Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters. They belong to Joanne Kathleen Rowling, who possesses a great mind.

Author's note: I have not received a review yet, even though the first chapter was extra long, but I shall not give up! Second chappy up, guys. Give me at least one review!

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Chapter 1

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An Attack with a Bang

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Headquarters of the Ministry of Magic, England

A short and stout man barged in between a group of black robed wizards, looking quite out of breath. "Out of my way, please! Excuse me, Shacklebolt! Miss Peters, a bit of space cannot be grudged! Ah, you must be new, otherwise I'd know you, but please, excuse me!"

"Of course, Minister." murmured the robed wizards, creating a way for the Minister of Magic and one of the most influential people in existence, Cornelius Fudge. Wiping some sweat from his red face, the Minister placed his bowler hat upon his head and advanced to a door marked 'Operations Room'.

He made a point of dusting off his robes, and then entered in what he thought was a very grand manner.

Sitting around a long table were a large number of witches and wizards, all in the black robes with a badge pinned primly on the chest area. But there was one unexpected visitor...

"Ah, Good morning, Cornelius. I trust you have had a pleasant day so far?" said Albus Dumbledore happily.

"My day has been perfectly peachy, thank you!" said Fudge hotly. "Better if your wonder boy Harry Potter had not decided on making the wizarding world think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back!"

"Cornelius, I trust Harry. I have known him for four years, and he has proved unwaveringly brave, courageous and clever, and as he knows that his parents have died protecting him from Voldemort, the very wizard he is supposed to have made up, I do not expect him to make anything up." said Dumbledore calmly, while the other wizards in the crowded room looked dumbstruck as to the audacity of the Headmaster of Hogwarts to address the Minister like he had.

Fudge looked about to answer and then shut his jaw, twiddling with his bowler hat, his constant companion. "But, Albus, do you actually expect me to believe that You-Know-Who is back? After all these years, when all his followers have been dormant, I don't expect them to return when a...tattoo on their hands starts to glow and heat up! There is no proof, Albus! Give me proof!"

"Harry Potter is proof, Cornelius. And if the Death Eaters did not return to Voldemort, they, along with their families would be cruelly murdered without a second thought." Dumbledore explained patiently.

"That does not fall under my definition of proof, Dumbledore! Harry Potter is probably slightly mentally deranged! Look at the year before the Triwizard Tournament! Albus...he blew up his aunt!" Fudge said, his face growing redder.

"That was pure accident, Cornelius. A wizard of his power, when he loses control of his magic, well, the results can be drastic. But I understand that event was successfully covered by your Ministry. So why bring up past matters now, Cornelius?"

"Accident? Albus if you knew...if you knew how many memory changes we had to make on the Muggles that came to check what the noise was about...his aunt was literally in pieces when we arrived, Albus! Due to the record of lies and troubles caused to the Ministry by Harry Potter, I absolutely refuse to believe in...In You-Know-Who rising from the dead!"

"Ah, so that is what this is about...Cornelius, you just don't want to admit it. If the wizarding world finds out that the Ministry accepts Voldemort's comeback, there will be widespread panic. You can't deal with that, can you?" Dumbledore said quietly. "You have grown fond of power, Cornelius. You have changed since when you were elected Minister."

The Headmaster drew himself up to his full height, turned and walked to the door.

Just before he went out, however, he turned and looked penetratingly at the Minister of Magic. "Oh, and Cornelius? If you didn't believe in Lord Voldemort's return, then why did you call this meeting to organize an Auror attack of near half force on the Albanian forest, where you believe there was a sighting of seven Death Eaters mentioned in Harry's account? Let me tell you, Cornelius: there is no way that you will be able to suppress this movement so easily. Even your full force Auror attack will not be enough. For the Death Eaters, the price of failure is extreme pain, or death at the hands of a man who will have no qualms about doing it, and indeed, doing more than that.

Cornelius Fudge paled visibly at the slightly scathing words of the Headmaster. He turned to look at the robed wizards in the room. Several of them were taking pains to try not meeting his gaze.

Dumbledore exited the room, and only then did Fudge regain his composure.

"Let us get back to the issue at hand, gentlemen, and women." said Fudge. This attack would succeed, he was sure of it. And thus, the wizarding world would be rid of a menace that they didn't even know about.

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Harry Potter screamed out and he dropped to his knees. At about the same time, a huge shout was heard from below the house. Harry clutched his throbbing scar. Just as he was pulling himself back together and about to stand up, his room door burst open, with his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia standing in the doorway. His uncle's face was purple. That was definitely not a good sign. His aunt looked as though she was doing all in her power to try hold onto her husband and stop him from beating his nephew to a pulp.

"I have had enough of this, you understand! Screaming every night since he returned from...his dratted school! I tell you, boy, next time you do this, you will never return to your lot!" screamed his uncle, now becoming an interesting shade of red and purple.

"Wuz goin' on, dad?" said Dudley Dursley groggily, Harry's huge cousin who had 'graciously' allowed Harry to have his old room and clothes.

"Nothing, Duddykins, darling. Go back to sleep. Come on, Vernon." said Aunt Petunia, dragging her husband away.

Harry sighed, got to his feet and locked his door. He sank back onto his bed. It was not the first time that his scar had hurt that summer. He had grown used to it. But this time it was just a bit quicker than he had expected. He had weathered a lot of pain the past few years, but his scar hurting was equally mental as was it physical.

He tried his best to will himself a dreamless sleep, and then shut his eyes wearily.

And snapped them open quickly. What was that emotion he had felt? It was not his, which he was sure of. He was feeling a bit angry at the Dursleys. But the thought that came to his head was laughter, and a lot of happiness at something he didn't know.

He turned on his side, shrugging. Where was Hermione when you need her? The real answer came to his head suddenly that he had to stifle a laugh. He certainly didn't want his uncle start feeding him through the doggy door that he had fitted to his normal door the year before last. In Amsterdam, of course.

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"Mommmmmm! Dadddddddd! You don't know how happy I am to see you! Ginny, even though you're a nasty brat, you're the most beautiful sight I've seen in two months!" said a scratched-all-over Ronald Weasley to his surprised parents and little sister, who had come directly from the Transport Ministry Office to pick him up from his Great Auntie Muriel's house.

"Oh, really, Ron! Try acting your age! It can't have been that bad!" said his mother chidingly.

"I believe it was just that bad, Molly. Look at his face. I daresay Aunt Muriel made you attempt rid her garden of gnomes and her house of doxys and then you weren't able to sleep because of a murderous old goblin that lived above you room, Ron?" asked Mr. Weasley, a slight trace of a grin on his face.

Ron gaped at his father. Was he a psychic, or what?

"No, I'm not a psychic nor am I a mind reader. I just happen to know that because my dad left me here for a month before my third year because he had to go to the Quidditch World Cup with my mother. He was a hopeless romantic. He said he wanted to spend quality time with my mom, so he promised to take me to the next World Cup. But, of course, that was impossible then. A certain gentleman who went by the name of Zarono decided to take over the wizarding world at that time. He was the 11th Dark Wizard that the wizarding world had seen. You-Know-Who was the 13th. Quite a coincidence. 13 and 7 are the most magical numbers ever." Mr. Weasley said, his grin replaced by a grimace at the last words. "So, suffice to say, I saw the Quidditch World Cup for the first time in my life last year."

Ron nodded, and then trudged happily off towards his dad's new car: a brand new Jaguar S-Type, a result of a huge pay raise coupled with the little he had been saving already for a second hand Cadillac. The pay raise had come with a promotion: his dad was now the Head of the Department of Muggle Co-operation. An important job these days, Ron thought. At least it warranted the fancy car. Ron loved the sleek automobile. He spent an hour everyday washing the vehicle from top to bottom till he could see his freckled face reflected in the shining silver bonnet. Ron sighed contentedly. Just three weeks to September the First! He listened half-heartedly to Ginny talk about their visit to the Leaning Tower of Pisaat this point, Ron asked his mom whether there was a pizzeria next to the place, only to be bonked on his head by his hyper active sister telling him to not be silly..

The Jag pulled up at the Burrow, which, even when the Ministry gave him the choice, Mr. Weasley refused to have the house pulled down and get a bigger one erected instead. The entire family agreed heartily on that, except perhaps Percy, who was a wee bit put off at having to remain at the cramped house.

Percy had also got a promotion. He was now the Junior Assistant to the Minister and his second, Mrs. Dolores Umbridge. He had, as he said, been asked by the Minister to move into a posh flat nearly next door to the office, but he had rejected saying that he might miss them. Mrs. Weasley was pleased at that. However, Fred had muttered softly to his brothers and sister that Percy was in reality scared of the dark, as Fred had found out when he locked him in his bedroom at night with the lights turned off. When Fred returned, Percy was crying and had wet his pants. Fred had made Percy promise not to rat him out to Mrs. Weasley, if he intended to keep his secret a secret.

But then again, this is Fred we're talking about. His reason for divulging the secret was: Percy's a prat, anyway. That explains everything.

Ron was on cloud nine as he finally relaxed. After his dad's account of the harrowing experience at Aunt Muriel's, his mom had given him the 'fuss treatment' as George said it. Ah, this was the life.

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Forest, Albania

A group of robed wizards were moving in on an area which was supposed to be where Voldemort's base was supposed to be. They were Aurors, Dark wizard police, you can say. They were at half-strength. They were told of their mission in secret by the Minister of Magic and their head, Cornelius Fudge of their mission and were warned to convey the message to none else.

Their leader was an old veteran named Petersen, Order of Merlin, Second Class. He led his team very well, which was why he had been chosen.

The group was now on the verge of a clearing. There was no news of the scouts that had been sent out. Probably got lost, many of them thought.

The detachment arrived on the clearing. There was a roaring fire, and a lot of Death Eaters, as everyone knew the hooded wizards to be.

A sudden panic broke upon Petersen. He turned around. Beyond his group, more and more Death Eaters were approaching. The news was the same for all sides. Petersen swallowed.

They were surrounded.

Author's note: Thus the plot begins to unfold! Review, please! I promise to update regularly! The title is not proved for now, but it will be in the next chapter, or the one after that latest. Hermione's visit to Amsterdam is still shrouded in secret. You won't find out about that till Hogwarts reopens on September the First.

Peace.