Chapter I - Of Curious Letters

Professor Dumbledore,

Azkaban will be under attack tomorrow. The Lord is determined to have his followers, both those imprisoned and the Dementors. 20 men

Yours,

-D.E.P.-

Proffessor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, sat at his desk at 9 in the evening on July 22nd 1996, when the first curious letter arrived. Several things got his attention. The first was that the letter did not arrive in an envelope, nor was it folded. Second, it did not arrive by owl - it simply appeared on his desk. Third (and mostly important), Dumbeldore had never even heard of someone with the initials D.E.P., let alone received a letter from him/ her about Voldemort's plans.

Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his chair. Should he trust this person? Severus hadn't told him anything about this, he hadn't even been called for a meeting recently.

He picked up the letter again and scanned it. The information was actually a little useless. No time was given and he didn't have enough trustworthy people to set up another 24-hour guard (including that for Privet Drive).
As in answer something was 'written' on the parchment.

4 o'clock

Dumbledore stared at the page in his hands.

am

He blinked. Well, that cleared that question up nicely. Now just the question of trust, he thought sarcastically.

'Dominique!'

'Yes, Madam Lestrange?'

'The Master wants to see you.'

Dominique Parcelli hurried through the halls towards the room in which his Master resided, putting on his white mask as he went. It was one of the things he was extremely glad about - the white mask that was required for all Death Eaters. It hid his facial expressions perfectly (and he didn't have to see the faces of any of his collegues either). Some of the things his fellow Death Eaters said or did just made him want to retch.

He reached the most important room in the building and knocked on the large black doors. The cold voice of the Dark Lord greeted him.

'Come in.'

The slithery voice could pierce through anything, even when used in a whisper, and Dominique didn't think he would ever become entirely used to it.

He opened the doors and closed them behind him as he bowed. He then stepped into the centre of the room and bowed once again, deeper this time.

'My Lord called.'

'Yes, indeed I did. I realise that you have been in my service for a fairly short time, but I find myself impressed at your work. I wish you to head tomorrow's expedition.'

'My Lord?'

'I want you to free your fellow Death Eaters from Azkaban. Bring each and every one of them before me, including the Dementors. While those Death Eaterswere some of my most loyal followers, they have failed me once again and they must be punished. It will be your task to carry this out flawlessly. Understood? Consider it a test to come into my Inner Circle.'

'Thank you, My Lord, it will be an honour.'