Chapter 87: Fugitives
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 87: Fugitives
The day of the mission had finally arrived.
Harry stood in the entrance hall of the Potter Castle. His wand holster was strapped to his thigh, and he wore a set of practical combat robes he found in the castle's storage area.
He had spent the past few days in the grimoire's inner library, absorbing knowledge, practicing spells, and honing his reflexes.
He had emerged feeling stronger and more confident, but the importance of what they were about to do still pressed on him.
Dibble appeared beside him, his large eyes filled with dread. "Master Harry, Dibble is concerned. This mission is too dangerous."
Harry knelt before him, placing a hand on the house-elf's small shoulder. "I know that, Dibble. But I have to do this. People are counting on me. And besides, I have prepared all I could. I feel ready."
Dibble nodded slowly, his eyes glistening. "Dibble understands. Dibble will wait for Master Harry to return."
Harry smiled. "I'll be back soon enough. I promise."
He walked through the main gates of the castle and continued moving until it felt like he had passed the boundaries of the castle's ancient protections.
Once outside, he pulled a small object from his pocket. It was an old quill, but it had been enchanted to become a portkey.
This was something that the Knights of Walpurgis had prepared for him.
"It's time..." He felt the object in his hand come alive. The magic stored inside the quill became active, and Harry was pulled away from the Potter fields.
"Urgg..." He felt extremely dizzy, as if he had been through a blender.
When he opened his eyes again, he was in the middle of a clearing, hidden deep in the countryside.
"Harry, over here." The voice of Bellatrix Lestrange reached his ears.
He looked over and found the other Knights of Walpurgis already assembled at the rendezvous point.
Harry recognised most of them. Bellatrix's husband, Rodolphus Lestrange, stood near the edge of the clearing, his massive frame radiating calm strength.
Antonin Dolohov, a tall, sharp-featured man with a reputation as a duelling expert, was checking his wand with practised efficiency, as if he had done this a million times before.
And then there was Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf, sitting on a fallen log, his scarred face looking calm and patient.
Bellatrix stepped forward. "Okay, we're all here now. I will explain the plan one more time. The convoy will pass through the Forsaken Wood, two miles north of this clearing, in approximately three hours."
She unfurled a parchment map across the fallen log, her finger tracing a winding line through the Forsaken Wood. "Our informants have confirmed the route. The carriage will travel from Azkaban to the Ministry, with one scheduled stop for rest."
"Thestrals need to rest," Rodolphus said, his voice a low rumble. "They can't fly the entire distance without a break. The convoy will land in the Forsaken Wood...here." He tapped a spot on the map. "The guards know this is when they are most vulnerable. They'll be on high alert, but they'll also be tired. It's the best window we have."
Harry studied the map, his eyes tracing the route. "How long will they stop?"
"Fifteen minutes, perhaps twenty," Bellatrix said. "Long enough for the Thestrals to rest. Long enough for us to strike."
"The forest is desolate...no Muggle villages, no magical settlements. It's the perfect place for an ambush." Dolohov added.
Harry listened carefully, absorbing every detail. "How many guards?"
"At least a dozen Aurors," Rodolphus said in a deep tone. "Plus Dementors. The prisoners will be bound in anti-magic cuffs, and the carriage is enchanted to resist most offensive spells."
Harry's jaw tightened. "What about Tom?. Shouldnt he be here?" He was worried to see so few people for such an important mission.
Bellatrix's eyes dashed to him. " They have a different mission, Harry. Tom and several other members will be stationed along the route to intercept any reinforcements. If Dumbledore appears..." She paused. "Tom will face him. He is the only one strong enough to hold him back while we free the prisoners."
Harry nodded, understanding the logic. He had seen what Dumbledore was capable of. He had felt the old man's power pressing down on him like a weight. If anyone could stop him, it was Tom Riddle.
"Let's move," Rodolphus said, his voice a low rumble. "We can go to the interception point and hide, just in case they arrive ahead of schedule."
They travelled through wilderness under the late afternoon light, the forest closing in around them.
Harry moved silently through the undergrowth, his wand in his hand, his senses alert. Beside him, Fenrir Greyback padded through the forest with surprising grace for a man of his size. His scarred face was impassive, his yellow eyes scanning the treeline with predatory focus.
"Mmm..." Fenrir grunted, his eyes narrowing as he studied Harry's movements. "You move well, boy. Have you seen combat before?"
"No, Mister Greyback," Harry responded politely.
Fenrir scoffed, a rough sound that might have been a laugh. "No need to be fancy with me. I grew up in the woods. Just call me Fenrir."
Harry nodded. "Sorry. Fenrir."
The werewolf grunted again, seemingly satisfied. "You've got good instincts. That's not something you can teach. Keep your wits about you when the fighting starts, and you might survive."
Harry filed that advice away. "I will."
Fenrir said nothing more. He simply continued walking, his eyes fixed on the path ahead.
"Dont be nervous, Potter." Dolohov approached with a wide grin. "Just stay close to me; I'll make sure to keep you safe."
Harry nodded. Despite his rough appearance, Antonin Dolohov sounded like a nice person. "Thank you, Mister Dolohov."
"Tsk!... Dolohov will do. I need no fancy Mister either." The man said.
Once they got to the inception point, all they had to do was wait.
It was meant to be less than three hours, but Harry felt incredibly nervous, and he could swear that it was much longer than that.
The clearing was surrounded by dense forest, with a narrow gap in the canopy that offered a clear view of the sky.
Harry looked up, scanning the clouds. "How do we know when they're coming?"
Bellatrix pointed to the horizon. "We'll hear them before we see them. The Thestrals are silent, but the carriage itself makes a distinct sound...a low hum, like a hive of bees."
Harry strained his ears, listening. At first, there was nothing but the wind and the rustle of leaves. Then, faintly, he heard it...a low, humming vibration that seemed to come from the sky itself.
"Here they come," Rodolphus said, his voice low.
A shape emerged from the clouds. It was a massive, hearse‑like carriage, black as pitch, its surface covered in glowing runes that pulsed with dark magic.
Eight Thestrals pulled it through the sky...skeletal, winged creatures with leathery hides and empty eye sockets. Their wings beat in perfect unison, carrying the carriage with unnatural speed.
The carriage was larger than Harry had expected. It had a driver's seat for two cloaked figures, a rear seat for two more, and a single door with the golden insignia of the Ministry of Magic emblazoned below its window.
The door was covered in an elaborate sequence of brass mechanical magical locks...clearly designed to keep the prisoners inside.
And overhead, two Dementors drifted silently, their tattered cloaks billowing in the wind.
"They're slowing down," Fenrir observed. "They're going to land in the clearing."
The carriage descended slowly, its massive wheels touching the grass with a soft thud. The Thestrals folded their skeletal wings, their bony bodies trembling with exhaustion.
The creatures stood still, their heads drooping, too tired even to shake the harnesses from their hides.
The Aurors in the driver's seat jumped down, their movements stiff and weary. They had been in the air for hours. Their eyes were still scanning the treeline, but there was a heaviness in their postures, a tiredness that no amount of vigilance could fully hide.
"Finally," one of them muttered, stretching his arms. "I thought we'd never land."
"Keep your wand out," the other warned, his voice tight. " If those terrorists are going to do something...it'll be now."
"I know," the first said, his grip tightening on his wand. "I'm not afraid of the Dark Lord and his cronies...they can bring it."
"Shut up." The other guard shouted at him. "Go check on the prisoners. I dont want any surprises."
The carriage door swung open. A third Auror stepped out, his wand raised, his eyes darting across the clearing. "Prisoners are secure," he called out. "But I don't like this. It's too quiet. And the thestrals are nervous..."
"Just get the beasts watered and fed," the driver said. "We're on a schedule here."
Harry watched from the treeline, his heart pounding. The guards were alert...they knew this was the moment of vulnerability. But they were also tired and overworked.
Bellatrix's voice was barely a whisper. "They're ready. But they're wary. We hit them hard and fast. No hesitation."
"Now," Rodolphus growled.
They moved.
"Attack!" One of the aurors yelled.
"Defend the carriage!" The driver shouted.
Harry erupted from the treeline, his wand blazing. "Gladius Incendia!" A blade of white-hot flame erupted from his wand, slashing through the air and striking the lead Auror's shield.
The man staggered, his concentration broken.
Beside him, Fenrir Greyback lunged forward, his claws extended, his movements impossibly fast. He tackled an Auror to the ground, disarming him with a savage twist.
Rodolphus and Antonin Dolohov moved in perfect coordination, their spells flying in rapid succession. "Stupefy!""Petrificus Totalus!""Expelliarmus!"
Bellatrix was at the centre of the chaos, her wand a blur of motion. She deflected curses, countered hexes, and sent Aurors flying with precise, controlled bursts of magic.
Harry pushed forward. He could see the prisoners in the carriage, their eyes wide with shock and hope. He had to reach them.
A Dementor drifted towards him, its cold presence nudging against his mind. Harry felt a surge of despair, a wave of hopelessness that threatened to overwhelm him.
'No. Not now.'
He tried to focus on a happy memory...the feeling of safety in Potter Castle, the warmth of his grandparents' smiles...but the Dementor's presence was too strong. His legs grew heavy. His wand hand trembled.
Then, a voice cut through the darkness.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A silvery wolf burst from Bellatrix's wand, charging towards the Dementor. The creature recoiled, its cold presence retreating. Bellatrix placed herself between Harry and the Dementor, her Patronus holding the creature at bay.
"Keep moving, Harry!" she shouted. "I'll hold them off!"
Harry pushed forward, his legs unsteady. The prisoners were close now. He could see Sebastian Greengrass's face, pale and gaunt.
"Harry! The carriage!" Antonin shouted.
Harry ran towards the iron door, his wand raised. He studied the elaborate sequence of brass mechanical magical locks. They were complex, designed to resist most spells. But Harry had studied the grimoire's section on magical mechanisms and had an idea of what to do next.
"Revelo," he whispered, tracing the lock's magical signature. He saw the pattern...a sequence of five interlocking wards, each one feeding into the next. If he broke one, the others would collapse.
"Reducto!" He targeted the weakest ward. The brass lock shattered. The door swung open.
"Get out!" Harry shouted.
The prisoners began to stumble out, their legs weak from years of captivity. Sebastian Greengrass reached Harry, his eyes filled with gratitude.
"You're... you're a Potter," the man said, his voice hoarse. "You have the face of James Potter."
Harry's jaw tightened. "I'm Harry Potter. I'm here to free you."
Harry helped Sebastian out of the carriage. Around him, the battle raged. Fenrir was locked in combat with two Aurors, his claws tearing through their defences.
Rodolphus was holding his own against a third.
Bellatrix was still fighting the Dementors...her Patronus looked like a beacon of light in the darkness.
Antonin Dolohov stood nearby, his wand raised, his eyes scanning for threats. "Keep moving, Potter! Get the prisoners to the treeline!"
Harry nodded, pulling Sebastian forward. "We're almost there-"
A flash of sickly green light shot towards him.
Harry didn't see it coming. He was focused on the prisoners, on the treeline, on the Portkey hidden beneath the fallen tree. He didn't see the Auror who had broken free from Rodolphus's attack, who had aimed his wand at Harry's back.
But Antonin did.
"Potter!"
Antonin threw himself in front of Harry, his body intercepting the curse. The sickly green light struck him in the chest, and he crumpled to the ground.
"NO!" Harry screamed, spinning around.
Antonin lay on the grass, his eyes wide, his breath shallow. A thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. He looked up at Harry, and his lips twitched into a faint, bloody smile.
"Told you... I'd keep you safe," he whispered.
Harry knelt beside him, his hands shaking. "Dolohov...hold on, we can get you out of here-"
Antonin shook his head weakly. "No, Potter. I'm done. But you... you have to keep going." His voice was fading. "Finish what we started. Bring them down."
Harry felt tears sting his eyes.
Antonin's smile widened, just a fraction. "Now...go."
His eyes went still.
Harry stared at him, his heart pounding. Antonin Dolohov was dead. He had died saving his life.
The Auror who had cast the curse was already fleeing, disappearing into the trees. Rodolphus howled with rage, but there was no time to pursue.
"Harry!" Bellatrix shouted. "Get the prisoners to the Portkey! NOW!"
Harry shook himself, forcing his grief aside. He grabbed Sebastian's arm and pulled him forward. "Move! Everyone move!"
They ran, the remaining Knights covering their retreat. Fenrir was still fighting, his claws tearing through the Auror's defences.
Bellatrix was dragging Rodolphus along, his face a mask of blood from a wound Harry hadn't noticed.
The Portkey was within reach. Harry grabbed it, his hand gripping the cold metal. "Everyone, touch the Portkey! NOW!"
The Knights and the prisoners crowded around, their hands reaching out. Harry felt the familiar tug, the lurch of his stomach...
And then they were gone.
They reappeared in the underground headquarters of the Knights of Walpurgis.
Harry stumbled, his legs weak. Around him, the prisoners collapsed to the floor, their bodies trembling with exhaustion and relief.
Bellatrix was still supporting Rodolphus, his face a mask of blood and pain.
"Bring me the healing supplies, quick!" Bellatrix called out. "Rodolphus is badly injured!"
Harry looked back at the space where Antonin had been. There was no body. He had been left behind.
Sebastian Greengrass approached him, his face drawn with exhaustion. "You risked your life for us, Harry Potter. I won't forget that."
Harry opened his eyes and looked at the man. "You're Daphne's father."
Sebastian nodded. "Yes. You... know my daughter... is she safe?"
Harry felt a lump form in his throat. "She is. She's safe. She escaped Hogwarts. She's with her mother."
Sebastian's eyes glistened with tears. "Thank you, Harry."
Harry nodded, unable to speak. He had done it. He had helped free the prisoners.
But the cost had been high.
Later that evening, Harry stood in a quiet corner of the headquarters.
Bellatrix approached him, her face pale and drawn. "The healers have done what they can for Rodolphus. He's lost his eye, but he will survive."
Harry nodded slowly. "And we lost Dolohov..."
Bellatrix's expression darkened. "He died saving you. He knew the risks. We all did."
Harry felt a surge of anger and grief. "He didn't have to die. I should have seen the curse coming."
Bellatrix placed a hand on his shoulder. "You couldn't have. Antonin chose to protect you because he believed in what you're fighting for. Don't let his sacrifice be in vain."
He didn't know what to say.
Bellatrix squeezed his shoulder. "Get some rest. This war is just starting."
She was right; they had won this battle. But the war was far from over.
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