“Our citizens have suffered enough!” Daphne declared proudly atop the stage. “Muggleborns deserve a voice in our government, and I will see to it that no one silences them any longer!”
The crowd was larger than it had been last week. With the support Daphne was receiving, the Ministry had been forced to move the debates out into the atrium to accommodate the extra few-hundred witches and wizards who came to attend.
Striding across the floor disguised as an Auror, Harry saw dozens of signs with his face imprinted upon them. ‘Down With Corruption,’ ‘Justice for Muggleborns,’ ‘Reform Arrives Today.’ Each of the slogans were created by Hermione, Daphne, or someone who genuinely believed in Daphne’s cause. They had once begun as outliers in the crowd. Now, they were spread about widely. A real movement was beginning.
And Amelia Bones hated it.
Standing near the back of the stage after taking her turn speaking, Amelia was doing her best not to glower at the audience who seemed so enraptured by Daphne’s words. It was impossible to deny the sway that came from several loud voices proclaiming support for Daphne all at once. Those who were only tentatively on Daphne’s side even became swept up in the fervour, and as the chants grew, many of the undecided voters began to fall under her sway. Time would tell if this had a lasting impact or not, but with election day looming ever closer, it could be these little things that help to secure Daphne’s victory.
“Thank you, thank you,” Elphias Doge said as he climbed onto the stage, but his voice was drowned out by all of the noise. A few quickly-cast sparkles of light in the air helped to calm things down though. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to thank you all for your attendance here today. Do remember that the final debate will take place Saturday night here at the Ministry. This will be your last chance to hear from the candidates directly before election day on the following Thursday!”
Applause and cheers rang out for the two candidates before the crowd slowly began to dissipate. Harry did his best to act the part of pretending to be a bored Auror who was helping to usher the crowd along so that the atrium could be cleared out once more, but he was really focused on what was still going on on the stage.
Daphne and Amelia were talking, and it didn’t look particularly friendly. Hermione quickly arrived at Daphne’s side and began to usher her away, only for Amelia to throw one last bard that had Daphne glaring daggers over her shoulder at the older woman.
And then they were separated.
“Keep moving.” Harry gestured to some of the slower attendees to head down the pre-arranged path. Workers were already cleaning up the floors and removing the barriers that’d been erected to keep anyone from storming the stage.
Gabrielle strode across the floor, supervising everything herself. She gave Harry a nod as she passed by, the same greeting she gave every other Auror here. It was she who’d organised his cover here as a recent recruit.
“Alright everyone!” Gabrielle announced loudly. “We’ll be doing one final sweep of the area, and then you can return to the office. Barny, you’re with me.”
Harry almost smirked at hearing his fake name again. Gabrielle had chosen it after the fake name that he’d used at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. He quickly fell in step behind Gabrielle as they made their way towards one of the lifts that’d taken them down to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. As soon as the doors shut behind them, Gabrielle turned to him with a serious look.
“I wasn’t meant to overhear this, but Amelia managed to get Proudfoot moved from the Ministry holding cell you put him into Azkaban,” Gabrielle said. “I tried to pull the official documents, but all it says is that there’s a prisoner transfer due to overcrowding.”
To Azkaban? Was she trying to get Proudfoot out of Tonks’ purview or…
No. It was to get him close to Dawlish.
“I doubt there’s any actual overcrowding, is there?” Harry asked.
Gabrielle shook her head. “We're barely at half capacity most days.”
“And any appeal will take at least a couple days to be seen by the Wizengamot,” Harry grumbled. He went to rub his temple and grimaced at how awkward his face felt. Polyjuice Potion still remained the most effective way of disguising himself here, and so he’d picked up some hairs off of a random muggle to mask his identity. “I need to get to Azkaban then.”
Gabrielle grinned at him. “I had a feeling you might say that. Which is why I managed to slip you onto the rota for Azkaban guard duty. Proudfoot is being moved out later tonight, but you’ll be going to Azkaban right now to relieve Stebbins. Tomorrow, I’ll report that you have a family emergency and arrange for a transfer for someone else to take your place there.”
“Clever,” Harry grinned back. “The Dementors that are still on the island might give me trouble though. They’ve always been unusually attracted to me.”
“There aren’t many left,” Gabrielle pointed out. “And you told me yourself that since the war, plenty of our Aurors have been unusually affected by Dementors.”
Yes, but it wasn’t quite the same as with Harry. Still, he didn’t want to debate the point any longer.
“I assume you have the portkey ready?”
In a matter of minutes, they grabbed the portkey and a small trunk with a change of clothes for Harry from Gabrielle’s office and then returned back to the atrium to one of the private rooms used for portkey use. After a quick goodbye, Harry found himself being whisked away.
As he landed back on his feet, the salty sea air filled his nostrils and a heavy gust of wind threatened to knock him over. He was standing at the base of a cliff, only a few metres away from where the water lapped at the stony shore.
The coast of northern Scotland usually had a delicate beauty, but the stormy seas and stark outline of Azkaban cut through that and left a dark sense of foreboding. Harry had to wait there, alone, for nearly an hour before he saw a small wooden boat slowly making its way over to him. Stebbins, another Auror, seemed thrilled to be back on dry land when he stepped off of it.
“Be careful out there,” Stebbins warned Harry as he passed over the length of rope connected to the front of the boat. “The boat will stay steady even around the worst waves, but some people feel sick. Try to do it over the side of the boat if it happens. The commander will make you clean it up without magic if you don’t.”
“Got it,” Harry smiled at the man.
True to his word, it was a terribly disorienting ride out to Azkaban. The prison’s foreboding feeling manifested in the weather, creating a near-perpetual storm that caused rogue waves to appear randomly. Were it not for the magical protections on the boat, it would’ve capsized almost immediately in such conditions. The ship remained mostly level, only occasionally rocking back and forth as it cut through the waves, and carried him safely to the small island that Azkaban sat atop.
A pair of Aurors were at the dock waiting for him. “Tie up the boat!” One of them shouted at him as a spray of salty water shot across the dock as a wave crashed against a massive boulder on the edge of the island.
Harry clambered up onto the wooden dock and lashed the rope connected to the boat to a post waiting for him. Then, he hurriedly climbed the small staircase up to the two men.
“I’m Kempston,” a blond-haired man said. “And this is Fawley,” he gestured to a short, stout man.
“I’m Barny Goodwin,” Harry replied. He knew both of these men. They were good, loyal, and dependable. With so few Dementors remaining on Azkaban, they’d supplemented the prison with more Aurors. Thankfully, the Dementors tended to remain on the upper levels. The lower parts of the prison were where almost all of the prisoners were, except for the most dangerous ones. The ground level was also where the Aurors’ barracks were.
“Good to meet you,” Fawley said. “Let’s go. Best not keep the commander waiting.”
No, especially given who it was.
The front gate to Azkaban opened at their approach, opening into a long, dark corridor. Even the torches on the walls barely seemed to lighten up the place. Wooden doors sat along either wall, equally spaced apart with incredible precision. The moment that the gate shut behind the three of them, one of the distant doors opened and out came the commander.
Commander Savage was one of the veteran Aurors from before the war. He’d served for years alongside both Dawlish and Proudfoot, as well as countless others, and fought hard against Voldemort when he took power. He’d been branded an enemy of the state back then and ended up on the run until Harry killed Voldemort and order was restored within the Ministry. After that, Savage lost his taste for being an Auror in the typical sense, but he had a newfound appreciation for the work that was done to keep Britain’s prisoners under lock and key. He’d requested to be put on near-permanent Azkaban duty, and other than his limited vacations each year, he’d been the permanent commander of Azkaban since the war.
Savage was a hulking, powerful man who had no room for nonsense or anyone unwilling to do their absolute best. He was a strict taskmaster, but none of the Aurors below him ever spoke one word about him not being fair or rewarding to those who did well.
“Auror Barny Goodwin,” Savage’s deep, booming voice echoed through the hall. He held his arms behind his back in an intimidating posture. “A new recruit I take it?”
“Yes, commander,” Harry nodded his head.
“And you chose to volunteer for a position at Azkaban. Why?”
“To do good work, sir,” Harry answered, trying to sound as honest and proud as possible. “Guarding prisoners is an important job. After what happened during the breakout ten years ago—”
“Twelve years now,” Savage corrected him.
“Twelve years ago,” Harry amended. “I’d rather not see anything like that happen ever again.”
Savage’s cold stare would’ve unnerved Harry had he not already been subjugated to it multiple times since the war’s end. Even when he became Head Auror and visited Azkaban every few months, Savage maintained that same stern look with him as he did with everyone else.
“A fine reason,” Savage finally said. “You can cast a competent Patronus Charm I hope.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry replied.
“Let’s see it then.”
Had Harry not known the protocols for all new recruits, this would’ve been a moment of panic for him. He’d anticipated having to show that he could perform and had spent part of the boat ride over putting together a plan.
Harry drew his wand—a spare one that he’d found from a second-hand shop off of Diagon Alley—and readied himself. He thought of a memory of him and Daphne sitting together with Delphini over supper, laughing at some joke that Harry couldn’t really remember. “Expecto Patronum!”
Silvery mist escaped from the tip of his wand. It tried to form into a stag, but the memory and Harry’s will were too weak for it to do so. Instead, it remained as an incorporeal Patronus. An impressive feat for most wizards and yet not good enough for an Auror.
Harry released the charm and put a pained look on his face. “I can cast a full Patronus,” he insisted, desperation leaking into his voice. “I know I can. I’ll try again—”
Savage held a hand up to stop Harry. “I believe you,” he said slowly. “You would’ve had to prove you could in order to get this posting in the first place. Azkaban is a dark and harrowing place. Even veteran Aurors can struggle to produce a fully corporeal Patronus their first time here. You’ll have time to adjust. However, until I see you produce one in a Dementor’s presence, then you will be shadowing a pair of Aurors before you get a partner of your own.”
It was for this exact reason that Harry had kept Savage in charge of Azkaban after he became Head Auror. Although he seemed cold, intimidating, and overly critical, he was also intelligent, surprisingly nurturing, and pragmatic. He wanted to help Aurors under him grow rather than see them crumble.
Honestly, had he not chosen to become the Commander of Azkaban, Savage likely would’ve become the Head Auror over Dawlish after the war.
“Of course, sir,” Harry said, making himself sound a bit deflated, like he was upset at disappointing his new boss.
“Kempston and Fawley, you two will oversee Goodwin here this week,” Savage told the two men. “See to it that he understands our protocols and how the prison operates.”
“Yes, commander,” both of them said at once.
“Good,” Savage nodded. “I’ll check in with the three of you before the night shift takes over. In the meantime, I believe that you all have work to do.”
And with that, Savage strode off back to his office.
“He’s nicer than he seems,” Kempston said, patting Harry on the back. “But he is serious about punctuality and getting work done, so let’s go get your things settled in your room.”
Harry truly didn’t have much besides the small trunk that Gabrielle had prepared for him. They took him down the corridor and through a small wooden door that you had to hunch to get through. It opened into another corridor with dozens of doors.
“This was Stebbins’ room,” Kempston told Harry. “It’ll be yours now. Just toss your trunk in. We’ve got patrols to get to.”
Harry did exactly that and then hurriedly followed Kempston and Fawley back to the main corridor. The opposite side of the corridor had another doorway that led through to a massive stairwell.
Although he’d never done it himself, Harry knew everything there was to working here at Azkaban. He had to approve all of Savage’s plans, and they were reviewed twice a year, so the routine quickly became comfortable for Harry. They patrolled the eastern side of the lower half of the floors first, ensuring that all of the prisoners were still in their cells and that everything was operating smoothly. Each side of each floor had two Aurors on watch at all times regardless, so these patrols were primarily done to ensure that those Aurors weren’t accidentally missing anything important. Once they finished up on the highest floor they were going to, they were able to walk all the way back down directly to the ground floor.
“We have to patrol around the island too,” Fawley told Harry. “Everything’s wet out there, so watch your step. You won’t be the first Auror to slip and fall into the sea when a strong gust of wind makes you lose your footing. Grab a cap; they’ll keep the rain and wind out of your face.”
The cap did exactly as promised. They patrolled around the coast of the rocky island, moving slowly so as to not accidentally fall over. There was a clear path that’d been formed by the hundreds of patrolling Aurors over the years, so that helped a bit. They made it back to the main entrance after a little more than half an hour.
And so the day went on like that. Due to the perpetually bad weather and stormclouds that hid the sun, it was quite difficult to tell the time on this island, which was why they’d installed so many clocks everywhere so that people didn’t go completely mad.
Supper came and went with them eating in a large dining room. Only four other Aurors ate at the same time as them due to the need to stagger mealtimes to ensure that the prison always remained watched over. It was simple but hearty food: freshly-baked bread with plenty of butter and a thick beef-and-barley stew. It was exactly the type of thing you needed to get warmed up. There was a chocolate sponge after with custard and coffee afterwards.
Once they finished up, Harry, Kempston, and Fawley delivered meals to the prisoners on the lower two levels and then returned back to the main hall to meet with Savage.
The man was standing waiting for them when they arrived.
“Everything went well?” He asked Kempston and Fawley.
“No problems at all,” Fawley answered.
“Just what I like to hear,” Savage said before taking out a scrap of parchment from within his robes. “We have a new prisoner arriving in half an hour. He is still awaiting trial, so he will be held in the western minimum-security section for now. Director Amelia Bones is delivering him personally.”
So, they’d better be on their best behaviour.
“The prisoner’s name, sir?” Kempston asked.
“Auror Proudfoot,” Savage answered.
An awkward beat of silence passed between them. In truth, other than hearing opinions from those closest to him, he didn’t truly know how most Aurors felt about Proudfoot being arrested on espionage charges.
“Should we… follow standard protocol, sir?” Kempston asked tentatively.
“Is there any reason not to?” Savage asked him pointedly.
“Well, it’s just that he’s an Auror…” Kempston trailed off.
“That is still no excuse,” Savage rebuked him sharply. “As Aurors, we must hold ourselves to the highest standards possible. We will not make things easier or harder for Auror Proudfoot than we would any other prisoner sent our way. We will treat him as any other prisoner being held in temporary custody until he is tried before the Wizengamot. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly, sir,” Kempston answered immediately.
“Good,” Savage said after a stern look. “I expect you to await Director Bones and the prisoner outside on the docks. Bring them directly inside. I will meet with you there.”
Again, Savage left swiftly without another word.
“You idiot,” Fawley smacked Kempston on the back. “It’s obvious that the commander wouldn’t change the rules for anybody. You didn’t see him do that when we got Dawlish in here, did you?”
“I wasn’t here for that,” Kempston argued, his cheeks turning an angry shade of pink at being embarrassed. “Whatever. Let’s just go wait outside.”
Even with charms protecting them from the wind and rain, it wasn’t exactly pleasant to stand outside in such violent weather. The wait felt nearly twice as long, but the second Amelia and Proudfoot’s boat came into sight, Harry felt his heartbeat begin to pick up again.
It was time to uncover exactly what they were up to.
Unlike when Harry had to tie the boat to the dock himself, Fawley rushed forward to do it for Amelia. She stepped out of the boat first and, with her wand trained on Proudfoot, gestured for him to do the same. He stepped out, draped in nothing more than a black cloak atop a standard prisoner’s garb. A thick set of manacles bound his wrists, and a thin chain connected manacles around his ankles, ensuring that he couldn’t run quickly if he dared try.
“Director Bones, welcome to Azkaban,” Kempston shouted over the weather. “Commander Savage is waiting for you inside.”
Neither Amelia nor Proudfoot paid Harry much mind. To them, he was just another new face in the Auror Department. They walked right past him, following Kempston up to the prison while Harry and Fawley followed them close behind.
Savage was waiting for them inside. “Director Bones,” he held out a hand for her to shake.
“Commander,” Amelia replied evenly.
Savage held her gaze a moment longer than felt comfortable. “It’s unusual for the Director of Magical Law Enforcement to abruptly come for a visit. Especially with a prisoner in tow.”
“This was a sudden and unplanned matter,” Amelia lied through her teeth.
“The Auror Department typically handles prisoner transfers,” Savage pointed out.
“Yes, they do,” Amelia replied. She wasn’t going to explain herself to a man who was technically her subordinate.
“Thank you for escorting the prisoner here,” Savage said after several more uncomfortable seconds. “I wish you a safe journey back.”
“I would like to escort him to his cell personally,” Amelia suddenly said.
Savage raised an eyebrow at her. “May I ask why?”
“You may not.”
Clearly, Savage hadn’t been expecting this type of attitude from Amelia. Harry didn’t know how much history the two of them had together, but he would’ve at least had to sit in a few meetings with her since becoming the Commander of Azkaban.
“I am in charge of this prison,” Savage reminded Amelia, his voice careful but not hesitant. “As is enshrined in my powers by the Minister for Magic, my rule supersedes all but his while I am here.”
Although true, everyone knew that it was a simplistic way to look at things. Politics could never be truly avoided, and even if Savage was in charge here, outside of this island, Amelia held great power over him and his career by virtue of her position.
“Indeed it does. For as long as you are here,” Amelia added dangerously at the end.
The implicit threat was understood by all, but Savage wasn’t fazed by it in the slightest. He had a choice before him: fight Amelia on this and find himself as her opponent in the future or acquiesce to her will and weaken his standing here. For all he knew, this wouldn’t be the first time that Amelia would make an unorthodox demand of him. Prisoner escorts were meant to leave the island at once. It is only due to her status that she was even allowed into the prison in the first place.
“Me and my men will escort the prisoner to his cell with you,” Savage eventually said.
“Fine,” Amelia replied, not sounding pleased by the result.
“Fawley, you take over watch on the prisoner,” Savage ordered him.
Quickly, Fawley drew his wand and trained the tip on Proudfoot’s back.
“This way,” Savage said with a sweep of his arm.
As Savage led the way forward with Amelia at his side, Harry, Fawley, and Kempston walked behind Proudfoot. Everyone was utterly silent, barely willing to risk an errant cough. They climbed the staircase up to the fourth floor and made their way down to the western side.
The wide corridor had cells on either side. Prisoners sat in their cells, eyeing the new arrival curiously.
“Hey Savage!” Someone shouted from a cell they passed by. “Who’s the new face?”
Everyone ignored him, and when the prisoner shouted again, one of the Aurors stationed on this level went to deal with it.
Near the far end of the corridor, the other Auror stationed here opened a cell door for them. Fawley pushed Proudfoot inside and then magically removed his manacles from his wrists and ankles before the door was shut on him. Through the metal bars, Harry watched as Proudfoot calmly sat down on the small cot provided to him.
“He’ll be secure here until it comes time for his trial,” Savage told Amelia.
“I wish to speak to him before I go,” Amelia replied. “And another prisoner too.”
Savage’s mouth puckered in frustration. “There are protocols for these matters.”
“And I am in a position to dictate new ones,” Amelia rebuffed him. “You’ll bring the other prisoner to me here.”
“I could order you off of this island,” Savage reminded her.
Amelia stepped closer to him. “And I can see to it that you’re removed from the Ministry for insubordination. The Director of Magical Law Enforcement is asking you to do something, so you will do it.”
“All of this will be written up in my report I send back to the Ministry,” Savage told her bluntly. “And I will be filing a formal complaint.”
“You do that,” Amelia smiled thinly at him. “Now, bring me my prisoner.”
“Who do you want?” Savage asked.
“John Dawlish.”