Tuesday, July 29th, 2014. 05:27 AM.

  Azkaban Prison, "The Rocks"

  The North Sea

  The Portkey set Group Three on a wide, flat-topped sea mount, whose crest was just beneath the mean surface level of the North Sea at low tide. Not that such things meant much in the chop and spray that would have soaked them. Magic was great, if you prepared properly.

  The Aurors had taken the mad chaos of the transition well, landing in a slight crouch, and immediately taking up their assigned stations. Nienna Robins only had one foot down, but before she could start flailing for her balance, Harry turned away from her, 'accidentally' bumping her into equilibrium. Ath?na gave a small hoot of thanks from her position inside Nienna's robes. (And, thus, inside her body shield).

  He was a little worried about having the Apprentice Auror on the op, but Proudfoot had picked her, and Demelza hadn't so much as blinked.

  Trust your people, Harry, he chided himself. And trust James, came an unbidden addendum. Wow. Even his subconscious was on the boy's side.

  Daniel Weston was in this group, along with Ginny. She hadn't said, but Harry could see her determination to keep the ex-convict settled and safe. Harry did not blame her one bit. It took a brave man to willingly walk back into his worst nightmare.

  Daniel looked about as a massive plume of froth and spray tried to hit him in the face, only to stream around the frictionless body shield without so much as a transfer of momentum. "Nice amulet," he commented. "Feels like cheating, though." The Concealment Charm that ran completely around Azkaban passed very close to this rock. Still, they should not have been able to see the prison. But Group One had brought Hermione with them, so there was a barely visible breach in the charm. It showed only in a slight distortion of the air, and they could see the grim facades of the prison.

  "Something is definitely wrong." Weston was working the controls of his Omnioculars quickly and precisely. "Beautiful day like this, the air over the Central Building should be full of flyers. Intra-Inter-Barracks Sudden Death Tournament coming up, too."

  Harry looked around at the 'beautiful day,' somewhat bemused. Admittedly, the rain, though heavy, did not block vision, The wind gusts weren't topping much over fifty miles an hour. And the lightning was mostly cloud-to cloud, only striking the towering accumulators every minute or so. For Azkaban, this was a beautiful summer day.

  "Gather 'round," said the designated Port-Master. "Two minutes."

  There was no need for crowding. Aurors didn't use things like old shoes, or cast-off hubcaps for Portkeys. The dedicated Portpole was a good eight feet long, with paired handles spaced along it. There was plenty of room for ten people, even with brooms and packs of ritual paraphernalia and supplies strapped to their backs. Harry noticed that Daniel's broom was a battered old Universal, instead of the Sturmreiter Taifun auf der Beaufortskala Zw?lf that the German Team rode in matches.

  Weston caught him looking. His grin momentarily made him look boyish, even as it stretched some of his scars. "The contract offered one delayed the Signing Bonus for one year. Still bloody good of them, considering the chance they took. Upon receiving those Galleons, one put them to having this poor, ugly stick smuggled out of Azkaban. Least one could do for a chap that saved one's bloody life." He paused. "Repeatedly."

  "Short hop, but hang on anyway." The Port-Master had his watch out and open. "Three. Two. One..."

  ***

  The Illusion Charm on the stretch of rocky beach was amazing. Once released for the long Interval, Kyinté and Dara ó Briain had bee-lined for London. Both were added to the Task Force post-haste, and Dara had outdone herself on the Illusion Magic. Also, Proudfoot had come that close to smiling upon meeting the towering Kyinté. The big man was shadowing Proudfoot for evaluation.

  Daniel was looking around with interest. "Never been out here before. We're about halfway around the island from the access the beachcombers use?"

  Ginny nodded. "The Department's 'back door' is up in the rocks here. First time they have ever had to use it, except for the undercover operatives. Fingers crossed it isn't blocked."

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  "And it leads to the Secure and Solitary Barracks, just off the central Guard Station area, but they aren't aware?"

  Harry heard this last question as he walked up. "The thinking was that the guards could not reveal what they did not know. The mass breakout during the War was due to the Dementors going over to Riddle en masse. Without Dementors, we suspected any further breakouts would be an inside job. You, of all people, know that we haven't been able to recruit the best guards."

  "Quite so, quite so." said Daniel. "However, one still corresponds with various of the old lags, and they insist that things have improved since you yourself took over the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Old Bates is not able to run roughshod, as it is now. Bless him, and may he burn. Soon."

  Daniel scanned along the length of coast, frowning slightly. "One believes this might be the stretch of beach where the Bates-Man found his yew tree. May one scout about, Auror Potter?"

  "Please, call me Harry. Don't fly higher than one hundred feet, and stay within one hundred yards of the camp."

  "Will you accompany one, Miss Ginevra?"

  "Certainly,"

  The Head Auror looked around. "Apprentice Auror Robins, please ask Ath?na to accompany the scouting party."

  "At once, Head Auror." The diminutive owl gleefully fluttered to Ginny's shoulder, directing a smug Hoot! at Belisarius. Since owls are incapable of rolling their eyes, the M.O.M. Owl settled for rolling his whole head on his neck. He then went back to scanning for threats from his perch on Harry's shoulder.

  ***

  The pair hovered over a dimple in the mixed volcanic/granitic landscape.

  "Most certainly it." Daniel nodded in satisfaction. "Almost a terrarium of Northern European plant life. And the yew seems to be thriving."

  More a shrub than a tree, still, the yew did look healthy. The broken bubble of obsidian was enough below the surrounding rockscape to miss the worst of the North Sea storms. It was also open enough to catch what little sun was allowed through the weather.

  "One's curiosity is quite satisfied." Daniel straightened on his battered old broom, which sat steady as a rock despite the gusty, veering winds. Better than Ginny's custom model, one of Randall Spudmore's prototypes. (He was experimenting with brooms designed specifically for female Quidditch players).

  He started to continue, but had hardly opened his mouth when Ath?na silenced him with a peremptory chirp. From her perch on Ginny's broom handle, she raised one clawed foot and began making Owl-Modified Auror Sign. Ginny translated, to Daniel's startled look.

  " 'Unidentified Person in Area. Threat Analysis: Moderate. Appears to be Injured. Recommend Taking Cover, Cautious Approach, and Alert Higher Command.' Down! Ground Effect!" These last two were added by Ginny, in a voice of command.

  The two Quidditch-trained flyers dropped until their toes were almost brushing rock.

  "What did she see?" Daniel whispered.

  "No idea. Her telescopic vision is literally inhuman. Ath?na, take us to a point where we can survey the threat."

  Completely silent, the small owl guided them by turning her head, and occasionally gesturing with a claw to adjust attitude. They approached a small ridge. Ath?na stopped them, then gestured to rise slowly.

  They found themselves looking at the base of a small rift wall jutting up from the bedrock. Huddled at the foot of it, under a slight overhang, was a man's body. He was wearing threadbare grey clothes. There was a battered old broomstick clutched to his chest. A crack in the handle was visible, even from their distant vantage.

  "It's an inmate!" Daniel spoke is a low voice, not whispering. Sibilants carry. "And that's one of the Locked-Down Quidditch brooms they use." His brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "But this is way outside the Pitch Secure Zone. That broom should have self-destructed."

  An abortive, faint gasp carried to them. After almost a minute, it repeated.

  "Alive. Barely." Ginny's face was set in a grim expression. "Multiple broken ribs, I expect. No threat. We're moving in. Ath?na, do you know the sign for Skele-Grow?"

  The tiny owl shook her head. Ginny showed her the Owl-Modified version, and Ath?na repeated it back.

  "Report to Harry. Make sure he knows to send Hannah Abbott-Lovegood in the party, and that she know to bring all the Skele-Grow she has on hand."

  The small bird was gone without acknowledgement.

  The two fliers were at the man's side in seconds, only to rear back as the cracked broom took a vicious swing at their heads, without the man touching it.

  Daniel alighted, just out of range, and started murmuring.

  "Soo, Pet. There, there. Be a Good Girl, it's all right." He glanced at Ginny. "Once a broom passes ninety, a hundred, they become like people. Not necessarily in a good way. Soo, Pet. It's just one and thou. Old, cranky people, isn't it Pet?" As he spoke, he extended the handle of his ancient Universal forward into the space. The other broom was an Ellerby and Spudmore, a valuable antique, if it had been in mint condition. It leaned forward, quivering as if in pain, and the handles touched. Then it sank down to a position against the man's chest, as if relieved.

  At the touch, the man cracked one set of eyelids open in a battered face. The eye beneath wandered for a moment, focused on Ginny, then on Daniel. The corners of his lips twitched, shedding small flakes of dried blood. There was the cut-off gasp, then words, faint and rusty, as if throat and tongue were dried wastelands.

  "So, it's help, then, is it?"

  Daniel scrabbled inside his robes, and found a flask. He opened it and tipped it to the man's lips.

  "Not precisely the thing to wet a hurt man's tongue, but a bit won't..."

  The man gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head, and pressed his lips together. Another small gasp, and he said, "If John cannae ha' Good Scots' Whiskey..."

  Daniel almost dropped the flask.

  "Whiskey John?"