It started all on Monday. Alicia had gotten her copy of the Daily Prophet at breakfast like she did every week. She was smoothing out the front page while Fred and Tori were bickering over Fred's hair when she let out a sharp yelp.
"What?" Angelina jumped.
For an answer, Alicia spread the newspaper on the table in front of them and pointed at ten black-and-white photographs that filled the whole of the front page, nine showing wizards' faces and the tenth, a witch's. Some of the people in the photographs were silently jeering; others were tapping their fingers on the frame of their pictures, looking insolent. Each picture was captioned with a name and the crime for which the person had been sent to Azkaban.
Antonin Dolohov, read the legend beneath a wizard with a long, pale, twisted face who was sneering up at Tori, convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett.
Algernon Rookwood, said the caption beneath a pockmarked man with greasy hair who was leaning against the edge of his picture, looking bored, convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic secrets to He Who Must Not Be Named.
Bellatrix Lestrange, She had long, dark hair that looked unkempt and straggly in the picture, though he had seen it sleek, thick, and shining. She glared up at her through heavily lidded eyes, an arrogant, disdainful smile playing around her thin mouth. She was convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom.
Tori scanned the pages, seeing no sign of her grandfather anywhere on the page. She glanced up to see that Fred must have been doing the same thing.
Angelina nudged Tori and pointed at the headline over the pictures, which Tori, concentrating on the thought of her grandfather, had not yet read.
MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN
MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS "RALLYING POINT"
FOR OLD DEATH EATERS
"Black?" said Tori loudly. "What?"
Fred stepped on her foot from under the table and shook his head. Tori bit her tongue, reading the article.
The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban.
Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, confirmed that ten high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening and that he has already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals.
"We find ourselves, most, unfortunately, in the same position we were two and a half years ago when the murderer Sirius Black escaped," said Fudge last night. "Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals, and we beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached."
The bell rang, getting Tori a chance to whisper to the twins. "Why are they roping Sirius in this? This is ridiculous."
"What other options do they have?" George mumbled bitterly. "He can hardly say, 'Sorry, everyone, Dumbledore warned me this might happen, the Azkaban guards have joined You-Know-Who and now You-Know-Who's worst supporters have broken out, too.' I mean, he's spent a good six months telling everyone Harry and Dumbledore are liars, hasn't he?"
Tori glanced up at the staff table. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were deep in conversation, both looking extremely grave. Professor Sprout had the Prophet propped against a bottle of ketchup and was reading the front page with such concentration that she was not noticing the gentle drip of egg yolk falling into her lap from her stationary spoon. Meanwhile, at the far end of the table, Professor Umbridge was tucking into a bowl of porridge. For once her pouchy toad's eyes were not sweeping the Great Hall looking for misbehaving students. She scowled as she gulped down her food and every now and then she shot a malevolent glance up the table to where Dumbledore and McGonagall were talking so intently.
There was only one topic of conversation in the corridors now: the ten escaped Death Eaters, whose story had finally filtered through the school from those few people who read the newspapers. Rumors were flying that some of the convicts had been spotted in Hogsmeade, that they were supposed to be hiding out in the Shrieking Shack, and that they were going to break into Hogwarts, just as Sirius Black had once done.
Those who came from wizarding families had grown up hearing the names of these Death Eaters spoken with almost as much fear as You-Know-Who; the crimes they had committed during the days of Voldemort's reign of terror were legendary. There were relatives of their victims among the Hogwarts students, who now found themselves the unwilling objects of a gruesome sort of reflected fame as they walked the corridors.
Tori had even caught herself exchanging uneasy glanced with Dove. Both the sisters knew that if their grandfather was apart of this, the family was doomed.
It was not only the students' mood that had changed. It was now quite common to come across two or three teachers conversing in low, urgent whispers in the corridors, breaking off their conversations the moment they saw students approaching.
"They obviously can't talk freely in the staff room anymore," said Tori in a low voice, as she, Fred, and George passed Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout huddled together outside the Charms classroom one day. "Not with Umbridge there."
"Reckon they know anything new?" George asked, gazing back over his shoulder at the three teachers.
"If they do, we're not going to hear about it, are we?" Fred sighed angrily. "Not after Decree... what number are we on now?" For new notices had appeared on the house noticeboards the morning after news of the Azkaban breakout:
BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS
Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach.
The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-six.
Signed:
Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor
This latest Decree had been the subject of a great number of jokes among the students. Lee Jordan had pointed out to Umbridge that by the terms of the new rule she was not allowed to tell Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap in the back of the class.
"Exploding Snap's got nothing to do with Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor! That's not information relating to your subject!"
When Tori next saw Lee, the back of his hand was bleeding rather badly.
Tori had thought the breakout from Azkaban might have humbled Umbridge a little, that she might have been abashed at the catastrophe that had occurred right under the nose of her beloved Fudge. It seemed, however, to have only intensified her furious desire to bring every aspect of life at Hogwarts under her personal control. She seemed determined at the very least to achieve a sacking before long, and the only question was whether it would be Professor Trelawney or Hagrid who went first.
The DA still met weekly. It seemed everyone was more determined to learn how to defend themselves. But in nobody was this improvement more pronounced than in Neville. The news of his parents' attackers' escape had wrought a strange and even slightly alarming change in him. He had not once mentioned his meeting with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Tori on the closed ward in St. Mungo's, and, taking their lead from him, they had kept quiet about it too. Nor had he said anything on the subject of Bellatrix and her fellow torturers' escape.
In fact, Neville barely spoke during the DA meetings anymore but worked relentlessly on every new jinx and counter-curse Harry taught them, his plump face screwed up in concentration, apparently indifferent to injuries or accidents and working harder than anyone else in the room. He was improving so fast it was quite unnerving and when Harry taught them, the Shield Charm—a means of deflecting minor jinxes so that they rebounded upon the attacker—only Hermione mastered the charm faster than Neville.
With N.E.W.T. homework keeping seventh years until past midnight, secret DA sessions, and regular quidditch practices— January seemed to be passing alarmingly fast.
Before Tori knew it, February had arrived, bringing with it wetter and warmer weather and the prospect of the second Hogsmeade visit of the year.
Angelina wanted to do a full day of practice but with a lot of convincing and promising she'd work twice as hard the next practice, Tori managed to get out of that.
On the morning of the fourteenth Tori headed down towards the Great Hall to see Fred waiting for her. "I'm honestly surprised you managed to get away from Angelina." He noted, handing her a blueberry muffin he had been saving her.
"What can I say? I'm very persuasive."
"And so modest too." Fred grinned.
The two proceeded to enjoy the day in Hogsmeade first, of course, stopping in Zonko's and shortly heading into the three broomsticks where they took a booth.
"Oh, there's Harry and Hermione. With... Rita Skeeter?" Tori stared into a booth in the opposite of the restaurant. "And Loony Lovegood?"
"It's Luna," Tori frowned at his use of the ride nickname.
"Really? I thought it was Loony." Fred replied. "That's just a name kids use to make fun of her. Do you really not know her name? She's in DA with us."
"I haven't talked to her." He said quickly, taking his butterbeer off the tray of a waitress. Tori thanked her, shaking her head. "You're oblivious sometimes."
Fred snorted. "Says you,"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He chuckled once more. "It only took you six years to realize I fancy you. Hell, I even had to tell you." Tori scoffed. "I was going through a lot fifth and sixth year."
"Mhm. Right."
"Alright then Mr. Know-It-All," Tori said, leaning on the table. "When did you realize it?" Fred didn't skip a beat. "Fourth year."
"Woah, really? Fourth-year?" He nodded. "And it took you two years to do anything?"
"I did do stuff! A lot of stuff! You were just too oblivious to notice." Fred told her, taking a sip of his butterbeer. Tori wrinkled her nose, "Rubbish."
"Rubbish." He mocked, causing the two of them to crack up.
It wasn't until having to be ushered out unless they wanted to miss the carriages Tori and Fred finally left.
✧ ✦ ✧
Later that night when Tori was getting ready for bed, she was going through her trunk when she pulled out Tonks's gift. As of right now, it was blank, so Tori pulled out her wand and tapped the case three times.
An image popped up almost immediately. It was her and Fred when they were walking to the carriages. Fred was kissing the top of her head, and Tori was laughing, pushing on his chest.
Tori smiled, watching it several times before gently tucking it back into her trunk and crawling into bed.
it's spooky season