Inside his office at Hogwarts, Headmaster Dumbledore sat quietly, contemplating his most recent mistakes. He had sought out Tom Riddle's Horcrux, hoping it might help him locate the others—especially now that Harry Potter was dead. Dumbledore had wanted to mold Harry into a hero who would sacrifice himself in the war against the Dark Lord. However, Harry's stubbornness had left Dumbledore with no choice but to act on his own.
He traveled to the Gaunt shack to retrieve the Horcrux, only to be blindsided by greed when he encountered one of the Deathly Hallows. The Hallows triggered a subtle confounding charm that ensnared him. Dumbledore cursed himself for falling into the trap; despite his best intentions, he was still ensnared and struck by one of the most vicious curses he had ever experienced. Who would have thought that Voldemort had protected his Horcrux with a curse that fed on magic and soul? Dumbledore might have dismissed it as a foolish plan, but he would have been lying. Voldemort had prepared thoroughly, linking his cursed protection to the shack's rune stone. Now, he found himself afflicted by this magic- and soul-consuming curse, which promised a horrible death. The only thing he had to show for this mistake was the Resurrection Stone, a relic that only fueled his anger.
For over 40 years, Dumbledore had been preparing an ascension ritual, but now one mistake threatened to cost him everything.
Lost in contemplation, he failed to notice the fireplace lighting up. With the flames, the man known to many as "Mad-Eye" Moody emerged.
"Ahem, Dumbledore, we have a problem," Moody said, scanning the room for spells and dangers.
"Ah, Moody, my friend, what brings you here?" Dumbledore asked.
"We have a problem: Harry Potter has escaped from Azkaban," Moody replied.
His words captured Dumbledore's full attention. Moody quickly described the events that had transpired at the Ministry. But before he could finish, a falcon-shaped Patronus arrived, summoning Dumbledore back to the DMLE's office. He stood up, took a glass vial from his pocket, and said, "I have to go. Here are the memories of what happened; you can review them for yourself." With that, he stepped into the fireplace and disappeared in a flash of green fire.
Dumbledore sat at his desk, his face stoic and deep in thought. After reviewing the memories, he realized that what he had seen made no sense. The boy who should be dead was alive and more powerful than ever. Information that should not have been known was now in the open, and the reputation he had built over the years had taken a hit. Although nothing serious had happened yet, he sensed this was just the beginning.
Worst of all, time for researching a solution to his curse problem was running out. He estimated that he had about 13 months before the curse claimed his life, and that was without him engaging in anything strenuous. He could feel his magic struggling against the curse as it consumed his strength. If he didn't find a solution quickly, his ascension ritual would fail, and he wouldn't reach godhood. The thought of his hard work going to waste twisted his face in anger and despair.
Dumbledore didn't seek godhood merely to satisfy his ego—at least, not initially. After the death of his sister, an incident he believed was his fault, he began researching ways to resurrect her. Unfortunately, every method he discovered proved unsuitable. While exploring different avenues, he discovered an ancient book that took years to decipher. This work ultimately led him to a path toward godhood, which he hoped would allow him to bring his sister back to life.
On the other hand, the Dark Lord didn't take the news too well. When the news reached him from one of his Death Eaters inside the Wizengamot, he wasted no time.He immediately used Legilimency and dove into the memories of his slave without any fear of the consequences. After all, he was just one slave; he could easily obtain another.
Now, after reviewing the memories, he seethed with anger and hatred.He,Voldemort, the Dark Lord, couldn't perform wandless magic on the level of a fifteen-year-old child. He was supposed to be the most powerful and most freared wizard alive ; even Dumbledore feared him and had only dueled him twice. How could a teenage boy be stronger than him? His plans had to change, and the war needed to move forward. As long as Potter was alive, he would be a threat to his power, and Voldemort had to eliminate him sooner rather than later. He left his wand behind and swiftly banished the slave, who was still clutching his head in agony.
"Wormtail!" he shouted. The sniveling and groveling Peter Pettigrew hurried to his side, but Voldemort did not allow him to speak.
"Go and summon Malfoy and his wife to me, then bring Nott and his ilk as well. I have orders for them."
Now it was time for him to accelerate his plans, to reassemble his followers and recruit more. It appeared he wouldn't have the time to add his artistic touches to his upcoming strategy, but it would have to suffice. His musing was abruptly interrupted by a trembling Lucius Malfoy and a clearly terrified, yet attempting to maintain a stoic demeanor, Narcissa Malfoy.
"My Lord, you have summoned us. How can we be of service?" Lucius stuttered, still not fully healed from the Cruciatus Curse he had inflicted on him for his incompetence.
"Lucius, plans have changed, and I am accelerating them. Get yourself healed faster and contact all Death Eaters; we are going to destroy Azkaban and free my followers in the process. It seems the magical world needs to be reminded of how to fear Lord Voldemort."
"Yes, my Lord. I will get right on it," Malfoy replied before hurrying from the room, leaving Narcissa standing there, awaiting her orders.
"For you, Narcissa, I want you to gather all information about Harry Potter and the recent events at Hogwarts through your spineless coward of a son. Do it quickly," he instructed.
"Yes, my Lord," she replied.
He turned his attention to his beloved snake and began discussing his plan. He could see her shivering slightly as she moved away.
Meanwhile, in the Ministry of Magic, inside the Minister's office, another conversation was taking place between Minister Fudge and Amelia Bones.
"Amelia, I'm sure you understand that we can't just give in to the demands of Harry Potter just because he said so," the minister argued, trying to come up with an excuse to spare himself the pressure that Malfoy would put on him if Sirius Black was exonerated.
"Minister, we don't have a choice. You may think there's room to stall for time and devise a plan to capture Harry Potter, but there is none. You know as well as I do what he's capable of. Imagine what he could do now—double or triple that, because as soon as he gets a wand, he'll be unstoppable. I don't know what happened to him in Azkaban, but my gut tells me the Harry Potter who came out of there isn't the same one who went in. My years as an Auror have taught me to recognize the signs of danger, and I won't watch my team be sacrificed for political games," Amelia argued, her fists clenched at her sides.
"Okay, okay. Just go do what you want to do," Fudge replied, his voice heavy with resignation, the tension in his shoulders reflecting the weight of Malfoy's threats. As he poured himself a drink, his hands trembled slightly—an involuntary reaction to the mounting pressure that seemed to crush him from all sides. All he could do now is drink to try and get the haunting memories of his past blunders out of his head
With Madam Bones, after leaving minister Fudge's office, the events went smoothly. By evening, the paperwork for the release of her ex-boyfriend was complete. Now, she was left sitting at her desk in her office, pondering what would become of the wizarding world now that it had a dark horse by the name of Harry Potter.
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