Prelude
It had been weeks since the break-in at the Ministry of Magic where Harry Potter and his friends had narrowly escaped death at the hands of Lord Voldemort and his followers. The Dark Lord had been prevented from obtaining the orb, which contained a vital prophecy, and many of the Death Eaters, who had escaped Akzaban, had been recaptured. Yet the victory had tasted anything but sweet.
In houses all around the country witches and wizards had woken to the horrifying news of the break-in, and with heavy hearts, were forced to accept the unbearable truth: The Dark Lord had returned.
An unnatural chill and constricting bleakness had settled upon the land. Every darkened alleyway and shadowy corner was now filled with the low mumbling of hushed whispers. Rumors now spread like the unnatural chill in the air—rumors about the Dark Lord and his ever-expanding army. Hushed voices spoke not just of Death Eaters and Dark Wizards but also of other dark and sinister creatures.
The news in the papers had been just as bleak. The Daily Prophet had been awash with reports about the Ministry's numerous bumbling errors, each article making the Ministry look increasing weak and ill prepared to face the danger that threatened.
In their streets and homes, people wrestled with thoughts of what had happened the last time Voldemort had gained such power. The Dark Lord had been poised to drive the wizarding community into submission, yet they had all been spared this great catastrophe because of the boy who lived.
At the time, few had stopped to question what had happened. But now, many people gave the matter great thought. Whist Harry Potter had succeeded in thwarting the Dark Lord's plans at the Ministry, few drew strength from this knowledge. Harry was still just a boy—a boy possessed with some form of inhuman luck or perhaps protected by some special spell—and surely the Dark Lord, the greatest dark wizard of all time, would not make the same mistake twice.
What luck, or spell, could hope to prevail against the greatest dark wizard the world had ever known?
In the towns and villages across the land, those responsible for the protection and safety of others rushed from place to place, hurriedly making plans, preparing defenses, and hoping that their hard work would be enough to keep the Dark Lord and his followers from their doors.
In no place was this more the case than in the Stretton Vale, an ancient collection of hill-lined valleys that housed the largest collection of wizarding villages in the country. Their tiny settlements, which had existed since Roman times, were more fortunate than most because they retained their own protectors, a small band of wizards, known locally as the Harpers.