[LOG] Jailbreaking Azkaban

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Who: Alison Mallory, Kahvi Sidhe, Ora Yang, and the Order of the Phoenix
When: New Years Eve, 1998
Where: The Burrow, a remote English suburb
What: The Order of the Phoenix jailbreaks Azkaban, and the girls are help out

*~*~*~*~*

Ora stuffed her sash and a spare change of clothes in her bag, and bounded down the stairs to grab her winter coat from the closet in the hallway. "Mum! Dad! I'm ready!" she shouted, stuffing her arms through the sleeves and doing a quick check through the list in her mind to make sure she had packed everything she needed, and everything that would make it seem like she was going to a legitimate sleepover at the Burrow.

"Mm hm," Ora's father said simply as he folded his copy of The Daily Prophet and set it down on the sitting room table. He shot his daughter a dubious look. Ora smiled up at him cheerfully, as if nothing was wrong. She mitigated it a little when her father's look turned more severe.

"You know if you get lost, Ora, you're breaking curfew."

Ora rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Dad, I know. But I'm eighteen! I can Apparate properly; I'm not going to get lost or end up in the middle of the woods."

Ambassador Yang's mouth twitched as if he didn't completely believe his daughter, but had to actually refrain from telling her so. "I'll leave the wards down for five minutes," he said simply, drawing his wand from the fold of his robes, "so if you get lost you can Apparate back."

"Okay, Dad," Ora said. She rolled her eyes again.

"Have you got everything?" Ora's mum asked. She rose from the couch and looked pointedly at Ora's bag.

"Yup," Ora said with a nod. "And if not, I'm sure Alison can lend me something."

"Toothbrush?"

Ora nodded. "Packed it already, Mum."

Ora's mother simply nodded and smiled, and came around the sofa to give her daughter a hug and a kiss. "Well, Happy New Year, and enjoy the night with your friends."

"Thanks!" Ora gave her mum and dad a hug and a kiss each. Her father still did not look entirely happy as he closed his eyes and hummed the chant to lift the anti-Apparition wards surrounding their house, but Ora still managed a smile as she waved and then thought very hard of the Burrow.

*~*~*~*~*

Ottery St. Catchpole was even colder than London, and even in a thick scarf and coat Ora was shivering. She had appeared about one hundred meters out from the Burrow, and was throughly cold by the time she got to the door and lifted a hand to knock politely at it. Even though the house seemed quiet from the outside, Ora wondered if anyone would hear here--after all, she could not imagine that a rescue the proportions of breaking in and out of Azkaban would take any less than a good chunk of the Order.

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Lysienne froze as the house suddenly rocked as if in a violent earthquake and screams ran out around her in the darkness. She could smell the sea again--and then, terrifyingly, blood. She let out a short shriek of her own as something broke directly above her head. She crouched, hands covering her head, as its shards rained down on her.

She could sense that Ora was no longer beside her. Everything was chaos and darkness. She could see nothing--

And then she could, as Ora's spell lit up the entire room. In the confusion she had an impression of two bedraggled figures cowering in the middle of the room and two blurred shapes in black robes and white masks moving too fast for her bewildered eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. Death Eaters! Death Eaters, here! What had happened to the Order members who were supposed to be with the rescuees? Were they...dead?

She stood petrified for almost a moment too long, for a curved wand emerged from the blur of dark shapes, pointed directly at her chest. But the red-streaked spell from its tip went widely awry as a dark grey shape, moving almost as fast, crashed into the black one. For a moment a wolf and a tall masked figure fell out of the roiling mass of movement. To Lysienne it seemed as if everything froze for that one instant as the man pointed his wand at the wolf.

"No!" Lysienne screamed, casting something from her own wand--she couldn't remember what--as the wolf flew towards her and something flew back towards the man. She caught Rolan, and they landed together against a mound of softness.

As she and Rolan, both unharmed but with the breath knocked out of them, disentangled themselves, there was another shriek:

"My teddy bear!" someone cried.

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Two Death Eaters in an enclosed space. Quickly shedding the bag around her shoulder, Ora kicked the Portkey off to some dark corner of the room. It slid underneath a shelf full of plastic animals and disappeared from sight. Safe for now, Ora whirled. One of the Death Eaters was already occupied in a duel, moving fast but not fast enough for Ora to lose track of him. The other...out of the corner of her eye Ora saw a red spark fly wide from Lysienne, causing yet another explosion of splinters and the distinct sound of cracking plastic.

Ora sent her sash forward again. The black figure of the Death Eater was still for just long enough. This was what she had trained for years for, under the stern guidance of her mother and father. This was the magic of her family, handed down for over one thousand years, a magic that she hoped was different enough from what they knew to catch them off guard and buy her the few moments she needed to do what she had to do. The magic cloth darted forward as if it had a mind of its own, striking with snake-like speed and precision to wrap one of its ends around the Death Eater's arm. The Death Eater stopped, bewildered. Ora gave her sash a ruffle, propagating a wave down its length quickly that crested in a sickening crunch. The Death Eater dropped his wand with a silent cry of agony.

"Stupefy!" Ora shouted, and the Death Eater fell to his knees and collapsed, unconscious.

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Lysienne quickly strengthened the shield spells she had instinctively cast on herself and Rolan during the scuffle, silently thanking Syrien for drilling her in it so often that it had become instinctive, then enveloped both Ora and the two rescued prisoners with protective spells as well. She didn't have the energy to hold up all of them for long, but this was no time to be worried about that!

The cry had come almost in the same moment Ora had stunned one of the Death Eaters with stunning efficiency. All movement abruptly ceased, and both she and Ora cautiously looked around. In the middle of the room, the larger-than-life teddy bear from the room of Muggle treasures lay face-down on the floor, with a scattering of toy cars and the swordfish beside it. A faint groan came from beneath the bear, along with a feeble ripple of black robes. Far from looking relieved, however, one of the former prisoners, a middle-aged wizard with thinning blond hair, had rounded furiously on Lysienne. "How could you throw my precious collection around like this?" he wailed. "Do you know how difficult it is to get one of these bears? And this fish! I had to all the way to Vert-mont for it!"

Lysienne blinked. "Er...I'm sorry?" she ventured.

"Alfred!" The woman beside him interrupted with exasperation, her upward-rolling eyes indicating that this was not the first time she had had to sidetrack him. "Don't tell me all of this is yours!"

The man shrank back for a moment, then drew himself up with dignity. "So what if it is? It's a collection even the Muggles themselves couldn't dream of! I have something from every Muggle country in the world, as well as every state in America!"

The woman sighed. "All right, so your house is a veritable museum. But shouldn't you be thanking these girls for saving your life? What good is that collection of yours if you're not here to enjoy it?"

The man stared at her for a moment, then turned to Lysienne and Ora. "My apologies for my rudeness." He bowed with perfect courtesy. "And my thanks for my life and that of Lady Cecilia."

Then he picked up the swordfish and swung it at the Death Eater still trapped under the bear. The figure stilled. "Ah, I see Muggle-made items are not so fragile after all," he commented as the swordfish started singing in its tinny voice. "I would say they're quite durable, in fact."

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Ora looked about as the Death Eater fell searching for more movement, more spells flying, but there was nothing. Some of the new escapees had fled the room into the house in their confusion. Verifying that Lysienne was unharmed, Ora scanned the faces of the assembled wizards and witches, each one looking haggard and pale. There were two crouched in concern on the floor over a witch who barely seemed conscious. Though her face was blood-streaked, Ora recognized her as one of the members of the Order of the Phoenix that she had glimpsed briefly in the Weasleys' sitting room.

Ora was a bit bewildered by the middle-aged wizard, newly rescued, arguing with Lysienne, but Ora attended to important matters first, making her way to the injured Order member whose name she did not even know.

"What's happened?" Ora asked as she knelt down, suddenly noticing that there was a blossoming red stain covered by the Order woman's arm clutched around her middle.

A young wizard shook his head. "Don't know," he said, his voice strained with urgency and panic, "we thought we were safe when all of a sudden she just collapsed..."

"Lysienne!" Ora called, glancing over her shoulder to see her friend now surrounded not only by the balding middle-aged wizard, but another witch as well. She winced as she recognized the song sung by the singing swordfish.

Ora stepped aside as her friend excused herself from the two people talking to her, and rushed over to examine the injured Order member.

She beckoned to the young wizard beside Lysienne. "Gather up everybody else who fled the room, we need to get you out of here as soon as possible."

Putting a reassuring hand on Lysienne's shoulder, Ora checked on the two Death Eaters, the one whose arm she had broken and the one who had just been smashed in the head by a Muggle plastic singing toy. They were still stunned, though Ora had no idea how long it take for them to revive. She cast the Full-Body Bind on them just to hold him if they woke up and her attentions were divided. What should she do with them? She obviously couldn't leave them here, not when the balding man who had been haranguing Lysienne was beginning to check all the shelves of the Muggle treasure trove with the desperation of someone's prized collection of toys just ruined.

"My collection of Hot Wheels!" he wailed. "Oh, you'll pay for this, You-Know-Who!" The man shook a fist in the empty air.

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At Ora's call Lysienne hurried over to the woman, on the floor out of her initial view of the room almost in the hallway, and knelt beside her in dismay. Another sectus curse, and this one worse than the last. She bit her lip.

Ora touched her shoulder as if sensing her worry. Lysienne looked up and gave her a brief smile. Cecilia, who had joined her, sucked in a quick breath and stood back. "We need to stop the bleeding before we move you," Lysienne told the wounded witch. "I don't have much here, so we need to get you to a safe place as soon as we can. Now hold still."

She took in a long breath, gathering herself, reaching deep, and pulled the woman's hands gently away before replacing them with her own. The woman moaned as the dark, warm blood spurted through Lysienne's fingers, but the flow was abruptly cut off as Lysienne spun a web of pure energy across the wound. She lifted her hands away, sitting back, gasping and shivering a little. Too much energy, expanded too fast...good thing she'd had that Pepper-Up potion earlier.

"Ora," she said a little breathlessly as her friend came back from checking on the Death Eaters, "would you cast a warming spell on her?"

Ora complied, then paused and cast another on Lysienne, who whispered, "Thanks." The witch stopped shivering and relaxed a little. Ora gave her a sharp look. Ah, yes. Her friend, who understood the fundamentals of magic as well as anyone she knew, if not necessarily the exact spell cast, would know how very delicate--how brittle the spell she had chosen truly was. It could break at a single sharp movement. Such a fragile spell for such a high cost. But it had been the only thing she could think of that would staunch the flow of blood completely, giving her a little time to think.

"Here, would this help?" Cecilia had reappeared at her elbow, holding a bottle of--Lysienne's eyes widened. What was that?

"Spidersilk," Alfred supplied proudly as Lysienne took the bottle. "Not, of course, Muggle, but quite rare for all of that. It's vacuum-sealed, so it should be as good as the day it was made. That'll stick to you like your own skin, that will, and strong as anything, too."

"Now we may actually have to believe his claim that he's been to every country in the world, hmm?" Cecilia winked at Lysienne as she blinked.

"Oh..." Lysienne breathed. "That's perfect! Thank you!" She looked up. "Sorry, Ora, would you mind getting the rest of the Healing potion?"

As Ora went to hunt down their bag, Lysienne fumbled with the bottle's cap. After watching for a moment, the young wizard next to the woman on the floor gently took the bottle from her and twisted it open with a pop. Lysienne gave him a sheepish smile and extracted the shimmering, silky-white material from the bottle. It was the softest thing she had ever touched, and almost seemed to extrude its own warmth. She laid it across the wound above her spell, and the spidersilk immediately joined itself to the exposed flesh. She then took the bottle Ora had brought back and upended the small amount remaining over the spidersilk. She squeezed the woman's hand in reassurance and looked around at the gathered witches and wizards. "I think we're ready," she said.

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Ora drew the final Portkey from her bag, unfurling the sheet in the center of the gathered group. An argument broke out between the witch who'd supplied Lysienne with the Spidersilk and the wizard to whom--Ora presumed by his reaction from the destruction of the room of Muggle things--the house actually belonged.

"Don't you care about anybody else here, Alfred?" the witch protested, her hands balled up in fists at her side.

Alfred looked like he was about to retort, but obviously thought better of it. "I suppose I can always come back when I please," he muttered, giving his now-damaged precious Muggle belongings a sad look. Reluctantly he stepped forward to grip an edge of the Portkey. Ora passed a corner of the sheet to the injured Order witch, who was still pale and sitting on the floor, but looking much better than she had been minutes ago.

"The password is 'trumpet,'" Ora said to the group, and then reassured the Order witch that she would tell Mrs. Weasley to send a proper healer after her.

The group disappeared, leaving the house silent. Ora's witchlight still floated near the ceiling, and she noticed as she and Lysienne stared at each other and then at the two Death Eaters still unconscious on the floor, that they were both trembling something fierce.

"Okay," Ora said simply. She stunned both of the Death Eaters again just for good measure, and turned to Lysienne. "Go back to the Burrow, and tell Mrs. Weasley that I'm here at Alfred's house with two unconscious Death Eaters. I don't know what to do with them." It occurred to her that maybe she ought to kill them--Merlin only knew how many prisoners and members of the Order had perished in the raid alone--but Ora dismissed that thought with a sick turn of her stomach. Mrs. Weasley or somebody else would know what to do about them.

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Lysienne swallowed twice to get her voice working. Ora's eyes were huge in the witchlight, and she was sure her own looked as stunned and bruised with exhaustion, if not more so. She wished desperately for the night to be over. This had been her first true battle, and though they were both still standing at its end, she only wanted to go home and forget for a little while. But there was no Syrien waiting for her with his unshakeable calm and his understanding smile...

She stopped that thought it its tracks. They were still standing--unharmed even if trembling like leaves in the winter wind outside, and that was a blessing indeed. There was still work to be done, and quickly, for they didn't know if their location had been disclosed to other Death Eaters.

Lysienne walked over to Ora and hugged her hard. "Should I leave Rolan with you?" she asked. "In case...?"

Ora shook her head. "Just be as quick as you can."

Lysienne nodded and drew back. "I'll Apparate outside, then." She forestalled Ora's protest. "If something happens, at least you'll be able to use the Portkey to get back. I know it'll take a little more time, but I don't want you trapped here without an escape route. All right?" Ora reluctantly nodded, and Lysienne mustered a small smile. "I'll be back in three ticks!" She was pulling on her coat even as she spoke, then flew down the stairs with Rolan at her heels. They bounded together a little ways away from the house. When Lysienne finally judged that they were outside the anti-Apparation wards, she kneeled, put her arms around Rolan, and focused her mind on the Burrow. Surprisingly, the run had cleared her head and allowed her to recover some of her energy. Apparation seemed almost easier than the Healing she had done earlier.

They arrived back at the Burrow front door panting madly. Remus Lupin opened the door at her first knock, and looked down at her, startled. "Lysienne, what--?"

"Professor Lupin!" She was relieved to see him unharmed, if a bit muddied. "Death Eaters came with the second group but Ora stunned them and she's watching them and we need someone to go back and tell us what to do with them!"

"Lysienne! Here, slow down a bit." He placed his hand on her shoulder, and Lysienne's head jerked up at the swift, hard probe of another mind into her thoughts. She instinctively blocked it and stared at Lupin, stunned. He stared back, eyes as wide as hers.

"Lysienne, I'm sorry. I had to know... Who taught you to...?" Lysienne shook her head and looked away, only noticing that her hands were clenched into fists when Rolan gave a low rumbling growl beside her. Lupin fell silent. "You're right, this isn't the time for that," he said after a moment. He turned. "Arthur! Will you call the Secret Keeper for Location 16, please?"

Molly Weasley came running after a minute and looked from Lysienne to Lupin and back again. "What is it? Where is Ora?"

Lysienne explained and begged, "Well you please come back with me, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Of course, dear," she replied firmly. A look passed between her and Lupin. A few minutes later, they Apparated.

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Ora held the remaining Portkey in her hand, a little wooden picture frame decorated with enchanted painted flowers that floated back and forth as if being blown by an invisible wind. It had suddenly gone very quiet now that Lysienne had left, taking Rolan with her, and Ora felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as she looked between the two stunned and bound Death Eaters--she thought she could still hear them breathing.

What was the Order going to do with them? Ora walked over to the one whose arm she had broken. He was lying where he had crumpled from her spell, presumably still unconscious. Ora eased closer, dropping to her knees on the ground. Something told her she simply ought to retreat to the other side of the room and make sure neither of the Death Eaters woke up, but curiosity got the better of her, and she shoved her fear down and tried to forget about it.

Who were these people? What would the Order do with them now that they were captured? Ora couldn't imagine anyone in the Order killing them--neither the Weasleys nor Professor Lupin seemed like the type of wizards who would kill another, but this was war, wasn't it? Death was supposed to be a given. A few of their own had certainly been killed on this mission. Ora tried to picture Mrs. Weasley as the vengeful executioner, but failed. Perhaps they would just be imprisoned, and that would be that.

Ora reached forward, wondering how many children of Death Eaters she knew from school. She wondered whether, if she took off the masks of the men here, if she would recognize them through their resemblance of their children. If not, did they have family of their own? Was there a family out there who would wake disappointed in the new year, that their father, brother, or son hadn't come back in the night?

"This is probably a bad idea," Ora muttered to herself quietly. She reached forward to unmask the Death Eater, but thought better of putting her own fingers on it. Trust them to be the ones to think of poisoning their own masks, or something like that. Ora pulled out her wand, and accidentally sent the mask flying into the wall in her nervousness. She dropped to the ground and stared at him. The man seemed middle-aged, his forehead and eyes wrinkled, his hair graying. If he was the father of anyone she knew, he certainly didn't look like it.

She wondered if there was anything on him that might be of interest or of use to the Order, so Ora went through the pockets of his robes--nothing. Not even a coin on him. Ora frowned, a little disappointed. Well, at least there was one thing of use. She picked up his wand, thinking that perhaps somebody would have a use for it now that Mr. Ollivander had mysteriously disappeared and wands were now rather difficult to come by in London.

To the other Death Eater, Ora repeated the same thing. She demasked him as well and searched his clothing for anything helpful, but once again turned up empty-handed except for his wand. Ora wondered if she should just break them out of spite, or hand them over to the Order. She had just decided on the latter when outside of the house she heard the crack of Apparition.

Hoping it was Lysienne, Ora raised her wand and pointed it at the doorway, shoving the two spares she had just picked up in her pocket. She heard the door open and three sets of footsteps make their way through the hallway.

"Hello? Ora?"

Ora let out a sigh of relief as Mrs. Weasley poked her head into the room, with Lysienne and Professor Lupin following closely on her heels.

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"How're we doing here?" Mrs. Weaseley said, looking around the room. "Oh my," she said quietly as she saw the two bodies on the floor and the droplets of blood on the carpet where the Order witch had laid bleeding from a sectus curse.

"They're both stunned," Ora said. She pointed to one of them. "I broke his arm, the other one got hit in the head with something that knocked him unconscious. I put the Full-Body Bind on them, so they won't be going anywhere soon. I searched them, but didn't find anything useful except for these." Ora drew out both of the wands, and handed them to Mrs. Weasley who looked a little surprised.

"Thank you, dear," she said, recovering quickly. She took the wands and handed them to Professor Lupin, who examined them quickly.

"Now you girls must be tired. We were...unfortunately expecting the rescue to go off a little more smoothly than it did. I'm sorry you girls had to fight Death Eaters by yourselves tonight."

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Everything in still, dark house was as Lysienne had left it, and Ora was waiting for them in the mirror-room with the two Death Eaters motionless on the floor. She breathed a sigh of relief as Ora handed Mrs. Weasley the Death Eaters' wands, feeling suddenly as if she could drop to the floor right where she stood and go to sleep. Her gaze paused on the Death Eaters' unmasked faces. They were wholly human now, not the terrifying, evil monsters they had fought here amidst screams and fleeing figures and blood soaking into the floor. And that was...more disturbing, somehow.

She wanted-- It didn't matter what she wanted. She bit her lip and knelt beside the Death Eater--the man whose arm Ora had broken, and cast the simplest of bone-setting and binding spells. Even that took more effort than she believed possible. Everyone was probably staring at her, she thought; she wondered if they understood what she felt. Or was it too unfair of her to ask when she didn't understand herself? This tide of grief and...anger. How was she supposed to react, when someone whom she had trusted had lied about trusting her?

"Will those who were injured be all right?" she asked, not looking up.

"Don't you worry about that, dear," Mrs. Weasley said firmly, strained cheer in her voice. "Everyone's being taken care of. Now why don't you two make your way back and get some rest? I'm sure your friends will be getting back soon as well, if they're not already waiting for you there."

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Ora sighed with relief as Mrs. Weasley told them to go. She felt like her heart was still racing, but on the very edges of her awareness she was beginning to feel weariness creep up on her.

Turning to her friend, Ora breathed a sigh of relief. She and Lysienne had somehow managed to survive an encounter with two Death Eaters. Sure, she had fought them twice before, but here it suddenly seemed more real, with motionless bodies and unmasked faces before her. It was easy to throw a spell or a weapon at someone behind a mask, but what if it was someone she knew? Someone she had heard of? Someone related to a friend?

"Come on," Ora said, pushing those thoughts aside for the moment. She'd have plenty of time when the school term began again to worry about those things.

She drew out the Portkey that had taken whisked them here, and Lysienne too put a hand on it. The two girls looked back at Mrs. Weasley and Professor Lupin, who both seemed in turn to be waiting for the girls to disappear. What was the Order going to do with the Death Eaters now? Ora wondered. Imprison them? Kill them? That thought sent shivers down Ora's spine. She could not imagine neither the cheerful and warm Mrs. Weasley nor the quiet and gentle Professor Lupin raising a wand to kill another Wizard. Or maybe she could, Ora mused silently, studying her old Defence Against the Dark Arts professor and noting the hard set to his jaw, and the somberness in his gaze that made him look more tired, but also colder and harder than when she had last seen him.

Ora turned away quickly, and nodded to her friend. There were so many things to think about. Where to start?

"Wildcat," the two girls said together, and were pulled through the black to find themselves at the Burrow once more.