"For a thousand years, they've been in control. Their name may sound silly, but they wouldn't have it any other way. It means power. It means discretion. It means information, and deception. Their name means hope, and hard choices. And most of all: it means they never lose. Harry Potter is a Mugwump. Harry Potter has a prison."

- – — – -

Meet the Mugwumps

—

Welcome, Welcome, to Another Year at Hogwarts

- – — – -

1
Death, Printed Neatly

August 15, 1997

Most of the student body were in London starting to board the Hogwarts Express, the first major public gathering of underage wizards since Albus Dumbledore was murdered.

The new school year seemed destined to be unusual before it even began, though, for Hogwarts was starting nearly a month early. There were no books to purchase or cauldrons to carry, either. Students were told over the summer in a five inch–long "Summons to Appear" to bring clothes, a wand, an animal companion, themselves, and positively nothing else. No explanations were given, nor did Hogwarts answer any owls other than by resending the summons, which had earned itself a nickname: "Shut Up and Show Up."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron, though, had already been there for three days, and were currently in the otherwise-empty Gryffindor common room, suffering mightily from a problem entirely of their own making.

It was all about "The List." War, it seemed, was sometimes a bureaucracy.

Thanks to Harry, they couldn't do anything but wait for it. As Harry idly looked over maps of King's Cross station, Ron and Hermione were too nervous to concentrate on anything, and just sat in a corner waiting for Harry to make up his damned mind.

"At least the Zabinis. They're a big family," Ron kept pleading, but Harry insisted they wait, and the parchment on the table sat blank and lonely.

—

On platform 9–3/4, rather imposing gentlemen were standing everywhere. Their wands were out, but pointed downward. They wore deep blue robes with small insignia repeated hundreds of times across the front: the Hogwarts shield with a golden "S" in the middle.

No one would be rushing on board and running for the best compartment. The gentlemen allowed a patient, quiet queue through only one door. As each person came to the front, one of the gentlemen would ask for their name and let them pass if they were actually a student. Each student got a ticket and an assigned compartment.

A Slytherin, Marvin Eukbody, decided to test the system by claiming to be Colin Creevey. There was a minor resemblance.

"Name? — Colin Creevey — House? — Gryffindor — Favorite hobby? — Taking pictures — Student you respect the most? — Harry Potter — Where were you born? — England — Where in England? — Outside London — What town? — Well it's actually part of London, it's just... — What are the teletubbies? — Uhhh..."

"Mr. Eukbody, put your trunk down and go with the gentlemen."

Marvin would never set foot in Hogwarts again. Colin Creevey, five places behind him, made sure he remembered. I was born in Glasgow. I was born in Glasgow.

Thirty minutes later, everybody was on board, and the doors were closed, but Harry needed the list before the train could leave.

—

It took 6 minutes to land on Harry's lap. Ron and Hermione rejoined the living, and the three of them poured over the list of students who were now locked inside the Hogwarts Express.

"I told you Malfoy wouldn't be here — But Pansy is, 5 direct family, 28 extended, 5 young, 5 old — Okay, probably on A — Zabini, sure. 3 and 38, 6 and wow... 20! — Eukbody... oh, there's a note — Oh, on Wooden, let's... — Just leave him. — Who, Wooden? — No, Eukbody — Wow, Ron, you have an extended family of 108? — Don't pick on me! — Crabbe, 4 and... Oh right.

And on and on. Hermione broke in: "I told you this was going to take forever. They're all waiting! Let's just do the train. Pansy, Wooden, and the Slytherins in their compartments. Okay?"

—

The train had been waiting about an hour when the list marked "for A only! Send back soon!" arrived. After Pansy Parkinson, Davor Wooden, Gregory Goyle, and Phyllis MacNair were shifted into an empty compartment, the train finally moved, and the list of all four Slytherins rocketed around the world. Another list.

As Harry, Hermione, and Ron poured through names again, twelve men were laying in wait under bushes, in coffeeshops, on beaches, in bookstores, and in all manner of other random, inconspicuous places. Each got the list and went to work.

2
Baby, It's Cold Underground

Pansy counted herself both intrigued and insulted. She had to wait nearly an hour for the train to leave the station. She had to endure a queue to be, of all things, questioned about who she was. And then these brutish men told her she had to switch compartments! At least she got to share it with Davor, but she was already writing a letter to her parents.

As Blaise Zabini was signing his own letter, the door to Pansy's compartment began to open. It was still in mid-swing when one, then three, then four wands poked in from the top, bottom, and sides, as though Hagrid and Flitwick had a wand in each hand.

Stupefy! Petrificus Totalis! Diffindo! Evanesco! The 4 Slytherins fell paralyzed to the floor as their seats vanished from under them.

Four men entered. One swirled his wand around the Slytherins' heads, casting a complex spell wordlessly. The last thing Pansy saw were white flames with a dragon's head over her head. She didn't feel the strand of hair plucked from her head.

Her final thought before zizzing away to a cold room deep under Privet Drive: Fiendfyre with white flames? Impressive.

—

Hermione was growing impatient. "Just make up your mind! The train will be here in 10 minutes! Just pick somebody!"

—

When the train arrived at Hogsmeade, students exited the train with one of two expectations. The upperclassmen expected Hagrid to wave them over to the boats or carriages with his booming voice. The first years either had heard what would happen or were clueless.

Only the clueless were unsurprised. Hagrid wasn't there, only more of the tall men in blue. One said, "First through fourth years, to your left." Another: "Fifth through seventh years, to your right."

Blaise's curiosity was interrupted by the screams of Pansy Parkinson. She was running out of the station in the opposite direction from Hogwarts, shouting, "Don't let them catch you! Run!" Three other Slytherins were running alongside. All four were, of course, polyjuice replicas.

—

Back in Surrey, Pansy found herself on a concrete floor in a small, cold, dark room. A man in blue entered, turned on a light, dropped a Howler and heavy square wood box at her feet, and said, "These were her last words." Pansy turned white as a sheet, whereupon the man turned off the light and left.

3
A School So Nice We Built It Twice

As Blaise approached the castle, his mind was racing over what Pansy had done. When he entered the grounds, his ruminations stopped. He saw, several hundred feet down the hill from Hogwarts, a second castle with a tall iron fence. It was much smaller than Hogwarts — well, the big Hogwarts — well, the big Hogwarts castle — probably seven stories tall, but fairly wide. It looked like an old castle, but it looked like a new old castle. Another castle?

From a distance he saw Professor McGonagall in front of the small castle, shepherding in what he guessed were the first through fourth years.

He and the others walked up to the main castle's front doors and were met by an old man he didn't recognize. The man was thin, old, and tall. He wore tasteful black robes with a deep green collar and spoke with a foreign accent that Blaise couldn't quite place. "Good evening, everyone. Please leave your luggage in the usual place and proceed to the Great Hall."

—

As everyone's luggage was scanned, poked, prodded, and emptied of everything but clothes, Blaise walked through the castle thankful not to notice any changes. Same stone, same torches, same portraits. At least something's stayed the same.

Then he looked closer, and saw more of the men in blue standing inconspicuously around corners, behind statues, in the shadows, and peering down from the stairs seven stories up. Although Blaise noticed them, few others would. They were good. They obviously worked for Hogwarts, and he was now sure Hogwarts was still firmly under the control of Dumbledore loyalists.

Blaise walked up the stairs to reach the Great Hall, whose doors were already open. He quickly looked toward the front, only to find head tables to accommodate twice as many teachers as last year. No one sat there. Towards the front of the hall, however, was the same old man that greeted them downstairs. He left through a side door after saying, "Please take your seats quickly, ladies and gentlemen; food and drink await you." Was he the headmaster?

4
A New Sheriff in Town

Exactly thirty minutes later, the food disappeared and the doors of the Great Hall thundered open. All eyes were fixed on the doors, but no one was there. Yet no student looked away or even spoke.

The silence was broken by a faint, distant clack. It might have been a loud clock, but every other clack was more of a click, and sometimes a thud — and sometimes seconds would pass without any noise at all. But the sounds were always getting closer. Someone or some thing was coming.

All Blaise could do was dwell on one question. Why was Pansy running?

An eternity later, the clicks, clacks, & thuds stopped.

The flames doubled in height. The cloudy sky turned jet black. Blinding beams of starlight battered the floors and students' backs. The head tables disappeared. The jars of house points emptied. The front wall became a mural of the Hogwarts shield, and everyone knew where to look.

In the frame of the doors stood a man.

—

The stranger paused and surveyed the scene in front of him. All were watching him with great interest, and none were speaking. He walked down the center aisle to the front of the Hall with measured steps and calm thoughts. The future warriors. The future victims. Now we start.

He wore blood red robes with gold and blue stitching that appeared dignified and expensive. His shirt and pants were colored of the same blood red with black intermixed to give a complex appearance, as though every glance would yield a different revelation. He looked about 6 foot 1, with broad shoulders, brightly polished black leather shoes, and a tall wooden staff — it was that staff that clicked and clacked loudly on the stone floor. His head had a long face and dark auburn hair that said he was lucky to still have that color at his age. His wrinkles were small in number but deep, running straight down his face and straight across from his eyes. Blaise was certain the man didn't get them from smiling too much.

And every student knew. That's the headmaster.

—

When he got to the front, he spoke slowly, in a deep, acerbic voice with a strong Russian accent.

"From the dark of night … comes the light of day.

"From despair … comes courage.

"From time: healing.

"From fear comes hope.

"This year at Hogwarts will be unlike any this castle has ever seen."

—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—

COMING SOON:

- – — 1 — – -

Flashback — to the night of Albus' death. Harry, now at the former HEADQUARTERS OF THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX, finds a PARCHMENT addressed to him, written by Albus. The parchment is speaking.

ALBUS
You must go to Gringotts, Harry.

That morning, at GRINGOTT'S BANK, Harry hears what Albus had to say, and has three slowly-spoken words for NIKOLA KRUM, the organizer of the gathering.

HARRY
Find someone else.

- – — 2 — – -

Snape arrived by floo, ragged and dirty, startling Draco out of a deep slumber.

SNAPE
At last: Sleeping Beauty awakens.

Draco needed information and he needed money. At the moment Snape was the closest source of the former. Food wouldn't be so bad, either. Draco made his way to the table.

DRACO
Okay. Tell me about my choice.