The Plunge

The following day was Monday, so Sable woke her Lord before sunrise so that they could travel to the Island's temple to greet the new week. Though it was one of his less onerous duties as Lord Caer Azkaban, that knowledge did not stop him from missing his bed given the early hour.

"Sable," he murmured as the coach swept across Azkaban, "Ask the potion Mistress about anti-tiredness potions. We will need them if this keeps up."

"It is a bad idea to rely upon such things, My Lord," she attempted to caution him.

"I will try to avoid it, but we may have no choice." Harry countered, "Attempting to sleepwalk through a battle would be an awful idea as well. Ask my Potion Mistress about recommended doses and keep something in reserve for emergencies. We have too few people and not enough time – when they are needed, they will be needed."

"Very well, My Lord." Sable nodded, "Though I would still suggest we avoid their use when possible."

"Noted." Harry replied, pushing the door open and stepping forth, much to Sable's frustration.

. . .

The ceremony went much as it had the week before, though this time Harry was more familiar with the process, and his confidence more genuine. Before reciting the final blessing, however, he did have an important announcement to make.

"Noble people of Azkaban, we are at war." he told them, "I am sure that this comes as no surprise to any of you – Voldemort has made his intentions clear, as have I, but yesterday something changed. The Wizengamot of Magical Britain has officially granted me the right to prosecute this war on their own soil, striking from the treaty the term that forbids us operating beyond Azkaban. This morning, the first of us will leave for the mainland to begin that fight. Azkaban will strike fear into the hearts of her foes once more!"

With that, Harry called up the five teams that were already briefed and ready to dispatch upon their missions. Though their tasks were secret, they would be known as heroes to Azkaban, and Harry saw to it that the people knew them as such. Amongst the small crowd, however, he could not fail to spot disappointed faces.

"Though these brave young people will be the first I dispatch upon the mainland, they will not be the last. Nor do I expect them to fight this war alone. They will need the support of Azkaban if they are to complete their trials, and we will all have our parts to play over the coming weeks as we bring Azkaban to a full war footing, ready to end this horrific conflict before Voldemort ruins too many more lives. It will not be pretty, grandiose, nor even painless, but that makes our tasks no less needed. For Azkaban marches to war once again, and her foes will learn to tremble!" he announced to the cheers of his people.

"The blessings of Azkaban upon be her people," he recited once the crowd had calmed, "May you serve me well."

The small circle of dawn light expanded as the ancient magic took hold, spreading to cover the entire area. All those touched by it felt the warmth blossom in their chests, a slight smile of contentment on their lips. Harry stood by the fountain as they bowed and departed through the curtain to leave him alone with Hermione, Sable, and the five teams chosen to spearhead the counter-attack.

"You are my vanguard, the tip of Azkaban's spear." he told them, "You have your assignments, and my confidence. Where you are bound, you go with the strength of Azkaban behind you. As we are relying upon you, so too may you depend upon us – do not fear to call for aid if it is required."

"All hail my Lord Caer Azkaban!" they chanted, bowing before they departed, "Long may he rule!"

. . .

As they left, Harry found Luna dancing around one of the pillars outside, apparently waiting for him. She skipped over after he had brushed the curtains aside and wrapped him in a warm hug.

"Thank you, Harry!" she sang, "My mind is back! It's free, I see!"

"I see you've been studying hard," Harry smiled at her, and she nodded.

"Psychiatrist is helping me to break through the compulsions. She said there were relatively few to start with, but as she picks off more and more it gets harder to pick off the rest. Apparently there are few enough left that I am safe to let out without that yucky potion. Just as long as I am careful about creepy long beards.." Her radiant glee faded at that point, a more serious Luna breaking through as she continued, "Your Seer is guiding me as well as he can, but the Wrackspurts are overwhelming him. I did manage to see something though – A silver beard, long and tangled, strangling all within it's hairy grasp. Only you stood aloof, picking others out of beardy's tangles. I was first, but not last. Thank you, Harry." She grew quiet as she gripped him desperately, but after a moment she continued, "I needed to warn you though. The beard got angry at you when you started freeing the others. It tried to throttle you. Individual hairs find no grip, but all together the beard is a tarnished tide of silver that can drown even giants under it's rush. Be careful, Harry. Beardy is not going to like you."

"Well, given what he has done to you and Hermione, I can not say I like Beardy much either." Harry smiled at the morose girl, "I will not miss his affection now that I have seen what it has done to others."

"Be Careful, Harry." Luna warned him insistently, "You can not afford to forget this."

"I won't, Luna." Harry stared into her silver eyes as he made his promise, "Right now my biggest advantage is that Beardy does not know he is my enemy, much less that I am aware of him. Voldemort is the more immediate threat, but that does not make him the greatest threat – just a convenient excuse. I will deal with Beardy too, just preferably when Voldemort can't curse me in the back. Anything less wouldn't be careful now, would it?"

"I guess you're right, Harry." she mumbled into his collar, "I'm just scared for you."

"Thank you, Luna." Harry smiled as he gently hugged her back, "Let me know if you see anything else, alright?"

"I will, Harry." she smiled again, "Thank you for inviting me today. It was beautiful."

"Every Monday," Harry promised her.

. . .

Eventually the four of them took the carriage back to the castle. Luna returned to her lessons, Harry to his duties and the morning council session. Though the war was truly underway, the drudgery of everyday life had to continue. There was a sense of tension in the air, though, that had not been there before. Violence beckoned, and that was something that they could no longer overlook.

"It will fade with time," the Commander of his Guard promised him, "Right now it is the uncertainty that worries them more than anything else. Once this becomes a more familiar state of affairs, the tension will ease."

"But still remain." Harry pointed out to her.

"To some degree, yes." she replied, "War is guaranteed to end badly for someone, after all."

"Then let us make sure it is our enemies' end that is bad," Harry challenged, "and sooner rather than later,"

"Of course, my Lord." she bowed low, "I will do what I can.

"I can ask no more,"

"Speaking of which, we will have to intensify your training. We have much of tactics still to cover but, given your position My Lord, we will need to cover Strategy and Logistics in detail."

"I take it that magic changes such things?" Hermione inquired after Harry prompted her to ask her question.

"Significantly," The Commander replied, "Magic can substantially streamline parts of the issue, but doing so raises large complications of it's own. The magical practice Logistics bears little in common with the muggle practice on a strategic scale. You will have experts to advise you, of course..."

"Instruct us as you think best," Harry instructed her, "We have most of the morning free."

"As you wish, my Lord."

. . .

The Commander of Harry's guard did her best to cram their minds full of strategic advice that their limited internal Occlumency helped them to compartmentalise and retain. She tried to apologise for overloading her young lord, but Harry would have none of it, sharply informing her that the practice would stand them in good stead when they met with the Psychiatrist for their lesson the next morning. Though she seemed discomforted, Harry remained resolute with his praise; and stuck with the lesson until it was time to once again listen to the Ravens.

He met with them alone, as had been his custom, the ritual's magic flowing through his frame allowing him to understand the Raven's caws as if they were plain English. Surprisingly, despite only instructing them the day before, the Ravens were able to provide an intriguing insight into the ways of the mainland.

"Wizards are gathering everywhere, Lord Human." the Alpha Raven cawed, "Plots and plans are being woven, and the Unkindness of Azkaban sees all, hears all. When a plot is ready to come together, we will tell you where so that it might fall apart at your will!"

The flock cheered loudly at the Lord Raven's declaration, before gathering round Harry and sharing the best bits of the news. It appeared that they had already discussed the matter before he arrived, as their combined tales painted a surprisingly cohesive picture. He would have to remember to dispatch a team to investigate Dolores Umbridge, whom they repeatedly mentioned. If Voldemort wanted any new recruits within the ministry, he wouldn't even have to court her – she clearly had not learnt her lesson, yet, though with Dumbledore secretly aiding her from the shadows he did not expect her to. It turned out that she was the one he turned to when he tried to get Harry arrested for underage magic – the Ravens explained her 'private' disappointment with undisguised glee.

Summoning a quill and pad, Harry recorded the Unkindness' tales as they spoke, though he was always careful to omit any mention of the Ravens themselves. He did not wish to compromise them, after all. He would pass the record on to Sable once they where done – she knew the island best, and would know who to inform. Adding a few notes to the end, he thanked the Ravens (who could obviously understand at least some English, after all) and went to lunch. Work and lessons await.

. . .

After passing off his notes from the Raven's efforts to Sable, Harry sat back and interrogated Hermione on the best way to reach the Muggleborn. After all, given the Daily Prophet's blatant bias it was quite likely that many of them did not get it, and they needed to advertise the Semi-active wards where they would reach those who would most need them – those who lacked any other wards.

"Well, we can not discount that many of them probably do get the Prophet, Master." she mused, "Biased news is still better than none, after all. Still, you are probably right that an advert in the Daily Prophet will miss most of your target audience. You should probably try owling them directly."

"That would require their addresses, though."

"Which you can easily gain from your ministry contacts, Master." Hermione replied, her eyes distant as she pondered, "Though perhaps muggle mail would be better? More discreet, certainly. You could also try asking Gringotts, as they must advertise their own Warding services somehow, or we could just put posters up in Diagon alley. I see no reason we can not try both, Master, if you wish to be thorough."

"Yes, that may be for the best." Harry sighed, "So we will need a Poster, a Letter and a Newspaper advert. We will discuss this with Headmistress Ribbeck once she arrives, but can you handle the details, Hermione?"

"Of course, Master." She bowed low, "I am your slave, and will handle whatever you require of me. We will also need to contact the Goblins."

Harry sighed from his chair, "That wasn't quite what I meant," he muttered to himself as he reviewed the previous day's lesson.

. . .

After dinner, Hermione retired to her room to work on her assigned projects, whilst Harry sat in his sitting room filling out some of the paperwork that came with his new war. Although he had many people to do the work, to plot and plan on his behalf, most of it still required his authorisation as Lord Caer Azkaban. Sable had departed to make the bed, again, and lay out his nightclothes; leaving Harry to enjoy the rare moment's peace.

"My Lord," Sable called from the doorway, "It is getting late. Will you not retire?"

"Soon, Sable." Harry replied, "I want to get these signed off first, so you can get them filed first thing tomorrow morning."

"You should not weary yourself so, My Lord, Azkaban needs you."

"I will be fine," Harry replied, distracted enough to miss the quiet note of concern in Sable's voice, "I have lived through far worse, and may again if we don't get this done. You go ahead, get yourself to bed. I will follow before long."

"As you wish, My Lord."

"And Sable?" Harry added as she turned away, "Make it your own bed. I do not wish to find you in mine again."

"My apologies, Lord." she hesitated, before crossing the space between them and prostrating herself before her Lord, "Your pardon, Lord, I should not have attempted to conceal it from you, and will seek out an appropriate replacement at once."

"Sable?" Harry dropped his parchment and turned to face his servant, "What are you talking about? Conceal what?"

"I was born here, on the Island, after the last war" tears began to leak from her eyes as she forced herself to continue, "My parents were Death Eaters, too fanatical to feign innocence. My mother..."

"Sable," Harry interrupted, his voice flat as he opened his arms, "Come here."

The tears began to flow freely as she flew into her Lord's arms. Harry held her tight as she sobbed through an unintelligible apology, gently rocking her till she had calmed enough to hear him.

"No more, Sable, there is no need to open old wounds." he spoke softly, calming the girl further, "I am guessing that this is why you have never given a surname?"

"I serve my Lord Azkaban," she replied, "Family names serve no such purpose."

"But you would have avoided them regardless." Harry pressed, to which she nodded, causing him to sigh, "I should have seen this. It is such an obvious issue here, but I think that I have a solution for that problem, at least. Remind me to bring it up at the council meeting tomorrow."

"Yes, My Lord?"

"First, Bed." Harry set her on her feet and guided her through his room to her own, "You need some rest before the morning. Azkaban may need me, but I need you."

"Thank you, My Lord." She offered him an unsteady bow, "I shall seek out a replacement mistress for you on the morrow."

"Please don't," Harry grimaced, "I have never trusted easily, even before I found myself betrayed on all sides, and having someone so close when I am that vulnerable is extremely painful. Please let it rest."

He was rewarded with a look of befuddlement crossing her face as the door swung shut.

. . .