“So how are we going to do this?” Harry asked, absently wrapping his cloak around himself as he walked down the footpath, passing by large, muddy puddles and parked cars.
Rain spluttered from the sky and Harry winced, wrapping his cloak around himself even tighter. The sky was dark with thick, grey clouds covering most of the night sky, obscuring both the stars and the moon from view. The few muggles on the streets skirted around him, obviously feeling a little wary of the boy who was apparently talking to himself.
Meciel's illusion was walking by Harry's side, observing the graffiti-covered walls and boarded-up shops with a faintly repulsed expression. Her robes and cloak, silver and white, almost seemed to glow, and her illusion was so perfect that rain splashed on her sleek dark hair and her robes were beginning to drip with water.
“For now, we'll merely introduce the idea of a Death Eater attack,” Meciel answered quietly, swinging her silver gaze back to Harry. “This will be a long-term effort, beloved, and I do not expect to achieve any immediate results.”
“Long term,” Harry groaned. “Can't we…I dunno, go and find Minister Brownie and torture him or something. That'll get his attention”
“Fudge,” Meciel corrected, looking amused.
“Whatever,” Harry dismissed with a wave of his hand. “He can be Minister Cupcake for all I care, as long as Umbridge pisses off.”
“Your idea has merit,” Meciel said, idly stepping around another pedestrian and daintily leaping over a small puddle. She appeared to be enjoying the opportunity to flex her creative mental muscles. “However, for some strange reason I don't seem to have Fudge's current schedule on me at the moment. I don't suppose you could lend me a copy?”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Harry muttered.
“Besides, Fudge is the Minister of Magic, so you can expect to encounter some heavy resistance. I do not doubt that you could succeed, but you would not be able to get away without your identity being revealed,” Meciel said smoothly, wiping down her robes and frowning. The light-coloured material was clinging to her curvaceous body, emphasising the rather curvy nature of the illusion. “You are such a pervert, beloved.”
“Hey, if you show then I'll look,” Harry said with a lecherous grin, his eyes sparkling. Suddenly, without any movement on Meciel's part, her robes were dry and the raindrops were leaving no visible mark on her beautiful form. “Oh, you're no fun,” he pouted.
“Back on task,” Meciel said, although her lips were curled up into a beautiful smile. She gestured with one hand to a small, shabby pub-front on the other side of the street. “The Leaky Cauldron- a perfect target. There will be enough people so as to draw the right amount of attention. The Ministry will not cover this up easily.”
“And I won't be tracked?” Harry asked, glancing at his wand carefully. Meciel had made him perform over a dozen different spells on it. Now it resembled a wand of pure white wood, far longer and skinnier than Harry was used to.
“Of course not,” Meciel said, almost sounding offended. “You have been hiding from magical tracking systems like these your entire life. I assure you, beloved, they will not find you.”
“Okay, let's do this,' Harry said with a deep breath and quickly gazed around. Most of the other pedestrians were huddled a little further up the road, using the store fronts to try to shield themselves from the rain.
His wand in hand, Hellfire blazed through him and Harry released control to Meciel. The Fallen's illusion disappeared before his eyes and her warm presence seeped into the forefront of his mind, her overwhelming consciousness flittering dangerously close to his own. She was a maelstrom of power and pure presence, threatening to tear his fragile human psyche apart, but she didn't. Instead, Harry felt his arm rise above his head and his wrist move in a peculiar half-spin, with a sharp vertical flick at the end. Something spread over his body, something icy-cold, but it was gone in an instant and suddenly it was like he was wearing a thick jumper.
'There you are,' Meciel said, sounding satisfied, and once again, Harry was in control.
He staggered as his nervous system came back online all at once, a sensation akin to pins-and-needles shooting all around his body. He suppressed the feelings of unease at being dominated so easily and glanced at one of the nearby parked cars, observing himself in the side mirror. A wide grin crossed his face as his hands raised to touch the glinting silver mask covering his face.
“Excellent.”
Tom sighed, absently wiping at one of the dirty mugs in front of him with an enchanted rag. The mug gleamed as the rag both cleaned and polished it, working far better than the floating brush scrubbing at dirty plates in the sink behind him. With a sigh of satisfaction, Tom thumped the glass down and threw the rag onto the bar, brushing off his large, calloused hands.
He peered through the dim, gloomy bar, idly noting that Sebastian Shane was nursing his third firewhiskey and giving the odd hiccup every now and then, releasing more smoke into the air than the pair of poorly-disguised hags that were smoking pipes that blew out green smoke over in the far corner. Good old Murtie McMilliam was talking amiably with, in Tom's opinion, a rather shady character, and the old bartender made a note to keep an eye on the two of them.
Lightning flashed from beyond the windows, briefly illuminating the room far greater than the flickering fireplace could, and a moment later came the resounding boom of thunder. Tom unconsciously shivered. He was looking forward to curling up in bed tonight with a warm bottle of butterbeer and the good-old classics on the Wizard Wireless Network.
Suddenly the door leading to the Muggle world creaked open and Tom's head shot around. A tall, dark-cloaked figure entered the pub, his head bowed. Rain glistened over his robes and water dripped to the ground, giving the man a rather eerie appearance. His head still bowed, Tom had the impression that the man was surveying the bar and its surroundings. The other patrons, once seeing him, turned away and resumed their soft chatter
Tom, however, suddenly felt an uneasy sensation slink into his stomach. Something was wrong here. Still, he plastered a huge smile on his face and his voice rang out with forced cheerfulness,
“Good evening, sir,” He boomed out cheerily. “It is mighty cold out there tonight. Can I get you anything? Anything at all?”
The hooded man seemed to cock his head as if considering something. After a moment, he gave a slow nod and responded, his voice a soft, serpent-like hiss that sent shivers down Tom's spine.
“Yes, you can,” the man responded coldly and raised his hooded head. A gleaming silver mask covered his face and Tom froze with fear as he stared into the eyeholes- as dark as pitch-black night. A slender wooden wand was suddenly in the man's hand as he took a step forward, attracting the attention of every single member of the bar. “You can submit to the Dark Lord. Do so and he will spare your lives and the lives of your family.”
The bar was silent as the man- a Death Eater of You-Know-Who, stood there, his robes suddenly dry and an eerie shadow spreading out from behind. The torches on the wall flickered, the flames suddenly accosted by an icy wind. For a second, nobody moved. Then, one of the braver patrons- somebody who had some skill with the way he drew his wand- attacked.
'Stup-“ he started, but the Death Eater was faster. His arm rosed and his wand, clutched by a dark gloved hand, flicked through the air.
“Crucio!” The Death Eater hissed and suddenly the other wizard was screaming in agony, dropping to the ground and flailing about as he scratched at his entire body.
The Death Eater broke the curse after a moment and turned back to Tom. Although the barkeeper couldn't see his face, he could almost imagine the sinister smile that crossed the Death Eater's face as he whispered,” I'll take that as a no then.”
Harry, cloaked in the Death Eater garb, stalked forward, knowing full well that his opponents were seeing a movement resembling that of a glide. Dark power was pumping through his entire body as Hellfire and the lingering, almost ecstatic backlash of the Cruciatus Curse flared in his mind.
'Expelliarmus!' One of the patrons shouted, wearing brown robes and a patched hood. His chubby face was ashen with fear and his were hands quivering as he faced against what he thought was a Death Eater.
A bright red bolt of light shot out of his wand and missed Harry completely, sending one of the barstools flying through the air. It crashed against the wall as Harry gave a few sharp flicks of his wand, not uttering a single word. The man gave a startled yelp as something struck him across the face and his wand flew out of his hand. With a flick of Harry's wand, the man gurgled and clawed at his throat as he was lifted up into the air by a powerful force. Another flick and the brown-robed wizard rocketed into the air, past a group of wizards who had jumped to their feet with their wands out, and into the wall.
There was a distinctive crack as the man slid down the wall on the other side of the bar, right next to the exit leading into Diagon Alley. He was groaning softly as he feebly crawled through the doorway to safety and Harry turned to confront the next two, a wide grin on his hidden face. Battle-lust reigned in his mind, carefully restrained by Meciel.
“Ferito!” One of them yelled desperately, covering his friend as they sprinted for the door leading to the muggle world. A loud crack filled the air, similar to apparition, and a hazy ball of dim light shot at Harry as the first wizard opened the door and disappeared into the night.
Harry extended his hand and with a deft spell, caught it in his open palm. He paused as the wizard's eyes widened and he literally gaped at the sight, before he, like his friend, dove out of the bar with terror in his eyes. Before they had even left, Harry swung to the left and hurled the ball of hazy light at a rising wizard. The ball struck him in the chest and suddenly the blue-robed wizard bent over, gasping for breath as he clutched his stomach.
He collapsed, sending his barstool clattering to the ground, when suddenly it became a vicious, snarling dog. Harry's eyes widened as two very ugly women approached him with outstretched wands. Their faces were marked with boils and scars and their leering eyes glared at him hatefully.
“Kill him!” The first hag growled and the dog leapt for him with a roaring bark, while the second hag gestured with her wand. A thin, azure coil of mist-like magic sprang for him, lashing out like a vine. Harry deflected it with his wand, literally parrying the spell away with a crimson burst of light, while he tried to turn for the dog.
'Duck!' Meciel hissed.
At the same time as the dog leapt for him, saliva drooling from its very large fangs, the barkeeper had flicked his wand. Suddenly, over a dozen dusty bottles flew from the overhead rack above the bar and shot at Harry. They missed, slamming into the dog and sending it sprawling to the ground. It was still growling as Harry arose gracefully, the tip of his wand glowing with dark power as he sent a single golden spark at it. The spark struck the dog and it howled in agony as it burst into flames- the hags both screamed incantations and sent streaks of murky yellow light at him, which he parried into nearby tables and then whirled around, his cloak flying behind him and his wand levelling towards Tom.
As the two tables shuddered and exploded under the force of the no-doubt illegal spells of the Hags, Tom's eyes widened and with a panicked yell, he dove behind his bar. The thick wood between him and Harry would have done him little good had Harry actually been aiming at him. Instead, Harry directed his wand at the other side of the bar.
“Cornollivo!” Harry whispered coldly. His arm buckled as a streak of dark-coloured magic burst from his wand and an eerie screech filled the air.
It struck the bar and the wood splintered, cracked and gave way in a thunderous boom. The bottle holder above the bar fell to the ground and bottles thudded loudly on the debris with only the occasional smash, the charms on them preventing most of them from being smashed. Harry whirled around again, guided by Meciel's instincts and her blazing Hellfire to sidestep- narrowing avoiding a curse that cracked like a whip as it snapped past his ear, gouging into one of the tables and sending it splintering to the ground.
“Tegocavo!” Harry hissed, thrusting his wand at one of the hags before summoning a large ball of flickering flames- absent of its usual Hellfire- and throwing it at a corner in the bar.
As a single, glowing dart-like burst of light blasted forward from his wand, dark magic in the fireball exploded with a thunderous boom and suddenly the bar was on fire. Smoke pumped into the air as one of the hags flicked her wand, wordlessly casting a glittering dome of silver magic around her, while the other, with an elaborate twirl, sent a column of buzzing bees after him.
The hag suddenly screamed as the dart struck her shield and shattered it instantly, her mad eyes widening. Harry grimaced as one of her boils exploded in a shower of thick, white pus but it didn't slow him as his wand whipped through the air, almost as fast as lightning.
“Abhorreo!” He hissed softly, and a shimmering blue streak of magic shot through the air. Then Harry spun around, catching a shimmering streak of sapphire magic and dragging it with the tip of his wand.
As the shimmering blue curse swallowed up the angry bees, Harry threw the streak of magic at the barkeeper, who deflected it with an awkward flick of his wand, his eyes smouldering with anger. The first hag, still reeling from her shattered protego shield, shrieked as the curse struck her. Her body trembled as if she was having a seizure and spittle flew out of her mouth as she collapsed to the ground.
The other hag shrieked, fury evident in her voice, and brandished her wand. Her curse, which Harry recognised as a very powerful slicing charm, missed him completely and shot through the air. It sliced apart one of the tables and hit the wall next to the staircase, just as a balding wizard with tired eyes was striding down with a grumpy expression. Tom flicked his wand again, launching a simultaneous attack by sending a horde of bottles flying through the air while shooting a red blast of light at him.
As the wall near the staircase was gouged and the balding wizard stared into what he thought was the soulless eyes of a Death Eater, Harry sidestepped the reductor curse and, deliberately ignoring one of the bottles, he raised his wand.
“Avada Kedav-argh!” He hissed, forcing pain into his voice as the bottle slammed into his illusionary back. It was no more than a dull thump but Harry staggered forward with a pained grunt, his arm flying up into the air as green light pooled at the tip of his wand.
There was loud rushing noise, as if an invisible wind were roaring through the room, and a blinding streak of green light blasted forward, striking the ceiling with a flash of green sparks. The scent of powerful dark magic, like a greasy, oily stain, filled the air as the hag instinctively flinched with terror. At the same time, the balding wizard stormed back up the stairs with cries of “Death Eater's are attacking! Death Eater's are attacking!”
The hag grabbed her fallen kin and with terror in her eyes, disapparated from the bar. Harry whirled around, absently swatting away two well-cast but ultimately powerless hexes and levelled his wand at the barkeeper. Instead of casting a spell, Harry spoke up, his voice a soft hiss even to his own ears.
“Tell all what you have seen here,” Harry whispered coldly, greatly enjoying the expression of terror he saw flying over Tom's face. “The Dark Lord has arisen. His faithful are flocking to his side. Soon, the Wizarding World will be free of filthy scum like those bloodmuds.”
“Bloodmuds?” The Barkeeper asked in a quivering voice, looking confused. Dark fire started to roar in one of the corners of the bar, foul, greasy smoke pumping into the air. “W-What are bloodmuds?”
“Are you mocking me?” Harry hissed with a threatening swipe of his wand.
'It's Mudbloods, beloved,' Meciel said with a light laugh. 'I believe it is 'Mudbloods and Muggle-loving filth.'
“N-No…no I'm not!” The barkeeper croaked, gripping his wand with whitened knuckles. He was sweating, his greasy apron covered with the sawdust caused by Harry's destruction of his bar.
“You don't seem to be one of those Muggle-loving pieces of filth,” Harry hissed and gestured with his wand at the door. “So I shall spare your life. Leave now, or I will kill you. Take the pathetic wizard who tried to curse me with you.”
The barkeeper swallowed but quickly strode around the bar under Harry's watchful gaze. The occupants of the rooms upstairs were quickly beginning to make noise, and Harry heard screams of panic and fear over the loud cracks of apparition. The barkeeper quickly murmured a word and the fallen wizard, still shuddering under the brief effects of the Cruciatus Curse, hovered off the ground. With one last glance at Harry, the barkeeper broke into a run and literally threw himself through the door leading to Diagon Alley, the injured wizard floating after him.
"Terramotus!" Harry snapped coldly, gesturing to the ground around him. The tip of his wand sprayed out a shower of brown sparks and suddenly a loud shudder ran through the wooden floorboards. The very ground rumbled, almost throwing Harry off his feet, while there was a large splintering sound as cracks tore through the floor, leaving gaping holes. Beneath the floor, Harry could see glimpses of a dimly lit basement.
'I think we're done,' Meciel said, observing the destruction around Harry with a critical eye.
Tables, chairs and barstools lay in splintered heaps, the bar had been literally torn in two and bottles lay scattered all over the ground. There was a bright fire flickering in the corner of the pub, dark magical flames slowly eating away at the flame-repulsion charms that protected most of the tables, chairs and walls.
“I haven't had this much fun in ages,” Harry said with a chuckle as he lowered his wand. Hellfire still raged in his mind but he suppressed the dark feelings it brought along with it. “Random violence is always cool.”
'If you say so, beloved,' Meciel said in amusement. Suddenly, just as Harry was about to turn and leave, the fireplace in the wall flared with a sudden burst of green light and two witches suddenly tumbled out.
“Bloody Shackelbolt,” the witch groaned, rubbing her head dazedly. She sported long violet hair, striking orange eyes and long crimson robes.
“Language, Tonks,” the second witch, an older, grizzled woman with an eye-patch over her left eye. She donned the same crimson robes as the other women, although they were lined with a distinctive silver trim. She emerged from the fire on her feet, looking down as she absently dusted herself off. “Lets…”
The witch trailed off and her good eye widened as she took in the scene. Harry grinned at her expression; she looked completely shocked, while her partner staggered up, her face grim.
“This was no bar fight,” Tonks mumbled, before her eyes widened as she spotted Harry lurking in the shadows. Harry knew what he must look like- long dark cloak and a Death Eater mask. His wand was already raised.
"Niteo tutaminis!” Harry said casually.
A startling flash of white light burst from his wand and the younger Auror gave a cry of shock as she rocketed backwards, something powerful slamming into her chest. Pain flew across her face as she fell to the ground, her wand clattering from her hand.
The other woman moved quickly, far more quickly than any other wizard he had duelled tonight, and suddenly the air between them was full of streaks of coloured lights. Harry was taken aback by the sheer volume of spells that the other woman was producing and fell back, his wand flying through the air as he parried and deflected the minor spells.
Blasts of crimson light slammed into the ground, streaks of oddly shaped teal magic were parried into the walls. Although the spells were not powerful, they were plentiful. The grizzled woman he faced had some sort of system for casting, a rapid-paced blur of wand movements that saw him have some initial trouble with working out the exact combination of spells.
'An Auror!' Meciel said quickly. 'She is too well trained to be anything else. Either flee or incapacitate her quickly before she calls for reinforcement. You could kill her, I suppose, but I would not want to be in your head when Dumbledore finds out.'
After a few moments, as the Auror and the 'Death Eater' duelled across the cracked and broken expanse of floorboards and shattered, wooden heaps, Harry saw an opening that would not turn to the Auror into a charred husk and grinned.
“Colligadicio!” Harry barked as the Auror paused for just an instant, using the time to take a huge breath.
A shimmering light gathered around him and the Auror's eyes widened even as she cast the next burst of furiously-paced spells. Two bursts of scarlet light, three streaks of yellow and the ropy-vines of a binding spell struck the hazy, distorted light and suddenly hung there in the air, motionless. With a broad gesture, Harry threw them back at the Auror and grinned.
The Auror had some difficulty dispelling her own spells, but even as an incantation left Harry's lips, she had already side-stepped and conjured a solid steel shield on her left arm. Harry's bolt of magic, akin to an electrical discharge, zapped through the air and struck against the conjured item. Although the spell exploded in a shower of sparks, arcs of crackling magic leapt up her arm and she dropped the conjured shield with a grimace of pain.
"Ventosus!” The Auror cried out immediately, cradling her left arm to her chest. A gust of wind circled her body, looping around stray bits of wood and debris and shooting them at Harry.
Harry took a step forward with his wand raised but paused as the bits of debris became a flock of crying seagulls. With an annoyed growl, Harry gestured to the fierce flames on the other side of the room. Dark oily smoke poured forth and struck the flock of seagulls, flinging them aside with their noxious fumes.
“Frendo!" Harry barked out, a wide grin splitting his lips, Hellfire pouring into the potency of the spell and producing a streak of magic so powerful that the very ground shuddered before it.
Behind the thin haze of smog, the Auror's eyes widened as a sudden realisation poured into them, even as she raised her solid shield. She knew that it wouldn't protect her from the powerful dark spell. The only thing that saved her from death was that Harry wasn't aiming for her, and a thunderous blast of dark purple magic tore into the ceiling above her. There was a loud groan as plaster, wood and pipes showered the ground as the powerful spell detonated in a flash of blinding light.
“Tonks!” The other Auror cried as she whipped her wand around, magically deflecting the debris that rained down on her
Harry saw that the other witch was nearing the green fire, speaking something into it with a dazed expression on her face. At the same time, a large piece of splintered wood was falling directly towards her. Her partner waved her wand and suddenly the wood was yanked away. At the same time, Harry saw his opening and lunged. With a serpent-like striking movement, he jabbed his wand forward.
The Auror rocked back and forth on her feet, fear coming into her eyes as she clutched her chest and gurgled loudly. Blood dripped down her nose as Harry, with careful movements, released his tight grip on the woman's heart and threw her aside with a swipe of his wand. She tumbled to the ground and suddenly Harry was moving, leaping across the room and tumbling outside.
He was standing in the small courtyard between Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron. The barrier was closed and a limp, unconscious wizard- the same one Harry had cursed earlier- lay near it. Adrenaline was surging through his veins, the exhilaration of battle producing a wide smile on Harry's face as he raised his wand.
Meciel whispered instructions in his ear and Harry paused, his mouth wrapping around a strange incantation.
“Morsmordre!” He shouted loudly, his disguised voice awash with exhilaration.
From his wand arose a giant symbol of eerie green magic. A laughing skull with gleaming eyes leered down at them as a snake coiled around it and protruded from its mouth. From beyond the wall, Harry could hear the first signs of fear as a loud, piercing scream filled the air. Just as the door burst open and the grizzled Auror, along with two others, rushed into the courtyard, Harry twirled on his feet and disapparated.
After nine more apparitions, one back to Diagon Alley itself, Harry apparated on the outskirts of the small Wizarding town outside of Hogwarts. For a moment, he just stood there; the weather was a lot nicer in Scotland than it was in London. Then, with a casual wave of his wand, the long robe and silver mask melted away, and his wand, which had been white and long, suddenly darkened in colour and lost some of its length.
“Now that was fun,” Harry said with a grin on his face as he almost bounded his way back to the glittering castle of Hogwarts. He was feeling quite pleased with himself. Not only had the 'mission' been a complete success, but he had tested himself against two Auror's- the Ministry's finest- and even after holding back, he had defeated them.
Meciel's illusion appeared silently by his side.
“You look like you enjoyed yourself,” she said, watching Harry with an indulgent smile on her face.
“Better than school,” Harry snorted as he approached the looming castle gates. Some part of him was hesitant to approach, knowing that Dumbledore would probably be furious at him, but the majority of him almost wanted Dumbledore to bring it on. Victory was like a euphoic drug and at the moment, Harry felt as if he could do anything.
The addictive nature of Hellfire didn't help in that regard either.
“Indeed,” Meciel murmured softly, emitting a silvery aura in the darkness that merely made her more enchanting. “It would be been better for the cause if you had killed that Auror, but we must stay in Dumbledore's good books. It is a pity- I find that eviscerating a few people here and there gets your message across quite clearly.”
“You're an evil bitch, Meciel,” Harry said with a soft chuckle. Meciel smiled blandly and said nothing.
The storm was raging uncontrollably as he strode up the beach. His eyes peeked out of his hood as he clutched his soaked robes to his chest, shivering as the icy-coldness seemed to seep into his very bones. Anxiety and fear rushed through his body, causing his heart to throb against his chest, almost painfully. An inner conflict raged within him, fear of the place and fear of his Master.
He could feel the derisive stares of the other servants of the Dark Lord, their forms tall and straight, as if the storm wasn't even touching them. Lightning flashed through the air and he got a glimpse of the ominous structure before him, catching glimpses of foreboding walls of stone and large, looming turrets. He flinched as another clap of thunder filled the air and waited.
It wasn't long before the first of the damned began to stagger from the mist. Haggard, gaunt wizards and witches, many without any trace of sanity in their eyes, staggered forward. Their leader, a pale, sickly-thin witch sporting a wide fanatical grin, approached Wormtail with a delirium clouding her eyes.
“The Dark Lord….” She cackled loudly, grasping him painfully by the shoulders. “I knew he would not abandon us…I knew it! The Dark Lord has returned for us!”
Prying the crazed witch's arms off his shoulders, Wormtail took a quick step backwards and shivered- a shiver that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold.
Harry shot up in his bed, shivering uncontrollably as he panted. He was so cold, as if he had been drenched in freezing water, and only a blast of warmth from Meciel was able to dispel the icy-coldness that seemed to have seeped into his bone. A sour expression on his face, Harry rubbed his tired eyes and flopped back into bed.
“You're going to work on this, right?” He mumbled sleepily, wrapping his covers around him and tossing over in his beds.
'Go back to sleep, beloved,' Meciel said soothingly. 'I will see what I can decipher of this.'
A moment later, Harry had fallen back to sleep.
The next morning, Harry walked into the hall and immediately felt Dumbledore's piercing stare hit him. He rolled his eyes and stared back flatly, stubborn green eyes meeting Dumbledore's disapproving gaze. A moment passed then Harry broke the gaze, annoyance flaring in his mind.
“Hypocrite,” he muttered under his breath. “He's willing to give me books on dark magic but he's not willing to see me use my skills for something productive.”
'I don't think he likes being ignored,' Meciel offered as Harry strode over to the Gryffindor table, plonking down on a seat and leaning forward to snag the last rasher of bacon from the middle of the table.
“Oh, have a cry why don't you,” Harry grumbled, an exasperated expression flashing over his face.
He took a bite out of his breakfast and idly noted that the Gryffindor table was a lot less boisterous than usual. There was something missing that he usually noticed at breakfast- and then, it hit him. There were no morons trying to engage him in conversation. Harry looked up and frowned when he saw Ron, Amanda, Neville and Hermione huddled around a copy of the Daily Prophet. Their expressions, especially Neville's, were bleak. Feeling curious despite himself, Harry stood up wandered over, peering over their shoulder at the headlines that had them so engaged.
MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN!
THE LEAKY CAULDRON ATTACKED BY SIRIUS BLACK!
“What?” Harry hissed and with movements too quick to be properly seen, he snatched the newspaper out of Amanda's hands and scanned the front page with narrowed eyes, ignoring the cries of protest from the fifth year Gryffindors.
The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban. Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, confirmed that over twenty high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of the morning. Ten of the prisoners have been identified as notorious Death Eaters- former servants of You-Know-Who known for the terrible atrocities they committed against decent witches and wizards back in the dark days.
“Once again, we find ourselves in the same position as we were two and a half years ago when Sirius Black escaped,” Fudge commented. “We don't think that these two breakouts are unrelated either. An escape of this magnitude requires outside help- and who better from the second in command of the former wizard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
Merely hours before the breakout, an unidentified wizard donned in the robes of a Death Eater stormed the Leaky Cauldron, demanding the occupants to bow down to “the dark lord” and putting two wizards in Saint Mungo's before fleeing as Aurors arrived at the scene.
“Nor do we think that the attack is unrelated,” Fudge said. “The so called Death Eater was most likely Sirius Black himself, probably trying to create a diversion before breaking his fellow dark wizards out of Azkaban.”
When asked to comment on Black's comments, Fudge was dismissive.
“Black was imprisoned in Azkaban for twelve years,” Fudge said. “Twelve years around dementors can do things to a wizard, especially one as deranged and mad as Black was. He wasn't even sane when we put him in there.”
The infamous Sirius Black is most known for the killing of one wizard and twelve muggles with a single curse. The Ministry fears that he may become a rallying point to the escapees and urges everybody to report anything suspicious immediately….
“Fuck,” Harry cursed under his breath. He sat down, pushing Amanda and Ron out of the way to make space, his eyes still on the paper.
In the middle of the front page was a row of ten small photographs- the worst Death Eaters of the escapees. Some of them looked sullen, others desperate, and there were one or two who seemed to be jeering, tapping the frame of their pictures and looking insolent. Harry's eyes were drawn to the picture of the witch. She sported unkempt and straggly hair, heavily lidded eyes and an arrogant smile played around her thin mouth. It was the witch he had seen last night.
'So that's what the vision was about,' Meciel said slowly. 'Voldemort has taken back his most loyal, if unstable, servants.'
'That's probably not good for the Ministry,' Harry said and paused. 'Or Dumbledore. Or us, for that matter.'
Harry's eyes sought out Dumbledore, who was sitting at the head table. He had turned his gaze away from Harry and was speaking to McGonagall with a serious expression, the witch nodding every so often with her lips tightly pressed against one another. Umbridge was digging into her porridge, throwing Dumbledore and McGonagall malevolent glances, her pouchy toad's eyes glittering with deep-seated anger.
With a sight, Harry turned back to the paper and scowled at Daily Prophet. Picking up a fork, his mind wandered back to Meciel as he idly scratched one of the faces, ignoring their angry glares.
“Who the hell is Sirius, anyway?” He muttered sourly. He sighed as the gong rang through the hall and students began to stand and drift off towards their classrooms. “This is going to be a long year.”
Suddenly, out of nowhere, rocks fell on Harry and he died. In some strange and bizarre coincidence, at the exact same moment that rocks fell on Harry, rocks fell on Voldemort and he died as well. Rocks fell on Vesper and rocks fell on Dumbledore, rocks fell on the Knights and rocks fell on the students, rocks fell on the other Denarians and rocks fell on Maeve, rocks fell on the White Council and rocks fell on the Red Court.
In the end, rocks prevailed.
The end
Nah, just kidding