Disclaimer: I'm not J.K Rowling, I own nothing. Now let's get on with it!

Chapter five: The Return of the Dark Lord

One month past. It was, under the circumstances a fairly uneventful June for the ministry. That is until one night on June 10th.

The signal rang out that evening. Waking me from a sound sleep.

'All Ministry employees are to report to the ministry of magic at once'

I jumped up from my bed and immediately threw on my work robes. I couldn't guess what could cause the alarm. What ever it was it could only be an emergency of the gravest nature. We had seen many fiasco's this year alone, and none of them had warranted a call for all ministry employees, and in my time at the ministry, I had never heard a call summoning us in the middle of the night.

Of course, I remembered, very vaguely, of my father receiving such alarms. But those had only been in the days of You-know-who. Nothing of equal magnitude could have happened now. You-Know- Who was dead. What else could possibly be wrong?

I placed my clearance badge in the pocket of my robes and apparated as quickly as I possibly could to the atrium. Once I appeared there, I noticed the immediate change. The statue of magical brethren, which had once stood high in the middle of the corridor now lay in ruins. Slices of marble littered the tile ground surrounding the fountain which had stood in that same spot for over 30 years. I thought to myself, what could possibly have ruined such a structure? As I stood by the fountain, awe struck, ministry employees were rushing by me. The more senior members shouting orders to the lower brackets. Secretaries and junior members were speaking to each other in whispers.

'What happened?' 'Damned if I know.' 'Where's Fudge?'

I caught snippets of such phrases being uttered more and more poured slowly into the atrium. I had to admit these questions were in the forefront of my mind, even if I did not voice them. For, it occurred to me once the shock of the fountain had subsided, that I had not seen the minister since I arrived. Surely the minister would be the first to arrive in the ministry if there was a crisis. Where was he?

This question was quickly answered when there was a creak of a large door and the minister stepped out from his office into the atrium, followed closely by his senior staff, and to my utter surprise: Dumbledore

All of them walked briskly across the atrium, not looking at any one. They reached a tile just before the fountain. Dumbledore turned and said something to Fudge. Though I strained my ears to hear their conversation, I could not make out the words above the shouts that now echoed in the atrium.

It was not long before Dummbledore walked slowly to one of the fireplaces along the wall, and was lost in a sea of emerald green flames.

Fudge turned from the fire, he looked frazzled. Even more so know then he had after the hearing for proposition 113 the month before. He was placing his hand across his forehead once more and looking fixedly at the tiles on the floor. He began to walk closer to the fountain. His senior staff followed loyally in his footsteps. The noise had subsided somewhat. I could now hear what they were saying.

'Gather the rest of the Wizengammot, meet in court room 10 in fifteen minuets.' They had reached the fountain now.

'Weasly. Come with me.' Fudge said passing me with out lifting his eyes from the floor. I followed quickly in his wake through the double doors, which led to the minister's private office.

'I will need you to take down a statement to be released to the press tomorrow evening.' Said fudge as we entered his office. He indicated a chair next to his desk with a quill, ink and parchment already set out.

'Yes sir.' I said quickly. I still had very little light as to what had happened, but I dared not ask until I was told. I had learned early in my career that it is best never to question authority. After all, if I did, I would no doubt suffer the same fate as my father had I questioned the ministry's stance on You Know Who.

I sat down at the desk and took up the quill.

'It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself lord-' Here fudge paused 'Oh, just put you know who.' Fudge said quickly with an impatient wave of his hand. He stared out of his window, his back facing the desk. My fingers shook as they struggled to hold the quill steady. It was something to do with You Know Who. But how could it be? He was dead.

'Is alive, and among us again.' My mouth fell. The words reached my paper before I dared to believe them.

'But sir-' I said in a moment of boldness. I needed answers and suddenly I didn't care how I got them. It wasn't true it couldn't be.

'We urge the magical population to remain vigilant.' Fudge continued as if I had never spoken. I continued to write, not daring to say more.

'The ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary home and personal defense that will be delivered free to all wizarding households within the coming month.'

I scribbled as quickly as I could. He was back. The minister would not lie, he couldn't. But did this mean that Dumbledore, my parents, Harry Potter had been right the entire time?

'Of course this will be subject to change, once we learn for certain the position of the dementors.' Fudge said once he had heard my quill stop.

'But sir, if he- if you know who is back, does this mean that-' '-Were not certain of anything yet, Weasly. He is back and that's enough for us to be getting on with at the moment with out bringing everything else into it.'

'Yes, sir' I said reluctantly. Questions were still circling through my brain, unanswered.

'And, Weasly.' Said Fudge hesitantly as he moved from the window to a cabinet which he opened with a flick of his wand.

'I will need you to take this potion to Charad street as soon as possible.' He took out a steaming cauldron and handed it to me.

'In fact go now if possible.' He moved toward the door.

'But, sir. The Wizengammot hearing. What will happen if I-'

'My boy, you have not missed a days work since you were appointed. I dare say I owe you at least one sick day.'

I opened my mouth once more to protest, but before I could say another word, Fudge had left the office shutting the door behind him.

I stood on the carpet, numb. It was as if the entire world was passing me by in a frenzy. I heard the shuffles of employees outside the door. Hurrying to their respected offices, whispering conversations, busying themselves so that some how, some way they would forget the horrible truth. The truth that they, that the minister, that all of us had been denying for the past year.

We would not admit it even to ourselves, but it was true none the less. Dumbledore, my parents, Harry Potter, had been right. And, though I wished with the might of a thousand soldiers, there was no magic in the world that could take me back to the blissful ignorance I had known before. The dark lord had returned.