Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin

Chapter 30: The Blackest Day (pt 1)

19 December 1993
Longbottom Dungeon
10:00 a.m.

While Miss Demeanor had received considerable training in escapology (among many other obscure and illicit abilities), she was disappointed in how more than a decade in Azkaban had degraded her physical skills. In retrospect, it might have been better to regularly assume control over the damaged Bellatrix Lestrange persona despite the risk that Dementor exposure would damage the psychic matrix that represented her sense of identity. If nothing else, she'd have kept up this body's physical conditioning in preparation for eventual escape.

"Pointless to regret the past," Miss Demeanor thought to herself. "If wishes were hippogriffs, hags would fly."

Her physical difficulties were exacerbated by that same relentlessly annoying second personality with whom she shared a body. At most, Bellatrix Lestrange would give her a few minutes of peace and quiet in which to work before loudly haranguing her about how long it was taking them to get out of the straitjacket. As a result, a task that should have taken 30 minutes even in her weakened state instead took several hours. Admittedly, part of that delay was caused by Miss Demeanor finally losing her temper and simply granting Bellatrix direct control. The other woman quickly demonstrated she had no idea how to get out of a straitjacket, and her hysterical efforts not only tightened their bonds but exhausted them both to the point that they had to rest for a while.

Miss Demeanor resumed control, and a chastened Bellatrix finally shut up long enough for her to free them from the jacket. Then, she moved to the cell door and sat cross-legged before it while focusing her mind on the arrangement of spells that secured the door.

"What are you doing now?!" Bellatrix thought furiously. "Cast a wandless Alohomora and let us out! I know you can!"

"I can cast a wandless Alohomora," Miss Demeanor thought back through the mental equivalent of gritted teeth. "But I can also perceive that the door is protected by powerful locking charms that can resist that spell, as well as warding charms to alert others if magic is used to open it. Do you know how to bypass such wards?"

"... no," Bellatrix thought sullenly.

"Then be silent and let me work. This may take hours, and every minute of delay increases the likelihood of our discovery. It is a miracle we have not been found out already."

Though she could not know it, the "miracle" that had protected Miss Demeanor from discovery so far would continue for some time. By a stroke of luck, her efforts to escape would take place against the backdrop of several events taking place elsewhere that would monopolize her captors' attention.

Meanwhile in a conference room upstairs ...

As Miss Demeanor struggled with the herculean task of wandlessly bypassing multiple high-level wards, the adult members of the "Azkaban Conspiracy" were upstairs engaged in pitched debate. Harry had contacted Regulus by mirror immediately upon returning to his dorm room and informed him of the horrifying news. Rufus Scrimgeour, the former Chief Auror, was aware of their activities, though he only knew for certain of Harry's involvement and strongly suspected that of Lucius. Lord Malfoy was not amused. The others in attendance – Regulus, Lady Augusta, and Severus Snape – weren't much happier.

"Well," said Reg, "look on the bright side. He doesn't know for certain who is part of our treasonous little group nor where our prisoners are hidden. That's ... something at least."

"Hmmph," snorted Lucius. "He suspects my involvement, and where Scrimgeour is concerned, suspicion might as well be a cold certainty. Meanwhile, you are still believed to be dead, Severus has the patronage of Albus Dumbledore, and no one would suspect the Longbottom Regent of being complicit in freeing the Lestranges from Azkaban. I find myself feeling ... exposed."