Beauty From Pain

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Hastings was not paid nearly enough for the shite he put up with. Azkaban was cold, dreary, and an altogether horrid place to work. Even without the dementors, the sprawling prison was still filled with the worst criminals and situated on a desolate island in the middle of the freezing sea. No, Hastings was certainly not paid enough.

Which was why, when an odd shadow caught his eye during his rounds, he fully considered ignoring it. The small shadow had not been large enough to be a dementor and was carried on the wind with far more purpose than their tattered cloaks. The thing flew towards one of the small, barred windows of the uppermost cells and floated through, as if there were no wards on the prison at all.

Hastings had stared in incomprehension for several moments and then rubbed his tired eyes. He wanted nothing more than to pretend the thing was a bird, or better yet not even real. A hallucination perhaps, caused by staring at a grey sea for months on end. He wanted to go home and warm up with a nice cup of tea in front of a roaring fire next to his sweet wife. But that was a cell near the rear of the prison in an area that he knew housed the more high profile prisoners. He knew this needed to be reported. Sighing heavily, he wrapped his cloak tighter around his shoulders and trudged back up to the prison to alert the rest of the guards. They would have to call the aurors, and that realization caused him to walk just a bit slower.

—..—

There's no rest for the wicked, Harry thought miserably as he scrubbed a hand roughly through his hair. He downed a second pepper up potion and grimaced at the taste. He could already imagine the lecture Madame Pomphrey would give him if she knew, but desperate times called for desperate measures. The hangover thundering through his skull like a herd of hypogriffs was certainly making him feel desperate. Merlin help the man who made him get up at such an ungodly hour on his day off. And the day after a holiday, no less.

Harry eyed a third pepper up potion but decided against it and instead apparated to his office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

And immediately vomited into his waste basket.

Thank Godric he would be taking the floo system to get to Azkaban; although, he doubted that would be much better. He really should ask Hermione to come up with some sort of magical transportation that didn't make him lose his lunch. She was certainly clever enough.

Despite his eventful morning, Harry was the first to arrive after the alert went out. He had been on the lookout for any notifications coming in from Azkabah since his chat with Draco a few weeks ago and had received three separate patronus messages when the call came in to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. While appreciative of their hard work, he wished they could have picked a morning that he wasn't struggling with a post quidditch tournament hangover. He tossed floo powder into his fireplace and stepped out into the Warden's office. He grimaced at the uncomfortable feeling of the wards checking his magical signature for the proper permissions and quickly took stock of the situation.

The room was in chaos.

Prison guards were yelling and pointing fingers, accusing each other of inattention to the prisoners or even falling asleep while on duty. The Warding Division were there trying to figure out who had managed to screw up such an important job. Minister Shacklebolt was doing his best to calm everyone down, but he looked to be near the point of hexing the Warden, who should be noted was the only calm person in the room.

Harry made his way over to the pair and interjected before the Warden could say something to finally set off Shacklebolt's barely contained fury. "Sir, if I could have a word with the Warden. I would like to sort this out as quickly as possible."

Kingsly threw his hands in the air and shouted, "Be my guest!" He threw the Warden one last glare and stormed off to try and sort out the Warding Division.