A boy walked through the metal halls
Of mighty Azkaban,
That had on storm-swept rock been built
By man to punish man.
But it was not just wizardkind,
It was not only spells,
That guarded this accursed place,
These dark and dreadful cells.
Dementors dwelt in Azkaban,
In hellish pits below,
And anything that happened here
The shades of Death would know.
Yet Harry saw their secrets now,
And his Patronus shone
With light that blinded Death itself —
A power his alone.
And in their cells the inmates stirred
With hope as Harry passed,
Their darkness briefly lifted by
The spell that he had cast.
Ahead Professor Quirrell walked,
His body not his own;
For Bella Black they'd stolen from
Her cage of steel and stone.
But Bellatrix believed that she
To her old master spoke,
And what she said a righteous wrath
In Harry's mind awoke.
The silver man blazed brighter yet,
Surpassed the light of day,
That healing warmth might touch these halls
And Death be burned away.
Then came a voice, an outstretched hand —
A piercing sense of doom —
And fading brilliance left the hall
In sudden twilit gloom.
For now did Harry see that if
He did what seemed so right,
His magic would consume his life
To fuel its silver light.
And though he'd lost a part of him
That could not be replaced,
He had to follow Quirrell on;
They had no time to waste.
But even then it was too late,
For down the winding stair
An Auror came, in robes of red,
Shields sparkling in the air.
Where Harry lay, concealed from sight,
He watched the duel commence,
As Quirrell's wordless spells assailed
The Auror's best defense.
Then Harry heard the Killing Curse
Beginning to be cast,
And his Patronus moved to block
The deadly emerald blast.
And Quirrell screamed — he threw his wand
Across the metal floor —
His form became a serpent green
That fell and moved no more.
Into the sudden quiet did
The battered Auror call —
And then the Boy Who Lived himself
Emerged into the hall.
As Harry watched the man approach
He whispered "Somnium",
And saw the elder wizard to
A child's spell succumb.
Yet now with his Patronus gone
The cold and dark prevailed,
And having lost the taste of hope,
He feared that he had failed.
But Harry could not trust those thoughts,
For once he'd caught his breath,
He saw behind that stark despair
The icy hand of Death.
And bias he could overcome,
The darkness he could fight;
He found again the Earth and stars —
And there was silver light.
Then he awakened Bellatrix;
The dormant snake she bore,
And they began to walk back down
The shattered corridor.
As they descended Harry heard
The inmates cry and yell,
A din that Quirrell, while he led,
Had silenced with a spell.
And though his heart inside him screamed,
Still Harry did not dare
To give his life to conquer Death,
To end it then and there.
And so they passed each block of cells,
Each padlocked metal door,
Continued down the dungeon stairs
Toward the deepest floor.
But then did Albus Dumbledore
Find Harry in his flight;
For his resplendent phoenix tracked
The True Patronus bright.
So Harry sought inside himself,
As Dumbledore drew near,
The part that quailed before the dark
In deep unspoken fear.
He sheltered it in light and warmth,
He offered it his hand;
And, newly strengthened, even Death
He knew he could withstand.
He gave to Bellatrix his Cloak
To hide her from Death's eyes;
Then his Patronus he dismissed,
And stood without disguise.
But though he'd foiled Dumbledore,
A greater threat drew near,
For twelve Dementors now approached
Amidst a storm of fear.
And even as he stared them down,
Expecting them to halt,
They came still closer, keeping up
Their pitiless assault.
So Harry raised his wand and thought
Of that cold winter day
When Death had gone to Hogwarts school
And never come away.
Of that he spoke, while with his wand
He took a careful aim —
And then the shadows seemed to turn,
Retreated whence they came.
And soon, concealed within a cell,
He plotted their escape,
As piece by piece, beneath his wand,
A strange device took shape.
A chunk of metal wall slid down
And thudded to the floor;
And sunlight shone in through a hole
Where none had been before.
But Harry started in surprise
When from the emerald snake
There came a weak and quiet hiss —
For Quirrell was awake.
Then quickly Harry told him what
His gadget was to do,
And Quirrell, in his human form,
Transfigured it anew.
Again did Bella bear the snake;
They grasped the wooden broom,
And shot into the midday light,
Emerging from the gloom.
Between the walls of Azkaban
The broomstick upward surged,
As guards above and Death below
Against its flight converged.
And as the Aurors' counter-jinx
Disabled magic flight,
He thumbed the Muggle rocket switch
And felt the fuel ignite.
On flame undimmed by ward or spell
They shot into the sky,
Through winter chill and airy clouds
Toward the sun so high.