First Report, Verbal, by Senior Auror John Talisker, Continued

  Given to Head Auror Harry Potter & Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt

  ***

  Five Days Ago.

  Thursday, July 24th, 2014. First Light. Maybe. Clouds Are Too Thick.

  Azkaban Prison, "The Rocks"

  The North Sea

  ***

  TOP SECRET - DO NOT RELEASE TO M.O.M. FILE!

  (NOTE: Language has been converted to English from Whatever It Is that Talisker Speaks - Demelli).

  It was fairly impressive. From three bunkrooms of petty criminals, hardened same, dark wizards, and formerly dark wizards, (who were seriously reconsidering their life choices), Shamir had gleaned close to a hundred Head-Breakers of various levels of aptitude. All, however, had a good attitude. That was crucial for what we faced. They were volunteers to a man.

  The afternoon before, Fawksey had gotten back on the Public Address System. The gist was that the prisoners had mostly behaved well enough to have limited privileges restored. That would pass, since only Shamir, I, and 'George' knew the truth. The various Leagues would be restarted, with, at first, limited hours.

  This was, of course, dependent on re-donning the Harnesses. Period. Whatever problems any inmate had were not relevant. And no further meals would be served until everyone in that Barracks was properly Harnessed. The End.

  We had left our 'George' stationed at the Locked and Blocked end of the Hallway, while Shamir and I went to help chivvy the recalcitrants into their Harnesses.

  Which was unneeded. Almost to a man, the Barracks residents were so relieved to have Shamir large and in charge, he could have had them doing Morris Dances, for all they cared. It reminded me of the old saying, 'Better a Century of Tyranny than one Day of Chaos.'

  Before the first seating for dinner was over, Fawksey notified 'George' that One Hundred Percent Compliance had been achieved. George reported that Fawksey had sounded a little queasy. He had revealed that the other Men's Barracks on our level had a body on the Grate, but that wasn't what upset him. The Barracks on the lower level had one on the Grate, and four lined up beside it. Worst of all, three living men were lined up by the bodies, looking as if they had been shoved into place, and just remained how they had fallen.

  That was a confirmation of what Fawksey had warned us to expect. Not that we needed confirmation.

  Shamir's lad Billy, now Boss for Bunk Room Three, called the assemblage to order. As next in line behind Rosey, Billy's second cap was Sergeant at Arms. He brought his own inimitable style to the job.

  "SHUT IT, SLAGS!" he bellowed. When silence followed, he said in a more reasonable tone, "Boss is talkin'."

  Shamir's thanks were an almost imperceptible nod toward Billy. He made no introductory remarks.

  "We're starting with the hard one. The dangerous one. It will come get us if we don't get it first. Our only edge is attitude. I'm not telling you to be happy. Happiness is in short supply on these damned Rocks. I am telling you that we are right. We're doing the right thing for the right reason. You need to keep telling yourself that, you need to wear it like armor. The men down there are not the problem."

  There was a sceptical murmur at this. Shamir's expression could almost have been a smile.

  "Yeah, that's right. You don't know. I was saving it for one last boost. Our Harnesses, and only our Harnesses, have the Repulsion Magick temporarily turned off."

  There was growing muttering as the Head Breakers grasped the implication. A warning, "Shut...!" from Billy quietened it down."

  Shamir's eye's were alive with menace. "So hit them as hard as necessary. Only they will feel the double retaliation. And remember your assignments.

  "Red One, Rec Room and Dining Room. Both should be empty this time of morning, but be thorough. Boot to Arse, and leave them for Blue. Proceed to Barracks Room Two." Red Elements were all of the old Best Lads, plus a few of the up-and-comers. They sported red hashmarks on their cheeks and foreheads, courtesy of Fawksey-supplied greasepaint. I had wondered aloud why Azkaban needed such a thing, only to be informed it was from Fawksey's personal supplies. Mysterious depths, that one.

  "Red Two, clear Hallway quickly, and hit Barracks One hard and fast. Again, Boot and Move. Boot and Move."

  "Blue One and Two, follow up Red One and Two. Boot as necessary to secure hand and foot. Be sure to do the Nulls in the Hallway as well, better safe than sorry. There were three at last count." Fawksey had found a storeroom that contained nothing but boxes of a Muggle Device called Flexi-Cuffs. They were a kinds of manacles made out of that Plaztik stuff muggles seem so fond of. Quite effective, at least in a non-Magickal environment.

  "Update: Five." This was from a 'George' who had just ran in from the Hallway, but not one of Room Three's. Ours was at the Locked and Blocked Door to liason with Fawksey, plus three Runners to deliver messages to the Rec Room where we were staging.

  Shamir nodded, and the Runner 'George' took off back to his station. "Update: Five. Blue Elements, Secure and Move. Green Elements, go where you're needed, and evacuate. Bring 'em here to the Rec Room, Drop and Repeat. Stack 'em like firewood if you have to. Stay out of Red Elements' way. Start with the Nulls, keep them out of the crush, make sure you leave them in a survivable position."

  There were more wearing green hashmarks than red and blue put together. Some of the evacuees were bound to be big men.

  " 'Georges' have already been briefed. Two to each access, our and theirs, one inside, one out. Doors will be closed unless actively in use, which will be a pain, I know. But we will not take a chance of it spreading to our Barracks."

  There was a rumble of agreement, which ceased when Billy cleared his throat.

  Boy should have been an animal trainer, I thought.

  "If any 'George' feels there is the least chance of this happening, he will seal the door and scarper. Only I, Rosey, Billy, Lars, or Whisky John can unseal a door, so there's no use in trying to force a 'George' to do it." Shamir gave a cynical smile. "Although I hope all of you have learned by now that bullying a 'George' is a bad idea at any time."

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  There was a scattering of laughter. Billy let it pass.

  "Any questions?" Shamir scanned the group.

  One of Green Element jerked his chin up. Shamir looked at him.

  "Yes?"

  "How are the 'Georges' going to seal the doors, when we can't do magick?"

  "Classified." Billy's bass growl was apparently answer enough. For everybody, and for any further questions (The actual answer was an agreed-upon high sign to Fawksey, our Eye in the Ether).

  Shamir didn't ask again. "Last reminder. Quiet and fast. Move out."

  ***

  We were attacking through the Outside Recreation Area into the Lower Level Men's Barracks. One thing I haven't mentioned before is that, no matter which Level you exit from, you enter the outdoors on the only Level, with the sky above you, (and, usually, the rain upon you). It doesn't feel like a Portal, but, hey, Magick. Because of that, it was impossible to conclude whether the Outside Recreation Area was actually contiguous to any of the Barracks. We only knew the levels because the Locked and Blocked Doors had Level One or Level Two stenciled on them. Then again, anybody can use a stencil, right?

  There were six doors into the building from the outside, only four of which we had ever seen opened. They were along a half-circle inset into the building's side. Each was set into its own brick archway. There were eight archways, but the ones on either end were just blank brick, no doors.

  We deployed into the Outside Recreation Area, and realigned. It would have been as dark as Scrivener's Best Ultra-Black Indelible Ink, had it not been for the floating orbs that had appeared from somewhere once the Quidditch program really took off.

  Jo-Jo Bottoms was first in line, beside Shamir. "Are you sure?" Shamir asked. "Last chance to just go back and patrol the perimeter." * (See Footnote, Chapter 103.)

  Jo-Jo shook his head. "I can be useful, if we're careful. You know I'm just about invulnerable. Better me, than somebody with family waiting."

  "Good man," Shamir said simply. "Gods Bless and Protect." He raised his fist into the air.

  I was bringing up the rear, semi-in-charge of Green Element, and I saw the signal. I gave Fawksey the high sign behind my back. The door opened silently.

  Up front, Jo-Jo pulled a scrap of cloth down over his eyes, like a bandana.

  "Someone's coming!" Shamir was whispering urgently. "Standing up, coming at you! No paint on his face!" He was holding Jo-Jo's hand firmly, and pricked his forefinger, hard, with a splinter of wood. As the blood began to well up, Shamir spoke more forcefully. "Standing! Coming at you! No paint!"

  Jo-Jo Bottoms snatched at the rag covering his eyes. It snapped loudly, like a sheet line parting under pressure on a sailing boat. He glared at the blood on his finger, then around at the gathered group, with eyes glowing bright, electric blue. The Head-Breakers stood perfectly still. For the most part. Certainly, no one moved toward him.

  His uncanny gaze tracked onto Shamir, who had an arm already up and pointing.

  "That way!"

  Jo-Jo exploded into motion, and was gone.

  Silently, the rest of us moved in.

  It was a nightmare

  We were in their Indoor Recreation Room, and Red Two was already deploying into the hallway, with Blue Two on their heels, and a dozen or so Greens following to collect the Nulls once they were secured.

  Red One had already checked the room, and were proceeding to the Dining Area. Some of them were looking disgusted, some looked a bit disturbed. There were people in the Rec Room, which was filthy. They were in clusters on the floor, unresisting as Blue One manacled them. Cuffed them? I had to get very close to one of the groups to see them clearly. Something was wrong with the lighting. (Another thing we inmates took for granted).

  It seemed bright enough on the face of it, but everything appeared to be in deep shadow. Except our people, I noticed. They looked like normal people moving through a land of fog and shades, but with their own internal light.

  No. Not internal. The Harnesses were spreading a sort of light over their bodies, and the shadows were... recoiling from it.

  The group I approached first were sprawled out in a circle, heads together. All the heads were sideways as if they were... listening. I crouched to get closer, and one of them was speaking, in a weak, husky voice, as if he had been talking for hours. One of the listeners was fading, head rolling toward the floor. The speaker seemed to notice, and tried to speak more forcefully, but it was a pitiful effort. I finally recognised the words.

  He was recounting "The Fountain of Fair Fortune," from the Tales of Beedle the Bard, and doing a bang-up job, memory-wise. I leaned closer, and the glow of my Harness started spreading over the men. The one who had been nodding away started, and opened his eyes, which were wandering a bit. The one who had been talking gasped, and husked, "Oh, thank the Gods," before passing slap out.

  "Green Element!" I spoke forcefully without shouting. "Station three members by any group like this you find, down and close to the center. Remain in place until the last one is evacuated by the others, then move on and find another group. And spread the word."

  I checked on two other groups as I exited into the hallway. One had a thin blond man reciting Eddic Lays in a reedy voice, while occasionally one of the others would whisper something like "Ho la, Odhinn." or "Hail, Thor." The speaker in the last group apparently had an inexhaustible font of Common Welsh Green jokes. Normally, I would have sneered. Welsh Greens are just as intelligent as any dragon. It's the word 'Common' in the name that apparently gives wags a license to pun. Right now, though, I wanted to nominate him for an Order of Merlin.

  As I entered the Hallway, I came face to face with a queue of five pairs of men. One man of each pair had his hands 'cuffed,' but in front of him, instead of behind, as briefed. And their legs weren't cuffed at all.

  I knew the man in front, he had a bit of training and served us as a Healer. He mostly relied on Muggle techniques he had picked up here and there. I raised an eyebrow.

  "What we thought," he said. His face was a savage mask, but his words came out calm and soothing. "Not an ounce of harm in any of them. Nobody is home. Stand them up, they remain standing. Urge them along, and they walk. Put food in their mouths, and they will chew and swallow, not," he continued smoothly through his contorted expression, "...that anyone has bothered to do that."

  I nodded, noticing the thin arms and gaunt faces. "Easier to move if they walk themselves."

  He acknowledged with a tilt of his chin. "I'll get them settled, and be right back."

  "No rush," I said looking around. The Hallway was clear, with all three Barracks Doors open, and green-marked people going in and coming out, two or three at a time, carrying evacuees.

  I stuck my head in the first Bunk Room. It too had that air of gloom and despair, but it was slowly lifting. I was glad to see my instructions were being followed. There were no Red Element left in the room, and just a few Blue Element wrapping up the wrapping procedure.

  I looked down to find a burly man with a dyspeptic look to him, securely secured, and groaning his way back to consciousness. A Blue Element lad walked up and looked down. He shook his head and met my eyes. "I think he gave Jo-Jo some lip. We got here just as he dropped, and Jo-Jo lost interest. There was another one across the room, and I think he might have been okay, if he hadn't tried to run."

  I raised an eyebrow. I was getting a lot of mileage out of that expression.

  The lad shrugged. "The only way to run was at Jo-Jo."

  "Ah," I said, then frowned. "How come they're functional?"

  The lad reached down and tugged at the neck of the man's shirt. The bound man struggled feebly, mouthing weak sounds of protest. "There it is. The other is wearing an amulet like this, as well." He pulled it off over the man's head and handed it to me.

  The bound man instantly went into paroxysms, fear contorting his face. I snapped at two nearby Greens.

  "Up and out! Now!"

  They grabbed hold and started dragging him out into the Hallway, all they could do with his bulk. Two more trotted up, and they managed to get him up off the floor, one at each corner.

  "Hold," I said. Ignoring the resentful glances, I stepped over, ran a finger through the greasepaint on my forehead, and wrote BU on his forehead, in rich purple. "Carry on."

  The Blue Element lad looked back across the room. "I'd better get the other amulet. I'll be interested to see if he feels fear, even though he was knocked unconscious." He glanced at me.

  "BU?" he asked.

  "Bad 'Un."

  He nodded. "Bring it to you?"

  I gestured to my face. "Give it to anyone wearing purple."

  He nodded. A small group of Greens came in from the hallway, looking for customers. He motioned them to follow.

  I stepped back into the hall, and monitored the progress for a few minutes. I was about to head for the next Bunk Room, when there was a chorus of yells and screams behind me. I turned to see the door to the Rec Room vomiting people, mostly Greens. I was proud to see they hadn't dropped their evacuees before running.

  Starting behind them, but quickly outpacing most, was the 'George' who had been stationed inside the door to the outside. He ducked behind me seizing my poor old shirt in a grip that might prove fatal to the faithful old garment.

  I reached around behind me and pulled him around to my side. "Good work, lad!" I boomed. "Good work!" I was hugging him hard to my chest while making it look like I was just patting him on the shoulder. 'Georges' have a lot of prickly pride.

  Lowering my voice and tilting my head toward him, I asked softly. "What is it, Son?"

  "De-de-de-de-de-de..." he stuttered, shaking like a leaf.

  I looked down the Hallway to see a grey, misty shape float into the Hallway.

  Then another.

  And another.

  'George' said, very clearly, "Dementors."