Chapter 5
Azkaban was just as dank and soulless as Harry remembered, even without dementors lurking about.
After the trials, Hermione took up prison reform as one of her causes. “It’s not humane, what they’re doing to them there,” she’d often tell Harry and Ron over dinner. So now the prison was fitted with a library and recreational time and prisoners didn’t all live in solitary confinement all the time. But none of that could change the fact that it was still Azkaban.
Harry shivered and made his way to reception to register as a visitor. As he passed his wand to the stern looking guard and signed the visitor log, another name caught his eye.
Draco Malfoy. It said he was there just two days ago. The day after the duel.
Huh.
Harry looked over the entry to see who he visited. “Corban Yaxley?” He said aloud. Cell block six, the guard told him.
Harry followed him to the cell, pulling the sleeves of his jumper over his fingers, wand clutched tight.
“Here we are. You have 15 minutes.”
“Back so soon?” A gruff voice called from a shadowy corner of the small enclosure. Harry lit his wand and pointed it in the direction of Yaxley. He was met with limp blond hair and a bored expression — until dark eyes met his and something flashed in them.
“Oh. It’s you.” He said, strangely. This was not what Harry was expecting.
“What do you want Potter? Come to gloat?” The last bit was said with a smirk.
“Malfoy,” Harry managed to croak out. He hadn't realized how dry his throat had gotten. Those sharp eyes snapped up again to meet Harry’s. Yaxley looked like he was trying to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth.
Harry tried again. “You were his cellmate weren’t you?”
Yaxley grinned sadly. “Yes. I was. He’s gone now,” he said affecting a bored tone. “You should leave too, if you know what’s good for you. Saviour.” Those eyes met Harry’s again, something pleading in them, though a sneer took up the rest of Yaxley’s face.
“I have some questions,” Harry continued, glaring back at the death eater. “He’s different.”
“I’m sure he is,” Yaxley drawled.
Harry felt his skin prickle. Something wasn’t right here but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Yaxley looked disheveled and old, his clothes like rags stretching across his meaty shoulders. His eyes sunken, his wrists bruised. Life in prison, that was his sentence for his acts in both wars, for escaping Azkaban, Imperiousing the Minister for Magic, murdering Muggleborns. The list went on.
Like so many of the other prisoners, he had looked resigned to his fate. Until Harry walked in.
“He’s up to something,” Harry said, growing more uneasy by the second. “Is he now,” came the casual response. An act of indifference.
“What do you know?” Harry asked tightly, gritting his teeth. Yaxley looked up at Harry again, a calculating look in his eyes. After a moment of deliberation he pursed his lips. “Not that it’s any of my concern, Potter,” he started, popping the P. “But I can tell you with full certainty that Draco Malfoy isn’t up to anything.”
Yaxley grimaced then, hand clutching his left forearm, as though it were in pain. “In fact,” Yaxley continued, “he may as well still be locked up in here.” He held Harry’s gaze for a beat too long before dropping his hand. Harry saw a trickle of blood come down his sleeve.
“But since he’s not,” Yaxley continued hurriedly, cutting through the odd tension, “I think you should leave.”
Harry almost did, then. But then remembered, “he came to visit you. The other day. What did he want?”
“Maybe you should ask him.”
With a final glare in the prisoner's direction, Harry turned to leave.
“Wait,” Yaxley called, and something desperate in his voice made Harry stop.
“How good are you at your job?”
Harry faced Yaxley again.
“Excuse me?"
“Truthfully Potter. How good of an Auror are you, at solving crimes?”
“What are you getting at Yaxley?” Harry spat, losing his patience.
“Just. You’re right to be suspicious. That’s all I can say.”
Harry spent the rest of his weekend trying to shake off the unease from his visit to Azkaban.
He hadn’t known much about Yaxley, besides what he saw in his visions through Voldemort’s eyes. Those had been educational.
Yaxley was in Voldemort’s inner circle, he took over the Auror department, led the campaign against Muggleborns, killed people. There was no reason to trust anything that came out of his mouth.
And yet, that visit left Harry feeling like he was on to something.