Wow, people seem to be taking a great liking to this story; I'm glad that the second installment got over twenty chapters as well. I hope this one will meet the same goal.
I don't own Harry Potter. `Nuff said.
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Chapter 2 - Release the Guilty Innocent
The small dinghy rocked along the waves as its puny propulsion charm pushed it towards the towering fortress of Azkaban, the pale moonlight giving an ethereal aura. At the front of the boat, a thirty-year-old woman dressed in blue robes gazed upon the imposing structure with a saddened expression.
"Hey boss, are you okay up there?" a younger man manning the tiller asked. "I mean, this place is givin' me the willies, and I'm as far away from it as I can in this bath toy; I can't imagine what it's like with a front-row seat." The woman shook her head.
"No, I'm not okay," she said softly, almost being drowned out by the waves. "Nearly thirteen years he's waited. Thirteen years he's rotted in that Hell. I can only imagine how much he's changed." As she spoke, she rubbed her left arm tenderly, her hand concealed by a glove.
"Hey," the second man in the boat said, laying a hand on her shoulder. "If he's as strong as he was back then, he'll be fine." The woman nodded and patted the man's hand.
"Thanks Neville, but I can't help but worry." The woman sighed tiredly. "I know he's changed; we all have. But I wonder how much." The woman was broken out of her thoughts by the sound of the boat scraping along the gravel beach of Azkaban Island, and the three climbed out of the boat, the two men dragging it onto the beach so it wouldn't drift away. Smoothing out their robes, they walked through the front gates of Azkaban fortress.
The warden at Azkaban was bored out of his mind. Since all of the prison's residents were maximum-security, no one was allowed to visit the prisoners except aurors, and even they rarely bothered. So when he saw the signal that visitors had arrived, he immediately perked up. The door swung open to reveal a woman and two men, all dressed in auror robes.
"What can I do for you fine officers today?" the warden asked cheerfully. Her face a stone mask, the woman pulled out a piece of parchment and laid it down in front of him.
"Ward one-one-seven-six? Potter?" the warden asked incredulously. He held the paper up to the light to check for forgery. It seemed authentic, so he opened a drawer and pulled out a small golden key. "Now, if you'll just follow me, I'll…" he trailed off, his joints stiffening as he moved, until he remained frozen in place, only his eyes free from the hex.
"I'll take those," the woman said, prying the key from the warden's stiff fingers and the emergency escape portkey from around his neck. "Don't worry, you won't remember a thing. Obliviate, stupefy," she chanted, the two spells impacting the warden, his memory wiped and now unconscious, but still standing form. Satisfied, she turned to the two men standing behind her. "Go silent; take out the guards quickly and quietly. Do not use deadly force unless they do first, now move out," she barked, casting a disillusionment charm over herself, rendering her invisible. The two men casting the same charm on themselves, they quietly opened the door and snuck out of the office.
The strike team snuck through the prison, quietly stunning the guards and moving them where they wouldn't be seen. After stealing another portkey and adjusting their destination, they reached cell number 1176, the home of Harry Potter for more than a decade. She watched with a broken heart as Harry twitched and muttered in his sleep. She carefully slid the key into the hole and opened the gate before canceling the disillusionment, shuddering at the cold feeling she felt.
"Keep watch," she ordered before she got on her knees and gently shook Harry awake.
"Huh, whozzere?" Harry muttered groggily. He looked at the strange woman kneeling next to him, and he squinted his eyes tightly, trying to focus his vision. Finally, a look of comprehension and relief spread across his face. "Hermione? Is that you?" he gasped, tears of joy welling up in his eyes.
"Yes, Harry, it's me," Hermione whispered before she looped the portkey around his head along with hers. "We've got to go. Neville, Charles, get ready to bail. One, two, three!" she counted before activating the portkey, whisking them away to safety.
When the reinforcements showed up several hours later, they unpetrified the warden and revived him.
"Ohh…what happened?" he groaned, rubbing his sore head. The aurors looked at each other.
"We were hoping you could tell us, sir," one auror asked. The warden looked at them confusedly.
"I recall sitting at my desk, trying to stay awake, then the alarm alerting me to a visitor. After that…nothing."
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The four escapees tumbled along the floor after their portkey journey, and Harry looked around confusedly.
"Where are we?" he asked. Hermione dug into her pocket and pulled out a metal tin, before opening it and pressing her fingers into it.
"Open your eyes really wide, Harry," she said, and Harry obediently complied. She held her fingers up to his eyes, and he saw something stuck to them before she gently touched his eyes, and he resisted the urge to blink until she had pulled away. Suddenly, his snapped his eyes closed as he felt whatever she had put on his eyes slither around his eyes and reshape them. It wasn't exactly painful, but momentarily felt like he had a head cold. Within a few seconds, it was gone, and he could see clearly again. He looked around and gasped in amazement as to his surroundings.
He was currently standing in the Gryffindor Common Room, in his red and golden glory. He looked ahead of him and saw Hermione for the first time in almost thirteen years, and gasped. In all those years, she had grown into a beautiful woman. Her hair had straightened out and fell to just past her shoulders, and although her robes hid her figure well, he could barely make out some curves on her body.
"Hermione," he gasped, pulling her into a hug. "How long has it been?" he asked, tears falling from his eyes.
"Almost thirteen years," Hermione answered, tears beginning to fall from her own eyes. "I've missed you, Harry."
"I've missed you too," he replied, looking at her one more time before turning to the two men. "Neville!" he cried, pulling the taller man into a hug. "Merlin, you've gotten big! Have you been working out?" Neville just chuckled and shrugged sheepishly. He turned to the smaller man with a look of confusion. "I'm sorry, but I don't recognize you."
"I'm Chris Sanders," the younger man said, holding out his hand, which Harry shook. "You wouldn't know me; I was a Hufflepuff firstie during…the incident," he said carefully.
"Come on, Harry, we need to get some food in your belly," Hermione said, gently pulling Harry by the hand. Waving good-bye, he followed Hermione on the well-memorized path to the kitchens. Hermione tickled the pear to open the painting to the kitchen, and walked into the bustling kitchen.
"How can Squeezy help you, Mistress Granger?" a female house elf asked politely.
"Could you bring a bowl of broth for my friend, and a sandwich for me, please," Hermione said. Bowing, Squeezy popped away, only to reappear a few seconds later with two trays, one with a steaming bowl of broth and the other with a peanut butter sandwich. After conjuring a small table and two stools, Squeezy bowed again and returned to her duties.
"Where's Dobby?" Harry asked, sipping his broth. "He's usually all over the place whenever I'm around." He chuckled to himself, but stopped when remembered that Dobby had died a long time ago. "Oh," Harry said somberly. They spent the remainder of their meal in silence. While she slowly walked him to his bedroom, Harry broke the silence again. "Why did that elf call you `mistress?'" he asked curiously. "After all the fuss you made with S.P.E.W., I can't see you taking one." Hermione sighed softly.
"Remember back in fifth year, when Professor McGonnagal was hit with all those stunners?" Harry nodded silently. "Well, the spell trauma had damaged her heart, and she passed away a few years ago." Harry could see tears beginning to well up in her eyes. "Before she died, she transferred control of Hogwarts to me, so I'm technically the Headmistress now." Harry was silent as he digested this information.
"And the others?" Harry asked hesitantly. Hermione sighed, wiping her eyes before she began talking again.
"With the exception of Ronald and Ginevra, all the Weasleys are on our side, surpisingly," she said. "George is our head inventor. Bill specializes in breaking wards and curses. Charlie, Arthur and Percy pull their weight, but there's only so much they can do. As for Molly..." Hermione trailed off, as if debating whether she should continue. "The trial really tore her up. You know how she gobbled up the Daily Prophet's lies back during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, so she half-believed that you really assassinated Kingsley. But another part of her couldn't believe that you would ever do that, and she sank further into depression. She died from stress-induced heart failure about a year and a half after the trial." Harry closed his eyes at the news.
"How many people have died because of me?" Harry asked, mostly to himself.
"Only ten," Hermione said. "It's not nearly the losses we suffered during the war with Voldemort, but it's still..." Hermione trailed off.
"...Ten too many," Harry finished sadly. They finally stopped a door, and Hermione opened it to see an empty bedroom, bare of any personal trinkets.
"Most of us bunk together with others, but I figured that you'd like to be alone," Hermione explained.
"Actually, Hermione," Harry said as she began to walk out, "if you don't mind, I'd like it if you stayed." Hermione bit her lip nervously.
"Are you sure?" she asked. Harry nodded, and she sighed.
"Okay, I'll just get changed. I'll be back in a few minutes. The shower's over there, and clothes are in the dresser," Hermione said before closing the door. Harry pulled out a gray shirt and sweat pants as well as a pair of boxer shorts before pulling off his prison rags and taking a hot, soothing shower. When he came out, he saw Hermione standing in a white bathrobe, her arms crossed tightly.
"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry asked. Hermione sighed and looked at him.
"Harry, will you promise that whatever you see, you won't think any less of me?" she asked firmly.
"What? No! Of course not!" Harry exclaimed. Slightly calmed by his reaction, she untied the belt of her robe and let it fall to the floor, revealing what was underneath to him. She wore gray sweat pants and a black tank top, showing off all of her womanly curves, but what attracted his attention was the shiny silver that covered her left arm, almost up to her elbow. He recognized it from when Voldemort replaced Wormtail's amputated hand during his fourth year. Slowly, he reached out and held her hand, his fingers running over the smooth, cold metal.
"When...?" Harry gasped.
"Several months ago," Hermione said. "It doesn't really hurt, it just feels kind of cold, like sinking your arm in a bucket of ice water." She pulled her arm away and climbed under the covers, Harry following suit. They laid on their sides, facing each other, but keeping a respectable distance away from each other.
"Thank you," Harry said softly. "For everything."
"You're welcome, Harry," Hermione said. Together, the two drifted off into sleep.
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"Madame Umbridge! Madame Umbridge!" a Ministry flunky yelled, bursting into a meeting between Delores Umbridge and several of her underlings.
"This had better be good," the toad-like woman snarled.
"Potter's escaped!" the flunky gasped breathlessly. "An unknown number of assailants broke into Azkaban prison approximately three hours ago and took Potter with them!" Those present gasped collectively, and two redheads were suddenly feeling very nervous.
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I hope you enjoyed this one.
Don't forget to read and review!
Edited September 4, 2007 for continuity errors.
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