Harry and Hermione eagerly awaited Sirius's return Wednesday evening. The Wizengamot special session for the selection of the new Minister had begun at five. By the grandfather clock on the wall, it was already seven.

'Calm down, Harry,' Hermione said soothingly as she lay in bed in Harry's arms. 'You know it'll be fine. Kingsley has the full support of more than half the Wizengamot.'

Harry did not answer but leaned in to kiss her. Consciously, he knew that there next to no chance of Nott's victory, but that did not help his nerves, especially as the post-coital euphoria began to fade. Things had been going almost too perfectly recently. He could not help but feel that the time was ripe for something not going his way.

It was almost half-past-eight when Harry heard the Floo activate in the basement kitchen. He and Hermione hastily got out of bed and threw on some clothes before dashing downstairs, hopefully to see Sirius.

'How did it go?' Hermione demanded before they had even entered the kitchen.

'Just as we expected it to go,' Sirius replied with a broad grin.

'So…Kingsley's Minister?' Harry asked.

Sirius nodded. 'It wasn't even close. The Dark faction's candidate was about as repugnant of a blood bigot as they come – almost as big as he is an idiot. He gave thinly veiled threats against muggle-borns, half-bloods, and "blood-traitors" for nearly half an hour. The Neutrals had no candidate and threw their weight behind Kingsley. As I said, wasn't even close.'

'Anything else?' Hermione demanded to know.

'Kingsley was setting up as I left,' Sirius replied, 'First thing he did as Minister was to acknowledge Riddle's return. An owl should be off to the Prophet as we speak.'

'That's great!'

Sirius grimaced. 'It was necessary, but I don't know how "great" it is,' he said grimly. 'Kingsley just forced Riddle out into the open. The violence will only get worse. He's rushing to secure Azkaban. I don't doubt Riddle will make a move soon to get his followers out.'

'Then we'll have to end it as quickly as we can,' Harry said firmly. 'We have a plan. We can get it going now that we have someone useful in the top job.'

Sirius nodded and moved to sit down at the kitchen table. He grabbed a sheet of parchment and a quill. 'How?'

'Well, we have a plan, don't we?'

'And each plan needs a beginning.'

Harry sighed. 'Well…the Horcruxes are out of the way...so we can move against Riddle himself.'

'And you wanted to lure him to the Ministry, just like how you described in the "old timeline".'

Hermione nodded. 'That's the idea, I think.'

'Then you'll need to start putting out information,' Sirius said. 'Slowly. First, we need a valid excuse for knowing about the Prophecy.'

'Pardon?' Harry asked, puzzled.

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'You can't just owl the Daily Prophet and have them print an article on you going to the Department of Mysteries for the Prophecies without any setup! That reeks of a trap!'

Harry nodded in understanding. 'So…you're saying we need to build up information…'

'Exactly. Which brings me back to my first point. We need an excuse about how you know that the Prophecy is stored at the Department of Mysteries.'

They brainstormed ideas for ten or so minutes before Hermione sat bolt upright.

'Yes?' Harry asked with a chuckle, knowing that she had come up with something.

'Have Kingsley flow funds into the Department now that the DMLE finally has money to spare,' she answered. 'Give the excuse to the public that he's having them work on weapons to use against Riddle. Then, we can have one of the Unspeakables "discover" the Prophecy. That'll both make Riddle impulsive and force his hand as well as give us an excuse on why we know that the Prophecy is there!'

Harry looked at Hermione with a look of amazement. 'That's…that's brilliant!' She beamed.

'That's something logical for Kingsley to do, too,' Sirius said in impressed agreement. 'If he puts it out in the Daily Prophet, then no one would think twice about any other motives he might have besides getting an edge over Riddle.'

Harry nodded. 'Okay. Then what? We'll have to put the word out eventually that I'm going to be at the Ministry to hear the Prophecy.'

'That will take time,' Sirius replied sadly. Harry was about to protest when Sirius shut him down. 'We have to wait until public opinion and knowledge is strong enough for the Ministry to "invite" you to listen to the Prophecy.'

'But that could take months! How many people could Riddle kill in that time? We can't wait that long!'

'Put yourself in Riddle's shoes, Harry,' Sirius said sharply. 'What would you think if the Prophet suddenly came out of seemingly nowhere that you were going to the Ministry to hear the Prophecy? Would you believe it? Or would you think it's a trap?'

'I'd think it's a trap,' Harry admitted sheepishly.

'Exactly! The plan is sound, but if you rush it, you blow the whole thing!' Sirius cried. 'You can have Riddle served to you on a plate and end him on your home ground, but if you try to take the next step before the plan is mature, you lose that chance!'

'I don't love it.'

'I know you don't,' Hermione said gently. 'I would end Riddle for good tomorrow if I could, but the world doesn't work like that. You have to pick the best option out of the ones you have. Considering the alternative – if we even have an alternative – I think this is the best we can do, Harry.'

Harry nodded. It was always hard to disagree with Hermione. Whether it was the charm or the logic, he did not know. But he believed her and understood that what she was saying was right regardless of whether he liked it or not.

'All right. Let's get started, then.'


'Minister Shacklebolt,' greeted the old but powerful-looking wizard.

'Head Unspeakable Croaker,' Kingsley replied.

'Congratulations on your ascendency to the Ministership,' Saul Croaker said. 'How may I be of service?'

Kingsley slid the parchment across the desk. He had to admit that Black was a genius – no wonder he frustrated the Ministry's attempts to find him for so long. Baiting Voldemort to the Ministry with the Prophecy…it was better than any plan that he or Amelia could come up with to deal with the Dark Lord.

'A step-up of funding by two-and-a-half-fold for the next three years,' Kingsley explained, 'To be used on research focusing on combating Lord Voldemort.'

The Unspeakable's jaw dropped. 'Two-and-a-half times…that's…that's more funding than the Department has ever received…'

'We're also facing times that no Ministry has ever faced,' Kingsley said smoothly, almost politician-like. He winced a little. Was he already beginning to sound like Fudge? Perhaps he was spending too much of his time interrogating that scum.

'Spoken like a politician,' Croaker assessed. 'Learning the ropes of the job?'

Kingsley wanted to groan. 'I was hoping the mannerisms wouldn't come with the title.'

'Ah, but it always seems to catch up, doesn't it?'

'It seems so,' Kingsley conceded. 'Back to the matter at hand. There are…conditions…attached to these funds.'

Croaker raised an eyebrow. 'Conditions? Such as what?'

'We're aware of a Prophecy stored in your Department regarding Harry Potter and the Dark Lord.'

Croaker's face became unreadable. 'I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of such a Prophecy.'

'Understandable,' Kingsley replied. 'However, Harry Potter himself already knows of both the Prophecy and its place of storage. He has offered a magical vow that he speaks the truth. Since the knowledge is already in the hands of those who are not Unspeakables…'

'I see…' Croaker said pensively. 'What is it that you require of the Department?'

'We ask that you, shall we say, let slip, to the press the existence of such a Prophecy.'

'Why?' Croaker demanded harshly.

'The Prophecy concerns Lord Voldemort, does it not?' Kingsley asked. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. 'The Dark Lord will stop at nothing to gain hold of the Prophecy. We, on the other hand, are attempting to use this to our advantage.'

'You wish to use the Prophecy to trap Voldemort at the Ministry,' Croaker said, understanding.

'Exactly.'

'And to do that, you need the knowledge of the Prophecy to get out so that Voldemort takes your bait so that he comes to the Ministry whenever you stage…whatever you're staging.'

Kingsley nodded.

'When?'

'When what?'

'When do you need this information released?'

Kingsley pondered for a minute. 'If you accept the funding, then this will be in tomorrow's edition of the Daily Prophet. I would give it between a week or two. That should be a convincing timeline.'

'We accept the funds,' Croaker said immediately. 'I can let the information get out through a loose-lipped Ministry employee within two weeks. Do you have any other demands?'

Kingsley shook his head. 'Not now, Saul, but I daresay we will be meeting again…soon…'


'Auror Savage will stand outside the cell to give you some privacy, Sirius.'

'Thank you, Kingsley. Good day, Savage.'

Savage nodded and unlocked the cell with a complex spell. Sirius pushed the heavy, solid-iron door open and entered. Inside, the cell was furnished with a single candle and a mattress-less wooden camp bed. There was a tiny enchanted window that let in a sliver of magical sunlight.

'Hello again, Peter.'

The pathetic little man looked up. 'P-Padfoot.'

'That'll be Sirius Black to you. You lost your right to call me that name the moment you took that filthy mark,' Sirius replied coldly. 'You're not a Marauder. "Wormtail" does not exist.'

'I…I d-didn't!'

'Don't lie,' Sirius snapped. 'You revived your master. People are going to die because of you. Not only do you have James and Lily's deaths on your head, so will you have all of theirs.'

'I…I had to!' the rat grovelled, 'He would've k-killed me if…if I d-didn't!'

Sirius glared at the coward. 'Then you deserved to die. It's the least you can do to pay penance for your treachery all those years ago.'

'Why're you h-here?' Pettigrew demanded weakly.

'To hear what you have to say for yourself,' Sirius replied. 'Your trial is in three days. You'll likely get the Dementor's Kiss. I won't have a chance to hear your sorry tales ever again, even if I wanted to.'

'What do you n-need to know?'

'Why, Peter? Why did you betray James and Lily? Why did you join up with Voldemort? You swore to remain loyal to our brotherhood, Peter.'

'There was n-nothing to b-be g-gained from st-standing up to him!' Pettigrew stammered. 'He would've killed me if I d-didn't! He swore to p-protect me, g-give me p-power like I've never had b-before with you and James and Remus! He…He promised to r-reward me with the ch-chance to b-be great!'

Sirius sneered. 'You led your friends to their deaths to further your selfish fantasies of grandeur?'

'I had no choice!' Peter protested. 'L-Lestrange found me a w-week after the Fidelius! H-He was g-going to k-kill me unless I g-gave up the secret and offered s-service to the D-Dark Lord!'

'Then you should've died! You traded your pathetic life for the lives of two of your friends and their son!' Sirius roared. 'I came here because I wanted to hear what you had to say, but you're nothing but a cowardly traitor! I hope you'll get what you deserve Wednesday.'

Sirius stormed out of the cell, feeling more disgusted than ever.


Harry and Hermione woke up early on the day of their return to Hogwarts. They bade goodbye to the Granger parents when they left for work, promising that they would see each other soon. They had a quick breakfast over a copy of the Daily Prophet, which carried a welcome headline.

Shacklebolt Authorizes Funding for Department of Mysteries

'That's the first step done!' Hermione chirped. 'I'm glad the Unspeakables agreed to the terms.'

'Would they not have?' Harry asked, frowning a little.

'Well…they're somewhat…tight-lipped…'

Sirius and Remus arrived at half-past-ten and apparated the teens and their things to King's Cross. Sirius was quite irritable and snappish that morning. He did not tell Harry much about his recent 'interrogation' with Wormtail besides that 'it happened'. Harry surmised that that confrontation combined with the busy schedule at the Ministry was getting to Sirius.

'You could ask Andromeda to do some things for you,' Hermione suggested. 'Or even Narcissa, to show that you have faith in her.' Sirius just shrugged and grunted noncommittally.

'You two be careful,' Remus said seriously as they prepared to board the Express. 'Things are getting…messy…out there. The dementors of Azkaban are restless at the prospect of being removed. Voldemort might make an attempt on the prison to take advantage of the situation. And that's not to mention Dumbledore.'

'We'll be careful,' Harry promised.

'If there's any situation – any at all – let us know immediately on the mirrors,' Remus added, seemingly still a little unconvinced by Harry's assurance.

'We will.'

After final farewells, Harry and Hermione boarded the train and sat down in an empty compartment. They were early, and there was almost no one on board. That gave them plenty of time to put up some basic privacy and protection charms on their compartment door.

Fifteen minutes later, Ginny made an appearance.

'Hello,' she greeted brightly.

'Hey, Ginny,' Hermione said. 'Sorry we couldn't come this summer. Things got busy.'

Ginny waved her off. 'That's the price of being Harry's best friend slash girlfriend slash wife, isn't it?'

Hermione was caught between blushing bright pink and giggling. Neville walked in at that precise moment. He cast a confused glance at the two girls before sitting down on the seat next to Ginny.

'Good summer?' Harry asked.

Neville shrugged. 'All right. Busy. Gran keeps dragging me to this Wizengamot meeting and that. Says I needed to "learn the ropes".'

'My condolences,' Harry replied. Inwardly, he felt quite glad that Sirius had not insisted on his presence at every meeting at the Ministry.

Susan was the next to arrive. She looked at Hermione questioningly. 'You're not a Prefect?' she asked. Sure enough, she had a yellow badge on her chest with a large 'P' emblazoned on it.

'I was selected, but I returned the badge.'

Susan looked confused. 'Why? Do you not want to be Prefect?'

Hermione shook her head. 'Not when the Gryffindor boys' Prefect is Ron Weasley.'

'Ron's a Prefect?' Neville asked, shocked.

'He is,' Ginny confirmed. 'Mum thinks Dumbledore was behind it. He was behind the whole potions thing. It'd make sense.'

'I can't blame you, then, Hermione,' Susan said seriously. 'I'd not want to be anywhere near him after what happened last year. I'll see you later. I saw Daph on the platform. I think she got the badge, too.' She turned and left.

'Snape gave Daphne the badge over Parkinson,' Harry mused quietly, 'I'm somehow not too surprised.'

'Pansy was Prefect in your…uh…past?' Ginny asked.

'Her and Malfoy,' Hermione answered. 'He was still "Malfoy" then. I wonder who the Slytherin boys' Prefect is.'

Luna finally arrived just two minutes before the train was due to depart. She sat down next to Neville and stiffly pecked him on the cheek, which left the boy flustered but seemingly unexcited.

The train soon began to move. It was not until fifteen minutes later that the compartment door opened, revealing Susan and an extremely annoyed Daphne.

'It's Zabini,' she snarled as she entered, 'How that idiot became the boys' Prefect is beyond me…though there isn't an awful lot of choice among the Slytherin boys. At least he's not a Junior Death Eater like Nott. He spent all of the meeting trying to flirt with me. He also had some trouble keeping his hands to himself.'

'And?' Ginny asked, curious.

Susan began laughing. 'I got Zabini with a Stinging Hex to the bum. The twit didn't even see where it came from.'

'Good shot,' Daphne said with a smirk.

'You were right, by the way. Ron Weasley's the Gryffindor boys' Prefect,' Susan said to Harry and Hermione. 'And Lavender Brown got the badge for the girls after you.'

Hermione's jaw dropped open and her face blanched in disgust. 'Ron and Lavender? Who in their right mind…just why?'

'It was disgusting to watch,' Daphne recounted, grimacing. 'Weasley's hands were all over Brown's rear. I don't know if they were snogging or drooling over each other. They definitely weren't paying attention to the Head Boy and Girl.'

'So in short, Gryffindor doesn't have Prefects,' Neville summarized.

'No Prefects would be better than that farce,' Ginny said. 'Ron won't be clearing out the broom closets so much as using them. He said as much over the summer. He should be glad Fred and George aren't returning this year. They'd never let him up.'

'They aren't?' Harry asked, surprised.

Ginny shook her head. 'They decided to get to work on their shop. They received a five-thousand Galleon order from Magical Law Enforcement for their prototype Shield Clothing line. They're looking for premises in Diagon Alley as we speak.'

An hour or so passed in peace before there was a knock on their compartment door. Harry looked up and saw two of the people he least wanted to meet – Ron, with Lavender hanging off his side. Lavender was playing with Ron's prefect badge and Ron's attention was split between his girlfriend's chest and the door.

'Should we just tell them to go away?' Harry asked dejectedly.

'We can't just ignore a Prefect,' Neville said with a sigh, 'As much of a joke Ron is. He'll just make things worse for us.'

Daphne stood up and slid open the compartment door. 'What do you want?' she demanded, purposefully insolently.

'Ooh, seven in a compartment,' Lavender crooned. Harry fought the urge to vomit. 'That'll be…what?'

'A hundred points from Greengrass for being a snake, another hundred for disrespecting a Prefect,' Ron replied to his girlfriend with a wide grin. 'Fifty points each from Bones, Greengrass, and Loony for sitting together. And a detention each for Potter, Granger, and Longbottom.'

'You don't have the authority to take points from Prefects, Weasley,' Susan said coldly. 'And may I remind you to call other students by their proper names?'

'Nor do you have the right to take points or give detentions before start of term, and definitely not for reasons like "because you're a snake",' Daphne added icily. 'Did you even bother picking up the handbook?'

Ron looked taken aback for a second before his face morphed into a sneer Draco No-Name would be proud of.

'Just because you two are Prefects doesn't mean…doesn't mean you can not show me any respect!' Ron snarled.

'You haven't earned yourself any respect,' Susan sneered right back. 'We both saw you at the Prefect meeting. You weren't paying the Head Students any attention. And now you come and bully other students? I think not.'

'Come on, Won-Won. They aren't entertaining,' Lavender simpered in Ron's ear, 'Let's go find other people to entertain ourselves with.'

'I don't think so,' Daphne said in a low, dangerous voice. 'Why don't you go and find an empty compartment and confine yourselves there until we arrive? Or Susan and I can bring this little…incident…up with the Head Boy and Girl. We have plenty of witnesses.'

'Is that a threat?' Ron demanded.

'Why, it definitely is,' Daphne replied coolly. 'You finally caught on to something.'

Ron's face was redder than his hair as he growled in rage. Just as Harry was about to warn him against doing something foolish, he did. Ron's right hand flew towards his pocket and moved to draw his wand. Instantly, he was faced with seven others, some pointed at his face, some pointed at his groin.

'Bugger off!' Ginny shouted, 'Don't you dare try to attack my friends!'

'You're my sister!' Ron screamed, 'You're supposed to defend me!'

'And you're a filthy, bullying wanker that I wish I weren't related to! I won't be defending you! Not now, not ever if you stay like this!' Ginny bellowed back venomously.

Ron looked for a second like he was about to fight, but he thought better of the idea. He muttered a few indiscernible words, then grabbed Lavender by the sleeve and scurried off in disgrace.


When Harry entered the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast, he saw that Dumbledore looked more tired than ever.

'He looks exhausted,' Hermione observed, coming to the same conclusion.

'Probably from him putting out all the little fires that the Ministry's setting for him,' Harry muttered. 'I wonder how he reacted to the Unspeakables Bill that came out this morning.'

'Not very well, obviously,' Hermione said. 'Look, Mad-Eye Moody's back as the Defence Professor.'

Harry glanced up at the staff table. Sure enough, Moody was sitting next to Snape, looking surlier than ever.

'He never really was the Defence Professor, was he?' Harry murmured.

'True. This might not be good, though.'

Harry looked at her, a little confused. 'Why not? He's supposed to be the best Auror there is.'

'Well, it's good for the kids, but it might be an obstacle for us,' Hermione clarified. 'If Moody's back, that means Dumbledore convinced him to return. That means that Moody might be a bit of a…thorn in the side. I'd not put it past Dumbledore to use him to keep an eye on McGonagall and Snape.'

Harry shrugged. 'We'll just have to be careful. Constant vigilance, right?'

'Right.'

After the Sorting and the Feast, Dumbledore gave a canned welcoming speech that nebulously emphasized the need to be careful and trust one another in light of Voldemort's return before dismissing the students. Ron and Lavender stood up, still clinging to each other, to lead the first-years up to Gryffindor tower.

'Oi, midgets!' Ron shouted crassly, 'Follow me before you get stamped on by a troll!'

Harry saw Hermione open her mouth to rebuke Ron, but Neville got there first.

'That's not funny, Ron,' Neville reprimanded angrily. Harry was glad to see him display his newfound confidence. 'If you can't lead the first-years up to the Tower without giving them nightmares about Hogwarts, then we can do it. Right, Harry, Hermione?'

'Right, Neville,' Harry called back.

Ron sneered at Neville. 'I think these kids deserve a competent wizard and a Prefect to introduce them to Hogwarts on their first day, don't you?'

Neville flushed in anger. Harry and Hermione each grabbed one of his shoulders before he could snap back. 'He's not worth it, Neville,' Hermione whispered.

'I'll…I'll show him…' Neville growled, 'Competent wizard…like he is one…'

'He's just taking out his insecurities on other people,' Hermione said soothingly. 'You know you're more of a wizard than ten Rons combined.'

'Th-Thanks,' Neville stammered. 'I think we should…follow them…keep an eye on them…don't you think?'

Harry nodded. 'We'd better. I don't trust what Ron and Lavender would do to the firsties.'

Harry, Hermione, and Neville followed Ron and Lavender and the first-years up the stairways to Gryffindor Tower. The two 'Prefects' were so absorbed in each other (much to the disgust of the first-year students) that they completely neglected to notice when two of their charges nearly fell off one of the moving staircases. It was only Hermione's quick Protego Charm that kept them from falling to their deaths.

When the group reached the portrait hole, Ron and Lavender looked at each other, confused.

'Do you remember the password, Lav-Lav?' Ron asked.

Lavender shook her head. 'The Head Girl didn't give it to us…I think…'

'It's Mimbulus mibletonia!' Neville shouted crossly. 'Were you listening to the seventh-year Prefects at the end of the Feast?'

'Why do we need to listen when you can just tell us?' Lavender asked what she might have thought was an intelligent question. Harry resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands.

Hermione just shook her head and herded the first-years into the Common Room without a word to the 'Prefects'. Together, she, Neville, and Harry showed them up to their respective dormitories before returning to the Common Room to an irate Ron.

'What did you do that for?' Ron demanded.

'You mean do the job that you were supposed to do?' Hermione snapped.

'I'm a bloody Prefect!' Ron snarled, 'You're supposed to show me some respect, some deference to my authority!'

'Tell me what you've done to earn that respect,' Hermione spat. 'Did you notice when two of your charges almost fell down the moving staircases and died? Did you listen to the older Prefects for the password like you were supposed to? What about on the train? How am I supposed to respect a great bullying git?'

'You're not a Prefect! You don't tell me what to do!' Ron jabbed at his chest. 'I've got the badge! I was given the responsibility, not you!'

'Then do something to justify you being given that responsibility!'

'You always have to be superior, don't you?' Ron sneered. Harry's right hand shot towards his wand, but Ron did not seem to realize that he was making a lethal mistake. 'You always have to be right. Can't stand anyone else getting something over you, can you? Well, I got the badge, not you! You'll just have to accept that you don't always know best!'

Hermione's face flushed in anger. 'Fine,' she said in a frighteningly calm voice, schooling her features, 'I don't know how you got the badge or what you did to deserve it, but you have it. If you want to show some responsibility, then I won't say anything. If you don't, then neither I, nor Harry or Neville, will stand aside and let you endanger other students for a laugh.'

'A detention for all of you for defying a Prefect!' Ron shrieked.

Hermione just shrugged. She grabbed Harry's hand and marched him out of the Common Room and away from a Ron who was now more annoyed than ever.


The Dark Lord Voldemort stood outside the gates of Azkaban under a powerful Disillusionment Charm. He was waiting for his servant to return. The man was a dementor and lethifold expert from Papua. His foreign recruitment efforts had begun bearing fruit. There were not as many as he would have liked, but any gain was better than no gain, especially in light of his recent losses.

Besides, now that his return had officially been acknowledged, he could make his move against Azkaban and free his loyal followers any day without the danger of revealing his return. Plus, with the Ministry's efforts to remove the dementors from the prison, they were growing increasingly restless and – the Dark Lord hoped – ready to join him. Some good things, at least, had come out of the change of power.

Out in the distance, Voldemort saw the man walk towards him. 'Yes, Kaupa?' he hissed.

Kaupa knelt down at the Dark Lord's feet. 'My Lord, they grow restless,' he said in heavily accented English. 'Ministry hastily attempts to remove them from the prison. They are ready to accept new master.'

'When?'

'Tonight, if My Lord wish.'

'They will rebel tonight?'

'Yes, My Lord.'

'Your left forearm, Kaupa.'

Kaupa bared to Voldemort his left arm. Voldemort lifted his wand and touched its tip to the Dark Mark. Pops of apparition rent the air as Voldemort's followers apparated onto the dock – the one point on the island where apparition was permitted.

Voldemort turned to face them. There were about twenty in number, but only six, he knew, were Marked. The rest were mercenaries brought along by his trusted followers. It was those six who would be leading the assault.

'This is the day, my loyal followers,' Voldemort addressed. 'We will be freeing our compatriots from the yoke of the Ministry. The dementors have agreed to join us. Tonight, no one alive or dead will question our greatness.'

'My loyal follower Kaupa has ordered the dementors to Kiss the guards on my mark,' he continued, 'When he gives the all-clear, we will storm the prison, clean up any still alive, and free our comrades. The Ministry, in their incompetence and folly, does not use Aurors to guard Azkaban. This will be an easy fight. We will bring with us those who are willing to fight for our cause and kill those who are not. Are we ready?'

The Death Eaters nodded. 'Kaupa, begin.'

Kaupa raised his staff and waved it in the air, muttering incomprehensible spells in his native language, commanding the dementors to do his bidding. Suddenly, there was an outburst of noise from within the prison. The dementors were on the move.

Over ten minutes passed in silence except for the odd scream from within the walls of the prison. Finally, Kaupa lowered his staff, panting a little, and turned to Voldemort.

'Clear.'

Voldemort nodded. 'Attack!'

The Death Eaters surged through the wards. Now that there were no guards left to maintain them, they shattered with a single cast from Voldemort's wand. Voldemort slowly made his way forward behind his men.

'Check that all bodies are dead!' he ordered. 'Use the Killing Curse on every single one of them!'

Voldemort strode through the walls of the prison. The dementors all retreated to the side, giving him free access. Ahead, the Death Eaters and his mercenaries were firing spells at the bodies of the guards, killing their physical beings.

He made his way directly to the highest security cells. There were some of his most loyal followers. Rabastan, Rodolphus, Rookwood, and of course, Bellatrix.

He used a curse to destroy the heavy gate leading to the high security section. Those fools, Voldemort thought, presuming that they could stop the greatest wizard who ever lived with a simple iron gate. He let out a high, hissing laugh.

Voldemort looked around. His followers were almost unrecognizable. He blasted open every one of his cell doors. The incarcerated within woke up and looked at the intruder.

The first one out was Bellatrix. 'My Lord!' she gasped, kneeling at his feet and kissing the hem of his robes. 'You have returned! We waited years for this moment!'

'Yes, Bella,' Voldemort hissed. 'I have returned. And you, who remained loyal, went to Azkaban rather than betray me, will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams.'

Soon, other prisoners began pouring out of the cells. Rabastan and Rodolphus, of course, both knelt at their Lord's feet the moment they staggered out of their cells. Rookwood did the same moments later. Then came Crabbe, Goyle, and Avery. They would be punished for their treachery, for their years of betrayal, but Voldemort could save that for later. For now, he could only laugh in triumph at his victory, for he was now surrounded by his most loyal followers, and once more unstoppable.