Rescue
No matter how many times he comes here, it’s as bleak as always. The dementors may be gone, but Azkaban is still a ruined fortress in the middle of the sea.
Kingsley Shacklebolt is flanked by two other Aurors and a news reporter, as he enters the prison, led by a short, chubby guard.
The walls are sparkling clean, but dark and black as well. Some prisoners look up from scrubbing the walls. They're the calmer, better ones, the guard tells them, but Kingsley isn't so sure. Kingsley’s goal is to leave as soon as possible. Their footsteps echo across the empty hall.
From what they can tell, the prisoners are treated fairly well. But he isn’t looking for simple law breakers, or even the more intense criminals.
He’s looking for the Death Eaters.
All of them, the ones that survived, are locked up here in Azkaban. Bellatrix Lestrange was here for life. So were the Carrows. Some of the lesser Death Eater supporters were here for ten years, but in Kingsley’s opinion, that wasn't long enough.
Some managed to escape going to the prison. Lucius Malfoy paid an unimaginable amount of gold to save him, his wife, and his son. The Malfoy reputation was now ruined, but Lucius was still a Hogwarts governor.
So many had died during the Battle of Hogwarts. Remus Lupin was left to raise Teddy alone after Nymphadora died under her aunt’s wand. Fred Weasley died with a laugh on his face.
Yet of all of them, Kingsley thought of Severus Snape the most. Severus Snape, whose body they never found. The blood on the floor of the Shrieking Shack had been enough evidence. Severus Snape had been pardoned and given the Order of Merlin, First Class for his two decades as a spy.
Kingsley went to his funeral. He hadn’t been that close to the man, but he admired the cold, strong silence and the determination.
“Just over here,” the guard, Jones, says, leading them to a more contained area of the prison.
“Whose cell is that for?” Auror Shelley asked, shadowing Kingsley’s own thoughts.
“All of ‘em.”
“What do you mean, all of them?” Kingsley interrupted. “You put them all together?”
“In the same cell, yes.” Jones shrugged. “They torment each other, make each other’s lives miserable. It’s good punishment.”
“They could plan an escape-”
Jones snickered.
“Sorry, Minister, but that’s absurd. None of them are Animagi, none have mothers who are willing to trade their lives using Polyjuice, none of them have mad lords anymore, and none of them even have weapons of any kind. Believe me, Minister, but the moment they start plotting-” He sliced his finger across his neck.
“You kill them?” Kingsley asked, his voice calm even when he himself certainly wasn’t.
“No, just pain.” Jones shrugged. “We’ve installed the muggle thingys- cameras. Now we can watch them without even being here.”
They passed door after door, each one more heavily secured than the one before it.
“Here we are.”
In a medium sized cell, six wizards and witches were huddled together. Kingsley recognized Bellatrix Lestrange, the Carrows, Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, and Walden Macnair. All six were crouching in a tight circle around the corner of the wall, bent over and snickering.
“Six?” Kingsley asked, surveying the group. “Yes, I think that’s all of them.”
Rookwood let out a wild cackle.
“Well, well, well, Auror Shacklebolt.” Bellatrix grinned, cackling. “What a surprise. Would you like a cup of filthy water? I apologize, that’s the most we’ve got. Unless you’d like some seasoning?”
She reached around the corners to collect dust and mimed sprinkling it into an invisible cup of tea.
“Minister Shacklebolt,” Kingsley corrected calmly.
“Seven,” Bellatrix returned.
“Sorry?” Kingsley asked politely.
“Seven of us, not six. Since you corrected me, I thought it was only polite to correct you back.”
“Don’t show him, Bella,” Macnair sneered, his hair overgrown and filthy.
“Our Minister deserves a little fright, Walden,” Lestrange snickered.
“Go on, move around.”
The tiny group backed away from the corner.
Curious, Kingsley leaned closer to the bars.
Someone was lying against the corner, the right side of their body a horrible purple hue. Kingsley could barely make out his face from the dark yet silvering hair blocking the person’s face. A dark, ugly, violet scar ran down from the corner of his lips down to the base of their neck, mangled and surrounded by chunks of uneven skin, as if something had nearly taken a bite out of them.
Scarlet Crabbe, the sweet, trustworthy reporter behind him gasped softly and started scribbling on her clipboard.
Kingsley was sure that it was a man even though he looked less like a human and more like a skeleton, each breath making his chest heave for air as if it would be his last. He was thin, too thin to be alive. With his eyes closed, Kingsley doubted he was even aware of his surroundings.
It was clear that someone had been abusing the man. Deep bruises covered his body. With a sickening jolt, Kingsley saw dark letters staining the pale skin. The word “TRAITOR” covered the Dark Mark. “PUPPET” was in the same place on his right arm. “MONSTER” peeked out in red letters against his chest.
Traitor, monster, and puppet hardly seemed like the right words for a Death Eater.
Kingsley observed the man again. His hair fell down his shoulders and nearly to his belly, streaks of silver and white against the black. Greasy and long, Kingsley wondered if they ever took showers.
The man was thin, pale, and had a large, protruding nose that looked like it was broken too many times. A long, hooked nose.
Kingsley’s eyes widened.
“You’ve finally got who he is, haven’t you?” Bellatrix giggled.
“Yes, we’ve got your friend. Severus is enjoying his time with us, isn’t he?”
Amycus howled with laughter.
“See that eye? See how it’s purple? I did that.”
“You’ve got Severus Snape?” Kingsley turned towards the guard, his eyes alight with fire.
“He’s been reported dead for three years!” Kingsley snapped, his temper beginning to show. “He was pardoned and given the Order of Merlin! Why haven’t we been notified of this?”
Jones looked abashed.
“I dunno, our boss told us to keep him here, and ask no questions-”
“Shelley, go with Scarlet to return to Headquarters and write a letter to the Wizengamot to arrange a meeting with Eugene Macmillan. Korman, you’re going to come with me. I’m taking Severus Snape to St. Mungo’s. He is officially released from Azkaban.” Kingsley stepped towards the guard. Shelley nodded and left. Scarlet hurriedly scratched out the rest of her sentence and rushed after her.
“Whoa, you can’t do that,” Jones spluttered.
“He is cleared of all charges,” Kingsley repeated, his booming voice louder than ever. “You are bullying an innocent! Unlock the cell.”
Bellatrix snarled.
“You aren’t taking him,” she spat at Kingsley. “He’s the only thing we’ve got left.”
“You’ve been torturing him for too long,” Auror Korman argued. “And we have every right to release and heal him.”
“Good luck with that,” Dolohov said, his face twisting into a sneer. “He’s currently insane. Won’t let anyone touch him. Expects pain whenever anyone does. He hates himself and thinks that he’s a monster. We’ve done good work on him.”
Bellatrix giggled.
“Our last punishment on the Order of the Phoenix,” she cackled. “Make the War Hero go insane, and make the rest of the group suffer along with him.”
Jones took out his wand and muttered codes until each of the ten locks unlocked. Kingsley stepped inside, his wand in his hand, and crouched over Severus, who was still unconscious. He looked even worse the closer he got.
The other Death Eaters didn’t even try to stop them. Bellatrix wouldn’t stop giggling.
Kingsley placed a warm hand on Severus and said softly, “Severus?”
The man woke with a start, his dark eyes glazed and tired and fearful, one of them cloudy and blurred. Severus let out a whimper as Kingsley squeezed his shoulder, weakly trying to lift himself into a sitting position. Alecto snickered.
“Hey. Okay, I’m sorry. Look, Severus, it’s Kingsley.”
Severus nodded.
“I know who you are.” The words were garbled, soft, and raspy. Kingsley could barely understand what he was saying.
“I’m going to get you out of here, alright?”
Severus blinked at him, wariness etched into the lines of his face.
“Liar.”
Kingsley exhaled softly.
“You’re a dream,” Severus wheezed weakly. “You’ve all forgotten about me, after all.”
Then he closed his eyes again.
“Severus?” Kingsley tried again. “I promise this isn’t a dream.”
“You don’t want me anyway!” Severus suddenly shouted, his eyes blinking wide. Pressing him against his wall, he started to sob. “I don’t deserve it! Please, go away!” He wrapped his left arm around himself, curling up into a ball, each sob draining so much strength out of him. His right arm stayed limply on the floor.
The Death Eaters were cackling with laughter.
“Severus. Can I take you to St. Mungo’s?” Kingsley stretched out a hand.
Severus blinked at him, shaking with fever and fear.
“I won’t hurt you.”
The broken man blinked at it, taking in a shaky breath.
“You’re innocent. Fully pardoned. You don’t deserve to be here. I’m going to take you home. To safety. I promise.”
Severus stared at him for a long time, spasming. And then he nodded.
“Can you walk?”
He shook his head.
“Should I lift you up?”
A yes.
Kingsley reached down and wrapped his arms around the man’s back and thin hips, lifting him up. Severus flinched at his touch, spasming hard. He weighed barely nothing. Kingsley was scared.
He carried Severus all the way back to their boat. Jones hurriedly locked the cell again. Bellatrix made kissy faces to Kingsley as he left. Korman followed with his wand outstretched.
On the way back to their portkey, Severus fell asleep again. Kingsley watched each breath, worried that it would be his last. Severus wasn’t even fighting for his life anymore, because he had to serve years in Azkaban that he didn’t deserve. And what was worse was that the head of Azkaban hid Severus when they thought that he was dead.
“Tell Harry Potter, Dahlia Skydancer, and Remus Lupin that Severus Snape is alive, and that they should meet me in St. Mungo’s within ten minutes.”
The silvery lynx patronus nodded at his words and bounded away from their boat.
The message delivered, Kingsley sighed and looked down at Severus’s ruined face.
“Do you think he’s gonna make it?” Korman asked softly.
“Cling onto hope,” Kingsley replied. “We’ve got our most trusted Healer coming our way. Dahlia Skydancer, you know, since, according to Lestrange, Severus here won’t let anyone he doesn’t know touch him.”
“What happened to the poor bloke, anyway?”
“Nagini. Voldemort’s snake. She bit him because her master thought that he had the Elder Wand. Look, that snake nearly got a little bit of him with her. Good thing Neville killed that snake.”
Korman flinched as he looked at the uneven, ugly skin.
“And his right side- it’s all purple.”
Kingsley shuddered.
“Macmillan will be fined,” he promised. “And they’ll be getting their own cells. What happened here is horrifying. It’s like putting a bleeding fish in the center of hungry sharks and expecting them not to eat it.”
Kingsley whistled softly, leaning back.
“Severus Snape, you’re too stubborn to die, huh?”
They rode the boat in silence all the way to the portkey. A man stood at the side of it, checking his watch, and gave a start whenever he saw Kingsley carrying a limp Severus, although he thankfully kept silent.
“The next portkey’s in two minutes,” he grunted, and Kingsley nodded, grabbing the lantern that was their way back from the prison. Korman shifted Severus around so that he would touch the portkey too, just in case, and touched the lantern himself.
“Ten…nine…eight…seven…”
Kingsley sighed, hoping that Severus would remain unconscious throughout the rest of the journey- anything along the way might hurt him.
“Two…one…safe travels, Minister.”
And then they were gone as something jerked in their navel.