it. The net would catch many of them, delay most of them, but it could not stop everything.
'Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!'
Harry grit his teeth and re-directed Cuddles from her assault on aerial dementors. He had her fly just behind the minotaur and bathe the rocky beach in flames.
As the flames came out of her mouth, Harry was grabbing ahold of them. Infusing his magic and creating more dragons, more stags and even a few eight-foot minotaurs. The dragons he sent to assist their brethren, the stags he replenished the inner circle, which had been seeing action, and sent the rest to plug the holes the dementors were using to get around the ginormous half-human half-bull.
''Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside, now…'
Harry fell to his knees. The strain of creating another wave had pushed him beyond his previous limits. Combined with the mental and magical attacks of the dementors, Harry had been forced down to his knees. Holly and phoenix feather wand gripped in his hand and he could barely see anymore.
He couldn't keep this up. He could already feel he was teetering on the edge of exhaustion. And if he fell, Fleur might not get them out in time.
'Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead–'
He could see it now, he could picture his parent's death. The inhuman appearance of the one that used to be Tom Riddle. He could see his mother block his path, shielding her child, begging for its life.
'Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy…'
"No!" he snarled once more. He couldn't let them win!
He thought of Fleur, their passion, their lovemaking. He thought of Natalia, her devotion and confidence in him, and he thought of Daphne, the girl who was too afraid to commit because she feared being burned, even though he could tell, she'd fallen for him.
A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming…
Harry looked around, Cuddles had dementors crawling on her, clawing at her. Fleur had her Patronus up, shielding their right and driving the dementors to his stags. Ahead of her, she kept lighting dementors on fire, working to keep up a ring that had been all but exhausted.
He looked above them, his dragon was fast and ferocious but there were too many. His Patronus kept the stragglers from getting through to them but there were so many and he was fading, fast.
Ahead of him, the reinforcements he'd sent to the beach were fending them off and destroying them the best. But, Harry could see, the dementors were hovering over the water now, flanking to where his fiery creations would have difficulty putting up a defence.
A high, cruel cold laugh, 'Avada Kedavra.'
Harry fell forward, his hands bracing him.
The ocean breeze filled his nostrils, as he sucked in air. His mouth shut as his jaw clenched under the constant strain of keeping his magical creatures alive, defending them.
A blinding flash of green light. A burning sensation in his scar.
No, no, this couldn't be the end, Harry thought with desperation.
He could see, the dementors were making their last push. They were trying to swarm them from all angles and overwhelm their defence. Harry could see another two get through and Fleur's wand flashing, spewing fire, trying to keep the soul-sucking demons at bay.
But it wasn't enough. Fleur's fire could only impede them; it couldn't destroy them.
A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming…
No! No, no no! Nobody was dying for him. Yet, they were still coming. The dementors were too many, they were all around them. They had to be driven back or a wall of fire had to be put up around them, one that could protect them.
Even on his hands and knees, Harry directed his Patronus back towards them. Fleur's was too far. Its presence was the only thing keeping their right side from being overrun. The stags swept one way while the Patronus pushed back those that tried to go behind them.
His dragon Patronus sat right above him, low enough that Harry could reach up and touch it, if he'd been able to stand and reach up, that was.
Harry called for Fleur, wanting her to stand right underneath it so he could protect them, so he could provide a last bastion as the final wave came at them.
Harry wouldn't give in. His will would not be broken, not by the likes of these.
'Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!'
His mother loved him. She gave everything for him.
His Patronus wouldn't fail now. His creatures would not come undone.
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off-"
Harry focused on that. His father had died for him too. His father had loved his wife and son enough to face a Dark Lord.
''Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside, now…'
Love wasn't silly. It was power. It was will.
'Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead–'
Was this all the dementors could throw at him? A moment of his life where he'd lost his parents but had learned how much they loved him? The memory he had where he could actually hear his parent's voices?
'Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy…'
"Pathetic," he snarled, spit flying out of his mouth.
He was Harry fucking Potter. The heir of Salazar Slytherin and these abominations would not have him!
Harry pushed himself back into a kneeling position. Then, slowly, agonizingly, he put one knee up and then forced himself to stand. His eyes blazed with resolve, with power, and he called for Cuddles.
It was time to end this.
As he looked around, he saw his creatures were falling, dying off. His minotaur was still standing strong, felling dementor after dementor but many stags were missing, several of the dragons too. The drain on him had lessened and it allowed him to counter with one final move of his own.
Cuddles was above him now, flying in a high circle, up above the dementors. Harry used their connection to survey the battlefield and saw the dementors truly were closing in. Only the combined strength of their Patroni kept them from being overwhelmed.
Yet, even still they pushed, not fleeing as they had at Hogwarts.
Harry knew what he needed to do but still, he hesitated. He hadn't tried this, though he had done something similar. Either way, he'd made up his mind and he was going to do it.
Hoping he wasn't making a deadly mistake, Harry commanded Cuddles to rain fire down right at him and Fleur.
Harry felt the magic, he could sense the fire and he took hold of it. Suffusing it with his magic, he raised his wand over his head and rotated it, pulling the torrent of fire in a circle, as if he was conducting it to follow the motions of his wand.
Harry shut his eyes and circled, again and again, pushing it, making it corrosive, pure, and as hot as it could be. He whirled it around and around, keeping up a wall as he pushed it ever outward, focusing on the blights of magic he could feel that comprised the dementors magical presence.
One after another they burned before him and he kept it up until he couldn't feel a single one; until their disgusting magic no longer pushed on his senses. Only then did he let the fire burn itself out.
Harry surveyed the scene in front of him. His minotaur was one of only a dozen total creatures left. One minotaur, four stags, and seven dragons were all that remained. With a flick of his wand, all of them ceased to be.
Harry breathed in and saw that there wasn't a single dementor left. Not even any black specks in the sky. As far as his eyes could see, as far as his senses could tell, the only things in their vicinity were Fleur, Cuddles and himself.
Harry felt Fleur sink to her knees beside him, her arms wrapping around him. "I knew you could do it," she said, her lips brushing against his ear as she spoke.
He just breathed in and out, letting his fatigue roll off of him.
He knew he was capable and powerful but that had been intense and entirely too close.
"What now, 'arry?" Fleur asked, breaking apart from him.
It looked as though she was thinking the same thing as him. That they couldn't just sit here and bask in their victory; their extermination of the dementors.
Harry blinked away the tiredness from his eyes and then reached into his pocket and pulled out two pepper-up potions. He handed a vial to Fleur and then downed his own. As he did so, Cuddles landed bedside him. His hand automatically reached forward and rubbed her snout.
This wouldn't have been possible without her and Harry would have to thank her with a rat hunt or something after this.
"Now we take a tour of Azkaban and kidnap all the inmates," Harry said, a grin on his face. This had been a risky endeavor, and though they weren't out of the woods quite yet, it was all downhill from here. "Fancy a tour from yours truly?"
Fleur rolled her eyes at him. "As long as you let me burn the place down with fiendfyre after we're done."
Harry chuckled, "I'll join you but I think I'll let Cuddles go wild first. I've always wanted to see a dragon attack a stone fortress."
Fleur reached toward him and grabbed his hand. "I can live with that, so long as you bring back that minotaur and let it go crazy too."
"Sounds like a plan," Harry said, pulling her in for another hug.
They broke apart, their hands still holding onto each other and Harry checked that he hadn't misplaced anything. After he was sure he had everything, especially his invisibility cloak, he cast a quick tempus as they made their way towards Azkaban's entrance. "We got four hours til shift change. Let's do this."
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