On the Precipice

Despite no longer viscerally feeling the dementors by their proximity, Harry held his breath and clenched his fists to stop his hands from trembling. It felt like it took them ages to approach Harry’s cell. It was only the whimpers and moans of the non-animagus prisoners that let Harry know the dementors were moving in his direction. The delay gave Harry enough time to second guess whether or not he should ask them for answers. He got the feeling that he wasn’t going to like whatever he learned. It was only seeing the peacock and porcupine in the cells across from him that gave Harry the resolve to push forward. If the two death eaters were forcing themselves to remain relatively close instead of cowering in the corner, then Harry ought to have the same strength to face his new reality.

“How do you feel?” Asherath asked once he was hovering in front of Harry. Next to him was another dementor. Harry thought he was getting better at identifying them, so he felt certain that it was Ishanders with him.

“Still hot... and full,” Harry answered. He wasn’t sure if the dementors experienced soul eating the same way as him but answering honestly seemed like the best way to get their honest answers and help in return. “It’s getting better, I think,” Harry said. It was either better or Harry was used to the feeling now.

The dementors made a rattling sound that Harry assumed was their version of “hmmmmm”. They took a moment to assess the young wizard before them, unperturbed by the pitiful moans of the other prisoners.

“You do seem to be consuming it faster than we do,” observed Asherath.

“Consume- I’m not- it’s not food to me,” Harry stressed. He thought back to how little he had eaten since kissing Burke. “I mean, I have eaten other food. People food. Well, not other people but food appropriate for humans,” Harry had to force himself to stop babbling. He took a deep breath and tried again. “I’m not, er, digesting it like you would. I don’t know if I’m digesting it at all.”

“It seems to be disintegrating,” Ishanders told Harry. He meant it as encouragement, but Harry felt the heavy weight of guilt settle in him.

“Disintegrating?” he repeated. “How can you tell?”

 “You appear less... bright,” Asherath explained. “You are still brighter than the rest, but the newest soul is fading. It is not as bright as last I saw you.”

It was a lot of information for Harry to take in. While he was glad that Burke’s soul hadn’t merge with his own, that relief was outweighed by a horrible realization.

“I think every time I use magic, it kills a portion of Burke’s soul,” Harry said faintly. He looked towards the dementors in hope that they would tell him that wasn’t the case.

“I don’t know how humans consume one another or the repercussions,” said Ishanders, which caused Harry to flinch. He hated the way Ishanders phrased that as it sounded uncomfortably close to cannibalism. The idea of cannibalism made Harry queasy, though he didn’t know if it was better or worse to eat someone’s soul. Probably worse.

Harry wondered what happened to souls that died a non-dementor death. If there was an afterlife, Harry assumed that they quickly moved on to that plane of existence. It was a nice, comforting thought. What was less comforting was theorizing what happened to souls slowly being consumed by dementors – and now Harry. Would Burke’s soul pass painfully slow, piece by piece into the afterlife? Or was Harry slowly obliterating the soul forever more? Both possibilities were cruel.

Harry felt he should resolve to stop using wandless magic, but that seemed impossible. Even if he could grow accustomed to the uncomfortable feeling of having an extra soul in him, he couldn’t stop being a wizard. If he was ever released, he’d go back to Hogwarts and would cast multiple times a day. It wasn’t like he could explain why he couldn’t do the practical portion of his classes. McGonagall wouldn’t stand for it, and Snape would demand he be expelled if Harry insisted on living like a muggle. Harry couldn’t go back to living with the Dursleys fulltime. He just would not. In some ways, being stuck in Azkaban was preferable.

“Is there any way to throw up a soul?” Harry asked as a last attempt to save both himself and Burke. He didn’t know what would happen to a partially eaten soul, but it had to be better than knowingly destroying one.

“Why would you want to?” Ishanders sounded as incredulous as his rattling voice would allow.

“It is not something that we do,” Asherath added.

“Not even if you’re sick, or...” Harry scrambled to think of another reason, “or to feed your young?” Harry knew it was extremely unlikely that the dementors fed their children like birds fed their chicks, but he was desperate. Both dementors made loud rattling sounds. It took Harry a moment, but he realized it was a dementor’s version of a laugh.

“We do not share our food, even with our children,” Asherath explained.

“How do they eat then?” Harry asked as he was temporarily sidetracked.

“They are shown, as you were,” Asherath explained. “They either eat or starve.” It sounded all the more cruel given Asherath’s matter-of-fact tone. Harry couldn’t help but wonder how many dementor babies ended up starving. As far as Harry would tell, the dementor population seemed low. Then again, Harry was able to feed and he wasn’t even a dementor.

“Are there other ways of getting rid of it then?” Harry asked as he brought the conversation back to his original concern.

“You already are, aren’t you?” stated Ishanders. “It is leaving you already. Just consume it faster if you want it gone that much.”

Harry once again felt conflicted. It was fundamentally wrong to use up someone’s soul, but Harry felt like he couldn’t avoid it at this point. Even if he could stomach giving up magic, there would be no guarantee that the deterioration of Burke’s soul would stop.

“I suppose,” Harry said as he came to terms with the idea that he would keep going even if it cost Burke’s soul. The moral thing would be to stop... but it wasn’t like Burke had stopped when Harry asked him to. Harry reasoned that it wasn’t fair that he should have to carry around Burke’s soul at the expense of his magic. Burke didn’t deserve that consideration after what he did to Harry. Harry decided that he would keep using magic, even if it ultimately used up Burke’s soul. It was terrible, but it wasn’t like Harry would keep eating souls. Harry just had to hold on until he felt like himself again.

“I just-” he sighed. Despite his new resolve, Harry struggled to keep his emotions onboard. “You won’t understand, but I feel guilty for using up his soul this way.”

“In that case, can you not halt the deterioration and store what’s left?” Asherath asked.

“How?” asked Harry.

“How did you do it before?” Asherath countered. Harry was too confused to notice the shrewd tone that entered the dementor’s voice.

Harry blinked a couple of times as he was thoroughly confused. “I didn’t,” he said slowly and wondered if he somehow managed to halt the deterioration subconsciously. “I’ve been using Burke to power my magic almost non-stop since it happened.”

“Not the guard,” said Ishanders. That time, Harry did note that he sounded annoyed.

“You truly don’t know?” questioned Asherath.

“Know what?” Harry asked faintly. He grew apprehensive about whatever it was the two were alluding to.

“I believe you,” Asherath determined. He turned to Ishanders and added, “had he known how, he would have halted this one as well. It clearly distresses him.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry looked between the two. “Please,” he added when he sensed their reluctance to explain.

“Souls cannot hide from us,” said Asherath. “We see and sense them no matter how they try to hide,” he gestured towards Lucius’ cell. “Wizards may make themselves smaller, but we always know they are there,” he added. Harry made a mental note to warn Albert and Lucius that their animagus forms didn’t go as unnoticed as they thought.

“It is unheard of that one of you would make yourself more appealing to us,” mused Ishanders. “But you are... irresistible.”

“What do you mean? I never tried to get your attention. Before this,” Harry waved his hand between them in a vague manner that was meant to encompass his whole Azkaban experience, “I would have been quite happy to never come across one of you again. No offense.”

“And yet, you call to us like a beacon,” Asherath responded. “You are so bright. I don’t think you grasp how rare that is.”

“Why? I’m nothing special,” Harry said.

“But you are,” insisted Asherath. “The closest comparison would be when one of your kind is with child. At first the difference is imperceptible, but as the new soul grows, their combined light stands out above the rest. And yet, none I have seen has matched your brightness. The child’s soul is too new, still developing, and once the pregnancy is over, both humans return to a brightness that is no different than the rest. Appealing but no more so than any other of your kind.”

“But I’m not pregnant,” Harry said. He was fearful of where this conversation was headed. Burke hadn’t succeeded in raping Harry, but perhaps consuming the man’s soul had made pregnancy possible. Harry feared he was carrying Burke’s offspring... or worse, Burke himself.

“No,” interrupted Asherath, which fortunately stopped Harry’s downward spiral. “When pregnant, your kind is a little more. The potential of new life adds a sort of glow. You on the other hand... you shine.”

“Shine?” Harry parroted. It should be a relief to hear he wasn’t carrying Burke’s spawn. And yet, his apprehension only seemed to grow the longer the conversation went on.

“Yes. You have more, but yours is not the hint of a developing soul. Your extra piece was already full grown. A fraction, to be sure, but still a part of a fully-grown soul.”

Harry stared at Asherath in horror, as he realized the significance of what the dementor was telling him.

“You are a rather odd puzzle,” Asherath continued. “Able to contain a portion of a soul without consuming it. It seemed like a waste, but still fascinating.”

“Potentially useful,” interrupted Ishanders as he disagreed on how handy this ability was. “If we can harness this skill, we can keep a portion of our meals for when we are in dire need,” Ishanders theorized. It sounded like an old debate between the two, but Harry barely followed their conversation at this point. His mind was busy going over all of the lessons he had with Dumbledore throughout the year.

“There are many theories about you,” continued Asherath. “Part-dementor, which seemed unlikely as you reacted negatively to my presence until I connected with you... and yet, you can harness our magic.”

“Many of the clan thought you had somehow stolen our knowledge and were just playing dumb,” added Ishanders. “A few even proposed your immediate death so you would be unable to share this knowledge with others if your kind,” Ishanders paused here as if he was waiting for Harry to gasp in horror... but Harry was already there, for the truth was worse than whatever theories the dementors thought up. Seeing no change in Harry’s expression, Ishanders continued, “you’re lucky Asherath has taken a liking to you.”

“As if you aren’t curious,” Asherath said defensively, “a human able to wield our great magic-”

“Horcrux,” Harry interrupted.

“What?” asked Asherath.

“It’s not dementor magic. I think,” Harry gulped before forging on, “I think I’m a horcrux.”

“What is that?” asked Ishanders. Both dementors became excited as the answer to their riddle was finally known. Harry, for obvious reasons, didn’t share their enthusiasm.

“It’s dark magic. Human dark magic. It’s a way to gain immortality. Sort of. The theory is that, you can break off a portion of your soul and store it in an inanimate object. If you died, you’re still tied to this world. Someone else can use that portion of your soul to bring you back,” Harry said.

“You are not an object,” Ishanders pointed out, doubting Harry’s theory. “How would you be one of these things?”

“I think it was an accident, but Voldemort knew how to make horcruxes. When he tried to kill me, it backfired. No one knows how I survived. What if it’s because he was trying to make a horcrux?” Harry said in a rush. He didn’t know the specifics of making a horcrux, so he didn’t know how likely it could backfire in this way. But how else could he have gotten someone’s soul in him? Who else could it be?

“Is there a way for your kind to check for these – horcrux, was it?” asked Ishanders.

“I don’t know. I’ve come across one before, but I didn’t know what it was,” Harry said as he thought about the diary. “Although... it was sentient. And the one in me isn’t. So-” Harry suddenly felt hopeful, “so maybe I’m wrong. Maybe whatever this is, it isn’t a horcrux.”

“Does your kind have any experts you can consult?” asked Asherath.

“No. I don’t know. It’s dark magic, so they wouldn’t admit it if they were experts. I could probably ask professor Dumbledore. He’s the one that told me about the others. If anyone is able to-” Harry suddenly stopped talking as another horrible thought occurred to him. Professor Dumbledore had been looking into Lord Voldemort’s horcruxes. If Harry was one, the man probably already knew. Equal parts anger and despair rose in him as he contemplated the likelihood that Dumbledore had already figured this out but held back that information from Harry. Was the man ever going to tell him? Was he saving it as the grand finale as he took Harry on a journey through Voldemort’s past? The hurt festered as he realized Dumbledore planned to destroy the horcruxes. What did that mean for Harry? What did Dumbledore expect to do about that one? Harry feared the answer.

Asherath and Isanders debated amongst themselves if anyone in their clan would be able to follow up on Harry’s theory. When it became clear to the dementors that Harry was no longer in a state to contribute to the discussion and planning, the two dementors bid him goodnight and stated they’ll let him know if anyone comes up with a way to test his theory. The dementors leave, happy to have some answers but still confused about the strange soul magic humans used.

“Harry?” Lucius prompted once the other prisoners recovered from the effects of the dementors’ presence.

“I think I’m a horcrux,” Harry whispered and found that saying it again did not make it any easier.

“What’s a horcrux?” asked Crabbe. He had been too caught up in his own terrible memories that he had missed Harry’s previous explanation. Seeing Harry’s reluctance to say it again, Albert filled in the others as best he could after only hearing one side of the conversation.

“Well, we don’t know for sure,” Crabbe said, trying to comfort Harry.

“They said I had another soul – a piece of one before Burke. What else can it be?” Harry despaired.

“It sounds like a horcrux,” Lestrange answered honestly. Even though it was the conclusion Harry had come to, it hurt to have it confirmed by the others. Especially from men who were well-versed in dark arts and thus more likely to know for sure.

“Can you fix it?” whispered Harry as he hugged his knees. There was a telling silence for an achingly long minute, before Lestrange admitted, “I don’t think so.”

His fellow prisoners did not know how to reassure Harry. Lestrange did not mention that what little he knew about horcruxes was not good. Removing the soul from its vessel typically caused irreparable damage to said vessel. There was a chance that the vessel would be unharmed if the soul was removed without using the ritual to return the one that had died. Unfortunately, Lestrange did not remember reading about that, nor if it was even possible to transfer the soul to another vessel. The fact that Harry was a vessel with his own soul would certainly complicate matters further.

“When you get out, you mail my wife,” said Crabbe. “Tell her to check the family library. Any books that mention horcruxes are yours.”

It was a ludicrous suggestion. Harry might have grown to like Crabbe and vice versa, but the man’s wife would have no reason to believe so. She was unlikely to give Harry books from their personal collection. And yet, Harry believed Crabbe was genuine in his offer. It brought tears to his eyes. How could this man, a death eater, so readily offer Harry help when it was his lord’s soul Harry was carrying? And Crabbe made this suggestion in front of his fellow death eaters. More shocking was that no one, not even the overzealous Lestrange brothers were calling foul on Crabbe’s offer. Even after Lestrange’s bleak prediction that it couldn’t be undone, Crabbe’s instinct was to offer support to try to spare Harry this fate. It made Harry’s belief that Dumbledore was not doing the same all the more painful.

“He’s got a point,” Lucius added. “We don’t yet know enough about horcruxes. If we can research them and understand the theory, we may be able to safely move the dark lord’s soul.” Even though the man didn’t outright offer his own library and was careful not to mention what would happen to the soul shard once removed from Harry, Harry felt Lucius was just as invested in saving Harry as Crabbe.

“OK,” Harry said as he wiped at his eyes to remove the tears that were threatening to fall. “Research. I can do research before reaching for a basilisk fang,” Harry clung to the hope that this wasn’t necessarily a death sentence.

“Basilisk fang?” asked Albert.

“It’s how I destroyed the other horcrux,” Harry said.

“Other horcrux?” questioned Lestrange.

“Yeah,” Harry said softly and regretted bringing it up. Just because they wanted to help Harry with the horcrux in him, didn’t mean that they would be happy to hear about how he had already destroyed one of their dark lord’s horcruxes. Unfortunately, they were all now curious about it. Harry hesitantly added, “the diary”.

Even in the dim lighting of Azkaban, Harry noted the fear that flashed across Lucius’ face. It occurred to Harry that the man might not want his fellow death eaters to know about his involvement in the destruction of one of the horcruxes. Harry censored himself as he told the story of his second year. He vaguely mentioned that Ginny happened to have found the diary, and he skipped completely over how he managed to trick Lucius into freeing Dobby.

“You were twelve,” Mulciber stated. “Killed a basilisk at twelve.”

“Yeah,” Harry said tiredly.

“Harry, I don’t think you fully appreciate how remarkable that is,” Albert stated.

“It’s less impressive when you also get a basilisk fang stuck in your arm,” Harry countered. “Though that did turn out to be a handy weapon. Got close to the diary and stabbed it with the fang. Figured if I was going to die, I might as well take him with me.”

“Vengeful little fucker,” snorted Mulciber amused. He sobered quickly as he recalled exactly who Harry had been stabbing.

“Are you sure it was a horcrux?” Lucius asked faintly. Apparently the man had not realized exactly how valuable the diary was.

“Yes. I didn’t know at the time, obviously, but it fits. It had his memories, was able to possess Ginny, and it was trying to use Ginny’s lifeforce to gain his body back,” Harry pointed out.

“It was doing so without external aid?” asked Lestrange. “Do you know if Ginny was compelled to perform a ritual?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said as he tried to recall what Riddle had told him in the chamber. Lestrange asked a few other questions about Riddle’s abilities. Unfortunately, Harry couldn’t tell them much. He hadn’t asked Ginny too many questions as he worried it was too painful for her to relive. He regretted that now. He shared what he had felt when writing in the diary and when he was pulled into a memory by the horcrux. It wasn’t much information, but it gave Lestrange a few things to mull over as he considered the theory behind how horcruxes work.

By the time the conversation naturally died down, Harry felt marginally better. It helped that no one had suggested either killing Harry or handing him over to Voldemort. Harry couldn’t be sure that none of them were thinking it, but at least they were willing to entertain the possibility that the horcrux could be safely removed. He hoped Dumbledore was doing the same. Perhaps he didn’t tell Harry about the horcrux in him because he didn’t want to worry Harry until he had a solution.

“Go to bed,” Harry suggested to the tired death eaters. As usual it was a struggle to convince them, but Harry argued that they could help him more if they were fully rested. Or as rested as Azkaban would allow. Harry wished that he was able to sleep, but he hadn’t felt physically tired since he ate Burke’s soul.

Needing a distraction while the other prisoners slept, Harry once again turned to the rocks that lined his cell. He spent a good five minutes just rolling one between his hands as he once again debated whether he ought to perform magic when he knew it was using up Burke’s soul. Every time he glanced at the mirror that he made, which rested on his bed, Harry felt nothing but pure want. Magic was a part of him. He wasn’t going to give it up, consequences be damned.

He started simple. He transfigured the rock into a pot, and then filled the pot with soil. He weaved transfigured rocks into something resembling a flower. All in all, it was a decent looking fake plant, but Harry wasn’t satisfied. It was something he could have easily made in his third year. He knew Crabbe would be happy with the gesture, but he wanted to give the man something that properly expressed his gratitude. And the little boy that had been starved for affection from the Dursleys wanted to show that he is worth all of the effort they put into teaching him.

It takes Harry longer than he’d care to admit, but by the time he put the pot down again, the spell work was significantly more impressive. A rough life cycle of a plant continuously played out. Starting as a small seed resting atop the soil, the seed slowly sank into the earth and a moment later a sprout grew from the soil. It turned into a stem, and eventually bloomed into the flower Harry had initially created. The flower aged and wilted. Once its petals fell, the dead plant reformed into a seed and the process started again. Harry hoped Crabbe would genuinely like it rather than the perfunctory thank you Harry had expected with his original efforts.

Harry didn’t know what to make for Mulciber as the only thing the man requested had been lube. Harry created another bottle as nothing better came to mind, but when he placed it next to Crabbe’s plant, it felt inadequate. Seeing them side by side, it also occurred to Harry that Crabbe would never be able to hide this gift. Harry morosely watched the cycle and worried that he would have to destroy all that work the second a guard walked down the hall. It was only after several times observing the flower return to a small seed that Harry considered adding some shrinking charms. Unfortunately, at a smaller size, the flower lost some of the details Harry had woven into the spells.

Harry used the marauders map as inspiration to have the shrinking and enlarging triggered with a password. He spent over an hour trying to figure out how to do it without disrupting the other enchantments on each object. He was glad he’d chosen the bottle to run his tests as his first attempt resulted in the bottle returning to a rock before it crumbled into dust. Oddly, it also left behind a smell that reminded Harry of the roll caps Dudley used to play with as a kid. His second attempt wasn’t any better. The bottle shrank but the lube inside didn’t. It left a huge mess – luckily it was as easily banished as it had been to conjure. Harry was frustrated and tempted to give. He also considered waking Albert up as the man was good at problem solving, but he wanted to see if he could do it on his own. He determined that if he was unable to succeed by morning, he would ask the man for help. Harry was glad he decided to keep trying, as he was eventually successful.

Mulciber’s bottle of lube started off no taller than an inch high. If pressed on the bottom while saying the word “Celestina”, the bottle would grow larger. As a last-minute decision, Harry made the larger version oversized. It felt like a gag gift, but Harry thought Mulciber would find it hilarious... and practical.

Harry decided that Crabbe’s plant ought not to move while it was in its mini size given that drew attention to the figure when the purpose of shrinking them was to easily hide the objects. The password Harry selected for Crabbe was “Hyacinth”. Once it reached its full size, the life cycle of the plant would start automatically. If the password was said a second time, it paused the animation before shrinking the plant.

Harry struggled with finding appropriate gifts for the other prisoners. McNair’s gift ended up being connected to his subject as well. Harry used the same magical theory he used for Crabbe’s gift, only McNair got an ever-changing figurine of animals. It reformed into a different magical creature every few seconds. Harry included all of the animals that the man had brought up during his tutoring, minus one that Harry didn’t know what it looked like. As a replacement, Harry included a hippogriff. He also made “hippogriff” the password to enlarge or shrink the figurine. He couldn’t resist, though he hoped that the man never realized why Harry found that particular animal so amusing.

Rodolphus Lestrange was clearly obsessed with his wife, so Harry figured his gift should somehow be related. Unfortunately, Bellatrix was not a pleasant thought for Harry. She did not inspire creativity beyond planning ways to get revenge. In the end, he merely created a sign with her name on it. Every so often, a silhouette that resembled the woman would dash or dance across the letters. Somewhat reluctantly, Harry also added the occasional spell casting movement to Bellatrix’s silhouette. It wasn’t a secure password, but Harry used “Belly” as the trigger to enlarge the sign.

Rabastan Lestrange would be gifted a pair of x-ray/telescope glasses. Initially Harry had intended for only let the immediate outside world be visible, but when he tested the glasses himself, he quickly realized how boring the area surrounding Azkaban was. The constant fog made it difficult to see very far, so Harry adjusted the glasses to see distances. It was so successful that the glasses allowed one to see the stars and beyond. Harry hoped that a man that had spent way too many years locked away would appreciate an occasional glimpse of the outside world. Worried that it could still be boring or painful, Harry added a deck of muggle style playing cards. He made the jacks, queens and kings of each suit a historical figure the man had mentioned during his ancient studies lessons.

Harry didn’t know Avery enough to select a personal gift. The man’s cell was close enough to relay some lessons, but also far away enough that it made personal conversations difficult. In the end, Harry decided to create a dagger. He was fairly certain it wasn’t properly balanced, but he hoped the engraved snakes on the handle made up for it. He selected the last rune Avery taught him, “Eihwaz”, as the trigger for enlarging the dagger.

Harry struggled with selecting a gift for Albert as well, much to his surprise. He felt close to the man given their daily interactions, but Albert kept a lot of his personal life private. Harry created an enchanted razor as he knew the man didn’t like asking the guards to remove his stubble. Yet, Harry felt this gift wasn’t enough. It didn’t convey the gratitude he felt for everything the man had done for him. Harry wanted to create something personal, but had few personal details to draw inspiration from. He knew the man was a widower with a son Harry’s age. The man’s animagus form was a porcupine. His wife’s form had been a sparrow. Harry wanted to incorporate an etching of a sparrow in whatever he created, but found he had trouble picturing a sparrow clear enough for the spell to work. Much like the static pictures he had created before, Harry needed several attempts before he was satisfied with the results. In the end, there were only three stone blocks with sparrow engravings that Harry ended up being satisfied with. Harry created three more stone blocks and added a porcupine engraving to each. He found this easier given he had seen the Albert’s animagus form recently. He arranged the blocks to form a box. He fused together the bottom and side blocks but charmed the top block to slide back and forth. On a whim, Harry charmed the inside of the box to give off a soft glow.

“It’s beautiful,” Lucius remarked. Harry jerked his head up and noticed that the man was sitting up in his bed. He looked wide awake, so Harry knew he had watched Harry work for awhile.

“Thank you,” Harry said shyly, though he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride with all he had accomplished. He wondered if this was how Fred and George felt every time they created a new product for their shop.

“I made a mirror to go with your brush,” Harry told him and held up the mirror. “If you hand me the brush, I can add some shrinking and enlarging charms so that the guards will be less likely to notice it,” Harry offered.

“Lucy gets another present?” asked Mulciber. “I’m beginning to think he’s your favourite,” the man teased.

“Calm your tits, Mulciber. I made something for all of you,” Harry retorted.

Harry placed the additional spell work on the brush. He then transfigured one of the smaller pebbles into a thin chain with a clasp. He added a small loop on the handles of the brush and mirror before stringing them on the chain. The end result was a two-charm bracelet.

“You all might feel it’s a touch feminine, but I thought you could wear these as anklets,” Harry explained. “It would be easy to hide them in your socks, and I can add a notice-me-not charm so the guards won’t pay attention when you take showers.”

He turned all of the presents into ankle bracelets and passed them out to their intended recipient.

“Albert, yours works a little differently. I used ‘Thea’ as the password to enlarge and shrink the box, but you can set a second password that would lock and unlock the box,” Harry explained.  Thea was the name of his late wife. Harry had almost set ‘Theodore’ as the lock/unlock password, but figured it would be better if the man choose his own password for what was essentially a small safety deposit box.

“This is lovely, Harry. Thank you,” the man said.

“It’s a glorified nightlight at the moment,” Harry stated.

“It’s more than that,” argued Albert. “This is some impressive spell work.”

“I just applied what everyone taught me,” Harry said humbly.

“It’s much more than that,” Lucius countered as he admired his own gifts. “Any wizard would be able to cast these spells with enough practice. Few would think to use them to create such impressive objects.”

The guards interrupted them a few moments later. Like the previous day, they passed out the meals quickly and efficiently. They don’t speak to any prisoners beyond a few words.

“They’re definitely nervous,” remarked Mulciber gleefully. “Somebody is paying attention to Azkaban.”

The prisoners all ate their breakfast quickly after Harry spelled the food to taste better. Even Harry ate his full share. He hadn’t felt hungry, but he must have used enough of Burke’s soul on his gifts that the thought of food didn’t make him feel nauseated. Harry resolved not to feel guilty about that.

“I hate to ask more of you, Harry, but could you provide me with some parchment and a quill?” Lucius asked once he finished his meal.

While Lucius wrote, Albert had Harry explain the spell work behind his gifts. Half an hour later, Lucius set aside the quill and rolled up his parchment.

“I know it is a lot to ask, but I was hoping you could discreetly give this to Reginald Hale the next time you meet. I am hoping he is willing to mail it to Draco,” Lucius said.

“Alright,” Harry agreed.

“Are you sure?” Lucius asked. “I don’t want to jeopardize your release if the guards find the letter,” Lucius provided Harry an easy way to decline, even though he clearly hoped Harry would be willing.

“It’s no more of a risk than creating pictures, and hairbrushes and whatnot,” Harry said. He levitated the letter towards him before Lucius could add any more token protests. Harry used a mild sticking charm to ensure the rolled-up letter wouldn’t unravel. He added another sticking charm to keep the letter on the inside of his shirt. He didn’t know when Hale would be back, so he had to keep the letter on his person. At Albert’s suggestion, he also added a notice-me-not charm.

“Do you think we can all write letters?” Crabbe asked softly.

“Not all at once,” Albert cut in before Harry offered to give Hale a letter from them all. “One letter can slip through the cracks, but eight letters are more likely to be noticed.”

“We can go through the rounds,” Harry offered. “I can give Hale a letter each time I see him.”

“You’ll probably be released before you get through everyone,” Mulciber pointed out.

“Er, in that case, I can pass on a verbal message for you,” Harry offered. Crabbe was the only one that immediately took him up on his offer, though he asked for some time to consider what to say.

It turned out that Lucius had excellent timing, as less than an hour later the guards guided Harry towards the meeting room.

“You haven’t healed him?” Hale said in lieu of a greeting. “No, no, don’t bother just yet. I’m taking photographs of this... unless you have already done so?” The man was not surprised when the guards admitted they had not documented Harry’s attack.

“Albert is still injured as well,” Harry added.

“Albert?” Hale questioned. “I wasn’t informed that he was hurt. What happened?” Hale asked the latter to one of the guards.

“Burke attacked him,” Harry answered before the guard could make up a story.

“Attacked how?” Hale pressed.

“Not, er, not like he attacked me. He didn’t try to...” Harry trailed off uncomfortably. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Hale was smart enough not to press yet.

“I guess I will also be meeting with my other client today. Bring him here immediately, so I can log his injuries,” Hale said to the guard.

“We’ll bring him after Potter is returned to his cell-” the guard started to say but was cut off by one angry judicial-wizard.

“I think you have left the man in pain long enough. I will take my pictures immediately, so that he can be healed. I will then continue my meeting with Mr. Potter. Once that is concluded, I will meet with Mr. Nott,” Hale countered. Harry admired the sheer confidence the man had. The guard looked as if he was going to deny Hale’s request, but he must have heard the ‘or else’ warning in Hale’s tone.

“Fine,” the man left the room. As he did not stand guard at the window with the other guards, Harry assumed he was going to retrieve Albert.

“I know this will be uncomfortable for you, but I need to take pictures of all your injuries,” Hale said. He started off easy by focusing on the injuries on Harry’s face. But soon after he asked Harry to remove his shirt and trousers so that he could document the full scope of the injuries. Hale worked efficiently so that Harry did not feel exposed for long. Despite knowing it would help his case, Harry wanted to burn the photographs before anyone could see them. Luckily his accidental magic did not spill out and follow through with that wish.

“Can any of you actually cast healing charms?” Hale asked the guards waiting outside the room. There was a moment of silence as they seemed to realize the trap Hale was setting. If they admitted to knowing the spells, then they let two prisoners suffer unnecessarily. If none of them could perform the spells, Hale would use it as another example of the ministry’s incompetence.

“I can,” one guard admitted reluctantly. He entered the room and approached Harry. Harry tensed as the man’s wand pointed at him but forced himself to pay attention to where and what the man was casting. Each time he felt magic run over his skin, Harry silently cancelled the illusion of the injury. It was a slow process.

Harry was careful of Lucius’ letter as he put his uniform back on.

“Potter wait outside while Nott is with Hale,” one guard ordered as he brought Albert to Hale.

“Why? It’s nothing he hasn’t seen already,” Albert countered immediately before Harry was forced to leave.

“It’s standard protocol to leave judicial-wizards alone with their clients” the guard said

“Don’t pretend Azkaban cares about protocol or prisoners’ rights now,” Albert sneered. The guard looked as if he would insist, so Albert added, “I’d much rather keep the kid here, than risk him being alone with you lot. Didn’t turn out so well last time.”

The guard didn’t look happy, but he left without taking Harry with him.

Albert started undressing as soon as the door closed behind the guard. Unlike Harry, Albert removed everything. He wasn’t concerned with his own nudity or who might see the photos. Harry, on the other hand, was keenly aware of the handful of men peaking in through the window and hated it.

Once Hale was done taking pictures, he called in a guard to heal Albert. Harry once again removed each illusion one at a time. Harry relied on where the guard pointed his wand, as he could not feel what areas the magic was attempting to heal.

Once Albert dressed, the guard heavily insisted that he leave the room. “Of course. It’s standard protocol to leave judicial-wizards alone with their clients,” Albert said with a cruel smirk. Harry barely kept himself from laughing at the sour look on the guard’s face.

“I know this can be hard to talk about, so I got legal permission to extract and use your memory of the attack,” Hale stated.

“You can’t,” Harry said immediately.

“I understand you might not want anyone to see you that vulnerable, but it’s one of the few instances where someone’s memory might actually help the case,” Hale explained.

“It won’t – I can’t-” Harry stammered. He didn’t know how to explain. He couldn’t tell Hale why the memory would do more damage than good.

“It’s alright,” Hale said and backed off on suggesting they used Harry’s memory. Regrettably, that meant that Harry had to recount Burke’s attack in painstaking detail so that Hale could record it. It was hard. Harry watched the quill moving across the parchment instead of looking at Hale the whole time. When it got to the part where Burke lost his soul, Harry stuck to the story that Lucius had already told the guards.

Hale asked about the other guards’ actions once they discovered what happened. Harry briefly contemplated offering that memory to Hale. When he recalled that he was naked from the waist down for part of it, Harry decided against it. He didn’t want anyone in the ministry to see him like that.

Hale paused a moment before he asked if Harry would be willing to answer some questions about Albert. Harry readily agreed, and told Hale about Burke’s attack on Albert. When Harry glanced at the window, he was concerned to note that Albert was not waiting with the guards.

“You can have my memory of that,” Harry offered. “It probably won’t help much since I didn’t see Burke attack him. But I heard him threaten Albert, and gloat when he returned him to his cell.”

Hale agreed to take the memory at the end of their meeting. He would review it and determine if it was worth entering as evidence for Albert’s trial.

“Normally I would be reluctant to use memories in trials. The ministry is notorious for heavily questioning their authenticity. However, your memories are likely to get passed without question. People are increasingly reluctant to speak against you at the moment,” Hale stated gleefully.

“In that case, is there anything else you need to know?” Harry offered. He doubted the positive sentiments towards him would last long, but he hoped it would be long enough to get him released from prison. Harry didn’t mind if it also got some of the other prisoners released or a reduced sentence. He knew Ron and Hermione would be horrified by Harry willingly helping several death eaters, but Harry didn’t care. He wanted to help them if he could.

Although Hale asked questions about Albert, Harry tied in a few of the other prisoners as well. Hale was the judicial-wizard for all his new death eaters friends, even if they were not currently appealing their case. So, Harry made sure to mention that Crabbe told Harry to wake him if Harry had nightmares about Burke. He spoke about how Lucius was constantly ensuring that Harry was OK, which was remarkable given that the guards had not offered even the mildest of pain relief potions. To Hale’s amusement, Harry even recounted how Mulciber sung and danced in the showers to draw the attention away from Harry’s bruised body.

“These prisoners have shown me more kindness in the few weeks I’ve been here than the ministry has shown me since I started Hogwarts,” Harry concluded. He suspected that quote would make it into the newspapers.

By the time they are finished, the transcript for the interview ends up being extensive. Harry also noticed that Hale was carrying various official looking forms. He figured that Hale would be able to hide Lucius’ letter within the rest of the papers.

“Reginald...” Harry hedged.

“Yes?”

“I know it’s a lot of ask,” Harry mimicked how Lucius had broached the subject, “but Lucius was hoping you would be able to mail this letter to his son, Draco.”

Hale’s eyebrows shot up as Harry discreetly passed over the letter.

“Of course,” Hale said, though he did not ask how Lucius had gotten his hands on parchment and a quill. If the guards were being kind and considerate, it would not help either Harry or Albert’s cases.

The reminder of the outside world prompted Harry to ask about his friends.

“The ministry hasn’t done anything to them, have they?” Harry fretted.

“They couldn’t arrest them, but the aurors gave them a hard time for awhile. After the papers started reporting on Umbridge, the aurors stopped showing up at Hogwarts to question them. However,” the man paused and Harry knew he wouldn’t like whatever was next. “Arthur Weasley had been asked to take a work leave. The papers got wind of it quickly. The ministry tried to present it as a positive thing, as if Mr. Weasley could use the time to focus on his family during their legal troubles. Since the ministry imposed an unpaid leave, everyone could tell that was utter horseshit. Mr. Weasley was reinstated quickly. I think he even got a slight pay raise.”

Harry was glad that Mr. Weasley got his job back. Without his salary the family would have been financially crippled. If Ron and Ginny had been arrested, the Weasleys likely would not have been able to afford a judicial-wizard.

“If your friend, Hermione ever wants to pursue a career in law, tell her to contact me after she graduates Hogwarts,” Hale continued amused. “Since I’ve taken you on as a client, she has been owling me past court cases she thought would help your situation. She even started sending muggle ones! Even academic texts on the psychology behind the temporary insanity defense, and brain development that impacts decision making skills in adolescents. The ministry isn’t likely to put much stock in muggle laws or theories, but I have found them to be fascinating reads.”

It warmed Harry’s heart to hear how much effort Hermione had put into helping him. He was also glad that Hale took Hermione seriously and didn’t interpret her actions as an insult to his ability to do his job. It was this more than anything else that made Harry sure he has picked the right man to represent him.

“If you’re ready, I’ll get the guards to give me my wand so that I can retrieve your memory of the guards’ assault on Albert. They will insist on being in the room for that, but we do not have to tell them which memory you are giving me,” Hale explained.

Harry nodded and Hale stood up. He hesitated then turned back to Harry. “After my interview with Albert, I plan to head directly to the ministry. I’m fairly certain they are finally willing to schedule your trial. Some members of the ministry are being bullheaded enough that they do not want to drop the charges, so a trial looks unavoidable. I’m not worried. I never make these sort of promises, but I promise you that you will be out of Azkaban in less than a week,” Hale vowed. His certainty gave Harry hope.

Hale called in the guard to observe as he collected Harry’s memory.

“Just focus on the memory you want me see,” instructed Hale. Harry tried to only think about the memory he was willing to share. He prayed that no memories associated with Burke’s soul got caught up in the extraction. Harry suspected that even if it did, his secret would be safe with Hale.

Harry left the meeting feeling a lot lighter. As with all good things in Azkaban, it didn’t last long. When they passed the room where Harry was forced to get his prison tattoo, he noticed that a couple of guards where there with Albert. His fellow prisoner looked confused. Harry recalled the warning about guards tampering with prisoners’ memories so that they couldn’t share the atrocities they suffered with under their care. He was considerably happier that he gave Hale his memory. When the other man realized that Albert was unable to relay what Harry had witnessed, he would realize Albert’s memories had been tampered with. Harry was confident the judicial-wizard would use it as another nail in the ministry’s coffin.