Chapter 7: Tours and Danger

Note 1: In case people don't remember, Isabel was one of the Muggleborns that was stuck with Jordan.

Note 2: I've had a few people comment that it's disconcerting to see so many OC characters. Let me make it clear that most of them don't play any large part in this story. Only one or two will, the rest are just there.

Note 3: This chapter is dedicated to Nonjon, who long ago told me that nobody had ever given negatvie review about too much action. I took that as a challange and this story will be an example!

Isabel shivered as she stared from the window of her dormitory from Azkaban, watching the swirling waves of fog pound drop past the walls. She had not been able to get to sleep last night, partly due to a coldness, which had persisted despite the large amount of blankets she had wrapped herself in, but mostly because she couldn't stop the events of yesterday replaying through her mind. Never before had she experienced such violence before. Even the TV shows that she had watched hadn't prepared her for the realities of a real fight. Then there was magic… magic!

At first, when Isabel had been kidnapped on her way home from school a little over two weeks ago, she thought that the weirdly-dressed men and woman were part of a cult of sorts. They had taken her aside and briefly told her that she was under arrest for "Improper Magical Use of Lesser Bloods", and then all she remembered was a flash of red light until she had awoken in her cell. She had tried to plead with the occasional patrolling guard, tried to ask them what her crime was. She demanded to know where her parents were and informed them that she knew her rights and was allowed a phone-call and an attorney. The guard had laughed at her mockingly and smirked at her disdainfully. She still remembered his words.

"Listen up Mudblood. As of now, you don't have any rights, you don't have any power, and you are ours to do with what we wish! You are Muggle scum; filthy tainted blood runs through your veins! You're an abomination and a freak! If you keep your mouth shut and your ugly face down, you might live to be exiled. If you don't…"

Isabel shivered again and this time it had nothing to do with the cold. Her teeth chattered as she moved away from the window, huddling deeper into the blanket around her shoulders as she sank down into the cushy armchair. Despite the forbidding appearance of Azkaban, her room was painted with a warm red. She had a king-sized bed with ten fluffy pillows, a bookcase filled to the brim with books and an adjacent bathroom. There was also a shielded niche in the stone walls, not to dissimilar to a fireplace. There were only a few fireplaces in Azkaban to reduce the risk of the Ministry gaining access to Azkaban by Floo. Instead, Azkaban used Gubrathian fire, also known as Everlasting Fire, for heat and warmth and blocked out the smoke using weak rune-enhanced shields.

Suddenly there was knock on the door and Isabel started, her green eyes glinting with fear as the door opened. A rather average sized woman with bushy brown hair and warm eyes peered in and smiled in a friendly way when she spotted Isabel.

"Good morning," She said briskly, a touch of sternness and warmth in her voice. "I'm Professor Hermione Granger, Head of Educational Affairs. You must be Isabel Lovell."

Isabel hesitantly nodded, some of her fear ebbing away as the woman smiled. She wasn't acting like any of the other robed figures she had seen before, not like that cruel and sneering Auror's and definitely not like the battle-hardened and rough fighters that had stolen her away.

"W-Where am I?" She asked softly.

"You're in Azkaban, the last free fortress against Lord Voldemort." Professor Granger replied, just as softly. "We rescued from a prison, where you were sentenced to be executed."

Isabel's mind whirled. She knew that the guards hadn't liked her or any of the other prisoners, but they were going to kill her? What had she done? Why would they want? She opened her mouth to ask these questions when the woman raised a hand.

"I understand that you have many questions that you would like answered, and there'll be time for them later. Firstly, we have to hurry. The tour is almost ready to leave."

"Tour?" Isabel asked curiously, walking forward as Professor Granger gestured her out of her room and into the murky grey stone halls.

"Of course," Professor Granger said, a small smile curving on her lips. "After all, you're going to need to know about your new home."

At the same time in a location far away, Bellatrix Lestrange shivered violently as she stood in the darkened corridor outside a large set of pure silver-wrought doors. She had been waiting for fifteen minutes, and as each second ticked on, Bellatrix grew more and more agitated and worried. She was not alone in the darkened corridor. Two hardened and extremely loyal Death Eater's stood guard, gazing at her impassively at either side of the closed doors, each holding a slim wooden staff. Each staff had a gemstone at the tip, which glowed with flickering chaotic and dark power.

Normally Bellatrix wouldn't even dream of showing as much fear or doubt in front of any Auror or Death Eater, but these Death Eater's were little better than puppets. Their minds had been stripped away and their personalities destroyed. Only the unquestionable loyalty and desire to serve the Dark Lord had been left, and each Death Eater would die for the Dark Lord without a moment's hesitation, should it be that the Dark Lord came under attack or even if he just asked it of them.

Suddenly one of the Death Eater's started. The tip of his staff flickered as suddenly a tiny thin beam of white lanced from the tip and into his skull. The Death Eater cocked his head as he listened to the transmitted message and stepped forward, his blank eyes gazing at her without emotion.

"The All-Powerful Dark Lord of the Isles commands you to enter. He is waiting for you." The Death Eater said emotionlessly. He gestured Bellatrix to move forward and raised his staff. He slammed it down onto the ground and the doors slowly creaked open. "Go forward."

Bellatrix swallowed her rising fear and stepped hesitantly through the doors into the pitch black room. As she moved unsteadily forward, her eyes straining against the darkness, she felt a wave of coldness wash over her as her Lord's power swept through the room. She took a hesitant step forward and gave a yelp as she felt her foot come down on the edge of a drop. She wavered, her arms flaying as she took a step back. Her heart was racing and sweat was dripping off her forehead as she took another unsteady step forward. For a moment she longed to use her wand. A simple Lumos would have been sufficient, but nobody dared use their wand in front of the Dark Lord without permission, and Bellatrix knew with certainty that the Dark Lord was watching her.

After a few minutes of fumbling around in the dark, Bellatrix took a deep breath and dropped to her knees.

"Master, I know that I have displeased you. My only wish is that I may face you, so that I can beg for your mercy and compassion. Have I not always been loyal?" She pleaded with a faint sense of hope and despair.

The darkness throbbed against her and from its depths came a hissing reply.

"Stand Bellatrix, and come forward."

Bellatrix did as she was told without a moment's hesitation. She took a step forward and stumbled as her foot found air. She gave a short scream of panic as she lost her balance against the edge of the drop and tumbled in. Air roared in her ears as she dropped, her eyes wide open with panic. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, she wanted to laugh with relief that it was all over, she wanted to beg for mercy, but she did none of those things. As resignation crept over her, she suddenly saw a prick of light in the distance. Her eyes fixated on it as she flew closer and closer towards it. It became brighter and brighter, until it was just in front of her and suddenly she hit it. She got a flash of a small room with blazing torches as she dropped to the ground with great speed, spanning the height of the room in seconds. Just as she was about to slam into the ground, she stopped, held in the air by a powerful force. She continue to hover above the ground for a few seconds, before the invisible force let her go and she dropped the last few centimeters and hit the cold stone floor. She immediately picked herself up and prostrated herself towards the direction of her Master, her head lowered submissively towards the ground.

"Master!" She breathed.

"Rise Bellatrix," Came a cold and silky high-pitched voice. Bellatrix lifted herself from her knees and dared to meet the eyes of her Lord. Clad in ebony robes of the finest silks with green and silver threads, Lord Voldemort was an impressive figure of darkness. His skin was pale; his head was bald and covered by a hood with an ornately stitched Dark Mark. His crimson eyes burned with an intensity and magic that Bellatrix had only seen on two other people before. His pale fingers were wrapped around a yew wand, idly tapping away at the wood as he sat in a grand throne made of rare gleaming metals and precious gemstones. His nose-less nostrils flared as he regarded Bellatrix with what seemed like a look of fondness.

Over to the side, a group of nine people moved hurriedly around a large table. They muttered softly to one another as they worked diligently. Bellatrix recognized some of the people as powerful Auror Commanders, some who she shared a rivalry with. But none of them would dare mention her prostrating and submission. It didn't matter whatever disagreements people had, anything that happened in the Dark Lord's presence was, by a mutual unspoken understanding, never touched upon.

"Bellatrix, I hear that you have had problems regarding Morsmordre Isle?" Voldemort hissed softly, his emotions hard to decipher by his silky tone.

"Yes Master," Bellatrix responded, flinching slightly. "Harry Potter himself broke past the defenses and retrieved several Mudblood's and Blood-traitors."

"You seem to be upset in delivering this news to me," Voldemort observed. His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Am I right?"

"I am Master, for I have failed you." Bellatrix said miserably.

Voldemort laughed a high-pitched cruel laugh that echoed in the large chamber. He seemed to find something amusing for he continued laughing for some time, before he let his laughter die away.

"Oh Bella," He said, almost kindly. "You have done anything but. When I received news that Morsmordre had been attacked, I was extraordinarily pleased."

"Master?" Bellatrix whispered in confusion.

Voldemort ignored her unspoken question and stood up, waving his arms and gesturing to his surroundings. "Do you not wonder where we are Bella?"

"I do Master, but to ask you would be imprudent and disrespectful," Bellatrix replied.

Voldemort smiled at her fondly. "You are indeed my most loyal," He said and Bellatrix flushed with pleasure at her Master's approval. "To answer my own question, we are in a small room deep in the Ministry. It is by far the most protected and secure rooms that I posses. The men you see working do not leave here, and should the operation they work on be discovered, they and their families will surely die. Can you guess what Operation we are working on?"

"Operation Evinco!" Bellatrix whispered with wonderment. "Master, is it…?"

"Yes Bellatrix, it has started." Voldemort hissed softly. "Within a fortnight, I am certain that Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix will be dead, and Azkaban will be ours."

"Master, I know of the basic details, but I beg of you, tell me of your genius!" Bellatrix pleaded with reverence and pleasure.

When Voldemort told her the full details of the plan, she laughed madly. Her insane cackles bounced across the room and the men shuddered as she did not stop laughing, tears of pleasure falling down her cheeks as she withered on the ground. Her mouth began to froth and she still laughed, howling with glee and dark pleasure and thrashing violently on the ground as insanity burned into her mind.

Above stood Lord Voldemort, her crimson eyes flaring slightly as he smiled coldly at what he had just revealed. Inside, he was laughing much like Bellatrix was. It was almost over. Soon, the Order would be crushed and then the true extent of his plans would be unleashed. Soon, the world would be his.

"I want a raid launched on Azkaban," He ordered out loud. "Send in a battalion of Auror's and a squad of Battle Trolls for ground support, and a division of the Aerial squadron. Tell them to target the eastern tower."

The Auror Commanders near him scurried away to do his bidding, never questioning the fact that the raid was doomed from the beginning. If Lord Voldemort wished Azkaban to be attacked, then it will be attacked.

Isabel walked through several large stone hallways as Professor Granger led her away from her rooms. Each hallway, unlike her own room, was coloured in murky grey and seemed depressing and cold. Robed guards dressed in a dirty brown stood at attention at every corner, their wands clasped tightly in their hands and their eyes firm. Isabel shivered as one of them raked their eyes over her, searching her suspiciously until Professor Granger moved on. Finally, after five minutes of walking, Granger led Isabel into a large room and she gasped in awe.

This room, unlike the hallways, resembled her room. It was painted in the same warm red. Large fires blazed with heat in large niches in the walls, flickering white shields holding back the billows of smoke. A long table stood in the room, covered in steaming hot foods, while three dozen armchairs lay around the table. These chairs were occupied by several laughing and chatting children, some as young as six, others as old as seventeen. But every so often, one of them would look up and just gaze at the roof in awe, much like Isabel was doing at that very moment.

On the roof, projected by powerful magic, was a picture of a large phoenix in flight, identical to the one used in the Order Raids. Red and yellow glowing plumage shone against the backdrop of clear blue sky. Clouds drifted by every few seconds, small fluffy white patches in the background, while the Phoenix flapped its enormous wings against an unseen wind, its black eyes wide open. It opened its glowing beak to let out a soundless cry, and a wave of courage and comfort swept across the room, washing over those inside and sweeping away their fear, panic and anxiety.

Isabel didn't know how long she stood there, staring at the beautiful and fiery bird, until she felt a wave of power sweep across the room as a man entered. She automatically shifted her gaze and saw the man who had led her from the prison standing at the door, his green eyes glinting behind a pair of silver glasses. He was dressed in dark robes, like Professor Granger had been, but his were trimmed with silver. A pleasant smile was plastered on his face as he walked forward, his dark cloak flowing against an unseen wind.

"My name is Harry Potter, and I am the Commander of Azkaban, the island you are currently standing on." He introduced himself quietly. Isabel watched as he reached into his robes and pulled out a small shiny stick and winced at the very sight of it. She knew what those things were capable of, and seeing the collective flinches or nervous looks, she knew she wasn't the only one. The man, Harry, didn't seem to notice and waved it, mumbling a phrase. Isabel frowned, picking up the Italian-sounding syllables, and blinked in surprise as a plushy armchair suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Harry placed his wand away and sat down, resting his hands on the armrest. Isabel watched him carefully, oblivious to the commotion made by those who hadn't seen as much magic as she had.

"If you could all sit down, I can begin explaining what exactly has happened to you and why you are in considerable danger." Harry said with a hint of unquestionable command in his voice. Isabel found herself seeking out an armchair and absently sitting down, her eyes never leaving Harry's form. After everybody had been seated, Harry waved Professor Granger away and regarded the children in front of him with a mixture of pity and kindness

"You have all been rescued from an unjust imprisonment given to you by the Ministry of Magic. Let me make it clear to you that in Britain at this very moment, there are two societies. One of these societies is the one you are from, a society of technology, also known as the Muggle World. The other is a society of magic, hidden away from the society of technology long ago. This is commonly referred to as the Wizarding World."

"The Wizarding World is made up of three different types of magical people. There are the Pureblood's, who have been born from families were their parents are wizards and witches of long descent. There is the Half-Blood's, who are born from one magical parent and one non-magical parent. And there are people like you, magical people born from two non-magical parents, two Muggles. You are classed as Muggleborns."

"Normally you would have been invited to a magical school to harness and learn your gift, but currently the Wizarding World is at a state of war. Twenty-five years ago, a dark wizard by the name of Lord Voldemort overthrew our government and took control of the Ministry of Magic, the organisation that runs the Wizarding World. Lord Voldemort is a racist and believes that Muggles, those without magic, are inferior to Wizards. Furthermore, he believes that those born to Muggle parents are abominations and arrests those who show sign of magical ability and come from Muggle descent."

"So that's why they arrested us? Because we're… Muggleborns?" One of the teenage boys said hesitantly.

"Yes," Harry answered. "The only crime you committed was being born."

"That's not fair!" Isabel heard herself say softly, her mind ablaze with what she was hearing.

"You're right, it isn't fair." Harry agreed, his penetrating gaze swinging around to meet hers. "But there are few who resist him. Lord Voldemort is the magical equivalent to Hitler, and rules this country through fear and terror. The other Wizarding Nations leave him be and pray that one day, he doesn't invade them. I am the leader of the only group that fights back at Voldemort. We call ourselves the Order of Phoenix."

"Why did you rescue us?" An older girl with long blonde hair asked.

"You were all scheduled for torture and execution. The Order felt that we had to intervene to save your lives. Normally imprisoned Muggleborns like yourself are exiled from the country. This time, your fate was much worse." Harry answered.

A ripple went through the group as they processed this information. The people that had kidnapped them had been planning on murdering them. One of the younger children's eyes began watering and some of the older children just look stunned at the news.

"What happens now?" Isabel asked softly.

"You have three options." Harry answered and the group fell silent. "Firstly, we can send you to a safe country, where you will be given sanctuary and eventually find new homes and new friends. If it's possible, we can try to relocate your family as well. You don't have to associate with magic ever again. Secondly, you can stay here and we will teach you what we know of magic. Afterwards, you can leave for another country and take a job in another Wizarding community."

"What's the third option?" An acne-faced boy asked.

"You stay here and learn magic, and afterwards you join the Order of Phoenix and take up the fight. In the future there will be hundreds of people like you killed because of pathetic ideas about blood. I won't stop fighting until we're all free." Harry answered, determination ringing in his voice.

"Do we join as a soldier?" The same boy asked with a glint in his eyes.

"If you want," Harry answered. "But there are many jobs you can do that don't involve fighting. We need farmers for our crops, fishermen for our food, secretaries for our paperwork, analysts for our intelligence, Professor's to teach other children, doctors and nurses for our sick and wounded, potion makers to create our potions, and so many other jobs."

"I'm in your Order," The boy said, a touch of bitterness is his voice as he continued. "They killed my parents because my dad didn't want them to take me. I want to fight."

"If that's what you want, then that's what you'll get." Harry said softly.

"I'll stay as well," A brunette girl, maybe sixteen, said with determination. "My brother's dead, and I want them to pay."

Harry raised a hand and silence fell upon the suddenly babbling and clamoring group. "Before you make any decisions, perhaps you should see, should you choose to stay, your new home."

"These are our greenhouses." Harry informed the small group as he led them outside. The sun shone brilliantly down onto the ground and even though the island was surrounded by fog, the air was clean and fresh. Despite the gloomy exterior of the fortress, grass grew in neat trimmed patches around the small paved path. Seagulls cried out with mournful voices as they flapped against the light breeze and the soothing sound of waves breaking against rocks filled the air. The small courtyard led to two white small greenhouses located at the very back of the island. They had been built in a small dip in the land, as to better protect them.

"Inside, our farmers and horticulturists cultivate and grow enough food for the entire island population with plenty to spare." Harry said, continuing his walk down to the Greenhouses.

"Hang on, how many people live on the island?" One of the boys said suddenly.

"Including you, we have two-hundred and fifty seven." Harry answered.

"I only know a little about farming and stuff, but my Uncle's owns his own plantation, and you'll need a lot more greenhouses to begin feeding that many people." The boy argued.

Harry smiled mysteriously as the group approached the doors. Six brown robed guards stood at attention as he came closer, straightening their backs.

"Sir," One of them exclaimed and snapped a salute.

"Wilson," Harry greeted and returned the salute. "Just touring the warehouses."

"Yes sir!" The guard said and turned around. "Open the doors,"

Two of the guards withdrew wands and placed the tips in two small holes. Each of them muttered a different incantation and the doors creaked open as a tiny flash of light blasted from their wands and into the rune-sensors, which recognised the magical code.

Harry and the group entered the Greenhouse and the boy who had disagreed earlier dropped his mouth open in shock, his eyes bulging in their sockets at the scene that greeted him. Four large fields of crops greeted him, stretching on into the distance. Small buildings were clustered around each field, where two figures were levitating a bundle of crops to a wooden cart. Above, the greenhouse roof didn't appear to exist and the sun blared down peacefully onto the crops.

"That's impossible! All of this can't fit into one greenhouse!" One of the other teenagers gasped, while the younger children just looked around in awe.

"When it comes to magic, you'll find just how possible the impossible becomes." Harry said and smiled at the looks he received. To Isabel, it almost looked as if his eyes were twinkling for a second.

"These are our classrooms," Harry said quietly as he and the group stared through the windows of a small classroom, where nine students between the ages of nine and ten were frowning heavily and slowly waving their wands. Their Professor, a slim man with golden curls, was smiling widely as nine feathers hovered above the ground.

"They were like us once, weren't they?" A red-haired boy asked softly.

Harry frowned softly. "Actually, they are what you can become… if you try." He said. Suddenly the room shook as one of the feathers exploded in a burst of flames and a roar of wind. The student in question blinked in shock and wiped the soot from his face, while the Professor came forward as the rest of the class laughed.

"Do you have any older students?" Isabel asked.

Harry nodded and led them down the hall, where they stopped in front of another window. Isabel was surprised, though when she though about it she shouldn't have been, to see Professor Granger lecturing a larger group of twenty students, all around about sixteen to nineteen.

"You said that there were soldiers," The acne-faced boy said eagerly. "Where are they?"

"You've seen most of them on guard duty, but I think that Ron has a small group out for training."

It was a place that had seen many battles. The grass was scorched and withered away, and the dirt was coarse and rough. Large chunks of stone, some as large as a car, lay around the hundred-by-hundred meter field. In the middle, twelve people, six in purple robes and six in green, fought.

" Stupefy!" A purple robed figure hissed, aiming his wand around the rock he was crouching behind. A blast of red light streaked from his wand and slammed into the ground, meters away from the rapidly moving green-robed figure making his run forward, who dived behind another rock as a streak of silver coloured magic came his way from another purple-robed figure.

"They're coming in around the left!" A female purple-robe figure called out. She waved her wand violently, muttering something under her breath. An orb of sparkling blue magic grew in power at the tip of her wand, and she hurled it away from her. It flew above the rock she was crouching out and dropped behind another. There was a blue flash of magic and a grunt of pain as the orb exploded in a wave light, and the woman quickly moved forward, crawling behind the rocks to avoid the spell-fire commencing between the two teams. A green-robed member gave a cry of pain as he was blasted back by a well-placed disarming hex, while a purple-robed figure growled in irritation as his position was bombarded and ducked down. Chips of stone flew through the air as curses impacted on the giant stones, scorching the rock and blasting little chunks of them away.

The woman managed to make it to the group of rocks where she had hurled her spell at and quickly moved behind them, intent on subduing the enemy for good, but there was nobody there. She gasped and spun around, her wand flying up, only to meet a scarlet rocket of light and fall to the ground limply.

Nearby, the gathered crowd of children watched with interest and excitement and the battle drills the team of defenders was participating in. Behind them, Harry was talking softly with Ron, who was keeping an eye out on the mock-battle.

"Their performance is really improving," Ron was saying, when a red-faced guard rushed up.

"Sirs!" He panted loudly. "There's been a sighting."

"What?" Ron barked, scanning the sky with his eyes. "Air or sea?"

"Both!" The messenger replied quickly. Ron frowned and raised his wand, letting a shiny red spark fly into the air. The battle in front of them stopped as the purple and green robed figures paused in their fighting, reviving their comrades and helping each other up.

"We should…" Ron began, before a loud bell clanged from a tower, ringing loudly. The sound washed over Azkaban as a second one joined in, then a third, then a forth. Guards rushed through the halls and onto the Battlements.

"You!" Harry barked at one of the purple-robed defenders. "Take this group of children to one of the shelters! The rest of you, get to your positions!"

As the defenders scurried into positions, Ron disapparated with a small pop, most likely heading towards the Command Centers. Harry concentrated and disapparated as well. He appeared in one of the Gate Towers, where five guards peered forward with omnioculars.

"Sir!" One of them barked, a grizzled graying man with a powerful gaze.

"What do we have?" Harry asked the man intently.

"Two boats and a flyer," The man answered. "They probably activated one of the Anti-Concealment mines. There are more we can't see. They'll become visible in a minute or so when the pass into the outer-wards."

"Alright. Stick to your posts, and send a message to the docks. Tell them to activate the Guardians and to fall back to the gates." Harry ordered.

"Yes sir!" The guard barked and saluted Harry as he disapparated.

He reappeared in the Command Center, which was in a flurry of activity. On one of the walls, a group of wizards stood around a gigantic map of Azkaban Island. A hundred or so named dots clustered around the center of the island, while a steady ring of named dots were lined up on the walls of the fortress.

Flying silver swirls of light were entering and leaving the room at a rapid pace as the analysts at the Center and the guards at the towers continually sent in and out reports and orders. Ron was in the center of it all, his scarred face twisted into an apprehensive grin.

"They've pasted the Outer-wards… their concealment charms are failing!" A witch cried out, seconds after a swirl of light entered her head. A barrage of swirls suddenly entered the room and struck various people.

"We've got twelve plus boats!" One wizard cried out. "Maybe twenty people a boat!"

"A cluster of Flyers! Roughly thirty of them….latest model brooms!"

"Fuck! They have a dragon! They have a fucking dragon!"

"Another two boats coming… they're containing Battle Trolls! Two dozen of them!"

"How the hell did they find us?" Ron barked loudly, anger in his eyes. His face was pale and his hand was clutching his wand tightly.

"Could have been an aerial scout," Harry muttered softly.

Ron frowned and shook his head. "We have twenty flyers out patrolling everyday. We would have detected something, some form of residual magic."

"Sir? What are our orders?" A grey-robed witch asked loudly and the room fell silent.

"Scramble our Flyers, all of them." Ron ordered. "Tell them to intercept those incoming broomsticks!"

"Get two Riders out there; tell them to take out the Dragon!" Harry said quietly. "Send a squad of flyers to cover them."

"Tell the tower guards to begin staff bombardment and aerial defense." Ron commanded. "All guards should spread out along the battlements between the gates and the west and east tower."

There was a flurry of activity as a dozen swirls of light pulsed out of the room, gliding through walls and out towards their various targets. For a few seconds, there was complete silence in the room and all activity ceased. Harry waited calmly while Ron huffed impatiently, until a single swirl of light entered the room and struck the nearest analyst.

"Flyers are scrambled; riders will be out in a few minutes." The wizard reported.

"Sir!" One of the map-monitors called out. "The boats have landed."

"I'm going to take out a broom." Harry told Ron grimly. "Make sure that those Trolls are taken care of. I'll take care of the flyers."

"Good luck," Ron called as Harry disapparated.

Benjamin Nolan watched with a grim eye as his battalion of Auror's, numbered around two-hundred and fifty witches and wizards, leapt from the boats and onto the rocky docks. The fog pulsed around them, almost as if it was alive, and he shivered violently. But he did not let it affect him as he began barking out orders. Above his head, a division of flyers rocketed past him and higher up in the sky, a lumbering dragon swept its wings gracefully, manned by a single Death Eater. The Dark Lord had commanded him to take this island, and by Merlin, he was going to try his hardest!