"I can't believe it… another war is about to begin."
In the invisible Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin stared in disbelief at that morning's issue of The Daily Prophet.
"In a brief statement on the night of July 13th, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned to the country and resumed activity.
'It is with the deepest regret that I must confirm that the wizard who once called himself the Dark Lord—Voldemort—has risen again and walks among us. I believe that over the past month or so, many of you have noticed the increasing frequency of Death Eater movements,' Fudge said.
'Yesterday, Voldemort led his followers to attack Azkaban, and by some unknown means destroyed every single Dementor. The Death Eaters imprisoned for life have now been released and once again serve him as his loyal minions.'
'We urge all members of the wizarding community to remain vigilant. The Ministry of Magic is publishing a Household and Personal Defense Guide, which will be distributed free to every wizarding family next month.
Meanwhile, thanks to the assistance of Mr. Charles Gold and his Pokémon, the Aurors have maintained a decisive advantage in every encounter with the Death Eaters.
'This gives us full confidence that we can prevail in this war. Furthermore, after resolving a series of unfounded international accusations, Mr. Gold has announced that he will formally take part in the campaign against Voldemort—and on July 31st, he will officially declare war on the so-called Dark Lord and his followers!'"
The article went on to describe how the Minister's announcement had eased the fear and anxiety gripping the wizarding world. For more than two weeks, the Ministry's Aurors had been consistently repelling Death Eater attacks, restoring hope among the populace.
"We have also received comment from Albus Dumbledore," the paper continued. "In the early days of the Dark Lord's return, Dumbledore stated that he was growing old and might no longer be able to confront Voldemort himself. However, he now publicly declares: 'Charles Gold is another wizard capable of standing against the Dark Lord.'"
There were even a few lines about Harry Potter, but since the boy was now home for the holidays on Privet Drive, it seemed this matter had little to do with him—for the moment.
Sirius lowered the paper with a frown."Moony, do you think Dumbledore's really getting old?"
"Of course not. Why would you ask that?" Remus sipped calmly from his coffee mug, looking tired and worn but still exuding quiet grace.
"But Voldemort's come back, and he hasn't done anything—no public stand, no re-forming the Order of the Phoenix." Sirius sounded almost disappointed. He had clearly hoped to see the Order rise again and join the fight against the Dark Lord, just like they had more than a decade ago.
"It shows he has faith in the Ministry—and in Mr. Charles Gold," Remus replied evenly. "And truthfully, they're doing a good job. Thanks to those Pokémon, hardly anyone has died at the hands of Death Eaters. I've even heard that Mr. Gold gave Fudge a great green bird that can foresee the future. Almost every Death Eater operation has been exposed before it began."
"Just a bunch of rabble," Sirius scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "We all know who the real threat is. I heard Gold actually lost to Voldemort when he first returned?"
"There were rumors," Remus admitted. "Apparently the Dark Lord got hold of a new wand—one that makes his magic stronger than ever. They say he even killed the Dementors."
The sheer power Voldemort now wielded was something everyone who had faced him could sense. That wand pulsed with a dreadful energy that made the soul tremble.
"Still," Remus went on, "I wouldn't worry too much. Gold commands a powerful team of Pokémon himself. If things truly go wrong, Dumbledore won't stand idle. And if the two of them join forces… even the Dark Lord wouldn't stand a chance."
He looked up. "By the way, when will Harry come over?"
"Dumbledore said he has to stay on Privet Drive for at least a month. Looks like we won't get to throw him a birthday party."
"What if we visit him early?"
"Brilliant idea!" Sirius grinned, leaping to his feet—the first spark of excitement he'd shown all morning.
"These ignorant fools dare to declare war on us?!"
Bellatrix Lestrange's laughter rang shrill and mad through the Malfoy Manor hall. Her complexion had improved somewhat since her release, but her eyes still gleamed with a deranged fury—like a witch long past sanity.
The manor's dining hall was crowded with Death Eaters, many of them freshly freed from Azkaban not long ago—by none other than Charles Gold himself.
Truth be told, Charles could easily have incinerated them all in magical flame. But this was war—and war, by its nature, demanded blood. These wretches would die on the battlefield where they belonged.
"My Lord," drawled Amycus Carrow, bowing low, "I see no reason to meet them head-on. Cornelius Fudge and that… Charles Gold? Honestly, I've never even heard of the man! Why not strike first? Let's attack the Ministry itself—show those pathetic fools what becomes of their so-called protectors!"
"Nobodies…?" Severus Snape, seated at Voldemort's left hand, gave a quiet, cutting laugh. His tone carried all the venom of mockery.
As Dumbledore had arranged, Snape had indeed answered the Dark Lord's summons. But behind the scenes, he had already been in contact with both Charles Gold and Lucius Malfoy.
Since Charles had exposed Peter Pettigrew and even captured Voldemort's fragmented soul, Snape saw reason enough to return the favor. As for Dumbledore's orders—well, they could go straight to hell.
"Do you have something to add, Snape?" someone sneered.
The moment he spoke, a ripple of hostility spread across the table. In truth, Snape was not the only one many here despised—Lucius Malfoy, too, drew his share of jealous glares.
Though a pure-blood, Lucius's talents were hardly extraordinary. His influence stemmed mostly from having assisted in the Dark Lord's resurrection. Without that, he would never have earned such a high seat at this table. Even Bellatrix, though loath to admit it, couldn't deny his contribution.
But Snape—Snape was another matter.
What rank was he, that he dared sit among them—worse still, at a seat above theirs?
Even Bellatrix's mad grin twisted in disdain as whispers rippled through the hall.
Who did he think he was?
(End of Chapter)