AN: I have received a few reviews in other languages than English. And I love it! Even though I only speak/read German and English, Google translator has gotten good enough (at least translating into English) that there is no problem to understand what is being said. So if you are not comfortable writing a review in English, just use the language you are comfortable with. I will read them all and be happy!

Enjoy the chapter!

oooOOooo

Told You So

"Look where you're stepping, you dunce!" an indignant voice hissed from the lower places of the boat they would be using. "You almost snapped my wand!"

"Then don't put it on the floor!" was the hissed, angry reply.

It was a starry night from the 18th into the 19th of September. And the tension in the air was thick enough to walk on. As the Muggle had said, the wind had lessened enough that they were confident to make the way over to Azkaban and get their family and friends out of that miserable place!

"Everyone on board?" Murmurs all around answered and they set their plan into motion, starting the engine.

Over an hour later they could see the silhouette of the prison building against the dark night sky with the small crescent moon. They deactivated the motor and covered the rest of the distance in silence. After all, they did not want to alert any Aurors that might be stationed at the island.

Finally the boat made contact with the small jetty used when a boat had to transport something to the island, and the small troupe made their way much onto solid ground much more smoothly than they had boarded.

Falling into long trained habits of using hand signals and almost soundless steps – impossible to hear over the sound of the waves – they made their way up the slippery steps and through the rusty gate into the halls of Azkaban.

It was not difficult to find the guard-room and incapacitate the sleeping Auror with a stupefy and an incarcerus.

"Let's split and meet again here in an hour," their leader whispered and got answering nods from all around. They did just that, a few running down the steps to the place where the higher-risk prisoners were held – one of those they wanted to free had killed a few muggles when he had been drunk – a few running off up the stairs to get those that were held only for minor crimes, and one remaining with the Auror, to make sure that he would not wake up and raise the alarm.

ooOoo

Waking up from her restful sleep and dreams of raids at the side of her fellows, Bella sat up on her old and worn pallet, listening intently. There was someone walking in the hall just outside her cell. Since the Dementors had been removed – for what reason she still didn't know – her mind had cleared considerably. Now all she could think about was her certainty that her Lord was back and that she had to return to his side. At whatever cost.

She stood and moved silently over to the door with the small barred window that gave her a limited view of the hall. There were two wizards in shabby robes walking through, checking every cell to see who was held there. The cells had no numbers and no indicator who was held where. So the taller of the two glanced into each small window, wand held before his face and into the cell with a lumos, while the shorter one seemed to whisper some name. Bella snorted and took a step to the side so she would not be seen, but near enough to nick the wand out of the unworthy wizard's hold.

She didn't have to wait long until a lit wand was thrust between the bars on her cell and a voice stage-whispered "Dick! Dick, are you in here?"

"No," purred Bella and quickly had the wand in her hand. It did not feel as good as her own, original wand had, but it would do for the time being. She quickly cast "Stupefy!" followed by a quick spell to open the door to her prison of the last far-too-many long years.

Pointing the stolen wand at the back of the smaller of the two wizards she stupefied him as well. She would have liked to cast a killing curse, but she knew she would need all her strength later. She had not performed magic in over a decade, and even though the curse was easy to cast – she never had trouble conjuring the intent to kill – it needed a lot of magical strength. And she would have to free the others, get back to the mainland, and be able to react to unforeseen problems.

She dearly wished to torture the two, but she managed to restrain her impulses. There would be ample opportunity for torture and death once she was back with her Lord. Bella summoned the wand from the other wizard – they would need as many as they could get – bound them, and walked over to the next cell, where her husband had been locked in.

In short order she had freed Rodolphus and Rabastan, handed over the spare wand, and had wandered off to free the rest of them. Rookwood, Travers, Dolohov, and whoever else had ended up here and was still alive. She distinctly remembered that Bartemius' body had been floated along the hall, many years ago. At least it felt as if it had been a long time ago. How was she to know, who had died besides the young man?

On their way up the group of ten Death Eaters encountered a mixed group of wizards who looked totally gobsmacked to see another group of prisoners strolling through the halls.

A short battle later – Bella cackled maniacally at the other group's abysmal performance – and each of the ten had a wand that was working reasonably well, while a mixed group of criminals and prisoners lay dead or dying on the dirty and wet stones of the passageway up to the guard-room.

They silently walked up the stairs to the guard-room and filed in through the door, seeing that there were only two wizards in the room, one of them bound. The only witch of the group snickered as Mulciber bound the wizard standing near the stove, warming his hands, his wand tucked away in a pocket. Quickly she had found a knife on the table used for the guard's meals and almost skipped over to the man lying on his back, his eyes wide with terror.

"Who have we here?" she sing-songed, a manic glint in her eyes and lights reflecting from the shiny blade dancing over her emaciated features. "You will tell lovely Bella how you managed to come here and how you had planned to leave." A sickly sweet smile revealed teeth desperately in need of some care, and the distinct smell of piss – already all-permeating through the prison – intensified.

Before Bella could act on her unspoken threat, the wizard on the floor already started to ramble, telling them everything. "We came with a boat, a muggle one. Planned to leave with it too. It's down at the coast. We have enough fuel… Please don't hurt me!" the man almost whined, shuddering violently in his bounds.

Disappointed that she did not get to torture the sniffling wizard, Bella plunged the knife into the man's chest and his heart, instantly killing him.

"Right," Mulciber drawled, getting the others' attention. "If no one has a better idea, I think we should use their boat to get away from this gods-forsaken island, and then find a place to lay low for a while." They each looked at their group, assessing their possibilities. One witch, nine wizards, malnourished and ill, borrowed wands their only weapons, tattered prison clothes all there was to prevent them from freezing to death. There was no hope they could apparate from the island, and calling for their Lord through their marks was not the best idea so long as they were still essentially prisoners.

They agreed to take the plan for escape the now-dead wizard had told them and left without further ado.

ooOoo

Simons woke up with the headache of the century, bound on his cot. It took him a while until he remembered the one brief moment between waking and being assaulted before he again remembered nothing.

With difficulty he managed to sit up, leaning against the wall, to get a better view of his surroundings. There was a man lying on the floor next to the furnace, a knife sticking out of his chest, a puddle of drying blood all around him. There were no signs of a fight or anything else different about the room.

Whatever had happened, it looked like he was lucky to be still alive!

It took a few minutes until Simons had managed to hop and shuffle over to the stone he had to press his palm to so the Ministry would be informed that something was not right on the island, that reinforcement was needed at Azkaban. Since the first time he had had guard duty here, he had been convinced that this was the worst way to organize a call for backup.

He hated his life, he really did.

oooOOooo

The morning of her birthday – a Tuesday this year – Hermione got up early, as she did any day of school. The other girls sleeping in her dormitory congratulated her with polite smiles. But that was all. After the disastrous start into their first year, all possibilities for a close friendship had been gone. And now that the whole school knew that she was heiress to the Lestrange family, the tentative bonding she had achieved over the Yule Ball last year was in ruins. It was sad, but not something Hermione was unfamiliar with. She had been an awkward child, not bonding easily with others. Harry and Ron had been her first close friends. She grinned. There were things you could not experience together without forming a bond. Defeating a troll was definitely among them.

With a spring in her step, she made her way down to the common room where she was sure Harry and Ron would be waiting, eager to get down to the Great Hall for breakfast. She was not waiting for a gift or congratulations, after all, the boys had not acknowledged her birthday in the years before. But when she was honest, she had not really told them about it. So how were they to know?

ooOoo

Harry had thought long and hard what he should get Hermione for her birthday. After he had been ashamed and horrified over the fact that he had not really done something big for the three birthdays his friend had had since they had become friends, he had decided he had to make up for the oversight this year.

As he knew what it felt like when your birthday was ignored, there was no excuse for ignoring it any longer now that he knew the date. It was not a good feeling, so he wanted to make the day a happy one for Hermione, sparing her further unhappiness.

His first idea had been to get her some book or a nice quill. But then he had had another idea. Something more unusual, more personal. A thing he could do, and which not something that could be bought at a store.

He had wanted to remind Ron of their friend's birthday at the end of the last year, but had not done so, Cedric's death and the happenings at the graveyard overriding everything. And with all that had happened over the summer, and the time they were not really talking to one another, he simply had forgotten to do so later.

As Ron joined him in the common room – he had to repack his bookbag – Harry leaned over to whisper into his red-headed friend's ear. "You know it's Hermione's birthday today, don't you?"

Ron's eyes got wide, so he probably had not remembered. Before he could begin to frantically demand that Harry help him find a gift right here and now, they heard feet on the stairs coming down from the side of the tower where the girls' dormitories were located. Followed by Parvati and Lavender, Hermione walked down the stairs, smiling.

A little nervous, Harry got his gift for his friend out of his book bag. "Happy birthday, Hermione!" Harry greeted the bushy-haired witch, giving her a quick, brotherly hug, before holding out a small scroll of his best sketching paper to her. "I hope you like it."

With a smile, Hermione accepted the scroll tied with a Gryffindor-red ribbon, and carefully opened the bow to unfurl the paper. Her smile broadened into a pleased grin as her eyes fell onto the sketch Harry had made for her.

It showed a big cat with a bushy tail and a scrunched face, curled up in front of the fire here in the common room. It was done with charcoal on paper and so Harry had had no way to capture the special colour of Crookshanks' fur, but he was pleased with his work nonetheless.

"Oh, it's wonderful, Harry! Thank you!" She enveloped Harry in a crushing hug, careful not to crumble the picture of her cat.

The moment the young witch stepped back from her raven-haired friend, Ron took a step towards her, giving her a hug. "Happy birthday, Hermione." Their friend did not comment on his lack of a present for Hermione, and neither did the others.

"I'll store this in my trunk. I'll be right back!" And Hermione was gone, up the stairs and back to her dormitory. That was why they left a little after the other Gryffindors, making them the last to leave the tower.

Down in the Great Hall, Harry watched with quiet amusement as a number of Slytherin students made their way over to the Gryffindor table, carrying small parcels. Draco and Theo were among the first to come over, greet Hermione, and present her with small tokens. As she had learned over the summer in the lessons she had had together with Harry, she accepted the gifts with the ceremony that was expected, opening an assortment of the finest confections Honeydukes had to offer.

After a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws with family in the Wizengamot had come over to congratulate her, Neville stood up from his place at the table to walk over to where Harry and his friends were sitting. He had a smile on his face and a small plant in his hands. "Happy birthday, Hermione. I hope you like flowers. This is one of the amaryllis family, and keeps away small insects and bad dreams with its pleasant scent."

Neville's nervousness dissipated the moment Hermione took the plant from him with a bright smile on her face.

Harry was happy when they were able to sit down and start on their breakfast, and he had to keep in a few sniggers because Ron practically threw himself onto the plates. The youngest Weasley son was always hungry.

After some time – they all were well into their meal – the owls came with the morning post. Quite the flock of owls landed on the table, and some plates – prompting Ron to bluster and complain – in front of Hermione, each of them carrying a parcel.

One by one the birthday girl opened the packets, smiling the whole time. Her parents had sent her an exemplar of a periodical dedicated to new or interesting discoveries in the magical world, standing in for a subscription they had gotten her. Harry got to read the accompanying letter, and he smiled over the notion that Hermione once had something similar but Muggle, using it as a starting point for research projects, prompting her parents into asking about options to get something of the kind in the wizarding world.

Marvolo – or Lord Slytherin as he had signed his letter – had sent the copy of an old diary written by one of the Founders. Harry chuckled at the gleam in Hermione's chocolate brown eyes, earning himself a half-hearted glare.

The last parcel was from Xerxes Lestrange and contained a camera and a letter informing Hermione that she would get new film as she needed it and where she should send used film to get it developed. She took a picture of Harry and Ron, causing Ron to frown because he had been eating.

Their merriment suddenly was broken as they realized that it was eerily quiet in big parts of the Great Hall. Harry looked around and noticed the now-pale Neville, several more pale students at their own and the other tables, and many students bent over the Daily Prophet whispering. A quick look at the head table and the professors sitting there revealed that they also were reading the Prophet and looked decidedly pale as well.

Harry snatched up Hermione's copy of the newspaper – while Hermione stored her presents in her enlarged bag – and saw the cause for the commotion right there on the front page. In big letters, the words "Azkaban Breakout" declared an unusual occurrence. Beneath that, the pictures of several feral-looking wizards and one witch in the usual striped garb of the Azkaban inmates were printed, sneering up at him. Only moments later the three friends were as engrossed in the news as their classmates.

ooOoo

Stirring honey into his fresh cup of coffee, Severus ignored most of the conversation at the head table. He was not a morning person, never had been, and the chipper way that Pomona and Filius were talking did not help him enjoy the morning of another day teaching.

An owl he had seen a few times carrying Sonja's letters to him made her way over to where he was sitting when all the other owls brought this morning's post. Hiding a smile behind his coffee cup – he had to maintain his professor persona – he watched the owl land and after setting the cup down untied the letter from its leg.

His name was written in her neat script on the envelope, and Severus lost no time in opening the letter with his knife, wandlessly casting the few detection charms he always used for his post while at Hogwarts. Most dangerous spells, curses, and jinxes were countered by the wards around the school, so he mostly tested for poisons and other dangerous substances.

Reading the short, cheerful letter, his dark eyes began to sparkle. She agreed that visiting a theatre or opera in London in the next week or two was a really good idea. The few productions that were held in the wizarding world were either not up to her standards, or they were performed by amateurs from high-standing families, so she never was invited. Sonja left it up to him to decide when they would go, only stating that she would prefer a theatre production, something funny and/or interesting. At the end she wished him a nice week teaching and told him that they had received a new batch of assorted rare snake venoms.

Folding the letter and placing it in an inner pocket close to his heart, Severus grabbed for his copy of the Daily Prophet, noticing the tense atmosphere around him, and his look at the first page instantly gave him the reason.

So what his Lord had predicted now had happened. Their comrades incarcerated at the prison had seized the opportunity and fled.

Dark eyes quickly scanned the article, cataloguing the few bits of information actually scattered about the lengthy diatribe of rumours and speculation. The tendency of the biggest newspaper in wizarding Britain to speculate and exaggerate was truly annoying at times such as this.

It seemed that nothing was really known at this point in time. Only that ten Death Eaters – among them all three Lestranges and Mulciber – had fled while several others had been killed. The only other useful information was that the Ministry had sent Aurors to investigate, and the Wizengamot would hold an emergency meeting this very day.

So Severus would not be called to a meeting any time soon. Best to be watching his colleagues, to gather information as his position as spy demanded. Dumbledore probably would start asking him questions right after breakfast had ended. Quickly assessing his lesson plans for the day, Severus was sure that he would manage not to be able to speak with the Headmaster for any length of time conducive to the sharing of sensitive intelligence until the early evening. And by then there was a better chance of being summoned.

Severus really hoped he would be able to speak with his Lord to double-check what information he should share with the Headmaster.

With the ringing of the bell declaring breakfast was over, Severus rose from his place at the table – eggs only half eaten – and made his way down to his classroom. He sighed at the thought that the nervous students would be even more distracted than usual during his class. Maybe he should change the lessons to lectures and delay the practical application in brewing to a later date.

ooOoo

The Slytherin students were enjoying their breakfast, when suddenly one of the younger years called over to Draco "Your aunt is in the paper!"

A little confused – why would Andromeda Tonks be in the paper? – Draco turned to face that way, setting down his goblet of milk, and got a picture of his aunt Bellatrix, in Azkaban inmates' clothes – more like rags – shoved into his face. Blinking slowly a few times, the blond fifth-year student swallowed. "Can I borrow the paper?"

He quickly read the article and then gave the paper back. He was surrounded by concerned faces. They all were unsure what to think of this. Draco had only ever heard stories about his two aunts. One cast from the family for marrying a muggle-born wizard, the other in Azkaban since he had been a baby. In fact, his mother did not speak of them often. Draco had always assumed that his mother was ashamed of her older sisters, one for getting caught and the other for falling for a man who was not suitable.

He badly wanted to speak with his parents, ask how he should behave, react to the situation. He thought about writing a letter, but was not sure if that would work out. Some things better were not put on parchment. Maybe if he worded it right? Played upon the scared-little-wizard-afraid-of-his-aunt angle? It might work.

The bell sounded, telling the whole school that the first lesson was to start soon. His letter would have to wait, but he was not sure he would be able to concentrate on lessons with this news on his mind.

oooOOooo

After the late evening and the nice conversation, Marvolo had fallen asleep fast. Only to be woken in the early hours of the morning by a frantic-looking Barty – in his nightshirt and with dishevelled hair standing up in every which-way – standing by his bed, holding a letter sealed with the crest of the Wizengamot.

Pushing back the covers, Marvolo swung his feet over the edge of his bed, taking the letter from his assistant's hands. "What is this about?" the Dark Lord asked in a voice still heavy with sleep.

"I'm not sure, my Lord. The owl did not wait for an answer," Barty answered with a small bow, attempting to order his hair a little with his hands as he came up from the bow.

As the simplest solution was to open the letter and read it, Marvolo did just that. The seal broke and a short note on the official parchment was slipped out of the envelope. Red eyes quickly scanned the few lines of hasty writing done by a dicta-quill.

"Barty, get dressed. We are needed at the Ministry for an emergency meeting. Meet me in the entrance hall in ten minutes."

After Barty had vanished from the room, Marvolo tossed his nightshirt onto the bed and walked over to his wardrobe to get out fresh undergarments, socks, trousers, and shirt, as well as his robes in family colours. A freshening charm would have to stand in for a shower, there simply was not enough time for a proper one.

While he dressed, strapping the wand holster to his left arm, Marvolo tried to predict with what accusation he would be confronted once they had all assembled. After all, the Death Eaters that had been still alive in Azkaban had just made a successful attempt to flee. If they did not try to pin this on him, he would be surprised.

For a brief moment Marvolo thought about informing his followers to make them aware that they might be contacted by their fellows. But he decided against it. There just was not enough time, and it might be preferable that their reactions, if Aurors were to call on them, were genuine.

When he stepped into the entrance hall some nine minutes later, Barty was already there, holding the cloak Marvolo wore over his robes now that the weather was getting cooler. Barty helped his Lord into the cloak and then stepped into the Floo to precede his Lord.

Taking a deep breath, he himself took a pinch of Floo-powder and stepped into the fireplace, calling out his destination, spinning away. He just knew that this wouldn't be a pleasant day.

ooOoo

Lucius woke in his bed at Malfoy Manor, in his silken pyjamas, covered by silken blankets, his wife Narcissa shaking him by his shoulder. "Lucius, darling, you need to wake up."

Blinking to wake up properly, Lucius pushed himself upright and settled against the head of the bed. "What is the matter, love? Is something wrong with Draco?" Lucius could not fathom for what other reason Narcissa would wake him in the middle of the night – judging by the darkness outside their window – and a summons from his Lord would have woken him without Narcissa's help.

"No. The Ministry sent a letter. Bella and the others have fled from Azkaban." The blonde showed her husband the letter she had opened and read.

Lucius took the missive from her delicate hands, rubbing over his eyes with the other hand, while Narcissa settled under the blankets by his side, her nightgown was not thick enough to keep her warm.

A few words into the official summons to an emergency Wizengamot meeting Lucius was wide awake. "Go back to sleep, love. I will set the wards to their most stringent setting, so only you, Draco, our Lord, and I can enter. I guess the meeting will take most of the day. If it goes on into the night, I will send you an owl." While he talked to his wife, Lucius went to get dressed in the small dressing room off their bedroom.

When he stepped back out, walking over to the bed to give Narcissa a kiss, he was dressed in one of his better woollen suits and his velvet family robes with the Malfoy Crest. Where he dressed in silk and linen during the warmer months, wool and velvet were his cloth for autumn and winter.

"Try to get a little more sleep, love." he rested his hand for a moment on her stomach, leaning forward to give her another passionate kiss, "You need your sleep."

She smiled sleepily up to him, snuggling a little deeper into the covers. "Be careful, my heart."

With brisk steps Lucius walked down to the entrance hall where one of the house-elves was waiting for him, cloak slung over one of its short arms, the cane balancing on its tip next to it.

"The standing order to always wake Lady Malfoy first if there is reason to do so during the night will be changed from now on. Wake me first. Understood?"

"Yes, Master Lord Lucius, sir. Elfs will wake yous first if needed in night," the little green being squeaked, bowing low and then levitating the cloak so that Lucius could slip easily into it. The wizard took the cane and slipped his wand into its place, before checking his appearance in one of the mirrors hanging on the wall just for this purpose.

After the elf had vanished, Lucius swiftly changed the wards, and then spun on the spot, apparating away just to land a moment later in the big entrance Hall of the Ministry of Magic in London. The big room with its fountain in the middle was largely empty. Only a few other members of the Wizengamot – all looking rather sleepy and a few giving the impression of having dressed in a hurry – and some Aurors were on their way from the Floos and designated apparation points to the elevators to go down to the Wizengamot chamber. Spotting his Lord standing near the public Floos together with the Lords Nott and Lestrange, Lucius walked over, his cane making sharp noises on the tile floor.

"Lord Slytherin, Lord Nott, Lord Lestrange, good… morning." He bowed and got three small bows and murmured greetings in response.

"I'm not really sure this time of day warrants the greeting 'good morning' it is much too early, or rather late, for that," Benjamin grumbled, clearly unhappy that he was awake and standing in the Ministry.

The Dark Lord gave a small snort. "Let's not dawdle. Maybe it will be over faster if we are gathered a little quicker." They all rolled their eyes at this. It was a hope that would never come to pass. Most Wizengamot meetings tended to drag on longer than anyone could wish for, with factions bickering over small issues, and tedious formalities.

The chamber filled only slowly – or at least it felt that way for Lucius – the Lords and Ladies speaking in small groups and Aurors coming in and out to speak with Rufus Scrimgeour and Madame Bones. When Doge finally arrived as the last one, hastily walking to his seat, the small groups dispersed and took their seats as well.

Lucius watched as Amelia Bones, as the head of the DMLE, stood, and the room went quiet. "Ladies and Lords of the Wizengamot, as you already know from your letters, there was a big breakout from Azkaban late yesterday evening. That is, on the evening of Monday the 18th." She talked in short, clipped sentences, her audience listening with rapt attention. "The exact order of events is, as of now, unknown. These are the few facts we are certain of." She waved her wand, and a shimmering map of the island and the prison appeared near her.

"The Auror on duty – Albert Simons – was overpowered by a group of at least five wizards after nine in the evening. When he regained consciousness there was a dead wizard laying on the floor. Simons then managed to raise the alarm while still bound. That is all auror Simons could tell us. His memories are being examined as we speak."

She made a short pause, before she continued in the same manner. Lucius furrowed his brow. That sounded like a group of wizards had tried to free someone or more than one, and their plan had not worked out.

"A group of dead wizards, both inmates of the prison and as-of-now-unidentified civilians, was found in the hall leading to the guard-room. Two wizards were found unconscious and bound in the hall that held the cell of Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband, and her brother-in-law. All their cells are empty, they could not be found."

Lucius glanced over to Xerxes. His sons and daughter-in-law had managed to escape, just as their Lord had predicted they would. If it had not been so terribly childish, Lucius would have been tempted to stand up and tell them all, 'We told you so!'. He could not really imagine how the old man had to feel. Even if his own sister-in-law was the witch that had fled.

"All the intruders' wands were taken, and each Death Eater contained at Azkaban has been freed. The wards are untouched. Those are the facts. Thank you for listening. Any questions?"

And with that the mayhem began.

ooOoo

Marvolo watched as the different members of the Wizengamot jumped to their feet, demanding answers from the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. He stayed sitting, contemplating what little information they had been given. There was little doubt that friends or family of other inmates had tried to use the absence of the dementors to free some of those incarcerated. And it seemed obvious that one of his loyal Death Eaters had managed to get hold of a wand and free the rest.

That still left two rather big questions open. How had those people reached the island, and how had his people managed to leave? He was certain only a few wizards or witches alive could manage to apparate to the island, even if the wards were down. A portkey was not something many could create without risking serious harm to those using them. And certainly his Death Eaters would not have managed either without properly matched wands and in a state of ill health.

He was startled out of his thoughts when the room fell silent and Dowager Longbottom repeated her question, exasperated at his lack of attention. "Was Lord Slytherin involved in this escape? Or can he maybe help tracking those murderers?" Her tone was deadly, and considering that the Lestranges had tortured her son and daughter-in-law into insanity, it was absolutely understandable.

Standing, Marvolo turned a little so he faced Augusta Longbottom – who had come to Hogwarts a few years after he had graduated – and answered her directly. "I understand why one might come to the conclusion I might have been involved in this. But I assure you that I knew nothing about this beforehand. Yesterday evening I spent a few hours' time in the company of one of the Gringotts curse-breakers in the Leaky Cauldron. As for helping to track them, I'm willing to help in every way I can. But I do not know how I should be able to do better than the Ministry is able to."

Despite his polite and earnest voice Marvolo saw that most of those normally counted under the banner of the light were suspicious of him. But for once, he really was telling the truth. Funny that when he was telling the truth no one believed him, but when he was lying through his teeth, no one doubted his sincerity.

"We know of the Mark each Death Eater wears on one arm. It was obvious that it was intended as a means of communication. Or will you deny it?" Doge remarked snidely.

Marvolo rubbed his eyes. They were asking exactly the questions he had thought they would ask. "Yes, it was designed as a way to communicate. But what could be transferred was limited. And even though the use as a tracker of some sort was one option briefly entertained, the impracticability of such a piece of magic ruled the idea out." He didn't even try to keep his voice free of how tired he was. He wished he didn't need to explain himself. But maybe he could manage to use this as a way to strengthen his public image.

Lord Tiberius Ogden – uncle to the lesser branch of the family, producing the alcoholic beverage – stood as well and started talking. "I can confirm that tracking spells on more than one object or being at a time can be very disorienting. I experimented with versions of the charm during the work on my mastery. The caster of such a charm – be it temporarily or permanent – is aware of the location of all things under the charm for the whole duration. It can be very disorienting, even with as few as three objects. Only binding the charm to an object – as is done for the trace – would circumvent this problem." The elderly wizard turned to look at Marvolo, who did the same, maintaining a polite but reserved mask. "And as far as I understand, the Dark Mark was bound directly to the person casting it?"

The wording of this question was nicely done in Marvolo's opinion. Clearly stating the magical mechanics, pointing out that Voldemort had been the one casting and therefore would have been the one with the split awareness. And while saying that Lord Slytherin would now be the one holding the reins – so to speak – still making the distinction between the legally totally different persons.

Nodding in agreement, Marvolo confirmed Lord Ogden's explanation. "I clearly remember that trying to track as few as two independently acting beings was too bothersome to even try it on a larger scale."

Curiosity was evident in the Lord's voice as he continued the line of thought. "With what beings were these experiments conducted?"

Glad that he had not tried it on humans as the first trial run – that would not work well with his current attempts at a public image – Marvolo answered the question. "If I remember correctly, snakes were the first and only test subjects."

"Don't derail the discussion," Lady Marchbanks snapped from her place, and as one of the elders of the Wizengamot her admonishment achieved instant results. "What would be within your capability, Lord Slytherin?" she wanted to know, squinting a little while scrutinising him.

Tiredly closing his eyes, Marvolo quickly decided what to tell, what he could risk. After all, he did not wish to get his people imprisoned again. His need to protect them was not something he could deny any more. It seemed the Slytherin family magic concerning vassals and their bond to the Slytherin family that he had used in the creation of the Dark Mark had finally made its influence known.

"I could try to summon them. But I doubt that they would answer. They most likely would expect an… unpleasant welcome. Considering the state they probably are in…" he trailed off. Naturally they most likely would be at his side the moment he summoned them, or as quickly as they could manage. Apparating presumably was not an option for them at the moment, the Floo was not easy to access either, and using the Knight Bus would be idiotic. So it was not exactly a lie.

"Could you summon them now?" Lord Black wanted to know, looking as if he was speculating about something.

Marvolo just ignored the blatant disregard by the young Lord, and shook his head, simply answering with one word. "No."

"And why not? There were reports back then, that only one of the Death Eaters was needed to call the others. There are several ex-Death Eaters here today." A sneer adorned the handsome face of the dog animagus as he included the room into a wide sweeping gesture with one arm. "Use one of them."

Marvolo was getting a headache. He had practiced explaining himself with Henry, but doing so this often in this short a time was hard. And trying to project the cooperative young Lord, trying to redeem himself even if he was legally not responsible, was hard as well.

"You, Lord Black, should be aware that I'm currently working on undoing some of the things that happened… then." Grey eyes first narrowed and then widened as the man caught on.

Before anyone could say anything more, Lucius stepped forward, drawing all attention to himself. "Do you truly think I would willingly associate with someone who in the past put me under the Imperius curse, without some sort of… compensation?" While he was talking, Lucius opened the cuff of his shirt, rolling the robe and the shirt up his arm to expose the inside. As Marvolo knew it would be, the arm was bare of the Dark Mark, pale and flawless as anything about Lord Malfoy seemed to be.

"As you can see, I have removed what was forced onto esteemed members of our community. I thought this was the most important measure to take and consequently started there." Marvolo explained, trying to seem contrite and hopeful at the same time.

"So it is gone from all of them?" the incredulous voice of one of the more dimwitted Lords sounded from somewhere Marvolo could not pin down. He rolled his eyes again. He should have pocketed a headache potion before leaving Griffin House. He could use it now.

"No." He really did try to stay patient, but it was getting harder. "It is magic applied directly to a person – individually – and has to be removed in the same fashion, one by one. As I think no one would have let me visit certain individuals at Azkaban, and most of them took the Mark willingly, I did not try to ask for the possibility. There are other things that are more important right now." He turned to Madame Bones, trying to get this into a better direction again. "What are the plans to find the escapees?" If he knew what the Aurors were planning to do, he might get to his people before they were captured and brought back to the prison.

ooOoo

It took several hours of back-and-forth, many questions to all those that were in some way related or associated with the escapees, and the declaration that most of the aurors currently investigating the murder attempt at Hogwarts would be reassigned to search for the prisoners.

Finally they were dismissed for a short breakfast break, which Marvolo used to meet up with Barty under the guise of needing to rearrange some appointments due to the meeting's likely dragging on for longer.

Marvolo quickly penned a few orders and cast a spell making sure only those bearing his mark would be able to see the real content. "Get this to the Carrows and express my regret at the necessity for moving the appointment. I will help them with their venom-harvesting optimisation another time."

Barty bowed. "Certainly, my Lord. I will move all other appointments into the next week?"

Marvolo nodded in confirmation and directed his attention to Rufus Scrimgeour, who was purposefully walking over to him. "How may I help you, Auror Scrimgeour?"

The man with his mane of hair huffed. "You can tell me the name of the curse-breaker you claim to have spent most of the evening talking with."

It was clear as day that the head auror did not believe him. Disappointed at not being trusted, but understanding was the mask he was aiming for as he answered the question. "I was talking with William Weasley. We were sitting in the main room of the Leaky Cauldron, I imagine the owner will be able to confirm my presence there."

Without a word further, Scrimgeour turned and walked away, leaving a bemused Marvolo standing in the breakroom. The darkest wizard currently alive blinked slowly in surprise – that was not something anyone would have done before that night in '81 – before he shrugged it off and walked over to the table laden with breakfast foods.

Next on the agenda was a decision whether to move the Dementors back into control at Azkaban or not. Now they knew that there had been indeed an order and the… things had not acted on their own, it might be possible to move them back. Closing the door after the fox had stolen the chicken. It was idiotic really.

Placing a few small sandwiches with orange marmalade on a plate, Marvolo walked over to the small group of those that could be called his allies to make small talk and brace himself for a long, long, and unpleasant day.

oooOOooo

Albus sat in his chair behind the desk in his office. Auror Proudfoot was standing next to one of the visitor chairs, rocking on his feet, likely wanting to pace but refraining.

"I'm sure you understand, Headmaster, that all Aurors are now needed in the search for the escapees." He made a jerky turn and started to pace. Albus smiled in a grandfatherly manner. Mr. Proudfoot always had thought better when moving. "Of course we will not abandon the investigation into the attack on Heir Slytherin. But we will have to reassign most of the Aurors. Two will remain and start to question the students."

Albus interrupted the man's stream of bland explanations. "Will that really be necessary?" He was not happy that Aurors were in the school at all – giving up this much control over the whole mess just felt wrong – but letting them speak with the students was just that step too far.

"Yes." The auror looked puzzled as he turned from his pacing to the Headmaster, his bright red robes billowing around his ankles. "How else are we to find the one responsible for attempting to kill a student under your care?" The auror sounded as puzzled as he looked.

Albus inwardly sighed. This was another situation where he would look crazy or like he was senile already, if he did not go along with the demands of the other. It was as if the whole world was working against him. Sane Tom was a much harder opponent to fight against. Maybe they would be able to link the man to the escape of his most faithful Death Eaters. He would have to set Nymphadora and Kingsley on this task.

"I will insist that the Head of House of every student you want to speak with is there, and that the parents of any student you want to question is informed beforehand. And the questionings can't happen during lessons. Can't impede their education now, can we?" Albus finally demanded in his best grandfatherly tone.

The Auror bobbed his head in confirmation. "Minors can only be questioned when a guardian is present, so this is expected."

Pleased with this delay – two Aurors working together to speak with the students would have to work slowly – Albus showed the Auror out of his office and then walked down to the staff room. He needed to inform the other teachers.

oooOOooo

Bill walked from the edge of the property to the slightly odd-shaped house he had grown up in. It always felt like home and always would. Even the wards around the perimeter were home to him, now that he was able to sense them more than ever.

His parents had invited him to eat with them this evening. With Percy still sticking close to the Ministry and not willing to admit he had been wrong to doubt the Headmaster about the return of You-Know-Who, Charlie still in Romania, searching for a job in England so he could return home, and all the others at school, their mother was suffering from empty-nest syndrome.

And they surely wanted to hear about his assessment of Lord Slytherin.

When Bill stepped through the door, he could smell the delicious fragrance of the meal his mother was preparing. About to call out for his parents, he heard them walking down from upstairs.

"I can't believe it, Arthur," Molly whispered frantically. "That can't be true. Our William, spending an evening with You-Know-Who? That monster killed my brothers! That diary almost killed my little Ginny! No, I do not believe it!"

Bill went pale. By all that was holy, he had totally forgotten what the man had done! But it was rather easy to forget. Lord Slytherin was a totally different man compared to what he had been told of You-Know-Who.

He closed his eyes, swallowing, as he heard his father's soothing voice drift down to him. "I'm sure he can explain. And you know how it is at the Ministry. There are rumours in spades, and most of the time it's rubbish. So don't just spring it on him when he walks in the door. Yes, Mollywobbles?"

He heard nothing more and assumed that his parents exchanged a kiss. But he himself needed to calm down. He had a good explanation for spending an evening talking to Lord Slytherin, after all.

But he had didn't have any more time to ponder what to say, as both his parents walked into the kitchen.

"Mom, that smells wonderful. What's for dinner?" Bill asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation and an attempt to distract himself from his uneasiness. He loved his mother's cooking. Living in his own flat was all very well – it was easier meeting with Fleur not living with his parents – but he missed the meals, and doing his own laundry was not really fun, even with magic.

"I made roast chicken, potatoes, green beans, and Brussels sprouts." Her smile was shaky, and her hair was a little dishevelled. Why her hair was mused Bill did not want to think about. So he walked over to the table and sat down at one of the laid places that was not his parents' usual spot.

At first they talked about unimportant things. Bill's flat, the garden, and Molly's plans what to plant in the next year. When the chicken was finished and the redheaded witch brought out the pudding she had made for dessert, Bill saw the shift in his parents' behaviour. Now was the time, they were about to ask him.

"Bill," Arthur started to speak "I'm sure you have heard about the Azkaban breakout by now. There was an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot today. And naturally the rumours started right after that. Hopkirk from the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee was the first telling me that Lord Slytherin was asked if he helped them escape. He denied it." Bill was thrown a calculating look by his mother, while his father had his eyes trained on his folded hands. "And claimed he had been in the Leaky Cauldron all evening eating cake and talking. When asked if there was someone who could confirm this, he supposedly named you."

Two pairs of eyes – one hazel and on the border of angry, the other blue and pleading – were trained on the pale, sweating Bill, waiting for an answer.

Well, there was nothing for it but jump in at the deep end. "Well, after the meeting in the morning to remove the curse from the Headmaster, I still was unsure what to think of him." And that was not really a lie, was it? He had been curious and wanted to know more, after all. "So I stayed a little longer, asking questions." Bill watched, uneasy, the rising anger in his mother – he really hoped to avert one of her infamous lectures, but knew it was probably too late now – and quickly continued speaking.

"So I accepted the offer to meet in the evening. Let him believe I wanted to know more about how the curse came to be." He shrugged.

"And so you just calmly sat with that monster. The monster that killed your uncles? That monster that almost killed your little sister? Waged war?" With each word the voice of the Weasley matriarch rose higher. "Have you forgotten what devastation and grief that monster brought to our family? How many families suffered because of him?!" By the end she was standing, fists braced on the table, her cheeks red and her eyes blazing with rage and the need to act.

Bill sat in his chair, normally towering over his mother, he now felt like a small child. Like he had felt when he was six and had carelessly knocked over his mom's favourite vase. It had been easy to repair it – magic was handy in that regard – but that had not been the point.

"Tell me! Because at the moment I feel you are betraying the family, William Arthur Weasley!"

Bill swallowed, his mouth as dry as the Sahara. Was he betraying his family? It didn't feel that way, but he suddenly was not sure anymore.

"We all want to know what will happen to Harry, right?" Both his parents nodded. "So I tried to get a feel for the man. Right? He seemed polite enough, cooperative, willing to help, even as he was clearly unhappy with the Headmaster. He knows about the laws, and appeared like he wants to keep to them. But it was a short moment. Not nearly enough time to get a better picture of the man." Bill took a deep breath, he just hoped he was clear and his parents would understand.

"When we met at the Leaky Cauldron he acted polite, as he had at the bank. It was almost like talking to one of the other curse-breakers, or to one of my instructors. Nothing about his behaviour screams evil, insane Dark Lord. I will admit for a while I forgot who he once was… Is it possible that the official story – of the old curse of paranoia – really is the truth? I tried to get him to admit to making horcruxes. He let me know that he knows about them, but did not admit making one, or more. I'm… I'm confused, don't know what to think." He turned his eyes on his mother, pleading entering into his voice. "Mom, I love my family, and I never would help someone who had harmed any of my siblings. But… if Lord Slytherin is the man I saw yesterday evening… then maybe, Harry truly is safe with him? I don't know what to hope for. If the Headmaster is right, then Lord Slytherin is a frighteningly good actor and manipulator. But if the man is genuine, then the Headmaster is either lying to us, or he is losing his marbles."

It was silent in the Burrow after that. Molly was now as concerned as her son, and Arthur got them all small glasses with fire whiskey. It was indeed an uncomfortable situation they were in. If Albus was right, they had a really dangerous man to deal with, who managed to let others forget their fears even if they were sceptics. And if he was not, then they might just have another equally dangerous man on their hands. Someone in a position of power over many of their children, and with a wider influence than Lord Slytherin currently had.

oooOOooo

In Gryffindor Tower after a long day filled with students unable to concentrate and much speculation, Hermione was trying to distract herself with her new camera. All day, wherever she had gone, whispers and speculation, pointing fingers and stares had followed her.

"I don't know how you manage to live with this constant… attention!" the bushy-haired witch exclaimed in indignation. She snapped a quick picture of both her friends bending over their last piece of homework for the day.

"I would say 'welcome to my world', but I guess that would sound rather cruel. Sorry you have to go through this, only because you are related to Lord Lestrange," Harry said smiling sadly and then called over to Parvati, "Hey, would you be willing to take a photo of us?"

The Indian girl was only too happy to take the camera from Hermione, taking a picture of the three friends sitting on one of the sagging couches, smiling a little strained, but happy enough.

Hermione had enjoyed her birthday quite a bit despite the bad news. She was hopeful that none of the escaped Death Eaters were animagi and therefore would not be able to sneak into the castle quite as easily as Sirius had during their third year. But with the many changes that had happened since the end of the tournament, it really was going to be a hard year for them all.

oooOOooo

AN: Thanks to MrBogus for pointing out that there should be some kind of reaction from Bill and/or Family over the genial talk the Curse Breaker had with Lord Slytherin. I hope you approve ;)

Thanks to Jordre and Jake for helping to improve my spelling!

I think I will manage to keep up my update schedule over the season of family gatherings :D

First published on the 25th of November 2016

Next chapter planned for 9th of December 2016