The Last Chance Of Tom Riddle

Aola turned the corner, following the map Teddy had provided, and slowed her pace. Ahead of her, a man was walking down the corridor lit by resin torches, apparently heading exactly where she needed to go. Warm candlelight poured through the half-open door of the guardroom. Before the man could enter, a female colleague inside pounced on him with questions: “Did you see Potter?!” “No. Is he here? It’s not his shift,” the man replied, surprised. “He showed up all worked up, with Hermione, as usual. He grabbed the key to You-Know-Who’s girlfriend’s cell and bolted upstairs,” she answered. “I wonder what happened; I’m sitting here on pins and needles!” “He’ll tell us when he’s back,” the guard reasoned sensibly, yawning. “Maybe I’ll have some tea… There’s such a storm brewing out there… brrr. Cursed dampness—when is the Ministry ever going to fix the heating? The prisoners are punished for crimes, but what did I do to earn this rheumatism?” While he grumbled, Aola slipped off her shoes, took them in her hand, and crept into the room on tiptoe, holding her breath. She just had to avoid sniffing with her stuffy nose or sneezing! The woman turned out to be the very one whose appearance Teddy had borrowed. Was it still him, or had the ginger already left the building? How did that young adventurer even sneak into the prison, and where was he now? Then again, was anything impossible for a Metamorphmagus? Oh, he was going to catch it from her for this stunt… later, much later. Milady gently touched the guard’s memory. No, this was not her rescuer. She hurriedly scanned the room—the rack with cell keys, a stand for brooms, a cupboard with tea sets, books, and trifles like board games to pass the long hours of the shift. A safe with a monumental door, looking more like a submarine hatch, was embedded in the wall in the corner. Abu must be in there… Surely it was charmed too! Without knowing the right counter-spell, one wouldn’t be able to open it at all, or it would take a couple of hours, and she likely had no more than five minutes. Harry was already on his way to her cell… The female guard sniffed the air: “What’s that smell? Luke, since when do you use women’s perfume?” “I don’t use any—” He didn’t finish, because from above, through the thickness of the stone, came the wail of the alarm “Howler” hanging on every floor. The guards instinctively tilted their heads toward the ceiling. “Escape!” the man exclaimed and collapsed onto the floor in the same second. The woman managed to jump up, grab her wand, and then immediately relaxed, sinking back into her chair. Her gaze grew clouded and “drifted.” “My apologies…” milady muttered, stepping over the sprawling, tunelessly snoring body on the floor. “Is the lamp with the jinni in the safe?” she asked. The guard nodded. “Open it, fast!” the girl commanded. The woman rose and, like a somnambulist, began to slowly turn the dial, entering the necessary combination. Then she murmured a spell. Milady was practically dancing behind her back with impatience, constantly looking around, and when the thick door creaked—she shoved the woman aside and snatched the lamp with her faithful servant from the top shelf. She tore off the seal, breaking a couple of nails. “Abu, it’s me, Aola!” she dropped the Disillusionment Charm. Black smoke whistled from the spout, coiling into a mighty figure. “My mistress!” the jinni exclaimed joyfully and prepared to prostrate himself as was proper, but milady stopped him. “There’s no time! We must flee!” Thinking for a second, she jammed the vessel into the thick safe door, slamming it again and again until it turned into a flat piece of metal, then threw the mangled silver into the loophole. “To hell with this cursed lamp! You are free!” The jinni gasped and pulled her into an embrace, lifting her off the floor. Only by pressing against Abu’s hot torso did the girl realize how badly she had been shivering. Or was it just nervous tremors? “Which way is the exit, mistress?!” “There!” they dashed into the corridor, where two people were already running toward them. “Incarcerous!” the guard shouted upon seeing the fugitives. The spell flew past—they managed to dodge—and hit the wall as a thick hemp rope that immediately dissolved. Abu roared, breathing flame for a good five meters like a dragon, forcing the attackers back. “Don’t kill them!” milady pleaded. An escape was one thing, but innocent people shouldn’t suffer—they were just doing their job… “As you wish!” he growled, drawing curved sabers of monstrous size from nowhere. The guards dove into a side corridor, trying to hit them from there with spells more serious than binding ones. The roar and flashes of lightning erupting from wands and from milady’s palms lit up the dark stone tunnel like a thunderstorm. Using Shield Charms and the sabers as reflectors, the jinni and the daughter of the Peri reached the guards, and Aola took them both down with a simple Freezing Charm. Her conscience wouldn’t allow her to use truly dangerous magic, the kind she had used against Tannis Ragmudin and his bandits over the Black Lake. “To the right!” the Duchess shouted, recalling the plan of this floor. They rushed toward the main gates of Azkaban. The fugitives were only dozens of meters from freedom when Harry and Hermione caught up and tried to stop them. Milady immediately felt that these were heavier opponents, especially Hermione—furious, looking like a fury, lashing out with serious spells like Stupefy without stopping. Abu didn’t risk it and brought down part of the wall and ceiling, simply blocking the passage. Cries of rage and frustration from the other side made milady smile. She was shaking with tension; every cell was vibrating… The thrill of battle was taking hold. “Hurry, before they break through!” the jinni scooped her up and flew toward the gates. They were waiting there too… After putting the guards to sleep, the fugitives tried to unlock the gates, listening as Potter and Weasley cleared their path. “Abu, dear, hurry!” “Lady Merovingian! Aola, let’s talk! I promise not to use force!” she heard Harry’s voice. “Got it!” the jinni barked. The stone doors ground open, letting in the fierce icy wind and spray, and at that very second, a blinding orange bolt of lightning lashed across his back. He howled, spun furiously, and shoved Aola outside, transforming into clouds of smoke. The lamp was gone, and there was nowhere to drive him with the Finger of Solomon. Abu had only temporarily lost his physical form. Falling backward into the icy abyss, milady spread her wings. A gust of air hit them, stopping her fall and tossing her upward. Spinning around, she banked, trying to get away from the open maw of the prison gates. Harry’s pale, upturned face flashed by, and another spell from Mrs. Weasley’s wand whistled past. Aola began to gain altitude, instantly chilled to the bone. Below, the black water raged with white crests of foam; the wind whistled in her ears. Through the noise, she caught fragments of the words Potter was shouting after her. “…lady, de…ad! He will k…oth…ldren!” If Harry had used Stupefy, it wouldn’t have been as effective. She froze, stopping her ascent, her dark wings spread wide to hold her in place. She looked down at the black maw of the gates and the two human figures in the opening. Was this a trick to hold her by any means? But then why was Potter so hurried to see her? Besides, this man wouldn’t throw around such phrases about his own children just to achieve a goal. “Let’s go!” the black vortex growled nearby. “Fly home,” she replied and began to descend. “N-no, mistress!” the jinni groaned, but didn’t even think of obeying. Freeing himself from the lamp had made him even more willful. “Put that away,” Harry demanded, forcing his friend to lower the hand with her wand. “She’s returning.” Milady hovered opposite the entrance, fighting the gusts of wind. Abu dangled nearby, ready to attack and defend. Potter’s green eyes shone feverishly on his pale face. Hermione, like a coiled spring, stood with her shoulders hunched, ready to strike at any second. The hatred distorting her attractive face made it clear that it wasn’t the Duchess’s escape that had caused such rage. “Repeat what you said!” Aola demanded. “I said that Voldemort will kill my sons if I don’t give you to him!” Harry replied, trying to maintain self-control over the noise of the breaking storm. “Here, read it yourself!” he reached into his pocket and handed her a regular sheet of paper, the kind wizards have used for their letters for hundreds of years. Fearing the wind would tear it from her hands, she landed on the edge of the platform. The thick cream paper was covered in Tom’s neat, disciplined handwriting. How could she not recognize it? How many winged notes, full of tender, passionate words, had he written to her once? Through every line of this short letter, only cold sarcasm seeped. Hello, Harry. I don’t think you expected us to meet again. To be honest, neither did I. But fate has such imagination! Only Lady Merovingian has more, whom you will return to me today. You have two hours to bring her to where I killed Tannis Ragmudin. She knows where it is and will kindly show you the way, I’m sure. Shall we play fair, Harry? Just you and me. No “tails” of Aurors. I only need my woman and my diary. Don’t disappoint me, Potter, and you will get your sons back alive and well. They are fine lads, especially Albus Severus — takes after his namesakes. We’ve almost become friends. Lord Voldemort.