First Report, Verbal, by Senior Auror John Talisker.

  Given to Head Auror Harry Potter on

  Tuesday, July 29th, 2014. 06:45 AM.

  Azkaban Prison, "The Rocks"

  The North Sea

  Transcribed by D.M.L.E. File

  TOP SECRET - DO NOT RELEASE TO M.O.M. FILE!

  (NOTE: Language has been converted to English from Whatever It Is that Talisker Speaks - Demelli).

  ***

  Two and One-Half Weeks Ago.

  Friday, July 11th, 2014. Zero-Dark-Thirty

  Azkaban Prison, "The Rocks"

  The North Sea

  Yes, damn you, Zero-Dark-Thirty! Who the Hel has a watch on The Rocks? If it's magical, it won't work. If it's non-magical, it will stop working, and it's just another damn thing to get stolen. It was probably after Sunset, (sometimes the clouds are so thick it's hard to tell). The guards had cut the various Quidditch teams loose at what they said was Noon. That's one of their little power trips, varying the times. They have to allow ninety hours a week, but somedays it woulld be six, somedays sixteen. The various other Leagues were meeting in various Recreation Rooms, Wizard Chess in one, Gobstones in another, and the degenerates willing to settle for Popping Snap in a third.

  Anywhere else, this mixing of the General Population of the prison would be a riot waiting to happen. And adding women to the mix? (At this point, Talisker grunted something that was probably an oath in Old Gaelic. I chose not to seek a translation. - Demelli).

  But everyone was properly kitted out in their D.R.E.C. Harness, so it was safe as houses. Hah.

  What's that, Healer? All right, Hannah, then. A D.R.E.C. Harness was required to participate in any League, or observe any games, or, Hel, to walk around during Rec Periods. Depulso-Relashio-Expulso Curse, the Harness can only be removed by a Facility-Wide Spell Effect. It has a general Depulso effect to warn others from your personal space, a good, sharp Relashio if someone makes a grab for you, and a spectacular Expulso Curse if someone takes a running leap at you. Or, say, if anyone tries to knock you off your broom. It kicks the attacker back twice as hard as they came in.

  The which does not deter an Azkaban Quidditch player. Right, Daniel, my lad? What was it like to throw your first Body Block as a free man in Munich? Eh? Well, if he lived, and got right back up and into the game, it's all to the good. Lesson learned on both sides. Münchner Wolpertinger didn't recruit you for your formerly pretty face or those golden curls. That, I notice, you still keep shaved.

  First I knew something was off was when they called us in early. I say early, because I keeep track of the weekly hours, and they were behind. I had expected that day to be out for at least twelve hours. Usually Call-In was a Siren Call at a half-hour prior. You know, the creepy one that makes you feel like drowning would be a good price to pay, if you could just get one kiss? Then the Horn at ten minutes, the Gathering Call of Elfland, this one was. And if you're still out on the dot, the polarity on your D.R.E.C. Harness reverses, and it beats you senseless all the way back to your station.

  Well, this time, they went straight to the Harnesses without so much as a Tin Whistle of Warning. You've never seen such a madhouse in your life! People jamming to get into the four different Barracks, people jamming to get out of same Barracks. People forgetting they had to rack their brooms in their particular spots before being allowed through the Outside Doors Barrier. All the while the Harnesses were beating us like particularly cheap Temple Gongs.

  The beating stopped when I reached my proper station, in my case, standing by the head of my rack. What did not happen was the Spell Effect that released us from the Harnesses. In my bunkroom, and, I suppose, everywhere, we stood and waited. A few brave (read: Stupid) sorts attempted to lay down and wait, only to jump back up as their Harnesses objected.

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  We stayed like that for, I guess, a half-hour. And the the strangest thing happened.

  Someone used the Facility-Wide Public Address System.

  The only communication we had with the guards was at the Locked and Blocked Barracks Door. A Howler for Roll Call, and the occasional demand to see a particular body, living or dead. Oh, and, of course, when someone was released. Don't hold your breath on that one, hey, Danny?

  The Facility-Wide Public Address System was simple enough. A network of tubes, too small to escape through, that ran to every room in Azkzban. They were enchanted to let sound run only one way. (There was nothing we trash had to say that would interest them). Some So-and-So would stand in the proper Chamber with its permanent Sonorous...

  ...and talk.

  And it had never been used. I had never heard it used. No one I had ever spoken to had heard it used. Nothing in M.O.M. Files mentioned... Well, you get it.

  And now... it was being used.

  And whomever was using it... was a BONA FIDE IDIOT.

  ***

  "Attention, please. Due to an unscheduled Inspection Team arriving... unscheduledly, this facility is locked down, uh... indefinitely. Until further notice. You are urged... that is, ordered to remain in your Barrackses, uh, Barracks, until further notice. All activities are suspended...

  This got a roar that the speaker couldn't hear. I cursed because I couldn't hear, either, so I missed somewhat.

  ...upon good behavior. You may have free run of your Barracks... what? They can't? Can we turn that off? Yes, yes. Go do it. Ah... where was I?

  The shouting through the barracks was growing. I felt a slight buzz from the Harness. It didn't release, but when I took a tentative step away from my rack, it didn't punish me either. Seeing this, others moved, then stopped, unsure what to do.

  "It's done? Okay, you prisoners, you can move around, but stay calm, and..."

  The shouting was growing again. Several in the room started for the door to the Hallway. To do what, I didn't know. Go down to the Locked and Blocked Barracks Door, and shout at the blank wall behind the Cremation Pit?

  "NAE, THEN!" I bellowed. My room fell silent. They were used to listening to me, on and off the Quidditch Pitch. I looked a question at the Room Boss. No fool, he just waved a confident hand, like I was passing along his commands.

  I looked around. "WE'RE stayin' out a' this! Not our circus, not our monkeys! We here in Shamir's Posse takes care o' our own, an' t' Hel wi' th' rest!" I nodded respectfully to Shamir. He took charge like a champ.

  "Battle Stations. Secure all doors. 'George' to the Hallway door with the Periscope. Keep your damn voices down, so I can hear reports."

  The grandly named 'Periscope' was two slivers of mirror in a flattened cardboard tube. It was functional though, and fit neatly through the crack under the door.

  The voice on the Public Address was losing focus, always a problem when using Sonorous. His voice came and went.

  "Some a' them others are gatherin' by th' Pit." 'George's' disdain for the others was plain in his voice. "They're shoutin' loike, and some are startin' t' hammer on Th' Door wif their fisties, loike."

  "Hammer on THE Door?" someone said blankly. "They can't DO that."

  'George' took his eye away from the crack long enough to give the speaker a withering look, but went back to his duty without comment.

  "Some's coming t' join 'em, loike. Ah! There's Grinder!"

  Shamir had come to stand beside me. "I thought Grinder had more sense than that," he said under his breath. I shrugged, and replied in kind.

  "Probably tryin' to talk the same kind o' sense to some of his good fighters. He's short-handed, and Roddy has big eyes."

  The voice overhead firmed up, in horror, seemingly. "They're doing what! No, tell her it doesn't matter! Tell her they can't get through... YOU PEOPLE... INMATES! Get away from the Barracks Doors RIGHT NOW! She's going to KILL...!"

  I felt a pulse of Power surge from the Harness and run through my body. My breath whooshed out, and I sat back on my rack, hard. People were sitting and falling throughout the room. Beside me, Shamir swayed very slightly, but remained on his feet. Not a muscle in his face twitched.

  Over by the Hallway door, there was a whoosh of breath as well, then a struggling inhale. 'George,' faithful to his task, spoke in a tremulous voice, 'They're all jerking... falling. They're not stopping. I think... they're..."

  "That's enough, 'George,' " Shamir said firmly. "Come away from there. Good work. But that's enough."

  The overhead voice was dithering again. "She wouldn't... she didn't..."

  "Oh, but I did! And it was easy! What fun I've been missing!"

  It was a female voice, sounding as if it had come right into the room with the original speaker. She sounded young, mid or late teens, slightly on the posh side, and stark, staring, mad.

  "Darling la Nonnina certainly has the right of it! "Nessun uomo? Non c'è problema!"

  The other voice, barely controlled, said, "Marrissa, they couldn't have hurt you. None of them could have hurt you."

  The sound was like a gunshot, but I suspected a full-arm backhand slap, with plenty of force behind it.

  "This is the LAST time I will warn you...!"

  "My apologies... My Lady."

  "Much better!" the girl's voice purred. "After all, la Nonnina has as much as promised I am to inherit the title. And the old bitch gets madder by the day." The voice dropped into a coquettish parody of itself. "But not a word to Brother, mind?"

  "I remember, My Lady."

  "Now tell the scum to keep their heads down and their mouths shut, and they may live through this. Despite..."

  "They have heard every word you have said to me. My Lady."

  "Ah? Really?" If she was taken at all aback, it didn't last long. "Well, don't fret, little scummies. I'm even going to let you remove your wonderful, wonderful leashes. The temptation to yank on them is too much for an innocent like myself to bear." Then she snapped, "We're done here!"

  "Yes, My Lady."

  Her voice faded as she left, but I heard something like, "...our unexpected guests..."