Chapter One: A Dramatic Return


Teen You-Know-Who Supporter Flies To Fiery Death

Residents of the village of Ayresconeff were roused from their beds at four o'clock last Saturday morning, to be greeted by the horrifying spectacle of their local community centre burning down to the ground. Muggle police and fire departments were alerted, and attempts were made to contain the fire (first believed to be a work of arson). However, when a charred Cleansweep 105 was discovered on the premises, Jeffrey Chakravarty of the Muggle Liaison Unit (Scotland Yard) was called in.

Last night the police released a statement to the magical journalistic community, which states that the fire has been established as certainly magical in origin, and occurred when the owner of the broom lost control and crashed into the building. The presence of residual magical compounds (including two poisons that were made illegal by the Dangerous Substances Act of 1773) indicates the cause of the fire. "Upon impact, the bottles that were being carried by the rider of the broom must have smashed," stated Dr Serena Smiggs, of the Magical Forensics Department. "When the highly inflammable contents mixed, they inevitably ignited. A magical blaze like that would have spread from basement to attic within a few minutes."

Scotland Yard has also denied claims that the body of a young girl was removed from the burnt-out building. However, it has been confirmed that the broom belonged to one Madam Hooch, of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and had been stolen by a former student who disappeared last week. Nadine bint Esmonde was reported by our source inside the school as having single-handedly burnt down an entire wing of the school building, before escaping with a large sum of money in Galleons, to "join Lord You-Know-Who, her mentor and true love". Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall refused to comment on the situation; however, the influential Esmonde family have launched an appeal for information on their daughter's whereabouts, and have offered a substantial reward for anyone who can cast light on the situation.

Mrs. Esmonde, in her appeal, tearfully denied accusations that her missing daughter had joined the Dark Side, insisting that Naedine was just "highly strung".


Uttering a number of profanities under his breath, the inhabitant of the comfy swivel chair threw down a yellowing edition of the Daily Prophet, and turned around to face the main hall. "Wormtail!" he barked. High up, a number of bats fluttered, screeching, into more discreet crevices.

The man formerly known as Peter Pettigrew scuttled out of the shadows. "Yes, my lord?" he twitched. He positioned himself a safe distance away from the raised platform where an altar had once stood, which now supported the imposing yet oh-so-comfortable Lay-Z-Boy Overlord™ that Voldemort favoured.

The abandoned church, though drafty, provided the type of ambiance that Death Eaters liked best. There was an abundance of cobwebs and a charming smell of damp in the air, and Narcissa Malfoy (who had located the property for her master) felt sure that the crypt would be extremely useful once they managed to get it open. Little natural light made its way into the church's interior, but a couple of windows high up in the tower let in a few watery rays that fell directly onto the old altarpiece. The effect this caused was horribly eerie, particularly when it fell onto the face of the throne's inhabitant, and Voldemort used it to full advantage.

"Bring me the prisoner," the Dark Lord intoned.

"Yes, lord, right away lord," mumbled Pettigrew, and backed out as fast as he could go. Voldemort tapped his foot impatiently, but his servant was back in under a minute. Before him strode a slender figure, totally obscured by a long grey cloak, with its hands tied behind its back. Pettigrew held it, gingerly, at wands' length.

Voldemort moodily twitched his wand, and the ropes encircling the prisoner's slender wrists fell to the ground. Immediately it pulled off its hood, revealing a delicately lovely face surrounded by a halo of ebony hair. Its snapping azure and cinnamon orbs glared intensely at the Dark Lord, who rubbed his evil snakelike forehead wearily.

"Well, Naedine, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Naedine Galadriel Serenity Katarina bint Esmonde looked down her shapely nose at the leader of the Death Eaters. "Your guest rooms leave rather a lot to be desired," she snapped.

"Those were not the guest rooms!" barked Voldemort. "That was the dungeon, and a state-of-the-art one at that! You are a prisoner, do you hear?"

"Whatever," drawled the girl, examining her nails.

The Dark Lord was incensed. "Do not speak to me in that tone of voice! You bungled the one task I gave you, which was to stay quiet and don't draw attention to yourself. Simple, eh? Oh, no, the great Naedine Serena Fingle-Fangle Murtlap Tentacles von Horn doesn't take orders from anybody! You entirely blew the subtle espionage operation I had planned for Hogwarts, and you set off a whole bunch of rumours about our so-called "illicit mentor-student relationship" as well!"
Angrily, he brandished a sheaf of Witch Weekly editions at her. The topmost magazine bore the screaming headline "THE SOFTER SIDE OF YOU-KNOW-WHO – EXCLUSIVE".

Naedine assumed a patient, sympathetic expression. "Voldy, Voldy," she began, but was interrupted by the entrance of a group of Death Eaters, who bowed and sidled off to the front row of pews. "So that's what this is about, is it? Darling, there's no need to be so cut up about it – even though you'll never be my number-one guy, you'll always be the top Dark Lord in my heart." She flashed him a winning smile.

Voldemort was struck dumb, open-mouthed and immobile. Peter Pettigrew hid behind a crumbling column, while the Death Eaters attempted not to giggle. Snape, who was closest to the scene, decided that things had gone far enough, and aimed a timely "Silencio" at Naedine.

"Thank you, Severus," croaked Voldemort. He grabbed the indignant girl by the elbow and steered her into a less public corner of the church. "I ought to turn you over to Bellatrix for some quality time testing the latest Auror torture methods," he hissed, holding his wand to her jugular. "Luckily for you, you can still be of use to me. That fiasco with those poisons you stole – could you have BEEN any more public about it? – can be turned to our advantage. Thanks to the Daily Prophet, they all think you're dead, which means I can put you somewhere rather useful to me." He gave her a savage jab under the chin with his wand, returning her power of speech. "You're to keep your fool mouth shut this time, though! And for the love of Merlin, stop flashing your Dark Mark about the place."

"Well, I don't know if I care to help you any more," said Naedine, glowering and rubbing her neck. "I haven't forgotten that curse you put on me last year, you know. Months at that wretched school, with the worst clothes!"

Voldemort remained silent while he attempted to regain his grip on sanity.

"I just don't feel," whined Naedine, "that my talents are being fully appreciated."

"How does DO IT OR I'LL KILL YOU sound?" asked Voldemort.

"On mature consideration," replied Naedine after a brief pause, "I've decided to grant you my assistance with this matter."

Voldemort released his iron grip on the girl's arm, and glided off toward the gloomy recesses at the back of the church. He paused as Bellatrix Lestrange appeared at his elbow. "Brief the girl on the Ministry job," he muttered in her ear. "And tell the others to go home. I'm going to go lie down in a darkened room."


A/N: This is the sequel to Please Don't, Sue, and though I hate to pimp my own fics (/blatant lie),this may make more sense if you read that one first. Then again, maybe it won't. Who knows?

Disclaimer: It never hurts to have a disclaimer on a fanfic, I always say.