"We're fighting the old Wizarding War today, everyone. Just because You-Know-Who is dead doesn't mean the Death Eaters have forgotten his tricks. Now go!"
Harry walked in silence through the gas-lit grey corridor, invisible beside Bellatrix and the silver shape following them, trying to think of a better plan.
At first, when he'd realized that the Aurors probably knew already, and that moreover, Professor Quirrell wasn't waking up...
His thoughts had frozen up there, for a second.
And then stayed frozen, even as he'd gotten himself and Bellatrix heading downward, to buy as much time as possible; the Aurors, Harry figured, would start at the top and move down level by level. The Aurors could afford to move slowly and securely; they knew their prey had no way out.
Harry hadn't been able to think of any way out.
Until Harry had said to himself, well, if it was just a war game, what would General Chaos do?
From which an answer had followed instantly.
And then Harry had thought, but if it's that easy, why hasn't anyone broken out of Azkaban before?
And after he'd realized the possible problem: Fine, what would General Chaos do about that?
Whereupon General Chaos had come up with an amendment to his first plan.
It was...
It was the most insanely Gryffindor thing Harry had ever...
So now he was trying to think of a better plan, and not having much luck.
Picky picky picky, said Gryffindor. Who was complaining about not having any plan one minute earlier? You should be glad we came up with anything at all, Mister Now-We're-Doomed.
"My Lord," Bellatrix whispered haltingly, as she navigated the next flight of stairs downward, "am I going back to my cell, my Lord?"
Harry's brain was distracted, so it took him that long to process the words, and then another moment to process the horror, while Bellatrix continued speaking.
"I would... please, my Lord, I would very much rather die," her voice said. And then, in a smaller voice, a whisper that was barely there, "but I will go back if you ask it of me, my Lord..."
"We are not going back to your cell," hissed Harry's voice, on automatic. Nothing of what he felt was allowed to reach his face.
Um... said Hufflepuff. Did you seriously just think, 'You ought to work for me, I would appreciate you?'
A stone would respond to that kind of loyalty, Harry thought. Even if I'm only getting it by mistake, I can't help but -
She's the Dark Lord's loyal killer and torturer, and the supposed reason she's loyal is because an innocent girl was broken into pieces and used as raw material to make her, said Hufflepuff. Did you forget?
If someone shows me that much loyalty, even by mistake, there's a part of me that can't help but feel something. The Dark Lord must have been... evil doesn't seem like a strong enough word, he must have been empty... to not appreciate her loyalty, artificial or not.
The better parts of Harry didn't have much to say to that.
And that was when Harry heard it.
It was faint, and it grew louder with every step they took forward.
A woman's voice, distant, indistinct.
His ears, automatically, strained to make out the words.
"...please don't..."
"...didn't mean..."
"...don't die..."
Then his brain knew who he was hearing, and in almost the same moment, figured out what he was hearing.
Because Professor Quirrell wasn't there to keep the silence any more, and Azkaban was not, in fact, silent.
Faint the woman's voice, repeating:
"No, I didn't mean it, please don't die!"
"No, I didn't mean it, please don't die!"
It got louder with every step Harry took, he could hear the emotion in the words now, the horror, the remorse, the desperation of...
"No, I didn't mean it, please don't die!"
...the woman's worst memory, rehearsing over and over again...
"No, I didn't mean it, please don't die!"
...the murder that had sent her to Azkaban...
"No, I didn't mean it, please don't die!"
...where she was sentenced by the Dementors to watch whoever she'd killed, die and die and die in an infinite repeating loop. Though she must have been put in Azkaban recently, from the amount of life left in her voice.
The thought came to Harry, then, that Professor Quirrell had passed those doors, heard those sounds, and given not the slightest sign of disturbance; and Harry would have called it a positive proof of evil, if Harry's own lips hadn't remained silent in the presence of Bellatrix, his breathing regular, while something inside him screamed and screamed and screamed.
The Patronus brightened, not out of control, but it brightened, with every step Harry took forward.
It brightened further as Harry and Bellatrix descended the stairs, she stumbled and Harry offered her his left arm thrust outside the Cloak, braving the sense of doom from being that close to the snake draped around her neck. There was a surprised look on her face, but she accepted it, and said nothing.
It helped Harry, being able to help Bellatrix, but it wasn't enough.
Not when he saw the huge metal door in the center of that level's corridor.
Not when they came closer, and the woman's voice fell silent, because there was a Patronus near her now, and she wasn't reliving her worst memory any more.
Good, said a voice inside him. That was step one.
Harry's steps carried him inevitably forward toward the metal door.
And...
Now unlock the door -
...Harry kept walking...
What do you think you're doing? Go back and get her out of there!
...kept walking...
Save her! What are you doing? She's hurting YOU HAVE TO SAVE HER!
The portkey Harry was carrying could transport two humans, only two, plus or minus a snake. If they'd had Professor Quirrell's portkey too... but they didn't, Professor Quirrell's human form was carrying that, there was no way to get it... Harry could only save one person today, and there was only one person on the lowest level of Azkaban, in the most desperate need...
"DON'T GO!" The voice came in a scream from behind the metal door. "No, no, no, don't go, don't take it away, don't don't don't -"
There was a light in the corridor and it grew brighter.
"Please," sobbed the woman's voice, "please, I can't remember my children's names any more -"
"Sit down, Bella," Harry's voice said, somehow he kept his voice in a cold whisper, "I must deal with this," the Hover Charm diminishing and switching off even as Bella obediently sat down, her skeletal form dark against the brightening air.
I'll die, thought Harry.
The air went on brightening.
After all, it wasn't a certainty that Harry would die.
It was just a probability of death, and weren't some things worth a probability of dying?
The air went on brightening, the greater Patronus was beginning to form around him, the brilliant human shape was becoming indistinct within the burning air, as Harry's life went to feed the fire.
If I wipe out the Dementors, then even if I live, they'll know it was me, that I was the one who did this... I'll lose my support, lose the war...
Yeah? said the inner voice that was urging him on. After you destroy all the Dementors in Azkaban? I'd think that'd tend to prove your credentials as a Light Lord, actually, so SAVE HER SAVE HER YOU HAVE TO SAVE HER -
The humanoid shape could no longer be seen as a separate entity.
The corridor couldn't be seen.
Harry's own body was invisible within the Cloak.
There was only a bodiless viewpoint within an infinite expanse of silver light.
Harry could feel the life leaving him, fueling the spell; far away, he could feel the shadows of Death begin to fray.
I meant to accomplish more with my life than this... I was going to fight the Dark Lord, I was going t
o merge the wizarding and Muggle worlds...
Lofty goals seemed very distant, very abstract, compared to one woman begging him for help, it wasn't certain that Harry would ever do anything more important than this one thing, this one thing that he could do now and here.
And with what might have been his last breath, Harry thought:
There are other Dementors, probably other Azkabans... if I'm going to do this, I should do it when I'm closer to the central pit, it will take less of my life that way, which increases the probability that I'll survive to destroy other Dementors... even assuming this is the optimal thing to do, if there's a right time and place to do this, it isn't now and here, IT ISN'T NOW AND HERE!
What? said the other part of him indignantly, as it searched for a counterargument that didn't exist -
Slowly the light died back down, as Harry concentrated on that one indisputable fact, the one obvious truth that they weren't in the optimal place, the time couldn't be now...
Slowly the light died back down.
Part of Harry's life flowed back into him.
Part had been lost as radiation.
But Harry had enough left to stay on his feet, and keep the silver human shape bright; and when his wand arm raised and his voice whispered "Wingardium Leviosa", the magic flowed obediently out of him and helped Bellatrix to her feet. (For it wasn't his magic he had expended, it had never been his magic that fueled the Patronus Charm.)
I swear, Harry thought, breathing as regularly as he could in Bellatrix's presence, while tears streamed down his invisible cheeks, I swear upon my life and my magic and my art as a rationalist, I swear by everything I hold sacred and all my happy memories, I give my oath that someday I will end this place, please, please may I be forgiven...
And the two of them walked on, as a murderess's voice screamed and begged someone to come back and save her.
There should have been more time, there should have been a ceremony, for Harry's sacrifice of that piece of himself, but Bellatrix was beside him and so Harry just had to keep on walking without a pause, saying nothing, breathing evenly.
So Harry walked on, leaving a piece of himself behind. It would dwell in this place and time forever, he knew. Even after Harry came back someday with a company of other True Patronus casters and they destroyed all the Dementors here. Even if he melted the triangular building and burned the island low enough that the sea would wash over it, leaving no trace that such a place as this had ever once existed. Even then he wouldn't get it back.
The flock of luminous creatures stopped staring downward, and began patrolling the metal corridor as if nothing had happened.
"Just like last time?" Director Bones snapped in the direction of Auror Li, and the young Auror replied, "Yes, ma'am."
The Director fired off another query to see if the Dementors could now find their target, and looked unsurprised to hear a negative reply a few seconds later.
Emmeline Vance was feeling torn between her loyalties.
Emmeline wasn't a member of the Order of the Phoenix any more, they had disbanded after the end of the last war. And during the war, she'd known, they'd all known, that Director Crouch had quietly approved of their off-the-books battle.
Director Bones wasn't Crouch.
But they were hunting Bellatrix Black now, who had been a Death Eater, and who was certainly being rescued by Death Eaters. Their Patronuses were behaving oddly - all the bright creatures stopping and staring off downward, before they'd gone back to following their masters. And the Dementors couldn't find their target.
It seemed to her that this would be an extremely good time to consult Albus Dumbledore.
Should she just suggest to Director Bones that they contact Dumbledore? But if Director Bones hadn't contacted him already...
Emmeline wavered for a while, probably too long, and then finally decided. The hell with it, she thought. We're all on the same side, we need to stick together whether Director Bones likes it or not.
At a thought, her silver sparrow fluttered onto her shoulder.
"Drop behind us to guard our rear," Emmeline murmured softly, almost without moving her lips, "wait until no one is looking directly at you, then go to Albus Dumbledore. If he is not already by himself, wait until he is. And tell him this: Bellatrix Black is breaking out of Azkaban, and the Dementors cannot find her."
Chapter 56: TSPE, Constrained Optimization, Pt 6
Silent, it was thankfully silent, the metal door on the next level down. Either there wasn't someone behind there, or they were hurting quietly, maybe they were screaming but their voice had given out already, or they were just muttering quietly to themselves in the dark...
I'm not sure I can do this, Harry thought, and he couldn't blame the despairing thought on the Dementors either. It would be better to be lower, safer to be lower, his plan would take time to implement and the Aurors were probably already working their way down. But if Harry had to pass any more of those metal doors while staying silent and keeping his breathing perfectly regular, he might go mad; if he had to leave a piece of himself behind at each one, soon there wouldn't be anything left of him -
A luminous moonlit cat leaped into existence and landed in front of Harry's Patronus. Harry almost screamed, which wouldn't have helped his image with Bellatrix.
"Harry!" said the voice of Professor McGonagall, sounding as alarmed as Harry had ever heard from her. "Where are you? Are you all right? This is my Patronus, answer me!"
With a convulsive effort, Harry cleared his mind, repurposed his throat, forced calm, swapped in a different personality like an Occlumency barrier. It took a few seconds and he hoped like hell that Professor McGonagall didn't notice a problem with that thanks to the communications delay, just as he hoped like hell that Patronuses didn't report on their surroundings.
A young boy's innocent voice said, "I'm in Mary's Place, Professor, in Diagon Alley. Going to the restroom actually. What's wrong?"
The cat leaped away, and Bellatrix began to chuckle softly, dusty appreciative laughter, but she cut herself off abruptly at a hiss from Harry.
A moment later the cat returned, and said in Professor McGonagall's voice, "I'm coming to pick you up right now. Don't go anywhere, if you're not around the Defense Professor don't go back to him, don't say anything to anyone, I'll be there as quickly as I can!"
And the bright cat blurred forward and vanished.
Harry glanced down at his watch, noting down the time, so that after he got everyone out of here, and Professor Quirrell anchored the Time-Turner again, he could go back and be in the restroom of Mary's Place at the appropriate time...
You know, said the problem-solving part of his brain, there's a limit to how many constraints you can add to a problem before it really is impossible, you know that?
It shouldn't have mattered, and it didn't really, it didn't compare to the suffering of a single prisoner in Azkaban, and yet Harry still found himself feeling very aware that if his plan didn't end with him being picked up from Mary's Place just like he'd never left, and the Defense Professor looking completely innocent of any and all wrongdoing, Professor McGonagall was going to kill him.
As their team prepared to eat another bite of territory out of C spiral, shielding and scanning before dispelling the previous shield to their rear, Amelia was tapping her fingers on her hip and wondering if she ought to consult the obvious expert. If only he wasn't so -
Amelia heard the familiar crack of fire and knew what she would see as she turned.
A third of her Aurors were spinning around and leveling their wands on the old wizard in half-moon glasses and a long silver beard who had appeared directly within their midst, a bright red-golden phoenix on his shoulder.
"Hold your fire!" Polyjuice made it easy to forge the face, but faking the phoenix travel would have been rather more difficult - the wards permitted it as one of the fast ways into Azkaban, though there were no fast ways out.
The old witch and the old wizard stared
at each other for a long moment.
(Amelia wondered, in the back of her mind, which of her Aurors had sent the word, there were several former members of the Order of the Phoenix with her; she tried to remember, in the back of her mind, if she'd seen Emmeline's sparrow or Andy's cat missing from the flock of bright creatures; but she knew that it was futile. It might not even be any of her people, for the old meddler often knew things he had no way at all of knowing.)
Albus Dumbledore inclined his head to Amelia in a courteous gesture. "I hope I am not unwelcome here," the wizard said calmly. "We are all on the same side, are we not?"
"That depends," Amelia said in a hard voice. "Are you here to help us catch criminals, or to protect them from the consequences of their actions?" Are you going to try to stop the killer of my brother from getting her well-deserved Kiss, old meddler? From what Amelia heard, Dumbledore had gotten smarter toward the end of the war, mostly due to Mad-Eye's nonstop nagging; but had relapsed into his foolish mercies the instant Voldemort's body was found.
A dozen small points of white and silver, reflections of the shining animals, gleamed off the old wizard's half-moon glasses as he spoke. "Even less than you would I see Bellatrix Black freed," the old wizard said. "She must not leave this prison alive, Amelia."
Before Amelia could speak again, even to express her surprised gratification, the old wizard gestured with his long black wand and a blazing silver phoenix sprang into existence, brighter perhaps than all their other Patronuses put together. It was the first time she'd seen that spell cast wordlessly. "Order all your Aurors to cancel their Patronus Charms for ten seconds," said the old wizard. "What darkness cannot find, the light may."
Amelia snapped off the order to the communications officer, who would notify all Aurors through their mirrors, commanding Dumbledore's will to be done.
That took a few moments, and it became a period of awful silence, none of the Aurors daring to speak, while Amelia tried to weigh her own thoughts. She must not leave this prison alive... Albus Dumbledore wouldn't turn into Bartemius Crouch without a strong reason. If he'd meant to tell her why, he already would have; but it certainly wasn't a positive sign.
Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality Page 89
