***

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

  Given to Head Auror Harry Potter

  ***

  We listened with half an ear, as the voice ran the petulant peer through the process. (Yes, Demelli, I know that's too alliterative. Deal with it). (Well, it is! - Demelli). I was pleased to note that he included the 'Safety Zone' lie.

  I caught Shamir regarding me. I raised an eyebrow. "It's 'later,' " he said.

  Oh. Yeah. That. I sighed, inwardly. Half a Truth is better than None. I bet Grandmere would love that one.

  "You remember Grayson?"

  Shamir thought a moment. "Oh. Oh, yes. I was just finishing up as 'George.' Had my replacement trained. A whole clique took a dead set at him, and the Room Boss was useless." He looked at me. "You did everything you could. Before and after. I have never seen five men so... clinically... beat almost to death. And all at the same time. There is much of your past..."

  "...that is past." I did not mean to say that as roughly as I did. "An' I got my longest ev'r stint in Solitary." Shamir's mouth quirked. I shrugged.

  ***

  Here's what I told him:

  Well, it was the longest at the time. But that was just the... the start. Usually when I get the Howler to go to Solitary, I just report to the Airlock Door in the Rec Room, and wait in it, however long they choose to make me wait. They finally cycle it, and escort me down to the Designated Cell, with or without petty commentary. They lock me in, and go away and accidentally forget to feed me for a couple of meals. Nothing personal.

  That time, I think they had been watching. And I think I scared them. When the Airlock door cycled, I was hit, not once, but twice, with Petrificus Totallus, Total Body Bind.

  They had a bloody hand-truck with them. They lashed me to it, and set off in the wrong direction.

  There were a circle of, I guess, offices, around a central well in the floor, At the time, I figured it was just open to the first floor. Now? I don't know. They wheeled me into a monitoring room, still Petrified, and set me where I had to see the projection from our Hallway. There was a man already sitting at the controls, and he gave me a nervous glance. He said, quickly, "Close the door, and lock out the magic. I'm not sure about this, anyway."

  A rough voice behind me spoke. "Can't have this trash thinking they're harder than us. Got to give this one a lesson."

  To my side, barely in my peripheral vision, a short, squat man swung the door to. "What's the opposition for blocking magical scrying?"

  "Leo-Cancer?" The man at the desk didn't sound sure.

  "Nah," the rough voice said. "That reinforces door strength. Y' want Taurus Left, Libra Right. Still lets us hear out there."

  The man at the control panel muttered, "If we get caught with 'im up here, we're done."

  "Crap job, anyway," grunted the short man. "Don't pay enough to have to worry about his like on top."

  "So? Think you're a bad man, do ya?" Rough Voice hit me on the side of the head. Yes, Petrified people can feel pain. Just can't do anything about it.

  Apparently it's not very satisfying to the sadist, though. That was the only time I was hit hard. He went on.

  "See, we saw your little display in there. What you didn't know was that you was spoiling our fun. We had a little pool running on when what's-his-name..."

  "Grayson." The man at the controls supplied the name, then gave a nervous twitch as the other snarled.

  "I. Don't. CARE!" The man behind me took a deep breath, let it out, and continued. "The pool was when whats-his-name would cark it, and which of the lads would get him at the last. The staff don't get chances like that every day. Livens up the tedium, y' might say. An' because of your interference, all bets are off!"

  They were lucky I was Petrified. Hel, I was lucky I was petrified. I was so angry, they would have to put me down like a mad dog. But I was also confused. Grayson had died, after all. And with all their Argus Eyes through the place, they had to know...

  "A bloody technicality." The squat man sounded disgusted. "Our boy had him, he HAD him! But because of one bloody..."

  The view of the projection panned down to show the Grate. There was Grayson's body, torn and bloody beneath his equally torn and bloody clothes. But the projection showed an overlay. Over Grayson's chest was a feeble green light that pulsed irregularly.

  "He's not dead." The words were bitter, accusing. "Our boy didn't finish him off, and the whoreson running the pool won't pay out."

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  I got another cuff on the ear, and the rough-voiced man finally came into my sightline. "I know what you're thinkin'! Yeah, we get our Galleons back! But we borrowed those damned Galleons t' bet on our sure thing, an' now we gotta come up with half again as much t' pay our way out! And it's that lump's fault! And your fault, for pulling our boy off 'im!"

  He scowled at the projection. "See that light? We're s'posed to sound an alarm. Send 'im off to St. Mungo's. But nobody cares. Nobody cares. It'll go down as an error, see? We override it. Get a little payback for having to live on next t' nothing for at least two months. And you!" He whirled on me, pointing a finger in my face. "You interferin' sod! You ever, ever mess up our games again, an' it'll be you lyin' there!" His hand opened, and he patted my cheek, gently. "Dead or not."

  He turned away. "Only regret is it will be fast." He sighed, then spoke to the man at the controls, who was visibly trembling.

  "Choke your Incendio down to yellow. Mebbe we'll get a twitch outa 'im."

  ***

  Shamir and I stood silently when I finished. We listened to The Mad Teen of Azkaban gloat over the cremation.

  "Fawkesworthy, I take back everything negative I ever said about you. Except about your weight, you really are a bit of a pudge. Come, let's go to a different Monitoring Room! I understand the Men's Barracks on the ground level has over twenty bodies lined up! Oh, I hope I don't become jaded!"

  "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, My Lady. I find I am noticing more subtle effects as I get more experience under my, well, suspenders. My Lady is quite right about my pudgitude."

  The Harpy snorted at the word 'pudgitude,' then said, "Oh! Subtle how?"

  "The secondary colors at the base of the flames are quite beautiful, and they appear to change from person to person! I have not yet determined if it is a difference of mass, or a difference in the magic of the deceased..."

  "Oh. Oh! We can make a real study of it! Call up their records, note weight and magic...!"

  "Quite so, My Lady. And it will be good ammunition for me to throw in the face of those who disparage your wit! You are a true scion of the Zabini Clan! Why does not My Lady proceed to the appropriate room, and I shall follow after securing things here."

  "Done and done! And... do prepare me a list of those disparagers, Fawkesworthy."

  "As My Lady says, 'Done and done!' "

  After a moment, the voice spoke quietly. "I say, chaps, if you're still about? You've done me what the mystery novels call 'a solid.' She is so much easier to deal with if you can engage her passions, and point her paranoia elsewhere! Ta-ta for now!"

  Shamir and I slid around the pillars to the side door to Bunk Room Three. Figuring we were at least momentarily free of monitoring, I said, "Strange little man."

  Shamir, more wary than me, mouthed the word, "Man?"

  I shrugged. Then shivered. "Is it j'st me, or is this place gettin' worse-like?"

  Shamir stopped at the door, and glanced around the Pillar Room. His look said it was not just me.

  ***

  Tuesday, July 29th, 2014. 07:35 AM.

  Azkaban Prison, "The Rocks"

  The North Sea

  ***

  Harry looked up from his notebook, only to find everyone else regarding John with stunned expressions on their faces.

  "Are your heads spinning?" he said, voice tired. "Mine sure is." He pulled the left breast of his robe open, and spoke to the portion of the black folder that protruded from his dimensional pocket. "Demelli, are you okay to come out? It's not actively raining, but a bit of spray is blowing about."

  The yellow text appeared on the section he could see, small, cramped, and sideways.

  Is that why you have me jammed in like this? I thought it was some kind of Security thing. Harry, I am WEATHERPROOF.

  He pulled the folder free with a grimace, and leaned it against a rock. "Sorry."

  The sideways yellow text drained into the spiral, then expanded back out to continue in her regular font size.

  Ah, that's better. I've got a crick in my spine. Oh, and for future reference, I am also Fireproof, Hex-Proof, Acid-Proof, and Safe to have around Young Children.

  "Duly noted." Harry rubbed at his scar absently. Like a contacts wearer trying to push glasses up their nose, the habit persisted long after the need was gone. "I have absolutely no idea where to start."

  Ginny shrugged helplessly. "Chronologically?"

  "Good a way as any." Harry looked to John. "Those guards?"

  "Well, ah tol' Shamir tha' they weren't th' ones what finally tuk me owt o' Solitary, an' ah j'st nivver saw 'em again."

  "And the real story?"

  "Tha' was back when yeh hadn't taken over as yet, an' Kingsley was still wearing both hats, himself. Ah beat m' best time t' th' Seamount, Portkeyed t' th' Safe House, an' used up one o' mah emergency ways t' get him t' meet wi' me."

  Only Daniel looked as if he wanted to ask 'what way,' but he suppressed it.

  "Then ah laid it out for him, he asked me a lot o' questions, an' said he would see t' 'ut."

  "And what did happen to those guards?" Daniel was on the edge of his... rock. All this sub rosa business had him thoroughly overexcited.

  John held his hands out and looked blank. "I nivver saw them again. Kingsley said he had 'ut, an' I was t' ask no more."

  Harry groaned. "ROCC. Of course." Ginny tapped her toe against his under the drape of their robes. John and Daniel were giving him curious looks.

  "I feel like I'm beating my head against a rock," Harry lied smoothly. "What's next? I've got a note here. Consolidation Wars?"

  "Easier if y' wait for th' next bit." John was looking tired. Everybody needed a break.

  "Good enough." Harry nodded firmly. "One last thing to be thinking on. Lower levels?"

  "Like ah said, we took th' food for granted, til there were no food. Sitting out here, it seems odd it's nivver questioned. I s'pose we thought it was j'st more magic."

  Harry shook his head absently, "Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration."

  "Eh?"

  "Ask Hermione, she'll put a bug in your ear about it. Speaking of Hermione, I want her over here to teach you two the Anti-Anomaly Spell. Both of you seem to have been affected by something similar. Ginny, would you fetch her? We seem to be a bit short of Owls."

  Ginny had already risen, but pulled up short. "Why are we short of Owls?"

  "Oh, Ath?na and one other tagged along with Nienna. I meant to tell her not to take them, but she was in a bit of a rush."

  "You were in a bit of a rush," said Hannah, dryly. "Something about a question you didn't want to come up?"

  "No idea what you're talking about." Harry was proud of that airy reply. But why did Ginny still have that look?

  "Ath?na and one other? Harry, are you crazy?"

  "What?" Harry was truly baffled. Hannah broke in, using a saccharine, husky, cloying voice..

  "Hello, My Darlings. It's Rita Skeeter here on Wizarding Wireless Network, bringing you the best and the worst of our Witchy World. What mismatched feathery couple have been inseparable for the past weeks, despite her being barely out of the egg, and him being quite grey in the feather? Ah, but who can resist a War Hero, am I right?"

  Harry stared at Hannah, appalled, until Ginny slapped her hands onto both sides of his face and forced it around.

  Her words came in a veritable snarl. "You sent Belisarius into the Ministry?"