A risk worth taking

The sky held dark grey clouds which floated close to a vast endless pool of dark black choppy ocean water. Freezing winds swept from all directions causing the water molecules in the air to freeze to anything it could accumulate on for any longer than a few seconds.

Silvyr sat in the cloud covered sky feeling thankful that they had not encountered any dementours during their flight towards the famed prison. Still as he moved closer to the rough choppy black ocean water he cursed himself for forgetting to charm his robes to stay heated. Ice had spread from his broom stick to his hands and up into his robes causing him to shake uncontrollably. The only thought in his mind was finding the target he had been instructed to rescue.

Wind took the words from his mouth the moment they passed his tongue so he had abandoned trying to communicate with his friend long ago. Jack had been to the prison before but she had refused to talk about the experience. They had agreed on one thing, she would get him there. As far as Silvyr knew he was on his own from that point on. He looked to his right and saw the beautiful redheaded witch sitting in the sky next to him. He could never tell her but he was glad that she had agreed to help.

He pried his hand from his broom, braking the thin layer of ice that had accumulated since he had readjusted his grip only moments ago, and motioned forward making sure they were moving in the right direction.

"It's all your fault!"

The words were repeated over and over again in his head, how many times had he heard them now, over thousand? A million times even? Time stood still in Azkaban so it was hard to keep track of anything especially something as insignificant as how many time he had repeated a certain phrase. Was it even him who was repeating it? He couldn't tell anymore what with the sounds of countless souls screaming out and with the Dementors constantly terrorizing him. For all he knew it was some quack who was sitting next to him and just saying something over and over again.

He could not tell what was reality and what was all in his head anymore. He tried to keep up with how long he had been there but it was difficult because he never knew when it was daytime or nighttime. The only thing he knew was darkness and terrible memories. Anything even remotely negative in his life that had happened was replayed over and over again in his mind, and much to his dismay, he seemingly had no good memories, at least that he could remember. The loss of his closest friend, any person he had ever let get distant from him, any failed relationship, any moment of depression, no matter how brief, seemed to plague his every thought.

He was not the same man anymore. The once healthy and cleaned up man that had once walked confidently through the streets of Diagon was now nothing but a shell of his former self. His hair had grown long, his beard was thick and untrimmed, his frame which was once muscular and built was now gaunt and weak. He had stayed strong, at first, but no matter how strong a person was they could not fight off the terrors of Azkaban. His ability to use Occlumency meant nothing to a constant onslaught from group after group of dementors.

This was his life now, he would be here until he died, an idea that he fantasized about daily. Death was surely a better alternative than this hell hole. The only thing that kept his will going was the idea that he might somehow escape one day and do the things he had once taken advantage of. Sleeping on a comfortable bed, having a conversation with another human being, all things that seemed so easy once now seemed so distant.

The door to his cell opened and he looked up to see a group of dementors coming in. Great, it was time for his daily dose of torture, he pulled on his chains in a desperate attempt to escape as they descended upon him but it was no use. His arms went limp and he looked up at the three as they stood over him. "Back for more, eh? You know you can't break me!" It was a lie, he was already broken, but he had to stay strong. His brief moment of bravery and back talk was cut short by the sounds of his screams piercing the prison.

Jack had been trained to fly in every condition imaginable - and someone that nobody in their right mind could have ever possibly imagined. She had flown over a simulated erupting volcano; she had flown straight into a frozen, yes frozen, lake; through collapsing ruins as cobblestone blocks crashed around her. So she knew how to maneuver herself, especially on the trip to Azakaban.

Jack angled her broom ever so slightly and placing one hand over the other, before swapping hands. She sat up straight, squeezing tightly with her knees and pulled her hands to her midsection, rubbing them vigorously against each other. She was dressed for the mission, and her mind was set.

"Bear west," Jack called to Silvyr. They turned and Jack pointed her broom for the land mass quickly approaching. "Dive!" She leaned forward and began the descent. The wind stung but Jack remained intent on the task until -

Touchdown.

She put out a foot as she braked. She hopped off and quickly stored the broom under one of the island's only shrubberies.

The frigged wind whipped in all directions throughout the sky. Dark black grey clouds hung in the sky moving faster than Silvyr on his broom. He thought it strange but understood why the famed Azkaban prison would be located in such a remote dead place of the world. Even the sun refused to venture to such a isolated mound of death that called itself apart of the world.

With another wrench at his broom to gain control of his flight Silvyr made eye contact with Jack and read her lips as she screamed her inaudible commands. He followed her closely wondering if her ballsy plan would even work. It was just like her to go all in and expect no consequences. She had decided they would arrive on the door step of the island and move under the authority of the Order. He knew deep down it was risky but it was also the only way to gain access to the home of despair.

A cold chill entered Silvyr's body and mind as his feet touched the moist beach sand. All of the awful memories of his past shot through his skull before he had a chance to use his training and push the thoughts to the back of his mind. He moved with Jack and hid his broom with a few twigs as he fought the dark visions that were battling endlessly to break through to his consciousness.

Silvyr looked to the open beach and scanned the black ocean that wash crashing on the rocks all around them before noticing eight seven foot hooded figures hovering towards them in the sky twenty feet above them. Silvyr looked to Jack who was staring at the figures. Silvyr didn't know whether to be comforted by her expectation of the dementours or distraught. He screamed out "Jack!!!" before he swallowed the half frozen saliva on his tongue and looked back to the dementours. He knew that what happened next would either wind him up as a new fellow inmate or as a free man walking through the dark halls of the prison.

They were approaching, and Jack swallowed. Jack hated dementors more than any other creature - at the Ministry, she had to treat them equally, but she also knew that they really had no redeeming factor. There was no part of their genetic make up that at all indicated any sliver of genuine goodness in them.

Still, Jack knew ant sort of guards would have to check up on them. Jack knew they had not seen them yet, only sense their presence. Jack quickly reached out and grabbed Silvyr's arm, dragging him towards a small stone patio - the apparation point for people to apparate onto the island. If they found the broomsticks, there would be trouble - they would not be able to apparate Aaron off the island, but they could fly him off.

The pair arrived at the apparation point as the dementors descended upon them. Jack offered a document, which they could not technically read, but knew would assuage them. Jack's insides shuddered and the dementors turned to lead them inside the prison.

Jack looked back at Silvyr. She pointed her wand and swished - "Expecto Patronum!" A wolfhound appeared between them and led the way.

A tingling feeling shot through Silvyr's numb right arm. It was the only warning he got before a tug nearly took him off of his feet. Eighteen hours of riding into freezing gale force winds on a broom had numbed his legs down to the bones. Just getting his legs to respond in a timely manor had been a challenge but now it was only his own will that forced his unresponsive limbs to turn quickly and follow Jack. She moved at a fast pace and reached a flat long slab of stone that was unlike any of the other towering black boulders that stood out of the sand. All of which stood ominously in imperfect unison looking out over the ocean.

Eight hooded dementours hung in the air before them forcing Silvyr's gut to wrench and awful visions began to take the place of his eye sight. He fought and focused on his mother while Jack passed along the piece of parchment and drew her wand sending out her patronus. Silvyr waited as he walked for the effects to subside. He knew it was in his head but he couldn't seem to shake the thought of the weight of eight hatred breeding dementours sucking out his happiness and joy. Instinctively he drew his wand, "Expecto Patronum." he said and instantly felt the warmth of his soul shoot back through his heart. A proud wolf sprinted ahead and slowed just in time to walk next to the wolfhound who had been leading them.

For the first time in the past forty-five seconds, but what felt like thirty minutes, Silvyr had control of his thoughts while he walked towards the giant black stone prison. Even with the new found control his nerves were barely controllable. People spoke of Azkaban and how it was a modern marvel much like Hogwarts only it's breath taking ability was masked in despair. A statement only truly understood when one stood before the black giant. The group grew closer to the entrance where a stone archway had been crudely cut out before meeting dark towering stone doors. Seemingly at no command they crept open. A chill ran up Silvyr's spine as he passed through into the worlds only real example of hell on earth.

Silvyr's thoughts continued to race but they were calmed by the presence of Jack at his side who was the leader of the Order for her endless amount of experience in situations such as these and her unbreakable nerve to prevail through them all. Still he forced himself to reiterate their plan in a soft, almost inaudible, even tone. "Remember, find ways out beforehand." It was vague but it would have to do.

With both Patronuses now leading the way and shielding the two secret intruders from draining depression, Jack and Silvyr followed the dementors up the winding path so they could 'visit' as they had been allowed too. Jack pinned the document to a nearby tree (if it could be called that, a twisted, barren trunk looking more hopeless of revival than roadkill) and left it flapping in the breeze.

The dementors knew to approve any document with the words 'Order' or 'Ministry.' What they could not read, however, set them up for failure. If this was turned around against the Order, this document would prove their innocence, for it read :

The Order of the Phoenix in no way condones the action of individuals working of their own will. Notarized as of April --,----, by ---------------.

It was really that simple.

They entered the prison and Jack looked to Silvyr, nodding her head. Her job was the entrance and escape. What went on in the prison was all up to him.

The stale air that filled the massive prison rushed in and out of Silyvr's nostrils. It smelled of death and decay causing his gag reflex to react instinctively. Switched to breathing out of his mouth was his only choice after swallowing the vomit tasting saliva that had come up. The massive entrance led them to a large dark chamber. The floor beneath his boots was uneven stone covered in a black slimy grime. The stone walls, that were also black, were empty for as far up as the eyes could see before being swallowed by darkness. At this point he couldn't tell if the darkness was due to the natural color of the stones, hundreds of years of filth, or the absence of light. All three seemed to add to the prisons effect.

From the inside pocket of his jacket Silvyr pulled out a slip of tattered parchment that held three sets of numbers, 1721 , 839 , 1533. Obtaining them had taken hours of torturing just to break the messenger's mind yet they had come at a heftier price then just the mans life; the information had cost Silvyr his place as a member in the Order. He spoke to Jack after pushing the mans screams out of his mind, "We split from here. If you find him send your patronus to me and I will follow it back to you. I'll signal you in the same way." He tore off two of the numbers and gave the 839 to Jack. "If I'm not mistaken you said earlier that we won't be bothered if we don't try to mess with any of the cells but let's not make this visit any longer than it has to be." he said while trying to smirk but his face was still to numb to move. He turned to his left and allowed his wolf to lead him briskly through one of the doors.

______

Silvyr found an empty dark staircase before him as he moved through the arch way. The bright light that made up the wolf allowed for moving up the steps without tripping over himself. It felt like a constant fight to block out the racing thoughts shouting in his head. Each random scream led him deeper into his paranoia. Still he pressed on until, after what felt like ten minutes of climbing, he came to another archway barely lit by a single half burning torch. As he rounded the corner he found himself looking down a narrow hall that had two Dementour's stationed on the level. They floated past each other in unison as they made their rounds stopping only briefly to torture a pour soul who had ventured to close to the door of their cell. It came as a gut wrenching shock when each froze in place and turned when they felt his presence. Silvyr knew from years of experience that his patronus would keep him safe as he moved past them but always a small doubt made him imagine the creatures attacking him. He focused on his mother as he walked down the hallway while acting as if he didn't see them. The thoughts that were trying to take over forced through his happy memories. Silvyr quickly looked through the cell bars to keep distracted from the mentally destructive effects of the grotesque creatures as he made his way past them.

What he saw brought him even more discomfort. From the state that these inmates were in he knew the locks and bars weren't even needed. The decrepit looking humans, if he could still calm them that, wore thin black and white rags for clothing and huddled in the farthest corners of their cells muttering to themselves. One even screamed out in pain from the blinding light. Silvyr guessed that it must have been the first time they seen anything so bright in months. Only once he realized where his attention had been since entering the hallway did he remember to check where he was at in the prison. Numbers were etched above each cell in a neat fashion. 'They must have been magically etched into the stone.' Silvyr thought to himself. From deep within his mind a thought occurred to him. His focus on the numbers had forced the painful thoughts and screams out. From then on out he kept an eye on the numbers on top of each cell. There was no point in even doing the math though, 187 , 189, 191... He had a long way to go.

Jack nodded carefully and memorized the numbers Silvyr provided her, looking down at the spectral wolfhound before her. "I'll see you soon," was all she said. The prison was one of those places that had the effect of causing everyone to speak quietly, like a library. But of course, this courtesy was to spare the prisoners the reminders that there were others beyond their own suffering.

Jack had learned, firsthand, that this suffering could not simply be ignored or temporarily relieved. She remembered during her stay, one of her colleagues had come to visit their uncle and, as they passed her, they briefly sent their patronus into her cell. For a moment, Jack thought she could muster the strength to rise and somehow escape. And then the patronus walked floated away. It was the worst moment in her stay - the sudden crushing of reality, the theft of hope. Her heart broke in that moment.

So she swallowed and walked forward, eyes averted from the prisoners, because there was nothing she could do for any of them. And beneath her stone exterior was a bleeding heart who would act rashly if given a reason too.

It was a long walk, and she stuck as close to her patronus as possible - for she had fresh heartbreak she needed no reminder of. She had started of at 999 and was slowly winding down to the 850s. She quickened for her pace, for she was close. And then, she found it.

For a moment, she stared inside the cell, disturbed by the change in Aaron. He had been the one with her the last time, and he had held up much better then. Jack swallowed and sent her Patronus off, quickly producing another as the first ran down the hall. She knelt by the bars, grabbing them with her hands as she called out to Aaron. "Aaron."

Aaron's throat was sore from all of the screaming, his wrists burned from the yanking, and his head throbbed from having his memory probed over and over again. To say he was spent was an understatement. He was out of breath from the whole ordeal, and the only thing he wanted was sleep, but his head was flooded with horrible memories. Memories he was sure were not even real, they were invented by the dementors to taunt him, but he could not tell the difference anymore. It all blurred together.

His eyes lulled in the back of his head and his head drooped backwards, smacking against the wall, he felt no pain. He wished he did, he wished he could feel his head smacking, but he could not. The only thing he knew was constant suffering, which he guessed was pain, but it was pain in a completely new light. Pain he never thought possible, and yet, he was wrong.

A sound distracted him, no not a sound, a voice. An actual human voice, and was it calling his name, no he must be imagining things. Still, he had nothing better to do, so why not talk to an imaginary friend. He lifted his head up and he looked outside of the cell to see none other than Jack Dyllan and Silvyr Svan.

A cackle escaped his lips, not because anything was funny, but because he was not sure if they were real or fake. Either way, might as well go with it, no use in arguing with an apparition. "Well its about damn time." He said jokingly, his throat dry, and his voice extremely hoarse. "This whole Azkaban thing isn't really my style. Tried it, hated it, tried it again, hated it more."