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Harry knew that at least half of them, perhaps more, disagreed strongly with the decision. Some, like Dawlish, seemed to take it as a personal insult - that this boy, not even eighteen yet, had been able to make these demands and change things so drastically. There were mutterings that Harry had Kingsley in his pocket, that he had been hired rashly, that though he had a lot of practical experience that didn’t necessarily correlate with wisdom on matters such as these.
Harry thought all of this was quite fair, but the fact remained - his condition for joining the aurors was the immediate removal of the dementors from Azkaban.
This, of course, meant he had to be the one to do it and to persuade others to help him. Ron and Neville had agreed immediately, the temporary aurors loaned by the Ministries of France, Germany, and Italy didn’t seem to care either way, and after a few questions, Proudfoot, Savage and Williamson had also reluctantly agreed. Dawlish, Cotton and pretty much everyone who was left adamantly refused, even when Robards stepped in.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Harry said eventually when Robards told him he was still being met with refusal. ‘At this point, I wouldn’t trust them there anyway. I have a big enough team to do it.’
Robards eyed him carefully. ‘You realise if we fail-’
'We won’t,’ said Harry firmly. 'All of us have dealt with dementors before, we’re prepared for what we’re going into.’
'And then where will they go?’ Robards asked. 'Random attacks may become more common - that’s why they were given Azkaban in the first place.’
'We have to just make sure we continue to drive them north, up into the ice,’ Harry said wearily. He had explained this many times now. 'With no souls to feed on the numbers will decrease.’
'You’ll never get rid of them entirely. They grow like spores in miserable places.’
'I’m not trying to get rid of them entirely, I know that will never happen. I’m trying to stop them from being embedded in our institutions. They’ve shown they can’t be trusted, and I told Kingsley I’ll never work for a Ministry that uses them.’
'Making a lot of changes, aren’t you, Potter?’ growled Robards, though he didn’t look annoyed.
'Yeah, I am,’ said Harry, and he felt as though he were standing a little taller. Robards merely nodded.
'All right. I’ll send the word that the Minister is visiting, to provide you with some cover - I don’t think the dementors will suspect anything until they feel the presence of many souls reaching the island - this is when they will attack, and I cannot guarantee that the prisoners will remain locked in their cells.’
'None of them have wands though, do they?’ asked Harry.
'No, and most of them are weak after being in the presence of dementors anyway. But I recommend all of you go in with covered faces - you are not a popular man in there, Potter.’
'No, I don’t suppose I am.’
They planned the cleansing of the prison for late at night, as Robards informed them that Ministers always visited at those times to minimise the risk of attack during the journey. It also had the benefit of ensuring all prisoners would be locked in their cells, at least until the dementors noticed something was wrong.
It also meant that Harry and Ron could have dinner at the Burrow before their shift started. It had only been a few weeks since the battle - Ron was still pink from his time in Australia with Hermione and the dinners and conversations and days out that Molly insisted upon were still filled with very much forced happiness. Tonight, the dinner was also filled with nerves.
'But you’ll be able to apparate away, won’t you?’ said Molly. 'If it looks like a dementor is about to…’
'You can’t, you have to get a boat to and from the prison. And if it gets to that point,’ said Percy, 'You’re too weak-’
'Cheers, Percy,’ said Bill, throwing him a silencing glare. 'Mum, they’ll be all right - there’s loads of you going, aren’t there?’
'Yeah,’ Harry assured her. 'The whole department.’ He ignored Ron’s glance at his white lie.
'And you’ll both come straight back here afterwards, won’t you? I’ve stocked up on chocolate-’
'Mum, where else are we going to go?’ Ron asked. 'But don’t wait up all night for us - we probably won’t be back til gone three in the morning.’
'As if I’ll be able to sleep,’ she snapped. She spent much of the rest of the dinner telling them that they should have returned to school, like Hermione.
'I won’t be able to sleep either,’ Ginny said to Harry quietly, as he sat at the bottom of the stairs and pulled on his boots. 'I wish you didn’t have to do it.’
'Someone has to,’ said Harry. 'And it can only really be done all at once.’ He finished lacing them up and stood, pulling her close and kissing her. 'I’ll see you when I’m back,’ he said.
'Don’t forget to bring your soul home with you,’ she replied, running her hands down his chest. She seemed to have a thing for when he was in his uniform.
He grinned at her. 'I won’t,’ he promised. 'Don’t worry, you’ve given me plenty of happy memories to use for a patronus.’
'Well that’s certainly a silver lining,’ she said, and then she rose up onto her toes and kissed him again, her hands linking at the back of his neck, leaning into him as his arms wrapped around her waist.
'All right, all right,’ came a groaning voice. It was Ron, now changed into his uniform too, making his way down the stairs. 'He’s not going to die, Ginny, we’re just going to come back really miserable.’
'It’s not her fault she’s worried,’ said Hermione, who was trailing behind Ron. She looked rather pale. 'You’ll both be careful, won’t you? Stick close together, in case one of you can’t do it-’
'They’ve got no faith in us, Harry,’ said Ron, but even so he hugged Hermione, and kissed her (both Harry and Ginny shared an eyeroll), and then shouted down the hallway to the kitchen to his mother that they were off.
'Wait, wait, wait!’ Molly shrieked, bustling towards them. She pulled them both into a fierce hug - their faces were pressed awkwardly close to each other as she pulled them to her. 'Make sure you stick together,’ she told them, her voice high and shaky.
'Mum,’ said Ron gently. 'We know what we’re doing.’
'We’re not doing it alone, Mrs Weasley,’ said Harry. 'We’ll be back soon.’
She nodded, and dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her apron, taking a step back. Harry and Ron looked at each other, and then pulled up the hoods of their robes - soft material blossomed in front of their faces, leaving nothing showing but their eyes (even the rims of Harry’s glasses vanished as though under a disillusionment charm), but Harry found he could breathe as easily as though it weren’t there.
Ginny tutted. 'You two are so melodramatic - look at you both, you think you’re so cool.’
'We are cool,’ said Harry.
'Yeah, just 'cos you don’t have an auror uniform, Ginny.’ Ron checked his watch. 'We should get going though.’
Harry nodded, and with final farewells, they stepped out of the front door, walked silently into the night, and vanished with an ear-splitting crack.
They reappeared on a stony shore, in a little bay inaccessible from the tower cliffs above. The other aurors were there too, and they heard pops and cracks as more appeared, though the noise was almost hidden by the sound of the roaring waves smashing against the cliffs.
Robards stood on a large rock, surveying the crowd below them coldly, his robes billowing in the wind. The aurors themselves were shifting with a restless energy, their faces covered, identifiable only by the code names (which Harry and Ron had been forced to memorise as a matter of priority when they joined) on their backs, their eyes narrowing as they glared out at the steely grey sea. Harry and Ron spotted Neville, and squeezed through the crowd to join him.
'This’ll be fun,’ said Neville, and Harry wasn’t entirely sure if he was being sarcastic or not.
'Got your happy memories all stocked up, Neville?’ asked Ron.
'Gran suggested I write them all down so I don’t forget them,’ said Neville, and to Harry’s intense amusement, he pulled a little stack of white cards from his pocket. 'I can refer to them if I get stuck.’
'What a stupidly good idea,’ said Ron. 'Wish we’d thought of that.’
Harry leaned forward, peering at the cards. ‘Had first…’
Neville jerked the cards away and shoved them in his pocket, while Ron snorted with laughter.
'Ladies and gents,’ Robards bellowed, his growling sarcasm as biting as the wind, 'cheerful smiles on, please. Drive 'em out - every corner of the fortress checked and emptied. Any roaming prisoners back in their cells. Move quickly, cast powerfully - don’t linger on unhappy thoughts. On the boat, please!’
They trudged to the little wooden jetty, beside which was a fishing boat - it looked too small to fit all of them, but Harry had long ago learnt that magic would provide the space they needed.
Sirius must have done this journey, Harry thought suddenly. He briefly imagined what it must have been like, that cold November day, Sirius appearing on this damp, stony shore, being forced onto this boat - perhaps this precise one - to take the journey across the rough sea to the grim place he would spend the next twelve years. Don’t linger on unhappy thoughts, he told himself. Don’t linger on unhappy thoughts. Not now. Wait until later. Wallow later.
He had never been on a boat larger than a little rowing boat before, and he felt rather uneasy about the large step from the jetty to the edge of the boat, the sea slopping around below him, the boat noticeably sinking as he stepped onto it, his hands reaching out instinctively to grasp whatever he could.
'How do they even get prisoners on here?’ Harry asked Ron as they sat on one of the little wooden benches.
'With difficulty,’ chipped in Proudfoot, who was sitting in front of them.
When all the aurors were on, the boat rumbled and headed out into the dark water. The night sea was so rough that the boat bounced on the waves - charms had been placed around it so that they didn’t get splashed by the icy water, but Harry immediately felt queasy and disoriented, and he gripped the edge of the boat, hoping desperately that his face covering hid how ill he surely looked. Behind him, he heard someone retching.
The wind battered around their ears as the boat sped out to sea, the cold air sinking down into their bones and causing their teeth to chatter. He couldn’t help it, he thought again of Sirius, and how terrified he must have been, to take this journey, without so much as a trial…
The dark horizon ahead of them suddenly seemed even darker, and the lights from the boat fell upon the terrible, looming tower of Azkaban. It was set on its own tiny island; it seemed to radiate cold like a fire would heat, and Harry immediately felt a blast of dread, and overwhelming loss.
‘Stick close to me,’ Ron suddenly said, very sharply. Harry looked at him, and could see his dark blue eyes narrowed. ‘You hear? Don’t go running off.’
‘I’m not going to,’ said Harry, surprised.
‘I mean it, you’ve got to stay within sight at all times.’
‘All right…’ said Harry hesitantly, unused to being treated like a child by Ron of all people.
‘Potter!’ called Robards, as the boat slowed, and Harry rose and joined Robards at the front of the boat, trying his hardest not to sway as he walked down the narrow aisle between the benches.
‘Boss,’ he said, when he was alongside him.
Robards barely glanced at him. ‘They’ll already be suspecting something is wrong, they’ll have felt us coming. You’ve studied all the blueprints?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. You’re leading your merry band of children then,’ said Robards.
The boat juddered to a halt alongside a new jetty, and the aurors hurried off. Harry looked up at the dark, wet rocks that towered above them, and the narrow, gritty path that snaked up the cliff to the entrance.
‘We’re going to get bottlenecked in there,’ he said.
‘Run fast then,’ said Robards.
It was one of the foreign aurors that spotted them first. Harry heard her cry of ‘dissennatori!’, and the aurors looked up to see dark shapes sliding eerily down the rocks towards them.
‘Now!’ Harry yelled, and he thought furiously of Ginny telling him that she loved him as he cast the spell. The stag bloomed out of his wand, shining a bright white in the darkness, lighting up the path that he, Ron and Neville now pelted up, their own patronuses charging up the cliffs too.
They ran, their feet sinking heavily into the loose, gritty sand. Harry could see dozens of patronuses around him, but something was weighing on his chest, the image of Sirius falling gracefully through the veil flickered before him like a television with bad reception. No, no, no, he thought. Something else, something else. He thought of Ginny, her eyes flicking up to look at him as moonlight filtered through the window and fell onto her bare shoulder.
They dragged themselves up, surrounded by the rumble of dozens of feet and yells and bright white animals, Neville’s ram charging alongside him, until Harry finally saw huge iron doors, rusted red as though smeared with blood.
The feeling of deep, painful unhappiness was getting stronger as he approached - the breathlessness in his lungs was not due to the difficult run up the path. He saw his stag crumble into a dust like mist, and he thought this time of Ron and Hermione, and the way they had hugged him after the battle, and another stag sprang forth to take its place.
They reached the doors, and Proudfoot and Savage pointed their wands at it and pulled, leaning back as though there were great ropes. The doors heaved and screeched, and slimy, scaly hands slipped through the opening and curled around the edge, long fingers grasping.
‘Here! Here!’ Harry roared at his stag, and it turned and charged, antlers low. He saw Ron’s terrier dart between its legs, both vanished into the fortress and the hands vanished suddenly, as though tugged back.
With another great heave, Proudfoot and Savage pulled the doors open.
Sirius would have come through here, Harry thought as he crossed the threshold. His hands would have been bound and he would have been laughing with mad grief.
He ran through, Ron at his side, and heard the sound of his mother screaming. His breath came out in a gasp, and instead, he thought of Molly giving him her brother’s watch, and the prison came back into focus.
He was in a small room, like a reception area, but other aurors had overtaken him now - they had run through and thrown open the doors on the other side, sending dementors fleeing, and as he ran through he found himself in a monumental room.
It was circular and tall - taller than anything he had seen before. He looked up to see nothing but stretching levels, it made him dizzy, and dementors swooping, their black cloaks rippling in the low blue light, their rattling breath like the bars of the cells.
Not Harry, please not Harry…
Bow to death, Harry…
Go! I’ll hold him off-
The boy must die?
There’s nothing you can do, Harry… he’s gone…
‘Harry!’ he heard Ron yell, and he felt his firm grip on his shoulder. ‘We’re all alive, Harry - it’s all over!’
Harry blinked, and focused his mind on little Teddy and the electric blue his hair had finally turned back to, and with another burst of white light, his stag rode again.
He had dropped to his knees - he didn’t remember doing so, but now he was pulling himself up again, staring around the cavernous tower, a swirl of gleaming silver animals and shadowy dementors, occasional pale faces peering out from behind the bars. Someone placed a few squares of chocolate in his hand, and he ate it, letting it melt over his tongue.
He closed his eyes and thought of Ginny again, remembered how it had been when they had embraced and moved together, remembered her gasps of breath and sighs, remembered how she had told him that she loved him and how it had overwhelmed him.
‘Expecto patronum!’ he yelled again, and this time his stag was brighter than ever, sending ripples of light that seemed to blind the dementors - they shrank away, scattering like cockroaches.
But there was a loud, clinking, scraping noise, the sound of hundreds of cells simultaneously being opened.
Not all of the prisoners ran out. Many had been there so long that they had watched only with mild interest, if at all - some hadn’t even risen from their beds. But others ran out with roars of furious delight, launching themselves at the aurors, their fists raised.
Harry immediately stunned one that was running at Williamson - the man had dropped like a stone before he realised it was Rabastan Lestrange. He saw Some of the German aurors dragging a spitting man back into his cell, and then locking the bars, a hog patronus standing guard beside them.
‘POTTER!’ came a scream of fury - somehow, he had been recognised, and MacNair was racing at him. His shout had alerted others - many abandoned the attacks they were waging on others and ran straight for Harry, who stunned them as quickly as he could, but soon found himself yelping as they piled on top of him, punching and scratching.
‘Recognised his fucking eyes,’ MacNair snarled, his hands closing around Harry’s throat.
‘Fucking ruined everything,’ hissed Carrow. ‘I’ll fucking tear his throat out-’
‘Kill the little cu-’
Harry struggled as they punched him repeatedly, but wriggled his wand up in front of his face - the pile of attacking Death Eaters were cast off him in an arc as though he had exploded; Harry was too winded to rise, but by now the other aurors were running in, stunning the Death Eaters as they scrambled up from the floor.
Harry rolled onto his stomach - he was feeling that wave of despair again, as though he would never experience happiness, as though all he knew was darkness. He coughed and spluttered as he pulled himself up, swaying slightly as he finally stood.
Another dementor swooped close to him, he could see its rotting hands reaching for his throat, but another thought, this time of Remus naming him godfather, and his stag was back, rearing up between them.
‘Harry!’ he heard Neville shout, and Harry looked over to see him wrestling Dolohov to the ground, but he was nodding at something to the left of Harry.
He looked over to see Ron, crumpled on the ground, his head in his hands. ‘Nooo…’ he was moaning quietly. ‘Noo…’
‘Ron,’ said Harry loudly, placing a hand on his back and stunning an advancing, rabid looking Greyback. ‘Ron, it’s ok-’
‘Harry…’ Ron moaned.
‘I’m here,’ he said, trying to lift Ron up.
‘I can hear her screaming…’
‘She’s all right - Australia, Ron - think of Australia-’ He could only assume they’d had a nice time there, even if they had gone for serious reasons.
Ron stood, swaying beside him, and blinked vaguely. ‘Don’t run off and die,’ he said.
‘I’m not going to,’ Harry promised. ‘Something happy, Ron - come on-’
‘She was being tortured…’ He looked extremely pale.
‘That first kiss, mate,’ Harry shouted, pulling his wand across to redirect his stag. ‘Think of that - all those years, and it finally happened, eh?’
Ron shook his head as though trying to get water out of his ears, and lifted his wand. His terrier darted forward again, and though he still looked pale, Harry no longer felt like he was holding him up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bar of chocolate; Ron took a huge bite and nodded as he chewed. ‘I’m… ‘M OK,’ he said. ‘OK.’
They moved up to the next level, their feet pounding on the metal stairs, the shouts and yells of the aurors echoing around the prison. Any one of these cells could have been Sirius’s, thought Harry, he could be running past the place Sirius spent twelve years right now…
Twelve years when he should have been looking after him, when they could have been happy, when Harry could have had a family-
Teddy, Teddy, Teddy, think of Teddy and how his hair rippled into messy black when he picked him up and his squeal of laughter when Harry made coloured bubbles and ribbons appear from his wand and how he would make sure that Teddy would be happy and never hungry or beaten or lonely…
And then he thought of Ginny again, and the sound of her laughter, and her blazing look, and the way she felt against him when there was nothing between them. He would make her happy too, he would do anything, he would die a thousand times for her if he had to.
On and on they went, their emotions flitting from one extreme to another, fighting the Death Eaters they had arrested just weeks ago once again, sending shadowy, cloaked shapes flying north, way out to sea, towards the great frozen north…
***
They returned in the early hours, the sun hesitating on the edge of the horizon, a pinkish grey light falling upon their ghostly pale faces. Both of them trembled, both of them had arms slung around each other’s shoulder,s leaning against one another, speaking in low voices as they stumbled to the door.
It opened before they had even knocked - they must have heard the crack - and they were pulled in by Molly, who shrieked when she saw them and kissed their clammy heads.
Harry was barely aware of what was going on, all he could mumble was that it had worked, that they had emptied it, and then he felt Ginny’s small warm hand in his. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s get you some chocolate.
She led him into the living room, where there was already a stack of Honeydukes on the coffee table, and sat him down on the sofa. He slumped over the arm, shaking as though freezing. He felt Ron being sat on the other end of the sofa, no doubt slumping too, and could hear Molly’s rapid voice as she unwrapped the chocolate.
It seemed to take great effort, but he slowly turned his eyes to Ginny, who was crouched in front of him. She reached forward, and pulled down his hood, then ran her fingers into his hair, rubbing his scalp in a way that made his eyelids flutter closed.
There was movement, and then he heard her say, ‘here, Harry, eat this.’ Chocolate touched his lips, and he ate gratefully, feeling it’s warmth spread.
‘Thought of you,’ he mumbled. He felt her hand stroking against his head, and though he couldn’t hear what she was saying he could hear her voice, and then he was sinking into sleep.