Second Chance Chapter 4

I promise there IS smut in this story. I've just been enjoying writing the actual plot too much. Next chapter will have dirty scenes with Hermione.

It was a good day for pilfering.

The guard barracks was a simple building. It had a minimum of facilities… which made it a thousand times nicer than the prison cells they had come from.

The guards had been in the middle of lunch when the dementors fled and they rushed outside. The food looked surprisingly tasty. Harry picked up a ham sandwich that only had a bite or two taken out of it.

“That’s Master Mulligan’s sandwich!” something squeaked.

A house elf wearing a turnip sack appeared in the room. The elf hopped around indignantly until Harry put the sandwich down.

“Is Mulligan one of the guards of this place?” Harry asked.

The elf nodded fiercely. “That’s right!”

“He’s busy at the moment,” Harry said. “I don’t think he’ll be coming back for it.”

“No taking food!” the elf insisted. “Them is the rules!”

Harry sighed. He looked longingly at the sandwich, and the other food on the table. An idea suddenly occurred to him.

“Did you cook all this?” he asked.

“My name is Nappy!” the elf said. “I did cook it, sirs. I cooked all of it. Every meal is Nappy’s cooking, every single one.”

“Could you make US something?” Harry asked. “Sandwiches like that one?”

“Absolutely!” Nappy said. “I’s be right back!”

The elf disappeared. He seemed very cheerful when he was being asked to do his job, but he’d put his foot down when Harry crossed him. It was good to see an elf that was willing to stand up for himself. Even if in this case, the sandwich was just going to go to waste.”

“I don’t like the way the wizarding world treats them,” Hermione said, looking where Nappy had been.

“I know,” Harry said. He felt slightly playful since this was the best day he’d had in a long time. “Would you like to do something about it?”

“What?” Hermione asked back.

“I’m asking if we should lead a rebellion,” Harry said. “Summon house elves from all over the country and give them a taste of freedom! Azkaban is technically in international waters for the magical world. If the Ministry gets mad at us, I’ll just send them packing.”

“Harry, you can’t fight the government,” Hermione said. “I don’t know how you’ve done… all the things you’ve done today. But that’s too much, even for you!”

“True,” Harry said.

He pulled out a chair and sat down. To avoid upsetting Nappy, he pushed away the plate that was in front of him, waiting for his sandwich to arrive.

“I’d need six good helpers to pull it off,” Harry said. 

“Why that number?” Hermione asked.

“Because seven people is how many you need to be more powerful than the ministry,” Harry said.

It was a proven fact. He and his wives kept the fight going after everyone else fell. They had fought for years and years after the ministry collapsed and its remnants joined Voldemort.

Hermione still thought that he was acting a little crazy. She sat down in the chair next to him.

Nappy arrived with their food.

“Here you goes!” the elf said.

“Thanks, Nappy. You’re the best,” Harry said.

He picked the sandwich up and dug in. When the flavor hit his mouth, Harry moaned. It had been a long time since he had something so good.

Hermione took slower bites. She nibbled at her sandwich and went through it slowly. Occasionally, she would grimace.

“Is your stomach giving you trouble?” Harry asked.

He knew because his own was squirming. They must have been borderline starved while they were in their cells.

That explained why his body was so frail that it could barely walk.

“Mhm,” Hermione said.

“It’s alright!” Harry said. “We’ll eat plenty of sandwiches from now on! And even tastier things, too! Pretty soon, we’ll be eating like the king and queen of this place. You wait and see!”

“Are you the new warden, sirs?” Nappy asked.

The house elf was definitely a brave one by the standards of his kind. He listened curiously to Harry’s speech instead of retreating to the kitchens.

That was good. Harry had questions for him.

“That’s right. Just think of me as the warden for now,” Harry said. What was a warden, if not the king of a prison? “Have there been a lot of new ones recently?”

“So many,” Nappy said. “Almost every month now, sir warden sir. Many many wardens. Proudfoot was the last one. He wasn’t too bad. Only yelled at Nappy every other night.”

“Good to know,” Harry said.

Even if the elf said he was one of the good ones, Harry’s estimation of Proudfoot fell even further. 

He’d need to practice magic to get used to casting spells in this body. Proudfoot had just volunteered himself as a training dummy, along with the majority of his men.

“No one wants to be the Sir Warden,” Nappy said. “No one likes this island, not even Nappy. But since earlier, the island hasn’t felt so bad! Did Sir Warden do something?”

“You could say I had a hand in it,” Harry said.

Nappy’s eyes filled with respect.

“You’re a good Sir Warden, Sir Warden,” he said.

“Thanks…” Harry said, trying to mentally decipher what the elf had just said.

He and Hermione ate as much as they could. Starting with dinner that night, Harry would have Nappy cook things that would help their deprived bodies get up to speed. 

With a bit of planning, normal food like this wouldn’t be a challenge for long.

“What… do we do now?” Hermione said when they’d eaten all that they could

Harry stood up and clapped his hands. He regretted it straight after. His arms were so frail that action made them ache.

“If we’re going to make this place a home, we’re going to have to get some help,” he said. “So we’re going to go recruiting.”

“You mean those six people you were talking about?” Hermione asked.

“No. Those are special people. I can’t get to them yet,” Harry said. It was true other than Hermione herself, who had no idea that she was included in the list. “These are just going to be extra hands. The prison is way too dreary, even with the dementors gone. It’ll need to be renovated. Work like that takes a lot of hands.”

“But where can we find people?” Hermione asked. “I don’t think the ministry men are going to help after what you did to them.”

Harry limped toward the door. Naturally protective of him, Hermione shot up and helped him move more comfortably. Together, they exited the door of the barracks.

Harry pointed at the prison itself.

“Where do you think we’ll get them?” he said. He grinned. “Let’s go shopping!”

On the way back to the prison, Hermione pleaded with him that those people were dangerous. Harry said that she wasn’t wrong, but reminded her THEY had been imprisoned there very recently. They weren’t guilty, so there were bound to be others like them. The ministry wasn’t known for the fairness of their judicial system.

“But how are you going to find the ones who have been put here wrongfully?” Hermione asked.

“I’m going to talk to them man to man,” Harry said, “and look into their eyes as I do it.”

Harry vaguely knew the layout of Azkaban. He wouldn’t be able to find his way around, but he knew that there was an area for prisoners with life sentences and an area for prisoners with lighter ones. He began his search in the second area for now.

Even the prisoners here hadn’t been completely spared from dementor exposure. However, the exposure was less intense. Now that the dementors had fled, they had come back to their senses.

In the maximum security parts of the prison prolonged exposure had eaten away at the psyche of the prisoners. Many of them would have permanent effects. Even Sirius with his dog form was plagued by nightmares and hallucinations after he got out.

Here, that wasn’t something to worry about. When Harry and Hermione walked into the first cell block they were immediately recognized.

Harry looked around while people clamored and begged to be let out. They could tell that these were prisoners like them, not guards. Harry’s appearance was bedraggled enough that many of them hadn’t realized WHO he was. They just thought he might be their ticket out.

“Harry? That’s really you, isn’t it?” said a voice.

It stuck out to Harry because of the familiarity it spoke with. He could tell that they knew him as at least an acquaintance, or that they had met in the past.

When he looked at the owner, he saw Stan Shunpike, the former conductor of the Night Bus. 

Stan had gotten skinnier and more wiry than he used to be. His eyes that had always been dim with lacking intelligence were a little more hollow, but also a little more mature. Like the other prisoners he was wearing rags that passed for robes.

“Stan,” Harry said. He walked up to the bars. “What did they throw you in here for?”

“I was drinking,” Stan said. “I made a joke about how if I was a death eater, they would’ve already taken Hogwarts. There was this REALLY good looking witch at the bar. I was just bragging, you get it, right Harry? I wanted to sound cool. But somebody overheard and the next thing I know, aurors have grabbed me and thrown me here.”

Harry stared him straight in the eyes. “If they thought you were a death eater, why are you in this part of the prison?”

“Well that’s… I knew somebody, okay?” Stan said. “One of the guards goes way back with my family. He arranged to get me put in here. None of the other guards actually believed I’m a death eater so they didn’t really mind. Say Harry, are you doing something? I feel kind of ticklish, like I’m about to sneeze.”

Harry's legilimency probe was deep in Stan’s mind. He would catch any lie the instant it was told. It was an invasion of privacy, but a necessary one when dealing with prisoners.

Harry ended the probe, satisfied with what it had shown him.

“I’m not doing anything Stan,” Harry said. “It must be your imagination. Come on out.”

“It’s locked—” Stan said.

Harry put his hand on the door and silently undid the lock with his magic. The door swung open. Stan wandered out.

“I could’ve SWORN it was locked…” Stan mumbled.

“Alright Stan,” Harry said. “I need your help. Do you know anyone else here who’s been arrested for a minor crime or something that they didn’t do?”

“Of course I do!” Stand said. “There are tons of us. The minister has been going loony, I’m telling you. You can’t even breathe wrong or they throw you here. Let’s start with Mary Wilmington, and then I’ll introduce you to John Brooks—”

This wing of the prison backed up Stan’s claim about the ministry going crazy. It was overcrowded. 

In normal times there would be an average of 50 prisoners in this wing at any given time. Maximum occupancy was probably around 80. Right now, there were over a hundred packed in like sardines.

Harry quizzed each of the people that Stan brought him too. Just like with Stan, he searched their minds to ensure truthfulness. Most were like Stan. Innocent, or largely trustworthy.

There were a handful that were the opposite. Harry had no sympathy for the man who robbed a single mother because he knew her husband had been taken by death eaters. Near the end of his search, when the day was getting late, Harry found the biggest surprise of all.

In a cell on the last corner of the jail, Pansy Parkinson sat in prisoner robes. She looked up and saw him and Hermione. The first thing she did was sneer.

“What are YOU doing loose?” Pansy said. “There are no muggles around to break the Statue of Secrecy. You must be heartbroken.”

“Aha! So THAT was it,” Harry said.

He had been wondering where his life diverged in this universe. It had been a puzzle he was trying to figure out. How did Harry Potter end up in Azkaban?

He felt confident in the answer now. When he went on trial for using underaged magic before the Wizengamot, he had been let off after key testimonies and a vote in his favor.

The hearing must not have gone in this Harry's favor. His wand would have been snapped and he would have been thrown here to rot. They sent Hermione with him a couple of months later. When they were done, the corrupt assholes must have clapped each other on the back for a job well done.

It made him angry, but he did his best to keep a level head as he spoke to Pansy.

“Ignore the past for the moment,” Harry said. To him, this girl was a corpse from so long ago that he hardly carried any negative feelings toward her personally. “What are you here for?”

“It’s a misunderstanding! Like with me!” Stan said. “She told me so herself. They thought she was a death eater, but she isn’t. You can tell just by looking at her.”

Pansy wasn’t the most beautiful girl in the world but she had some charm,  despite her flat nose. Harry sighed. Stan was far too weak to women. He believed anything they told him so long as their face was nice enough.

“What really happened?” Harry asked.

“It’s what the fool said,” Pansy said. “They assumed I was a death eater because of my family and put me here without a trial. You’re trying to be noble, aren’t you? You have to let me out.”

Harry’s magic was already deep inside of her mind. Pansy had slight occlumency defenses, surprisingly.

They were nowhere near enough to slow Harry down, let alone stop him.

He went into her memories and picked out what had happened. What he saw made his blood boil like he’d been hit with a dark curse.

Harry touched the door. It opened. Pansy smirked and sauntered out.

“Thanks, hero,” she said sarcastically. “I’ll be getting off this island now. I’m sure my dad will send someone to pick me up.”

She tried to walk by Harry. Harry grabbed her black hair.

The time Pansy had spent incarcerated gave him enough to hold onto. She shrieked and tried to pry his fingers off.

“Let go, psycho!” she screamed.

“Hey! What are you doing!” Stan said.

Stan stepped forward to help. 

“Back,” Harry commanded.

Before Stan knew what was happening, a compulsion charm had made him scramble multiple steps away.

“Astoria Greengrass,” Harry said.

Suddenly, Pansy stopped fighting. She looked horrified. Horror turned to anger.

“Did you use legilimency on me?” she demanded. “That’s against international wizarding law!”

Harry laughed humorlessly. “Oh no. Maybe they’ll put me in Azkaban. Along with murderers.”

Suddenly Pansy started to fight again. She realized that lying was no use.

“What do you care? You never even knew her!” Pansy said.

“What’s happening?” Hermione asked.

She looked scared and curious at the same time. She hadn’t tried to stop Harry, or backed away like Stan, though. 

“What’s going on is that your boyfriend is going crazy!” Pansy said. “He read my mind!”

“And by doing that, I saw your crime,” Harry said. “You spent years cozying up to Draco, but he decided that he liked a younger girl more. He was going to marry her. And because you couldn’t have that, your family got involved. One night, when you were a seventh year, you snuck a potion into her dinner and took her out of the castle. Some of your father’s worst friends were waiting there. And they—”
“Shut up!” Pansy wailed. “It was her fault! She shouldn’t have gone after what was mine!”

Hermione had covered her mouth with both hands. Stan looked horrified. One or two of the other prisoners—who had been listening at a distance—looked like they wanted to help Harry.

There was no need for that.

“You weren’t even punished properly,” Harry said. “Your father paid the courts more than the Greengrasses could and buried the issue. Astoria took her own life a few months later. Only then were you punished… with one month here in Azkaban for “bullying”.”

“H-H-How could you have seen all that so quickly?” Pansy stammered. “That would take a legilimency master—”

“Stop thinking about irrelevant things,” Harry said. “This is when your life should be flashing in front of your eyes.

Harry took out the wand he took from an auror on the beach. While holding Pansy by her hair, he used the same spell three times. The spell was one of Bellatrix’s favorites.

The purpose of the spell was to melt what was inside of something. It had been used extensively when wizards used to fight nights. Ignoring outer layers, it would cause extreme heat in a certain area.

Harry focused the spell. He torched Pansy on the inside, starting with things that wouldn’t kill her and escalating with each target. Her scream was terrible. As soon as it started, Harry used another spell to silence the area.

Pansy’s body went limp. Her head had been left completely intact and looking the same as it had been when she was alive. Harry did that on purpose.

“Sorry Daphne,” he whispered while his silencing spell was still active. “It looks like even a second chance isn’t enough to stop some things.”

He ended the silencing spell and levitated Pansy’s body, taking it out of the room. Hermione had a conflicted expression, but came forward to help him walk. Stan’s lip was quivering.

“Merlin!” he kept saying over and over. “Merlin! Merlin!”

The other prisoners parted for Harry when he went by. Harry and Hermione followed the path that they opened. When he got to the door Harry stopped.

“I’m not going to hurt any of you,” Harry said. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I know that for a fact. So find a way to get comfortable. You’re free to use the guard barracks. There are plenty of extra rooms there, and good food too. Otherwise, you can stay here. The dementors won’t be coming back here, so don’t worry about that. Starting tomorrow, you’ll all have a choice. You can leave this place and try your luck in the world that put you here… Or you can stay, and help me build something better. I won’t hold either choice against you.”

The prisoners were all silent as he left. 

Some, a minority of them, followed Harry when he and Hermione left. Harry covertly scanned the few who were coming with him; unafraid or conquering their fear of him for the comforts the barracks offered. 

He would remember these faces. Most likely, they were ones he would come to rely on.