A/N: I've had quite a few people asking me if "so-and-so" nation will be getting involved. The answer is no. The whole point of the story is to see how Harry resists with just the Order and his limited recourses against Voldemort and the entire Ministry of Magic. Some of you have said that America would have come to the jump- stop confusing Muggle America with Magical America. They are two completely different societies and you can't look at one and see how the other would act. A few people have also asked why the other nations haven't stopped Voldemort, if he's so obviously bad. For starters, it's a civil war- so the general feeling is why should they get involved? Secondly, Britain at the moment is like Germany in the mid 1930's- a military superpower. It'd be like all nations under the commonwealth trying to take on America.
The Azkaban hospital wing was not like all hospital wings. Although it had the smell of the same common disinfectant potions and the feel of the same sterilization and healing spells as most hospital wings, it was ran by Luna Lovegood, an Order member well known for her quirkiness that dated back to her Hogwarts times. Instead of the usual white-coloured tiles, Luna had replaced them with vibrant pink blocks, which clashed horribly with the fluorescent yellow curtains and the gaudy crimson bed sheets.
Harry had resided in this hospital wing three days after his recent excursion to Hogwarts, recovering from the temporary after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse and the more serious repercussions of the 'rat catcher' ward he had been caught up in. On a small table next to his bed lay an assorted pile of homemade sweets and get-well cards. This brought a reminiscent smile to Harry's face every time he glanced at them and occasionally he would take one as he poured over a thick scroll full of tiny angular writing, frowning often as he read through it.
This was the site that greeted Ron as he entered the hospital wing, grimacing faintly at Luna's different approach to decorating. The scarred redhead observed his injured friend concentrating intently on his work and opened his mouth to speak.
"Hello Ron," Harry said calmly, his eyes not leaving the scroll.
Ron closed his mouth in surprise, before scratching his head and giving a resigned grin.
"Harry," He greeted. "That had better not be work," He said as he dragged a seat over to Harry's bed, gesturing to the scroll.
Harry didn't say a word, but Ron caught the bare flash of truth in his friend's eyes and sighed.
"I thought Luna told you to lay off for a week or so," Ron said bluntly.
Harry shrugged slightly. "It has to be done," He said simply. "And since I'm lying around without anything to do…"
"The point of your rest is so that you can recover," Ron said, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "Stress, Luna said, is a hindrance to your recovery and you get stressed when you work." Ron stated firmly and tried to wrench the scroll from Harry's hands to no avail. After a few seconds of tugging between the two men, Ron sighed and gave up, slumping into his seat.
"I need to finish this," Harry said firmly. He bent his head over the scroll again, but then looked up again with a slight look of annoyance on his face. "And I am not stressed."
"Harry, you're stressed," Ron said bluntly.
"I am not," Harry repeated firmly, which led Ron to heave an exasperated sigh.
"You have grey hair, Harry," Ron said, gesturing to the strands of grey hair hidden amongst Harry's messy black hair. "Not even muggles get grey hair in their forties."
"Some do," Harry argued back, dropping the scroll onto his lap. "Besides, I like the grey hair. It makes me look more distinguished and handsome, don't you think?"
"I really hope you don't want an honest answer for that," Ron said, looking away with a hint of a smile curling his lips.
"You don't find me beautiful anymore?" Harry said, widening his eyes theatrically and slapping a hand over his heart.
Ron gave a growl of annoyance tinged with humour. "I'm married, you know," He remarked with a laugh.
"You never told me that!' Harry said with faked shock in his voice.
"What did Ronald never tell you, Harry dear?" A dreamy voice inquired from the other end of the bizarre hospital wing.
Both Harry and Ron turned their heads to see Luna walking towards them. Her wide perpetually-surprised eyes gazed at them unblinkingly. Behind her, a man and a woman dressed in the grubby brown robes of the Azkaban Guards followed, mud splattered on their faces. The male was sporting a broken nose and the female was nursing her arm.
"He never told me he was married," Harry answered her slyly. "He raised my hopes and dashed them without a second thought."
Ron gaped at him, the tips of his ears turning red. "Wha…?" He began, but trailed off on stunned surprise.
"Ronald!" Luna scowled, shaking her head sadly. "Hermione will be disappointed to learn that you were having an affair."
"Affair?" Ron squeaked out, his cheeks suffusing with red.
"Woe is my heart Ron," Harry tried to say seriously, but a mischevious smile came over his face and he let loose a small chuckle.
"Harry, if you say another word I swear to Merlin that I will transfigure you into a roll of toilet paper and leave you next to the chamber pots," Ron said, but his eyes were laughing.
"Dear Harry, I do hope that that scroll does not pertain to work," Luna said suddenly as she took in the scroll on his blanket-covered legs.
"Actually, it does," Harry said and watched as a second later the scroll zoomed from his lap and into Luna's outstretched hand. He watched with certain resignation as she walked to her desk and placed the scroll in a charmed and locked drawer. Luna gave him a piercing look before turning to her new patients, directing them to lie down on the beds and walking to the large potions cabinet.
"You know, technically I outrank her," Harry mused out loud, eyeing the drawer carefully. "And I could easily break through her warded desk."
"I don't know, this is Luna, remember?" Ron asked. "I still remember some of the… er, unique, spells and wards she created for us. I wouldn't want to even look at that drawer in a funny way."
Harry glanced at the drawer one last time with a speculative look in his eyes before he sighed and looked away. "How's the kid, Daphne?"
"Scared, confused, worried," Ron said, narrowing his eyes a little at Harry as his mind flashed back to their latest argument regarding her. "And very angry. The last time I was in her cell, she tried to fight me."
"I hope she didn't beat you up to bad," Harry said mildly.
"I got scratches all over my arms," Ron muttered darkly. "I'm surprised she wasn't a Gryffindor."
Harry nodded thoughtfully and then looked to his left as the two wounded guards approached his bed, their wounds already healed by Luna's powerful healing magic and Ginny's superb potions.
"Um… sir?" The male, a brown haired, blue eyed man in his mid-twenties asked hesitantly. "We hope… all of the guards… hope you get better soon."
The female, a blonde woman of about 35 nodded as the male blushed under Harry's powerful scrutiny, before looking immensely as Harry smiled.
"Thankyou Derek," Harry said softly. "And you too Hannah, of course."
The two people looked surprise that he knew their names and quickly scattered off, watched by an amused-looking Ron.
"I think that it's not fair that people like you more than they like me," He grumbled good-naturedly.
"Well, that's always how it's been," Harry retorted and smiled a touch bitterly. "But to even it up, more people hate me than they hate you."
Ron nodded. "That's true." He agreed. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a chessboard. "Game? I've got a couple of hours before I have to leave in my animagus form for the Pucey residence."
Harry shuddered. "Alright," he agreed reluctantly. "But only because you need an ego boosting."
That Night
Daphne Pucey sat in her glorified cell, sitting on the comfortable queen-sized bed with a furious expression on her face. She had been locked in this room for three days, trapped within the comfortable confines without a single word of why she was here and why they had captured her. Some part of her, the cold and rational part, argued that it could be much worse, that there was no torture and that she was fed decently for a prisoner. The same part argued that she should be relieved that the infamous Order of Phoenix didn't have any sordid desires for her, but whenever Daphne thought about that she shuddered in fear of the possibility. The young Ravenclaw had decided that she could either be scared of her wits or angry beyond all belief and she had chosen to be angry, if only to deny her captors the pleasure of seeing her fear.
So far, there hadn't been many visitors. A red-haired and heavily scarred man she had recognised as Ron Weasley had visited her earlier but he hadn't even been able to even get a word out of his mouth before she attacked him, scratching at him with her long nails and hissing like a cat. Her attack lasted mere seconds before she was blown away from him with a mild wandless banishing charm and while Ron had looked angry, he had merely muttered under his breath and stalked out of the room, slamming the door loudly. So here she sat and waited for her next visitor, anger brimming in her tiny form. But when the door opened, her anger vanished as Harry Potter stepped into the room, his green eyes sparkling with soft amusement, and fear settled in.
"Hello Daphne," Harry said as he entered, waving his hand and wandlessly closing the door. "I hope that you find your room acceptable. We had the Ravenclaw colours especially added for you."
Daphne was staring at him with wide eyes, her mouth opening and closing mutely. As he approached, she backed up on her bed, swallowing nervously as he came closer.
"Are you going to rape me?" She blurted out quickly.
Harry started, his eyes going wide and his composure slipping for a second as incredibility and shock washed over his face. He literally gaped at the twelve year old girl for a second, before closing his mouth and letting an amused smile curl his lips.
"My, you are a bold one," He said, chuckling slightly. "No Daphne, I am not going to rape you."
"Oh," Daphne uttered in relief. "That's… That's good then."
Harry continued chuckling as he flicked his wand, drawing up a large comfortable chair and settling down in it with a small relieved sigh. "Ah, that's much better," He murmured, glancing at Daphne, who stared stunned at the ease he had conjured the chair. "In our mission to Hogwarts, I was injured. Luna only let me out of the hospital wing because I promised her that I'd bring her a mutated battle bunny. I have absolutely no idea what a mutated battle bunny is, so I'll just conjure a normal rabbit and turn it green or give it a second head."
Daphne stared at the supposedly evil-incarnate man in front of her, cocking her head as she regarded the most hated wizard of this century. Somehow, the relaxed and easy-going man in front of her didn't appear to be the bloodthirsty monster she had heard the rumours about. For one, he hadn't replaced his two front teeth with sharp golden plates so he could gnaw on human flesh, and his form was lacking in the many deformities she had heard he had.
"But I should get on to the point of my visit. I am here, Daphne, to answer any questions you may have," Harry said, wriggling into his chair while he watched the girl in front of him. "My friend, Ron, said that you had been very angry about your situation here the last time he visited, so I thought I had better come and personally speak to you about it. Your situation here, I mean, although if you do wish to speak about your anger problems, we have an excellent Mind-Healer here."
"Why am I here?" Daphne immediately blurted out angrily. "Why did you take me?"
"Money," Harry answered bluntly. "Your father will pay us a large amount of gold for your return. This is about money, Daphne, nothing more and nothing less."
"Gold?" Daphne asked weakly.
Harry sighed, a regretful expression flittering onto his face. "We normally don't resort to these types of measures, but we're getting slightly desperate. I have a lot of people to feed here, and that requires money."
Daphne said nothing, but there was a newly-formed relief in her posture that indicated that her worst fears had been dissipated.
"When…?" Daphne started, before stopping with a gulp. A wave of hysteria washed through her. Here she was, little Daphne Pucey, talking to Harry Potter, the biggest traitor and evil wizard in the world. Harry Potter was sitting across from her with a small polite smile on his face and conversing with her pleasantly as if there was noting wrong.
Harry pretended not to notice the hysteria the young girl was simply radiating . "When will we let you go?" He guessed. "If all goes to plan, then you'll be gone by tomorrow."
"Really?" Daphne looked up with hopeful eyes.
"We'll be meeting in a crowded public muggle location," Harry told her. "Your father will give us the gold, we will give him you, we will both go our separate ways and this incident will remain forever secret."
Daphne shivered as his face hardened and his green eyes bored into her own.
"If Voldemort were to ever find out about this, I can guarantee that he will execute your father for aiding us, no matter how reluctantly, murder your mother as an example, and rip your mind apart in order to find out any detail of Azkaban. You must keep this a secret. I have already suggested to your father that you leave Britain once this is over, for your own safety."
Daphne gulped, shivering at his cold, hard face. The man in front of her could easily be the man she had read and heard about, but just as suddenly Harry retreated back into his pleasant façade, wiping his face clear of all the intensity that had been on it seconds ago so well that Daphne half-wondered if she had imagined it.
"I trust that the food has been pleasant?" Harry inquired politely.
Daphne nodded mutely, eyeing him carefully, especially when he stood up and vanished his chair with an easy flick with his wand, that act alone causing Daphne to eye him with a new respect.
"Well Daphne, I hope that this has been enlightening for you," Harry said pleasantly. "Just remember to behave yourself, be patient and hold on for another day. I give you my personal word that nothing untold will happen to you. If luck is on our side, you'll be with your parents in less than a day."
Daphne watched as the most confusing and contradictory person she had ever met walked out of her room, closing the door behind him. With a sigh, she flopped back onto her bed and tried to get some sleep. She could only hope that Potter was telling the truth, although he had seemed sincere. Perhaps he wasn't so bad after all? As soon as that though entered her mind, she shook her head roughly, muttering angrily to herself about her traitorous thoughts.
As Harry was walking back to the hospital wing, where Luna had insisted he stay for another night, he glanced outside one of the numerous windows, watching the starry night. For a moment, Harry could have sworn he saw a dark shape amidst the pale moonlight, and he was right as a reddish-brown hawk screeched loudly as it dived down into Azkaban, entering and gaining approval from the wards and landing on the windowsill of the very window Harry was looking out of. Harry merely cocked an eyebrow at the hawk as it hopped to the floor, beating its thick-feathered wings, and quickly changed into Ron, who shook his head dazedly as he stood up from the ground.
"The mission was successful?" Harry asked him.
Ron nodded. "We have a meeting place set for two pm, tomorrow."
"Excellent," Harry approved. "Daphne would be pleased to hear that."
"Daphne?" Ron asked, scrunching up his nose and sadly emphasising the more hideous of his scars he had. "You're on first-name terms?"
"Oh yes," Harry said mildly. "I just had a nice chat with her. I found her to be quite bold and polite."
"I have scratches on my arm, Harry, deep scratches," Ron muttered crossly. "The girl is an animal."
Harry shrugged and started back to the hospital wing. "Perhaps it's your personality?" He suggested as he was leaving.
Ron watched his retreating back and made a face. "Yeah, you're real funny," He grumbled.
The next day, Harry and Daphne sat around a small table in a busy muggle mall. Both were dressed in the latest muggle fashions, courtesy of Hermione and her continual contact with her muggle parents who had changed their last name decades ago as the war heated up and Hermione gained prominence. Daphne was dressed in shiny silver jeans and a glittery purple t-shirt, while Harry was dressed in a more conservative cheap business suit. He was happily chewing on a McDonald's burger, while Daphne was looking at her surroundings with a mixed look of revulsion and curiosity, her inborn prejudice almost matched by her inquisitiveness. Both occupants of the table noticed when Adrian Pucey entered the food court, looking extremely uncomfortable in a pair of ratty blue jeans and a dark shirt made two decades ago. He received some strange looks from the muggles, but he ignored them as he focussed on Harry's table, his eyes widening at the sight of Harry and glistening at the sight of his daughter.
"Don't move," Harry said softly but firmly as Daphne started at the sight of her father, her own eyes tearing up. She obeyed and sat still as Adrian made his way over, taking a seat in the empty chair, losing the attention of the muggles as he did.
"Harry Potter," Adrian said neutrally.
"Adrian Pucey," Harry said around his food, taking a big swallow and wiping his mouth with his hand. "I haven't seen you since our Hogwarts day. You used to play Quidditch, right?"
"That's right," Adrian agreed coldly. "Can we get to business now?"
"Certainly," Harry said with a small polite smile. "You, ah, have the money?"
"Of course," Adrian snapped and reached into his pockets and somehow pulling out a small but bulky bag. He tossed it on the table angrily, sparing another glance at his dark-haired daughter. "It's all there."
Harry said nothing but pulled out his wand. Adrian started and shoved a hand into his pockets before he suddenly froze as magic stiffened his limbs. Daphne gave a small whimper but Harry ignored both father and daughter and waved his wand over the bag, performing a common piece of goblin magic in the harsh tongue. All around them, the muggles ignored them, driven away by the notice-me-not charms and the minor confoundus charms that Harry had previously set up.
After a few seconds, Harry put away his wand, seemingly satisfied. The moment he did, Adrian and Daphne could suddenly move but they sat frozen and eyed Harry with fear as he finished the last of his salty french-fries.
"It was a pleasure doing business with you. I suggest, Adrian, that you listen to the advice we gave you in the letter, or listen to what I told Daphne," Harry said as he stood up. He dispelled the charms and spells around the table and gave one last polite smile before he disappeared into the crowd.
Adrian and Daphne sighed in relief, before Adrian swept his daughter into his arms, clutching her tightly.
"Merlin Daphne," He muttered into her hair. "You had me worried. Did they hurt you? Did they touch you?"
"No daddy," Daphne said, her voice muffled by her father's shirt and her own tears. "They didn't hurt me. They just wanted the money."
Adrian sighed with relief again and stood up. "Let's go home. I have a Healer who I can trust implicitly to give you a confidential check-up, and we need to discuss how we're going to keep this a secret."
Daphne stood up as well, wiping her tears from her eyes and smiling brightly at her normally stern father. "Let's go. I want to see mum."
Adrian smiled and with some subtle flicks with his wand to confound the muggles, he disapparated with his daughter by his side.
That Night
Harry sat in his brightly lit office again, nursing a small glass of firewhiskey as he rested in his most comfortable chair, easing out the last of his aches. Although he would need to take a potent potion for the next few days, Luna had predicted that he would be fully healed in a week or so, and that there was nothing wrong with him that would impede his performance in the line of duty. Of course, she would only allow him to go when he had fulfilled his promise. As he sat, reading his thick scroll, Christina walked in with a baffled expression on her face and her arms full of scrolls and parchment.
"Sir, is there any reason why Healer Lovegood is walking around with a green rabbit that has two heads and sharp, pointy teeth?" She asked curiously.
Harry cleared his throat. "I promised her," Was all he said, but Christina seemed to accept it as she dropped her load onto the table. Harry's sharp eyes immediately picked out a scroll bound by a silky black string and he summoned it to his hand, unravelling the string while muttering a spell under his breath, his voice grunting in Trollish. He opened the message, ignoring Christina, and started translating in his mind.
The snake has been frequent at the Ministry of late. Rumour has it that the Dark Lord is working on top-secret project so often that he never leaves- possibly Operation Evanesco, still no clue as to its purpose. The snake feeds everyday at exactly 1:30 in a small office in the Department of the Control of Magical Creatures. I have discreetly arranged for a Floo opening to be accessible in that Department for three days. The password is "Purity".
I know of your excursion to Hogwarts and your subsequent injuries and am deeply concerned.
Your Most Loyal
Once again, the Prime Minister of Britain sat in his office, staring at the fireplace nervously. His hands remained beneath the table and occasionally he eyed the portrait with a funny look, remembering that it had once spoke the last time the representative of the magical world had arrived. As crickets began to chirp outside, the Prime Minister felt his eyes drooping when his fireplace flared with green flame and a dark-robed figure emerged, dusting himself off lightly.
"You're not the person who was here last time," The Prime Minister said and winced as the man looked up. His face seemed to have been butchered by somebody. There was a large and nasty scar that slashed upwards across his left cheek, straight into the man's eyes. A large chunk of this mans nose was missing and somebody had seemingly hacked off this mans right ear.
"Aren't you observant?" The man growled and grinned menacingly. He raised his wand and gave a short flick.
The Prime Minister let out a cry of pain as something white-hot and sharp struck him across the face. He fell from his seat to the ground, landing with a dull thud with a hand pressed against his cheek, shock written over his features.
"You better treat me with a little more respect and change your attitude," The wizard growled darkly. "I think you've been coddled for far too long. You will do as I say and if you don't, you will be punished."
"You can't do this!" The Prime Minister growled as he jumped to his feet, just as the door to his office burst open. Two dark-suited guards rushed in, machine-pistols in their hands. Their quick eyes scanned the room, quickly assessing the situation- the Prime Minister struggling to his feet and a dark-cloaked man aiming some kind of weapon at him. Without any hesitation, they fired.
The room was filled with a soft buzz of silenced gunfire. But the wizard only smirked, the bullets striking a glowing blue shield that had enveloped him the instance the guards had burst into the room. The guards continued firing as the shield rippled as it was struck, disintegrating the flying bullets, while the wizard waved his wand arrogantly, sending a jet of golden glittering sparks through the air.
Suddenly the two guards stopped firing, even though their fingers were still pressed on the trigger. Their guns were now covered in a fine layer of sparkling golden magic, while sparks still lingered in the air. The guards did move fast though and both pulled out a secondary pistol from their holsters, but golden sparks zoomed straight towards the pistols, rendering them useless.
" Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!" The wizard spat out. Two coils of deathly green magic burst from his wand, accompanied by the noise of a roaring wind. The two guards were struck in the chest and dropped to the ground, their eyes blank and their faces twisted into a look of horror.
The Prime Minister stared at his dead guards with a look of abject horror, his mind blank with fear. The wizard muttered something under his breath and the two bodies suddenly morphed, shrinking down into two small bones, which were promptly destroyed with another flick.
"You will pay for this insolence," The Death Eater spat and levelled his wand at the Prime Minister, who gulped, his eyes wide. "But first…" A shower of silver sparks burst from the tip and entered the walls, disappearing with faint sparkling pops. At the same time, the electricity in the room suddenly faded away and the light dimmed.
"What is…?" The Prime Minister started.
" Crucio!"
After a few seconds of loud agonising screaming, the Death Eater cut off the curse and snarled wordlessly at the shaking figure on the ground beneath him. He waved his wand a few more times, leaving glowing trails of crimson and golden magic that swept through the room.
"You will never be able to tell anybody what happened in this room tonight," He said in sick pleasure. "But you will always remember."