AUTHOR'S NOTE: Again, I'm really sorry about any formatting errors you find. Chalk them up to inexperience. Remember that when you see a period (.) that seems really out of place in a sentence, it's probably supposed to be an ellipsis (...).

Midnight. It was the night the jailbreak was discovered. The students lay asleep in their beds—even Harry Potter, who tossed in the throes of a nightmare but could not wake. Neville Longbottom slumbered peacefully in the infirmary, a potion for dreamless sleep working its magic on him.

Hogwarts was still— but from the unrumpled bed beside Neville's a figure emerged, fully clothed and fully awake.

She glanced into the room off the infirmary, where a matronly nurse lay quietly, visions of Gilderoy Lockhart dancing in her head; then she stole out of the infirmary, down the cold quiet corridors of the school. Up one flight of stairs, and one more, past the library door, to a stone pedestal on which rested a statue of a fearsome firedrake. She rapped three times on the head of the firedrake. The stone eyelids rolled back and the cruel yellow eyes stared as she held out her right hand, on which gleamed a gold ring. With a grinding of gears, the wall and pedestal turned slowly, and when the firedrake closed its eyes, she stood on the other side of the wall, before a maze of corridors.

She scurried soundless down the twisting halls, stepping through paintings and tapestries, finally stopping in a hallway of paintings lit by sconces on the wall. She moved past all the paintings to the ninth wall sconce, which she grasped tightly and pulled down. The bricks vanished, leaving a low entryway. She ducked and entered.

Eight people were seated round a rectangular marble table. At the head of the table sat Albus Dumbledore, chief of the Order of the Phoenix. In the roaring fire in the fireplace was a disembodied head— Sirius Black. On the chandelier above their heads was perched Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, preening his scarlet feathers and crooning to himself, looking bored.

"You're late," Mundungus Fletcher said to the newcomer.

"Poppy Pomfrey took ages to fall asleep," said Arabella Figg, moving to the empty chair at the other end of the table from Dumbledore. "Am I the last one?"

"The other Phoenixes agreed to keep working," said Sirius. "They'll be filled in later."

"We've already begun the meeting," said Dumbledore. "Minerva has the floor."

Minerva McGonagall said, "The question is, what is to be done with the Dementors? Clearly they are no longer to be relied on by the Ministry."

Quentin Trimble, a stout, balding wizard who wrote Defence Against the Dark Arts books by day and whose logical genius had enabled him to win the British Wizard's Chess Championship sixteen years in a row, spoke up. "It would be stupid to let them continue as Azkaban guards, but equally stupid to release them because they'd go straight to Voldemort."

"Will they have to be destroyed?" Perdita Clemens asked.

"Fudge said he wanted them interrogated," said Fletch, "but there's no way to go about it. He forced to give it a go, but when he got near them forgets all the questions and runs to cower in a corner."

"I'd do it," said Bella Figg, "but frankly I don't want to. Let Fudge get himself out of this one. I still can't believe he doesn't make regular inspections. He knows Dementors are Dark creatures. They formed a natural alliance with Voldemort last time. What does he do all day at the Ministry, twiddle his thumbs?"

"Probably," said Trimble. "Thus it falls to us to solve the problem."

"Here's an idea," said the young Ministry Unspeakable Quintius Croaker, sitting forward. "Make Ministry Hit Wizards the Azkaban guards instead."

"And what of the Dementors?" asked Remus Lupin, glancing upwards as Fawkes yawned boredly.

"I don't know... Suppose we sequestered them off somewhere, far away from all people? They'd die off by themselves, and we'd have no more Dementors to worry about."

Dumbledore shook his head. "It would never work. You forget Voldemort. It's quite likely that he would find some magic allowing him to rescue the Dementors. Then not only would he have the Dementors, but they would be angry with the Ministry for attempting to extinguish their species."

"Besides, there's no way to transport them," said Sirius Black's head. "You don't know what it's like, being with them. Nothing matters but getting away from them, even in death. You wish for death."

"But we can't keep them there," said Lupin. "They're already allies of Voldemort."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "There's not much we can do, except perhaps bolster security on the island. Croaker's suggestion has some merit. Perhaps we could build a barrier round the island and place Hit Wizards and Aurors there. I think there was a spell for enlarging magical barricades, but I'll have to look it up. But even that is a paltry act. Voldemort could breach it in a moment."

"We're missing something," said Bella Figg. "Voldemort struck up a deal with the Dementors and made them his allies. Then he travelled to Azkaban and took out nine prisoners. But he didn't take the Dementors— why? He left them on Azkaban to guard the remaining prisoners. Why did he do that? As a personal favour to the Ministry? No. There is another reason."

"It's too drastic to remove two hundred Dementors and release several hundred prisoners," said Lupin. "There's no way he could keep that secret."

"Secret- yes," said Bella, leaning forward. "He wanted to keep it secret. He has the upper hand, but he doesn't want anyone to know: not the Ministry, not us, not the magical community. Which brings us to the ultimate question: what is his next step? And the answer is, to make a grand re-entrance. He could have released all the Dementors and taken them away with him, but he didn't, because he doesn't need them. He only took his Death Eaters, whom he did need, because they're his tools. You see it now? Cracking Azkaban was nothing to him. He's saving his powers for his real goal."

"Which is?" said Trimble.

"Killing Harry Potter," said Bella. "It's all he wants now. All those attacks on Potter during the summer- clumsy attempts by his less brilliant minions. They only served to tell us Voldemort has made it clear that he wants to kill Potter. It's only a matter of time before he breaches Hogwarts and comes after the boy himself."

"Why Potter?" asked Perdita. "Why not someone like Dumbledore, the more obvious target for being Voldemort's enemy? I don't understand."

"You wouldn't understand, you haven't been with Potter as long as I have," said Bella. "Years of watching the boy have given me a sixth sense for what he feels, what he is. And you know he's part of Voldemort, and vice versa. You all know that's what happened when the curse backfired. So when I know what Potter feels, I also know what Voldemort feels. Potter's scar hurts when Voldemort is feeling particularly murderous, and lately it's been hurting him a lot. When he was living at my house for a month this summer I could hear him tossing and turning from the horrible nightmares he got. I had to drug him so he could sleep."

Sirius' eyes were misty. "I didn't know it was so bad."

"The point is, Voldemort wants him dead. Potter feels it, but he doesn't know how obsessed Voldemort is. Every time he wanted to come back, Potter thwarted him. Even when he got his body back and had Potter cornered, the boy escaped. I'm willing to bet my life that Voldemort's first official goal is to kill Potter— himself, if possible. Finally he will have conquered the boy wonder, the hero of the global magical community. Then he will hold up the murder to the world at large so they will know he is back and more powerful than ever."

"Then you really think he will come here?" Lupin asked.

"Minerva spotted Peter Pettigrew in the Three Broomsticks last month, didn't she?" said Bella. "He got away before we could nab him- but if he's here, that means Voldemort must be close too."

"But where?" asked Sirius. "Where is he living?"

"Here is a question one of us should be able to answer, at least," said Fletch, turning to the last member of the party, who wore no gold ring and had been silent the entire meeting. "Snape, where is Voldemort?"

"I don't know," said Severus Snape tightly. "They are not telling me."

"You don't know? You can't even guess?" pressed Fletch, clearly skeptical.

"I told you I don't know!" snapped Snape. "I'm no longer privy to information like this! If I was, I would not be here with you! I do NOT know where he is!"

There was a silence. Snape put his face in his hands.

"Fletch..." said Perdita softly, putting a hand on his arm.

"Sorry," Fletch said gruffly to Snape, but did not sound like he meant it.

Indeed almost everyone doubted Snape's statement of ignorance. Only Perdita Clemens, who did not like to judge people she did not know, Dumbledore, who was prepared to to trust Snape no matter what, and Bella Figg, who thought she knew Snape inside and out, believed him.

But only two of the skeptics had rational reasons beyond the knowledge of his Death Eater past: Remus Lupin, who had heard Snape lie at the Death Eater meeting in the summer, and suspected he might be seeing some of the same acting skills; and Snape himself, who knew for certain that he was lying. He knew exactly where Voldemort was. But he also knew Dumbledore would believe him and not press the issue.

"We'll have to stay alert," Dumbledore said now. "Perdita and Fletch will remain in Hogsmeade. Croaker can keep an eye on the Ministry in London, since no one questions the movements of the Department of Mysteries. Trimble will keep an eye out in Ireland. Lupin, Sirius, you will have to keep moving through Britain, looking for Death Eater activity, which may lead us to Voldemort. Severus, Minerva, Bella and I have to stay here, of course, but we will put extra security on Harry Potter, if possible."

Fletch and Bella exchanged nervous glances. "And on you, Albus," said Fletch.

Dumbledore looked mildly surprised. "Why me?"

"Albus, don't pretend you think Harry is Voldemort's only enemy," said Sirius. "Everyone knows you're the only one whom he ever considered real opposition."

"Harry is Voldemort's first goal, but you're sure to be next," Bella said.

Dumbledore looked round the table of anxious faces. Only one person was not looking at him. Severus Snape glowered silently at the tabletop. He alone knew Lord Voldemort well enough to reasonably confirm the others' suspicions. Harry Potter's murder was merely a symbolic gesture that Voldemort wanted to achieve to prove to himself he was the better wizard, though his personal obsession with the boy was also a factor; but eliminating Dumbledore would be a necessary step on the way to world domination. Snape didn't know what he was going to do about it.

"Just promise you'll stay here at Hogwarts, where it's safe," pleaded Perdita Clemens.

Dumbledore shrugged. "If you all feel this way... I will remain at Hogwarts as long as Lord Voldemort is at large."

The creature on the chandelier stopped crooning and screeched, releasing a giant ball of flame from its beak. Fawkes swooped down from the chandelier, and landed heavily on Dumbledore's shoulder. He pecked the wizard's ear affectionately.

"Meeting adjourned," said Dumbledore.