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Weapon	By : uqui Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 105432 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 26
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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27/11/2011

Thank you to SuryaPrakash for the betaing. If there are mistakes, they are my fault.

Thank you also to everyone who reviewed. I love reviews and hope that all your questions were answered.

Anyone wondering how I view Azkaban Island is encouraged to take a look at the little schematic that I drew to help work things out. There are two Death Eaters mentioned by name in this chapter. I decided to be good. The two are actually named either in the movies or the books and were freed from Azkaban.

Completely and utterly random, I'm amused by the fact that Possession is the LAST fic for Harry/Voldemort fics and Weapon is (at the moment) the first one :D

Weapon LV - Important Answers

It was not a desirable job. It was not a glamorous job. It was not even a particularly respected job, despite the inherent dangers and the list of above average skills required to do the job. Prison guard of Azkaban was however, one of the best paid jobs in the Ministry. Full Auror Captain wages, plus hazard pay and no discrimination against Muggleborn or mudblood candidates.

That's why Everett had signed up for it. He'd graduated Hogwarts three years back, with decent NEWTs, full of dreams and plans and schemes only to find that as a Muggleborn wizard his job prospects were rather low. Time and time again he'd seen fullbloods, he refused to call them purebloods, get positions ahead of him even when their results were abysmal, even when their results didn't met the requirements for the job, just because they had connections, just because their family was related, usually to a shockingly close degree, to someone who was the Head of this or that Department. Despite that, he'd persisted, getting piecemeal jobs to survive on before this one had come up and it seemed like the answer to his prayers.

Sure the job was unpleasant, cold, and had long hours but he figured it was like some Muggle jobs, mining for example. You did them for a few years then, once you'd earned enough money, you were set up for life and could go back to a more usual job. And that was his plan. He'd already been on the job for almost two years and Everett figured he'd do this for another six to seven years. That would give him a very respectable amount of capital to invest both in the Muggle and wizarding worlds. Every night he checked both sets of papers, looking at stock prices and he had already picked out a few up and coming companies and was investing in them. The returns were slow but they were coming, even with the prospect of war for the wizards and with another six years he would be set up far beyond other Muggleborns of his year group. In another 20 to 30 years' time he'd be set up in the wizarding world and his name would be respected, maybe respected enough to marry into one of those fullblood houses. After all, they needed fresh blood and some of them were slowly coming to realise this.

There were a few conditions that granted you respect if you were a Muggleborn, enough that the fullbloods could deceive themselves into thinking that things were equal even when the situation was far from it. If you had money, you got respect. If you had some sort of ability, like the ability to play Quidditch at a professional level, then you got respect. Raw power didn't matter, unless you were prepared to use it to carve out respect, but that was a path few were prepared to take. Blood purity mattered on a selective basis, it seemed, but it mattered enough that most of his year group, those who were Muggleborn anyway, had all considered going back to the Muggle world since the prejudices were less there. Everett hadn't though. He'd figured out how he could succeed. He'd figured out how he could gain that respect and a place in the wizarding world. And he would succeed and he would gain respect and position and that would set up his children to have it much easier than he had.

Everett was debating to himself the merits of investing in Firebolt's or going with a more stable blue chip Muggle stock when he began his rounds. His mind continued to examine the possibilities, spending his future pay cheques as he walked down the corridors of the prison. The Dementors had been good lately and the older wardens said that was normal for summer. The extra light and the extra heat of the season made them sluggish and they had been doing their duties without complaint for the last few months. Even with the excitement of the Dark Lord's attack on the Ministry, the Dementors hadn't even become restive. Everett had seen the dispatches from the DMLE about that, wanting to know anything that may be unusual with the Dementors, but there was simply nothing to report. They still made the prison freezing, but they'd been obeying the Ministry mandates to the letter. Maybe in winter they would have more issues. At least that's what the head warden had muttered one night while he had replied to the DMLE's boss repeating his previous reports that nothing was wrong.

And so it was, when there was an icy breeze that blew across his neck, Everett merely hitched his robes higher, settling them around him more securely, reinforced his occulumency shields and continued to patrol, oblivious to the Dementor that was following him, and oblivious to the fact that with each new corridor he patrolled, another Dementor joined the pack that was trailing him. The only warning Everett had that something was very wrong, was the twinge on his occulumency shields, and a glimpse of ice racing along the walls ahead of him towards the wardens' control room as the Dementors streamed around him pouring into the one area they were not allowed. He couldn't shout and it was only a moment before he was lifted up and spun around and brought face to face with the underside of a Dementor's tattered hood. The last thing he saw was the face of a Dementor, its proboscis-like tongue extended and Everett's last thought was yes, it was completely true; you really did not want to look upon them.

Then everything went black.

Azkaban Island was a rocky outcrop that reared out of the North Sea. As the most feared wizarding prison in the world, it was naturally unplottable and untraceable. It had Muggle repelling charms anchored to buoys in a one kilometre radius around it ensuring that it was never spotted, even vaguely, by Muggle shipping. More repelling charms were located on the island itself, though recently some bribes, and confundus charms had been required to keep its position hidden from Muggle gas and oil prospectors, but that was all in a day's work for the Ministry. Its ward stones were sunk into the ocean floor around the island and the secondary ward stones were on the island itself. If on a scale of one to ten, the Ministry offices were graded as a two, the Unspeakable Offices were graded as a four and Hogwarts as a five on the protection scale then Azkaban Island rated a ten. It was the most well protected place in wizarding Briton. As well is should be, given that it was designed to contain only the most vicious, the most clever and cunning criminals. Those who wanted nothing more than to escape and wreak havoc on the innocent witches and wizards of Briton.

In the centuries it had operated, only one person had ever successfully escaped. Centuries ago, three others had made it to the water, but their bodies had washed ashore a few days later, the corpse's faces' frozen as it was the elements which had claimed them. Others occasionally slipped out of their cells but the Dementors were not known for their lenience.

When the island itself had formed it was almost solid rock but as time progressed, it had been painstakingly hollowed out to the point where it was now almost completely hollow. The work had been done by hand so there was no magic residue that could be utilised by anyone. The outer shell had been kept at a minimum of ten metres thick, though near the very peak of the island this had been reduced for the comfort of the Wardens' Quarters. The waves never stopped pounding the rock and the wind never stopped howling.

The island prison was surmounted by the watch tower and the control room. That was the place where the wardens monitored the prison and was on the highest point of the island. Below it were the Wardens' Quarters. They spent fourteen days on the island, then seven days off, on a rotation. They had a small open courtyard on that level. It was really nothing more than a flattened area where they could grow a few meagre plants and enjoy the wan sun when it was available. The floor of the Wardens' level had a few special wards that suppressed the chill of Dementors so their level was surprisingly warm. Occulmency wards were also embedded into the floor, though these were limited to the sleeping areas. Under no circumstances were Dementors allowed on this level and there were failsafe proximity alarms that linked back to the Ministry to ensure that the Dementors did not wander. On the level below the Wardens' Quarters were holding cells as well as the area for short term prisoners. While these cells were as far away from the Dementors as possible, the pervasive chill made any stay unpleasant. You could sense the Dementors on this level, but you could not truly feel their effects. Technically the Dementors weren't allowed on this level. but there was nothing to stop them and they occasionally were known to glide through the hallways here. Beneath this level was the area for the medium term prisoners and the processing facility for all prisoners. The only entrance to the prison was on this level, but it was blocked by a large iron gate that was sealed from the inside. Everyone passed through this area and Dementors were only allowed in this area to greet and escort prisoners into the long term facility. There were two more floors below this area. The level below belonged to the Dementors. It was on this level there was a plain stone slab which those wizarding criminals who were sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss were shackled and left and there was a largish room cloaked in darkness where the Dementors usually hovered. Below the Dementors' floor was the final level. It was partially submerged below sea level and it was here that the long term and life sentence prisoners were housed. The Dementors had free range here, though they may not enter any cell. It was here that those convicted of bearing the Dark Mark, those who were convicted of willingly supporting the Dark Lord were imprisoned. This level was perpetually cold and damp and most of the prisoners were insane.

There was a small, slightly protected beach that allowed the prison dinghy to unload passengers and to take the Wardens off island on their days off. The dinghy ran once a week and all supplies were bought in on it. Only four people could authorise any extra operation of the dinghy; the Minister, the Heads of the DMLE and Unspeakables, and the Supreme Wugwump and in the last decade, only Fudge had ever used that power. Any other boat approaching the island would cause alarms both in the Ministry and the prison and the boat would find itself tracked and if heading towards Azkaban there would be a welcoming party of Dementors for it. If it crossed the ward lines and made landfall elsewhere, then the Aurors usually accompanied by some combat Unspeakables would be greeting it. The dinghy docked itself on the mainland when not in use.

In short there was meant to be no way on or off that island that was not monitored. The Dementors were controlled. And even if there was a prison revolt, one where the prisoners and Dementors worked together, they would be trapped on the island and the Wardens would simply fort up in their Quarters and contact the Ministry for back up.

Unfortunately for the Ministry, while Azkaban was well protected from assault from within and relatively protected from assault from without, it was not protected from a combination of the two. After all, who would want to rely upon inside help from a prison that drove its inhabitants insane? Who would want to break into the prison?

The Dark Lord Voldemort did.

And the Dark Lord Voldemort had.

It had been a relatively simple operation, though it would have been more complex if the Dementors were not on his side. On the mainland a quick assault at the dock and an Avada Kedevra had dealt with the ferryman and the dark forces had gained access to the official Azkaban dinghy. The Serpent Lord, Kisha, and a team of ten or so Death Eaters had boarded the craft which was then magically propelled across the waters to the island. As it was the Azkaban dinghy its presence sent up no alarms. As they came into visual range of Azkaban Island, the watch warden personally discovered that while Dementors could not travel over water, they could climb the almost sheer cliff faces that made up the walls of the prison. Two grabbed him, holding him steady while a third administered the dreaded Kiss.

At about the same time, in the lower levels, the Dementors assaulted Everett, Kissing the Muggleborn wizard before they glided up a level to the Gate and opened it for the Dark Lord's forces. Kisha and Death Eaters accompanied the Dementors up to the holding cell level, helping to clear the wardens from that level, and then Kisha and the Death Eaters went further, entering the Wardens' Quarters level to stun the Wardens. They paused before the Control Room waiting for the signal.

Outside Voldemort wielded his holly and phoenix feather wand, transfiguring the sheer rock face into a path. It was pure brute force work and only possible because he had so much power available to him. The lack of any magic in the rock worked against him but he was not a wizard to be thwarted and had soon carved out narrow path leading upwards to the open courtyard. He could have blasted a path with any number of charms including some ridiculously over powered mining charms, but they made noise, so transfiguration it was. The path would last for about a day, which was more than long enough for his purposes. While the Dementors could access that area themselves by scaling the cliffs, neither the Dark Lord nor his Death Eaters were adept at climbing such sheer rock faces. The tiny track the Dark Lord transfigured was enough, and he met Kisha in the court yard. The Death Eaters followed a bit more slowly, bringing the stunned Wardens up to the court yard. A quick glance told him that the area was not warded against Dementors and he signalled his allies and several flowed down from the watch tower.

Now came the tricky part, accessing and subduing the Wardens in the Control Room without them getting a warning off to the Ministry. There would be two or three Wardens there, probably lazing around since they were not expecting an assault, but if even one of them got off the alarm then it would change things. The Dark Forces could hold long enough but it would be so much better for impact if they could do this without an alert.

"I'll do it," Kisha volunteered, "just get a Dementor to show up around their window as a distraction." The elder vampire grinned before she slid back into the Wardens' area, heading towards the control room. Voldemort gestured towards a Dementor who seemed to nod and flowed up the cliffs towards the control room.

The Dementor hovered there and after a moment there came a flash from the window and a stunning charm was hurled towards the dark creature. The Dementor hissed but was otherwise unaffected. And before the alarms could sound there were follow up flashes from the control room.

A moment later, Kisha appeared in the window. She smiled, looking down on the Dark Lord and nodded slightly to indicate that the Wardens were contained.

Voldemort looked up to the sky. Night was just beginning to fall properly and what he had planned now would take a few hours. "Make sure those wardens are secure where they are, then start bringing the prisoners out," he instructed his now gathered Death Eaters.

The Death Eaters nodded and filed back into the prison to return with their incarcerated fellows and all the other prisoners. The Dementors were grouping together in the courtyard, some hovering in the air above them. There were far more than Voldemort had thought and as the chill air they exuded washed over him, he suppressed a smile. While more meant he would have to provide more food, more meant he had more power; he had more soldiers. He looked up at them, but before he could gesture for one to come and speak to him, one broke away from the hovering pack and came towards him.

"Dark Lord," the Dementor hissed.

"Yes?" Voldemort answered. Most of the logistics of their allegiance had been worked out with those few who were at his stronghold. He had expected the need to qualify a few of the final points with those who were in Azkaban.

"Our brethren have negotiated well," the Dementor said, "but we wish surety."

"Surety about what?"

"The Dark Lord," the Dementor said as if that explained everything.

Voldemort showed no expression as he considered the creature's words. The Dark Lord. That was him...

Wait no... The Dark Lord. That referred to only one being. "The Shadow Lord?" Voldemort said softly, his tone one of fondness.

"Yes, the Dark Lord."

"What about the Shadow Lord?"

"You do not fight against him?"

Voldemort smiled as he understood. In another life he would have been raging at their presumption, now he just thought it quaint, even if completely archaic, the maintenance of loyalty to an almost mythical being. They were creatures of dark, and like all creatures of dark they tended to obey the Dark Lord of the day. Unlike other dark creatures though, it appeared they maintained an abiding loyalty to master of dark, to the master of the shadows, to the being who could be called the Dark Lord, or conversely the Lord of Light. They would serve him but they would not fight Harry. It was a good thing that his beloved would most likely never order the Dementors against him in battle. Having their prior loyalties exposed to the Ministry would be embarrassing.

"I do not fight him, I will not fight him, and he will stand beside me to rule for all time," Voldemort said.

The Dementor considered this before it nodded and there seemed to be a flicker of shadow. "We will assist with the prisoners," it said and there was a streaming as the Dementors flowed down into the prison towards the holding cell level. A few broke away, pausing to Kiss the stunned Wardens who had been gathered by the Death Eaters and brought up. Their soulless bodies were stacked together carefully so as not to suffocate any. Voldemort hadn't questioned the request. It was somewhat trivial, but if it made them happy then so be it. The Dementors would naturally be getting any of those prisoners who didn't see things the Dark Lord's way, but they also wanted all the soulless bodies brought out of Azkaban. He had already set aside an area in his strong hold for them and the bodies would be portkeyed out with the rest of them.

Voldemort smiled as Kisha returned to him and he gestured towards a chair he had conjured for her. He had quite a bit of work to do yet but was glad that he could confer with the Dementors while the vampire was out of hearing. There were a few things she did not need to know and while she knew he had an agreement with the Shadows, she was with him to find out exactly how deep that agreement was. It did not suit him to let her know that his agreement was with the Shadow Lord himself. She would run once she learnt that, back to her childe and back to his mate. He did not need Harry revealed early.

The Dementors returned quickly as they had far less distance to traverse. They were herding the inhabitants of the holding cell and the short term prisoners before them. There was a general feeling of disbelief and some even whispered prayers. Voldemort played up the scene though there would never be any witnesses, inclining his head and levelling his gaze upon them from where he sat, his red robes draped regally around him.

"You have a choice to make now," he said to the assembled prisoners, none of whom were his followers. Mostly these were just petty time servers. They hadn't done anything that bad and were probably in for a week or so for multiple offences. These were the wizards who didn't go home after being just that bit too drunk and things like that. Still there may be some with a talent he could use. If nothing else, if they agreed with him, they would be in his strong hold and beholden to him. If they later turned, well they could be fed to the Dementors then.

"A choice?" One of them questioned looking around. The situation was very clear. Most of the Dementors had turned back into Azkaban, intent on retrieving the medium term prisoners but a few had stayed, several were behind the seated couple while others hovered in mid air and two remained beside the bodies of the Wardens, guarding what the Dementors thought of as rightfully theirs. The fact that there were no alarms blaring told the prisoners exactly what was happening.

"Do you follow me, or do I give you to my allies?"

For a moment the gathered prisoners looked confused, then insulted.

Voldemort chuckled. "Did you think this war would not involve you? Did you think you could sit around and pretend that nothing was happening?" He seemed friendly enough, but most of the prisoners knew that he was a Dark Lord and that he could appear to be friendly even as he reached out with the knife to cut your throat. "This is the problem with the wizards. You all think that it does not involve you. Well, the rest of your pathetic society will face this choice in due course but for you, the choice comes now. Where will you stand, what do you believe in?" Voldemort's red eyes smouldered as he looked over the prisoners.

Most of the prisoners looked confused. A few looked down, their faces thoughtful as they seriously considered the Dark Lord's question.

"Think about it," Voldemort said, gesturing as the first of the Death Eaters returned, escorting one of their fellows. They had been instructed to bring the captured Death Eaters before him, one at a time. Each of the Death Eater prisoners would have to answer one question. Failure to answer correctly and they would be discharged from his service. They would be remembered but they would not adapt to the reality of this war.

The Dementors settled around the prisoners who were considering their futures and Travers was brought before his lord.

"My Lord!" Travers was surprised but he managed to bow low.

"Travers," Voldemort greeted.

"I knew you could not be dead, my Lord."

"For a time perhaps," the serpentine man said softly.

"I live to serve, my Lord," Travers said finally, bowing his head.

"Then you live well," Voldemort said. "But for now, one question Travers. I forgive you for being captured, answer this and you will return to my service with full honour."

"My Lord?"

"Which is more important, power or blood?"

Travers blinked, confused. His lord was as regal as ever and he could feel the power radiating off the Dark Lord. This was his Lord, despite the physical changes and the Dark Mark on his arm was currently jet black. The Death Eater who had freed him from his cell and then escorted him, aiding him as necessary up the levels of Azkaban had been silent but Travers knew he was amongst friends again and he had relaxed. His master had returned to full power and soon the Ministry would be bowing before them all. Now his Master was asking such an odd question. Blood or power? Both were important. Without blood there was no power but without power blood was useless. Squibs had the blood but no power.

Travers frowned as he considered the question. This was definitely something that he had to get right or his Master would kill him. He knew that. "I would usually say blood Master and while that is important, power is more important." Travers finally answered softly, thinking of the never mentioned squib cousin he supposedly had. The squib had the blood of his family, that had been confirmed most carefully but they were useless without the power of magic. Most families either banished or hid such embarrassments but Travers had witnessed the right that had removed the squib from his family. Not even the most complex or powerful inheritance charms would be able to detect the squib. It was as if they never existed though Travers could still remember the squib pleading and crying and the blood. There had been so very much blood as each of the incisions had been made. It didn't matter though, that blood was useless without the power. Travers had been just out of school when the rite had been suggested to him by the man who would become his Master. His family had been shocked but ultimately had been very pleased when it worked exactly as they had been advised that it would. And then his family had given their backing to his joining the Death Eaters. Blood was important, but blood without power... That was the answer his Master had always known.

Voldemort nodded. "Very good Travers. Come, you may greet me."

Travers came forward and knelt at his Lord's feet, reaching over to kiss the hem of his Lord's sleeve. As Travers rose, the Dark Lord reached forward slowly and gave his servant a small bead. Portkeys would not get you to Azkaban but they could get you off the island through the wards. After all, the wards blocked incoming traffic and all visitors were scanned to ensure that they had no port keys since they had a distinctive magical signature and Voldemort had not brought any portkeys with him. He had instead brought a collection of small beads and he was perfectly capable of making them into portkeys. Most wizards could make a portkey or three a day, only those of his level of power could create more.

Travers disappeared as the bead transported him to the Dark Lord's strong hold where other Death Eaters, those experienced in healing waited to treat their newly freed brethren.

"One sensible one," Kisha murmured and the Serpent Lord nodded as another of his servants was brought before him.

"And many more to question," Voldemort replied as he turned his gaze towards Scabior.

Anyone wondering how I view Azkaban Island is encouraged to take a look at the little schematic that I drew to help work things out.

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