"And so, it is with great pleasure that I announce to all the wizard kind that Sirius Black, the notorious mass murderer, has been apprehended and is once again a resident of Azkaban." said minister Fudge, holding his head high as he addressed the reporters. "Unfortunately, he is the sole remaining heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, and as such being the head of the Black family cannot be punished by being sentenced to a Dementor's Kiss, at least not for two more years. Rest assured, as soon as young Draco Malfoy reaches adulthood and claims the lordship over the house of Black, and he is such an upright young man, and I am sure he will make a fine member of Wizengamot, being Lucius Malfoy's son and all... where was I? Oh yes, well, Black will be given Dementor's kiss as soon as that happens. I also assure you that the security of the prison has been increased. Although we are not sure how he managed to escape before as he has not spoken a word since his capture, except for some mad ravings about some dead person who is alive, well, we will do everything to make sure that Black gets the punishment he deserves."
When asked whether it was debated at his trial whether Black should be given Dementor's kiss immediately, the minister said that Black did not deserve a trial.
"Obviously he committed those crimes, no question. Really there was no point in wasting Wizengamot's time."
This feeling is shared by many witches and wizards, with one notable exception. Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts and the previous chief of Wizengamot, pleaded with the Minister to give Black a trial. The headmaster, who was removed from the position of the Chief of Wizengamot two months earlier for claiming that You- Know-Who is back, said that everyone deserved a trial, and it is the duty of the Ministry to make sure the laws are upheld.
"Really," snorted Fudge, "he is getting more and more senile day by day. I thought he had stirred enough trouble by making tall claims about You-Know-Who being alive and all, and now he wants to give Black a trial when the witnesses had all given clear evidence. What's next, he will petition for Black to be freed so that he can be redeemed? Utter nonsense. Black belongs in Azkaban and he will stay there until he gets the Dementor's kiss."
The minister's statement was met with a great deal of jubilation and celebration across the wizarding community, not seen since the Dark Lord was defeated by the Boy-Who-Lived. Speaking of which, the minister had this to say –
"As I said, Black refuses to say anything, and he did not respond to any questions regarding Harry Potter, not even whether he is alive or not. However, let me say this to the magical world, that the search for Mr .Potter will continue, if he is still alive we will find our saviour and bring him back to our world, to his world. However, if Black has murdered him, as many of us believe, then I am sure that if Mr. Potter is watching us from above, he will be proud of us all that we finally brought Black to justice, for what he did to the Potters."
Indeed many of our readers believe that Mr. Potter is dead, killed by Sirius Black as a revenge for the death of his master. However, there are some who still hope that Mr. Potter is alive somewhere, and will return to us. There are also those who think that Black did not kill Mr. Potter, rather he has been training him as his apprentice in Dark Arts.
"When young Potter vanquished the Dark Lord, it unhinged Black for a while" said Lucius Malfoy. " I believe when he broke out of Azkaban, he sought out Mr. Potter because he knew Potter was going to be a powerful wizard. He wished to bring back the terror of old by becoming the new Dark Lord, and with Potter at his side, he would have been invincible. I have no doubt that if he did not kill Potter; it is because he was training him in the ways of the Dark Arts. So in a way, I hope that Mr. Potter is not among us anymore. I am sure that his parents, and indeed Potter himself would wish that to be the case."
The Daily Prophet will like to remind our readers that Sirius Black kidnapped young Potter from his relatives when he was just seven years old. A few muggle residents of that area had recognized Black when shown his pictures.
Perhaps, as Mr. Malfoy, who has again shown his generosity by donating a hundred thousand galleons to St. Mungo's last week, rightly points out, it will be in best interest of the wizarding Britain, and indeed in best interest of Mr. Potter himself, if he is no longer among the living.
Meanwhile, the aurors have yet again refuted the rumours of Mr. Potter's sighting, in France this time...
"That paper is three months old mate... best get yourself today's." said the bartender.
"One butterbeer please."
"Sure you don't want any stronger stuff, I have here Odgen's finest, been in the cellar for 15 years." urged the bartender.
"Just a butterbeer."
Sam the bartender shrugged, giving the customer a suspicious look.
"You seem to be new here, best be on your guard stranger. This part of town ain't a picnic spot, and you stick a mile out, with the way you talk. At least you have the sense to keep quiet and ignore other's business. But you better make yourself scarce when it becomes dark. What you doing here anyways?"
"Thanks for your advice. And it is none of your business."
Sam shook his head. The man in front of him was of short height, about 5'8. He wore a hooded cloak covereing the upper part of his face, which made it difficult to tell his age, but his voice suggested he was not older than 25. His clothes made him look like he had money, and with him being alone and all, he was a mugging waiting to happen.
The "Old Travellers Pub" was located in the magical part of the coastal town of Milltown in Scotland. The North Sea washed its eastern shores, and the pub generally paid host to local ruffians, travellers, prostitutes, and once every week, a small company of prison guards who guarded the prison of Azkaban. They got break from their post in shifts, and so at a time, there were about a five or six of them milling about in the pub.
This part of the town was known for its lawlessness, and on an average 5 people who were stupid enough to travel alone in the dark there were mugged every day. The only people who were left alone were the guards in their brown robes, and in turn they turned a blind eye towards the happenings that were decidedly not lawful in nature. After all, they had enough on their plate to worry about petty crimes.
Sometimes events unfolded which were of a serious nature, like when old one eyed Miller decided that the stranger who wished to ignore the 8th commandment was decidedly being rude and proceeded to hex him all the way to kingdom come, in the process breaking the 6th commandment himself. In these cases, the guards would inform the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and an aurors or two would come to investigate, interrogating everyone in the vicinity to catch the culprit. If no witness came forward, which unfortunately was not the case with one-eyed miller, then the guards would start, thereby reducing the crowd level in the pub to a great extent for a few days. After which they would 'forgive and forget', and life would continue as before. Fortunately for the pub, these events were few and far in between. The local ruffians knew not to cross the line.
It was 14th June 1995, and as the prison guards were about to descend on the pub to relieve themselves for a few hours from the job of guarding the most wretched place on earth, the locals were starting to leave the pub to go to their home. Only a few remained, and the man with the hooded cloak was still there.
At nine in the evening, the guards entered the pub, about five of them in their brown robes. One of them went straight to a corner table. The man from the bar got up and approached him.
"Evening, Mr. McFadden."
"Good, you are here. Want a shot of firewhiskey ?" asked the prison guard McFadden.
"No thanks. You have the device?"
"You have the money ?"
"Yes I have, but your friends seem interested in our conversation. Perhaps we should take it outside."
The two of them got up from their table and walked out of the door. A few of the fellow guards called out to McFadden but he waved them away.
The prison of Azkaban was situated on the island of Azkaban in the North Sea, about 50 miles away from the north eastern shore of Scotland. It housed some of the most dangerous criminals of magical Britain, notably including Death Eaters like Bellatrix Lestrange, Augustus Rookwood and the recently captured Sirius Black. There were also some criminals, not citizens of Britain, who had committed crime on British soil and who refused the choice to be deported back to their own country, like the Russian wizard Antonin Dolohov.
The prison was guarded by Dementors, Azkaban prison guards and two aurors all the times. The aurors were rotated every six months. The guards, however were on a full time basis. Considering the stressful nature of the job and the close proximity to the dementors, it was not surprising that most retired after a few years. It was even less surprising that most of them were bachelors. After all, that place was not condusive to raising a family.
He had approached the prison guard Henry McFadden a month ago. The pub was a place where you could generally pick up the latest gossips and rumours going on in the local magical community, and it was an open secret that McFadden was in debt. So he offered him money in exchange of a favour, a simple favour. All McFadden had to do was take a magical item to Azkaban and keep it on himself while on duty for a week, and then return it.
Before agreeing to the deal, McFadden had made him swear that keeping the magical item would not harm him or the wards. He had given his name as Nick, and since he could not swear on his magic without revealing his true name, he put the condition that he was going to obliviate McFadden after doing that. McFadden had refused until Nick explained he would only make his true name appear bleary in his head, and he would remember the rest. Knowing that there was no other way he was going to pay back his debt, McFadden reluctantly agreed.
Of course no sooner had he completed his vow than McFadden tried to stun him. His name tended to have that effect on others, so Nick was prepared for this. He easily side stepped the spell, and his non verbal stunner caught McFadden by surprise. After which Nick erased his name from McFadden's memmory and send him on his merry way.
"So what exactly does this do?" asked McFadden.
"I call it a ward deconstructor. It takes readings of the wards, what is their base charm, how much area they cover," replied Nick, taking out a small sack containing five hundred galleons and giving it to McFadden.
"Never heard of anything like this," Mcfadden said handing the magical item to Nick.
"Thats because it is the only kind in the world, and you will not find it in any shop. It was made by my grandfather," Nick said. He pocketed the said item and turned around. "Nice doing business with you."
He had only taken a few steps when there was a whispering sound and a red light impacted with his back.
"You really think you are so clever, don't you?" McFadden sneered, advancing on the petrified figure of Nick. "I knew there was something off about you. I kept getting the feeling that it was important to know your name. So why don't you just tell me that, 'cause you are going to, one way or the other."
McFadden stepped directly in front of Nick, and gazed into his brown eyes. Smirking, he withdrew the ward reading device from Nick's pockets. He searched for the man's wand and more money, but found neither.
"Looks like you have a holster for keeping wand, and I doubt you are an auror, so who are you ?" McFadden grinned at his captive. "Never mind, I will find out soon. You know, thats a nice ring you are wearing, it would fetch quite a sum," indicating the silver ring with a ruby on it which Nick was wearing on the index finger of his right finger.
Mcfadden started to remove the ring, smirking up at Nick and saw Nick staring back at him. He paused, certain that he had seen a flash of green in Nick's eyes. He blinked and shook his head, thinking he must be imagining things. Next moment, he was hanging upside down in the mid-air, his robes falling down his waist, his wand removed from his hand.
"I could have avoided your spell easily, I heard your whisper before the spell was complete," Nick said, flicking his wand at McFadden as the ward deconstructor came floating out of McFadden's pocket. "But I was curious about your next step. You sow what you reap Mr. McFadden, and I am tempted to keep the money, but you did do the job. I am afraid I will have to remove the memmory about this incident from your mind. Do not worry, I am very good at mind-spells. I will modify them, so you will only remember that we parted on good terms. Goodbye Mr. McFadden, I am sure we will be meeting soon, although the circumstances of that will depend upon the information which you gathered for me."
An hour later, he was back in his house, after carefully modifying McFadden's memmory and leaving him standing there in the alley all alone. There was a grim look on his face as he was analysing the data collected by the ward deconstructor.
It was as he had feared. The wards on the Azkaban had Kasper's modification done to them. A difficult and dangerous thing to do, since it tied all the wards to a single focal point. Which meant that a single person will not be able to break down the wards, rather it will take a team of ten or more chanting continously for some time. Which also meant that it will play right in Voldemort's hand, since he and his Death eaters will not have to break a series of wards. Just do it once, and the prison becomes vulnerable.
He did not know whether to laugh or cry. His first plan was not going to work, but it fit right into his second one. A dangerous one, probably a suicidal one. Which was saying something, since his first plan involved breaking into the Azkaban prison stealthily. Something no one had done before. But then, there was always a first time. After all, no one had broken out of Azkaban before his Godfather did.
Harry Potter sighed, rubbing his eyes and feeling a weariness that had nothing to do in a physical sense. There was still some preparation he had to do, information he had to gather, contingencies needed to be mapped. But it was time.
Wizarding world,thought Harry grimly, here I come.
