Chapitre 62: Chapter 28: Darkness Strikes
The near silence in the Great Hall was Harry's first clue that something huge had happened, the early-edition newspaper waiting for him at his normal seat (with Grace perched on top of it so that no-one else could take it) was his second.
"Thanks, Grace." Harry said to his owl as he reached for the rolled-up paper and Grace gave a soft churr of acknowledgement before launching herself into the air and landing on Harry's shoulder, using her beak to try and tame his eternally-messy hair. Harry unrolled the paper, then stared at the headline.
Azkaban Breakout!
By Rita Skeeter
Yesterday, the impossible happened and the high-security prison
island Azkaban was attacked by unknown forces. The attackers were
not detected on their approach and according to the lone survivor, the
attackers were clad in hooded cloaks and masks identical to the defunct
terrorist group known as the Death Eaters, those who had followed the
Dark Lord Who Must Not Be Named over a decade ago.
According to the survivor (whose name is withheld for security reasons),
the attackers approached the main gate and, as they reached it, a man
currently believed to be Peter Pettigrew opened it from the inside, having
managed to wriggle through a small gap in the form of a brown rat.
Readers will remember that Peter Pettigrew is a fugitive who is currently
wanted by the DMLE on a number of charges, including murdering a dozen
Muggles and being an unregistered Animagus with the form of a rat.
The survivor managed to escape the attack by means of being an Animagus
himself and witnessed the attackers opening the cells in the High-Security
wing, releasing most of the prisoners and murdering those who refused to
join them and bow to their leader. Notable escapees include the Lestranges
who were imprisoned for their torture of Lord Longbottom and his wife after
the defeat of He Who Must Not Be Named. In addition, the Dementors have
also departed from Azkaban, raising the possibility that this truly is the Dark
Lord returned since the last time the Dementors abandoned their posts, it was
to serve under He Who Must Not Be Named.
The Ministry Of Magic has placed this news under a blackout, refusing to give
any warnings that some of the most deadly and vicious criminals alive are now
free once more, able to murder, rape and terrorise their way through our society.
When pressed for information, the Ministry not only refused to comment, they
threatened to have this reporter Kissed should the story be published…
.
Rita Skeeter Vanishes
By Melanie Flitterwicket
The award-winning reporter and columnist Rita Skeeter has gone into hiding after
an attempt on her life believed to be at the command of the Ministry of Magic. No
less than sixDementors swooped down on her home in York, only to discover that the
intrepid reporter had predicted the lethal raid and departed before she could be silenced.
Deprived of their original target, the Dementers Kissed over a dozen Muggles
before vanishing. The Ministry has responded to this by issuing a warrant for Rita
Skeeter's arrest on the charges of multiple murder, charges which bear quite a
remarkable resemblence to the charges used to falsely imprison Lord Black for
over a decade…
.
"Oh hell." Harry whispered to himself. "This is not good."
Grabbing a couple of pieces of bread and some sausages, he made a quick sandwich, then rose from the bench. Grace gave an inquisitive noise.
"I need to talk to Jor-El." He explained quietly. "If he doesn't know this, he should. And I hope to hell that Padfoot and Moony haven't decided to go out today. Sirius needs to know about this if he doesn't already."
Grace remained on Harry's shoulder as he exited the hall.
.
.
Voldemort walked into the dining room of Riddle Manor and ignored his bowing followers until he reached the dais and throne that he had ordered installed. Seating himself (while adjusting his cape in a way that resembled a set of wings), he leaned back and raised one hand.
"You may rise, my followers." He said softly, his voice pitched just right to carry across the large hall. With a rustling of cloaks and robes, the assembled figures rose from their knees and stood before him, awaiting his commands. With another cloak-flick (one of the few useful reflexes of the original owner of his body that Voldemort had elected to retain), the Dark Lord stood, the three-stepped dais raising him so that he seemed to tower over the assembly.
"My followers!" he began, his voice echoing in the hall. "Eleven years ago, I fell. I shed my mortal coil due to a mother's sacrifice and the so-called Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter!
"And yet, I stand here before you today, restored once more to my prime thanks to the steps I had taken before my unfortunate encounter!
"Death itself cannot hold me! I fear it not, for even should I fall again, I will return! So sayeth Lord Voldemort!"
The rafters seemed to shake as the assembled Death Eaters cheered and yelled his praises while he stood there, arms uplifted in victory, drinking in their worship like it was a fine wine. Finally he lowered his hands and the noise decreased as if he was casting a spell.
"I know many of you are concerned as to why I did not send out the call as soon as I had returned." He stated. "However, I had reason to do so. There were those who had betrayed me, like Igor Karkaroff who sought to hide from me in Durmstrang. He no longer numbers among the living, let all take heed of his fate.
"There were many plans I had to put into motion before those who would oppose me could react to my return. You may have heard rumors of a Prophecy delivered shortly before my… unexpected demise. I had heard only the first two lines before that night but since I returned, I have listened to the whole Prophecy in the Hall of Prophecy itself as Macnair can confirm, since it was he who was by my side that fine day."
Walden Macnair nodded proudly, straightening up from his habitual half-slouch as he silently exulted in the respect that he was being given.
"My wand was returned to me by the one who had safeguarded it in anticipation of my return and although his success in having one of my foes imprisoned in Azkaban and thus unable to aid Potter has recently been reversed, I am still impressed by his actions as well as the many tasks he has carried out for me since without hesitation or complaint. As such, I hereby declare Peter Pettigrew to no longer be known by his old title of Wormtail but instead as Inquisitor, my personal spy and messenger when security and secrecy are of utmost importance."
Pettigrew seemed to swell with pride and for a mere moment, his robes almost didn't make him look like a masked ambulatory beanbag.
"My right hand man has aided me greatly, informing me of all the things over the last decade which I needed to know and gathering more wealth ready to use in re-launching our glorious crusade! Lucius Malfoy, know that you are now, in front of all those here, confirmed as my trusted lieutenant and the one who will lead whenever I am absent."
"You are too kind, My Lord." Lucius murmured as he bowed deeply.
"And those of you who have rejoined me after your years in Azkaban, I greet you once more into our ranks with open arms. Once you have healed from your experiences and regained your former strength, you shall become as my wand… wielded against our enemies, those who seek to overturn all that is good and true about our world in favor of bleeding-heart liberalism and whinging cries about how the lowliest mudblood is somehow equal to the cream of society who stand here before me!
"I ask you now, will you stride forward with me to bring order to the Wizarding World? To secure the futures of your children and their children beyond them? Will you help me in creating a new world for them where they will be seen and respected for being members of the Pure, the elite, the truebloods?
"Are you with me?"
If not for the carefully-applied silencing charms woven into the Wards surrounding Riddle Manor, the cheers would have been heard in the nearby village.
As it was, they did not reach even the shed in the formal gardens where the cooling body of the aged gardener lay, having been slain that morning by a flash of green light that morning fired from the wand of the man who had purchased the mansion.
.
.
Lord Sirius Black strode into the Wizengamot, his normally-jovial expression in abeyance. Beside him, Harry strode in freshly-made traditional Formal Robes in the purple of the Wizengamot, the Potter Crest worked onto his chest in gold thread. aking his way into the Hall, he glanced at Sirius, who nodded, then they parted ways, making their separate ways to the Seats that they were able to claim, Harry due to the Order of Merlin he had been awarded as a toddler and Sirius because the Black Family had held a seat since time immemorial (even though the Malfoys had held it during his imprisonment). Sitting down, they looked across at each other.
"Can you hear me, pup?" Sirius' voice came through Harry's earpiece.
"I can." Harry subvocalised, letting the tiny microphone set in his collar pick up his words and send them to Sirius' earbud.
"Pup, Pad,Wolf here, comms test confirmed." Remus Lupin said from the library of The Pottery where he was sat at a special desk which had holographic screen projectors, allowing him to pull up whatever documents he wanted from Jor-El's archives. After discovering what Jor-El could do, Sirius had arranged to have Jor-El scan the entirety of the Black Library and installed a remote console in Grimnauld Place to allow Jor-El to communicate in real-time as well as augment Grimnauld's wards. For this meeting, though, Remus was acting as their real-time researcher and reference provider with Jor-El's aid. "I've got good imagery from your collar-cameras too. Incredible resolution, I can see almost every one of your flyaway hairs, Harry."
Harry managed not to snort at the reference to his eternally untamable hair.
"Here comes Fudge." Sirius noted. "He looks like he hasn't had any sleep."
Harry twitched as he managed not to nod in agreement. Fudge's face was lined and his eyes boasted bags that could almost have been used for shopping. His normal strut had been replaced with a heavy, listless tread while his shoulders slumped as if he had a troll hanging from each arm. Even his green bowler somehow appeared slightly deflated.
Scuttling along beside Fudge was Dolores Umbridge. Unlike her boss, she appeared to be energetic and eager, a folder tucked under her arm with its brown coloration clashing with her pink outfit. As he took his seat behind his desk, Albus Dumbledore tapped a small bell with his wand, producing a surprisingly loud chime.
"The emergency session of the Wizengamot has begun. Minister, if you would be so kind?"
Fudge flinched as everyone looked at him. "Erm… Azkaban's lost a couple of its prisoners?"
"A couple?" Augusta Longbottom rose majestically to her feet, her eyes almost aflame with rage. "A couple? Try all of them!"
"Some didn't escape…" Fudge whined before cowering under Augusta's piercing glare.
"Only because they were killed for not wanting to become Death Eaters!" Augusta snarled.
"They weren't Death Eaters!" Fudge shouted, his face purpling with anger born of panic. "You Know Who is dead! The Death Eaters are no more and most of them were under the Imperious anyway!"
Augusta opened her mouth to shoot a reply back, but Sirius rose from his chair, one hand raised in a sign for her to stop.
"Shouting will not help." He stated. "Let us look at the facts. Peter Pettigrew has helped to perform a prison break at Azkaban. Pettigrew was one of the Dark Lord's most prized lieutenants, so who is to say he hasn't simply found someone able to pretend to be the Dark Lord returned? With a convincing-enough puppet and a couple of allies to cover him, Pettigrew could get the Death Eaters reformed and dancing to his tune."
"Jor-El is trying to track down Riddle, but things like Floo and Apparition are making it difficult. If we can convince people that He isn't truly back, they won't panic unless he publicly reveals himself and right now, I think he's trying to stay under the radar otherwise he'd have left a message at Azkaban." Remus sent to Harry. "Play along."
As Sirius sat down, Harry rose to his feet and everyone looked at him.
"I agree with my godfather… although this probably doesn't surprise most of you." He said, earning a ripple of relieved laughter. "If Mouldyshorts has returned, surely his first act would be to try and strike at me since I was the one who took him down years ago? I haven't seen any sign of him, so it's very likely that it's just people playing on His reputation to panic everyone. I say we put the blame on Pettigrew where it belongs and increase the Auror budget so that they can bring this traitor to the Wizarding World to justice! I won't let that rat panic me… We won't let that rat panic us! Right?"
Virtually every single member of the Wizengamot roared in approval and Fudge relaxed behind his desk.
"I move that we increase the Auror's budget to allow them to counter the schemes of that cowardly rat and his minions!" Harry continued at Remus' urging. "All agreed?"
Once again, the Wizengamot's approval was obvious and Harry gave Fudge a nod of acknowledgement.
"Minister, do you agree?"
"Wha… I… I agree. Absolutely." Fudge nodded, grabbing at the opportunity offered. "I'll have Madam Bones herself lead the hunt for Pettigrew!"
"She'll need permission to take whatever actions she needs without us micromanaging her if we want this threat to be ended." Harry prompted and Fudge nodded again.
"She'll have it! She'll have it!"
Harry sat down, hiding his smile of triumph and Sirius gave him a proud nod.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone