"Angel of Death"

By Loki Palmer

Author's Note: Harry Potter and all related characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Don't like, don't read; it should be as simple as that. Some unknown people might think this story is silly or stupid, but I don't write for such flamers/complainers/whiners. To quote Mom from the Futurama Series, "Don't let the door hit you on your way out – because I don't want ass prints on my new door!"

To all my fans, both old and new, thank you for staying with me on this merry journey. DZ2, my old friend, yes, your guess is accurate. Harry's going to open up a case of whoop-ass the likes of which this sector of the literary multiverse has never seen – and I will add, he will have plenty of help … [wink]. I shouldn't have to put up with such idiots, but c'est la vie. Everyone's a bloody critic ...

Chapter 8

Auror Jenkins shivered; why did he have the thankless shift of patrolling the outskirts of this freezing prison on the cold North Sea tonight? Not only was the weather cold enough to chill the bones, storms were frequent and violent. It was a wonder to him how the Aurors could bring the prisoners here without losing them to the violence of the sea, but any prisoners who drowned in transit were the lucky ones, he thought. They would not have to face the horror of this godforsaken madhouse of a prison.

Outside in a cold storm or inside with the monstrous Dementors, the guarding was a miserable and thankless job. Why did the Ministry even need a squad of Aurors as guards? It sounded like a cruel joke, but there was no laughter of merriment that came with the joke – there were the howls of the prisoners, whose minds the Dementors had looped upon their worst fears and worst memories – as well as the howls of the cruel winds outside. The stingy Ministry did not pay him nor his fellow guards enough money for this job. When he started, his fellow guards told him that it was the lowest point within the Auror hierarchy. Though he was disbelieving of the statement at first, after a number of years, he could see its truth. Every Auror dreaded the Azkaban patrol, and the rare Auror who did not would one day come to dread it.

On the other hand, he thought, guarding Azkaban was not for the faint of heart. It required nerves of steel and a stable psyche that could withstand a horrific amount of pressure without cracking anytime soon. It was no surprise to him that the guards, as well as the prisoners, went crazy after a time, forcing their retirement in spite of the low pension, if any. Of course, this assumed that they survived the psychological crack. Many former guards had either died at the hands of the Dementors by way of the infamous Dementor's Kiss or had committed suicide.

For their part, the Dementors did not care for the identity of their victims whose happy memories they drained – they could not tell the difference between a human prisoner and a human guard. To them, the prison was an unending all-you-can-eat buffet … and they could never eat enough.

Jenkins and his fellow Auror guards had their own nickname for here: Camp Hell on Earth. He did not consider himself a theologian of any sort, but regardless of whatever explanation was behind the origins of Azkaban – a Dark Wizard of old summoning up more than he had bargained for being one of the most popular explanations – no escape nor relief was possible, unless it was by a rare Ministerial decree. Rare indeed were such decrees allowing a prisoner to leave, for the Ministry thought of these prisoners as the worst of the worst. The idea of a jailbreak was laughable; only a madman would think of breaking out, or of breaking someone out.

Little did Jenkins know that all of this was about to change as a massive wave of water swept him off the island. Of course he could swim – the Auror corps did test swimming proficiency before approving an Auror for this line of work – but this storm was worse than most, and it was not the thunder and lightning that told him so …

~ANGEL OF DEATH~

He felt a strong pair of hands lift him out of the water. "You have to be more careful out here, Auror. I wouldn't want you to drown … that would be a terrible way to go, after all."

Jenkins nodded as he coughed the water out. "Aye, thank you for the help. In all the years I have been here, these storms have been horrific, but this is the first time I recall being swept away like that. It's a good thing I keep my swimming in practice, otherwise, who knows what might have happened if you weren't there?"

"You are most welcome, but the Ministry should give you some life jackets for such occasions like this."

"Ah, the Ministry is too stingy to consider that, young sir."

The young man frowned. "Well, that's a shame if I ever heard one. I can understand them not caring about the prisoners – the worst of the worst, so they say – but not caring about the guards here?"

"You're new here, aren't you?" The young man nodded. "Well, rookie, let me break you in on a fact known to us here: this is the most thankless job we have in the Auror corps."

The young man's eyebrows raised. "You say it's thankless?"

"Aye, it is, that's the truth of it. Why should they care for us, when the Dementors are taking care of most of the work? I'm not saying we're lazy, far from it. Sure, we take care of patrolling the island, delivering the prisoners to their cells and giving them food and drink, but in the end, the Ministry has forgotten about us, just as it seems God has forgotten about this place, which we here call Camp Hell on Earth."

The young man smiled. "Yes, that name is an accurate description. There is a line from a work called The Inferno that reads, 'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!' You could post it at the entrance and it would fit the place, right?"

This sparked Jenkin's interest. "I can't say I have heard of that work, though I do agree with you that the line fits. Who wrote it, and what is it about?"

"It was an Italian Muggle in the Renaissance who wrote it: Dante Alighieri. It's a poetic description of Hell and all of the horrors it holds for each class of condemned sinner, from those who did nothing good or bad in Limbo, all the way down to the frozen Lake of Treachery. There are nine circles in all."

"You seem to be well-educated, rookie; I like that. Auror Jenkins welcomes you aboard."

"Thanks, Auror Jenkins. In return, I would like to give you a life jacket; I hope it will keep you safe, but you should be quick putting it on."

Jenkins did so. "By the way, rookie, what is your name?"

"My name?" The young man smiled. "Nobody ..."

As Jenkins was considering this puzzling name, a second massive wave swept him off the island and out to sea.

"Good thing you're practicing your swimming, Auror Jenkins! After all, you know what they say: Practice makes perfect!" Jenkins could not hear Nobody's cackle on account of the deafening thunder.

~ANGEL OF DEATH~

The storm was an excellent cover, Loki thought as he entered the prison; the problem was that he had to keep the storm going while steering clear of any Dementors AND keeping his cover intact. The Dementors hated Olympus, and Olympus assured them the feeling was mutual. Fooling human guards was one thing – it was possible and it was amusing to see the results. (He could not wait to hear Jenkins's testimony to his fellow guards when this was all done, but sighed when he thought he would be unable to stay for that long a time.) Fooling Dementors? That was almost impossible and suicidal if it backfired.

Much to his delight, the Dementors were far from the section which housed Sirius Black. The three Lestranges and Barty Crouch Jr. were in neighboring cells to him – perfect.

"Sirius Black? The name's Loki, and I'm here to bust you, the Lestranges, and Barty out of this hellhole."

The black dog transformed back into a shaggy-haired man. "Are you out of your mind?"

"The jury is deliberating about that, Mutt-for-Brains, but if the five of you will keep your big yaps quiet, I can be quick about this."

"It looks like you had better hurry about it, then, because the Dementors are coming this way."

Loki saw that Sirius was right. "Cover your eyes, all five of you. I did not want to do this, but … ΦΩΣ!"

A ball of light burst forth at the Prince's command, bright as the Sun, as he busted the locks open with his warhammer, then he cut their chains.

"Well, what now, Loki? How are we getting out?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "Even though I may be as mad as my namesake – perhaps madder – do I look like the kind of madman to come into a hellhole and not have an escape plan?"

"We can agree that you are mad –" said Rudolphus.

"– How mad? Who knows?" said Rabastan.

"What did that ball of light do to the Dementors?" said Bellatrix.

"Nothing more than piss them off, Bellatrix," (angry screeches confirmed this statement), "and unless you want to face a whole pack of them," here he swung his warhammer at the wall, creating a large hole, "I suggest you jump out of that hole in the wall!" They looked at him in shock. "WHAT IN THE NINE REALMS ARE YOU WAITING FOR – A BLOODY PARACHUTE?! JUMP – I'VE GOT YOUR BACK!"

The six of them, one by one, leaped out of the hole into the stormy night. The Dementors were furious, while the Aurors were scratching their heads in bafflement. There was no doubt that a jailbreak had taken place – the busted locks and chains, not to mention the large hole in the wall were too obvious – but how? Admitting to their superiors that Nobody had pulled it off would see them in the psych ward of St. Mungo's. Oy, gevalt …

Author's Note: Another fun chapter done. Read and review – don't worry, there will be more to come!

Smiles and laughter,

Loki Palmer