Stained Future

Interlude: Release

24^th July 2015 - Azkaban Prison

An old man sat in a dirty cell. His bright blue eyes showed hints of previous wisdom, but a dim mistiness in them gave him the air of a man on the edge. He had a sweeping, dirty white beard with great chunks missing and shoulder-length stained hair. One of the lenses of his half-moon spectacles was cracked, and the whole structure balanced precariously at the end of a long, thin nose. Despite the wild exterior, it was clear that the man was none other than Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore heard footsteps and looked up sharply, his eyes wide and mad. It was only a sneering prison guard.

"Reeks of Dark Arts," Dumbledore mumbled broodingly, sitting in the corner of the small, stone cell. "The whole lot of them. Yes, Dark Arts. They all smell so strongly of it..."

"Quiet in there," snarled the prison guard, and Dumbledore jumped.

"Telling me to be quiet, the Dark supporter. I bet he's one of Voldemort's. Feasting on the Dark Arts. Yes, the Dark Arts. They all follow him now, society is shattered. The tainted souls reign supreme; it's too late. We have been defeated. Yes, defeated." Dumbledore rubbed his hands together; the cold had recently become quite unbearable.

The prison guard shook his head wearily. Over the past couple of years he had noticed a deterioration of the old man's state. He had heard him scream as he relived his worse memories and it seemed as if he was finally cracking. The old codger kept muttering about the Dark Arts and how he was going to crush every last Dark Wizard. It's a shame, thought the guard, he used to be such a great wizard.

"No!" yelled Dumbledore as a Dementor drew closer. "Eloise, no! Don't go! Grindelwald will kill you! I'll kill him! Everything taken away! Everything taken away by evil! I won't rest until it's all destroyed." The former headmaster sobbed into his robes hysterically.

The light dimmed, and Dumbledore spotted three figures standing in the corridor wearing the attire of prison guards. The one closest to him was a short witch with a pale, heart-shaped face and mousy brown hair. It was obvious she hadn't slept properly in a long time. Beside her was a tall, lean woman who seemed almost intimidating beside her counterparts. She was stately-looking and wore a green shawl which matched her small, beady eyes. Finally there was a small, balding man with an excited expression of admiration.

"Dumbledore?" whispered the tall woman from beyond the grim railings of the cell.

"No!" bellowed Dumbledore, his face contorted with rage. "Death to the Dark Arts!" He thrashed about wildly; it seemed as if he was trying to fight for his life.

"He's here but he's in a bad way. The Dementors have got to his head," called the same voice. "Are the flying carpets positioned outside the prison?"

"Affirmative," said the small, balding man.

"You'll never take me alive! I'll never bow down to the darkness! Kill me! Take me instead! I'd rather die than let you take my wife! TAKE ME!"

"There's a Dementor down the corridor there. Banish it!" said another voice quickly.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Dumbledore looked up slowly, sweat dripping down his face. He held up a thin, vein-laden hand to block his eyes as a beam of white light lit up the hallway.

"That's not Dark Arts," muttered Dumbledore softly. "The light is bright and warm. A small beam of hope in this world filled with darkness. Perhaps H-Harry? Yes, Harry. But Harry is dead. No, but the signs, the signs. But how can he be? Necromancy perhaps? Yes, Dark magic. Then he must be killed! Death to the Dark Arts!

"You, I know you," continued Dumbledore slowly as the moonlight illuminated the face of one of the guards. "You're not Dark wizards. You're supporters of all things good and beautiful."

"We're here to get you out, Professor. We don't have much time," said the mousy woman.

"But what if you're Dark wizards in disguise? It may be a ploy. Yes, a ploy. I'll never join the darkness. Death to the Dark Arts!" Dumbledore backed away from the approaching threesome and tripped over his own foot.

"Sorry, old chap," said the tall woman, her voice dripping with elusive aristocracy, "but we've got to get you out of here before they realise they have three too many guards on duty. Stupefy!"

The beam of red light struck Dumbledore squarely in the chest, but he didn't fall instantly. He merely doubled over and began to cough.

"On three," ordered the aristocratic woman.

"Together? But that's dangerous," said the wheezy old man anxiously.

"I don't care, Dedalus," snapped the tall woman. "I'm in charge here. We've all been planning this for weeks, and I'm not letting your weak hand get in the way. Dumbledore's getting out of here whether he likes it or not.

"Attacked! You're Dark wizards after all! There is no justice in the world! Death to the Dark Arts!" Dumbledore staggered to his feet, clutching his stomach with his right hand, and swung wildly.

"One, two, three. Stupefy!" Three jets of red light hit Dumbledore, and, finally, the old man collapsed in a heap.

"I can't believe we just stunned Professor Dumbledore!" said the mousy woman fretfully.

"Shut up, Tonks. Help me get him out of here!" Neither Tonks nor Dedalus looked as if they were overly happy at the situation but did as they were told nonetheless.

"Why don't we just use our wands, Emmeline?" said Tonks as she struggled with the others to lift the old man.

"Because the ministry will detect that more magic than usual has been used here," snarled Emmeline. "Patronus Charms are used all the time by the guards but any other curses will get us into trouble. Now hurry up before the Dementors realise he's missing." Dumbledore's upper body was resting in Dedalus' arms, Tonks made sure his head was upright and Emmeline lifted his legs.

"I don't see the point in this," said Dedalus uncomfortably as they made their way cautiously along the winding corridors. "He's cracked. You heard him before, absolutely bonkers."

"We need a leader. Bill's been all well and good but he's got nothing on Dumbledore. With him back, justice can be served once more. What's more, he'll tell us if Harry Potter's alive. With Potter and Dumbledore, we can fight back again." Emmeline sported a fanatical, lop-sided grin.

"But-"

"Shut up or we'll get caught," said Emmeline, cutting Tonks' qualms short.

They descended the stairs to the ground floor and heard nothing but the screams of the prisoners. While the cells themselves were filthy, the corridors were laden with unblemished black marble. There were no windows, however, which gave the passageways a suffocating quality. They passed cell after cell but there wasn't a Dementor in sight.

"It's too quiet," said Tonks uneasily. "There should be at least five Dementors per cell."

"There's a dying prisoner on the fourth floor, remember?" snapped Emmeline edgily. "You know how they are, the plan's worked perfectly so far." They could see the entrance now; it was a ray of light in the distance.

Suddenly, all three felt a freezing cold pass over them. There was a shrill screech of some unearthly being.

"No," whispered Tonks, "they're here! Dementors!" A hundred of the hooded creatures floated towards the group.

"Dedalus, use the Levitation Charm on Dumbledore. He must be kept alive at all costs. Make for the carpets. Tonks, Patronus Charm now! Expecto Patronum!" Emmeline closed her eyes and tried to block out the picture of her father beating her mother. She couldn't get the screaming out of her head.

"No! Expecto Patronum!" A thin wisp of grey mist appeared.

'Stop it, daddy! You're hurting mummy. Stop it!'

'Go to your room, Emma, mummy's been a naughty girl.'

'No daddy. M-mummy's dying. I'm not a baby anymore. Stop it! Stop it!'

Emmeline fell to her knees as the memories of her past washed over her. Memories she had fought to block out. Unbeknownst to her, Tonks was fighting as hard as she could, a brilliant silver wolf tearing through the ranks of Dementors but there were just too many of them.

"I told you you shouldn't have come," cried Tonks through gritted teeth, "I told you it should've been Bill instead. Leader? Ha!"

Dedalus was concentrating on keeping the solid corporeal form of his terrier Patronus as well as keeping Dumbledore safe, but for every Dementor he chased away, three took its place. He felt some movement beside him and quickly found himself without a wand.

Emmeline began sobbing uncontrollably as thirty Dementors closed in, her Ministry training out of the window. She had trouble against three consecutive Dementors, let alone a whole pack.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A magnificent silver phoenix swooped down onto the lustful Dementors. They began screeching and scattered. A few tried to fight the human-sized bird but after charging them once more, the braver Dementors joined their fellows and headed blindly away from the overwhelming presence of the phoenix Patronus.

"Ha! Death to the Dark Arts! It feels so good to hold a wand again. Yes, like a long lost brother."

Emmeline was the first to recover and gingerly stood. There, standing in the hall triumphantly, was Dumbledore. She may have mistaken him for the old Dumbledore if not for the familiar twinkle not residing in those blue eyes.

"How did you get hold of a wand?" she asked thankfully, slightly awed that he had overcome three stunners.

"That wizard dropped it as the Dementors surrounded us."

"You weren't affected?" she asked unbelievingly. If they had caused him such mental damage, how had the Dementors not affected him this time?

"The feeling of a wand in between my fingers was like a breath of fresh air. It brought back memories that allowed me to cast the Patronus Charm like I used to. Let us leave this place. It will not do to dwell here too long; it reeks of evil, the poison of our society."

Emmeline exchanged a confused look with Tonks and followed Dumbledore down the hallway. They had to jog to keep up with his long strides.

"Come, we're leaving this place," said Dumbledore and pulled Dedalus to his feet as if he was a rag doll. He ignored the baffled looks he was receiving and continued at his rapid pace.

"Dumbledore, wait!"

"He who hesitates is lost," said Dumbledore briskly and picked up the pace.

"I need my wand back," complained Dedalus, who was finding keeping up a harrying task. Dumbledore stopped suddenly.

"Oh. I suppose you do." He reluctantly gave it back to Dedalus who had to use force to extract it effectively. As soon as the wand left his hands, Dumbledore was reduced to his brooding self.

"The Dementors might return soon. The epitome of darkness they are. Yes, so many Dark wizards have used their power. Perhaps Harry's used them now he's joined the other side. They're all evil. The wizarding public have been reduced to treachery, I'm sure. Alas that Voldemort is still alive. Of course, Voldemort and Harry. Together they're unstoppable. Yes, unstoppable."

"Quickly Tonks, give him your wand," said Emmeline in alarm. This change in his personality was astounding. Tonks, who was equally surprised, threw her wand towards her leader. Dumbledore's wild gaze passed over the dark brown wand. He instantly grabbed for it, and once again there was a visible change.

"Why are we standing in the middle of this house of darkness?" exclaimed Dumbledore. He quickly scrambled to his feet and headed for the gargantuan stone double doors.

"This is dangerous," muttered Emmeline to the other two as they saw Dumbledore tap the doors with the wand. "This is really dangerous. We've got to keep this between ourselves."

"What, even keep it from the others?" said Tonks.

"Yes," said Emmeline forcefully, "we don't know if there are any spies. If the wrong people were to find out what happens when Dumbledore loses his wand..." She ended in a shudder.

Dumbledore managed to open the door, and they were instantly attacked by a blast of warmth. The former Headmaster stepped out and took a deep breath of fresh air. It was the first time he had been outside for fifteen years.

The grey North Sea was the first thing he saw. The violent waves crashed into the pier-like structure leading out from the door for half a mile, but to no avail. Ravenous seagulls dived down lower, expecting humans to leave behind food, but their hungry stomachs were not abated; the four left nothing as they dashed away towards a small boat anchored at the mouth of the pier and beyond it, four illegal magic carpets.

"HEY!" Emmeline craned her neck as she ran and spotted three guards sprinting towards them.

"Run faster," she urged, and they all broke into a sprint, poor Dedalus panting uncontrollably. The carpets seemed to move further away the closer they ran towards them. Her heart pounded violently in her chest, but it did not affect her pace. Dedalus began slowing slightly. She noticed and yelled, "Don't slow down!"

The guards kept looming closer and they were almost within spell range. A red beam of light missed her right ear, and Dumbledore ducked a jet of purple light she recognised as the Paralysis Curse.

"Keep running, the carpets are in sight," she urged as Dumbledore began to lag behind. He was clearly too weak to continue due to malnourishment, and Dedalus was bound to stop soon.

"We can't make the carpets, Emmeline! Plan B: we'll go for the boat instead!" Emmeline nodded but realised the boat may also be too far away.

"Accio Boat!" she screeched wildly. The wooden vessel twitched slightly. She thought the spell had not worked. Then, with a lurch, it came hurtling at them, anchor swinging dangerously.

Dumbledore flicked Tonks' wand, and the anchor broke off, landing in the sea with a great splash. Emmeline spluttered as the freezing water soaked her to the skin. The boat came screeching to a halt at their feet, and they scrambled into it. The mast suddenly fell as it was struck by a blue spell. Dumbledore tapped the oars. A chunk of wood was blasted off the port of the boat while a jet of yellow light just missed the starboard.

"It's going to sink, Dumbledore!" cried Tonks. "There are holes everywhere!"

Dumbledore tapped the other oar and muttered something. The boat began to levitate slightly so they were only just in reach. One of the guards grabbed onto the stern of the boat and hung in mid-air as they were lifted out of firing range. The young, brown-haired guard began struggling to swing his other hand onto the side to stabilise his swaying body. The boat began tilting dangerously to one side. The guard's eyes were swimming with fear. Emmeline could not stand the begging look. She turned away.

"Death to the Dark Arts!" cried Dumbledore and the man was blasted from the boat. Emmeline and Tonks screamed. Dumbledore watched mercilessly as he fell fifty feet into the freezing waters of the sea. The oars began spinning vigorously and drove them forward with a lurch that knocked them all off their feet.

"He'll die, Dumbledore!" cried Tonks, shocked at the blood-thirsty, pitiless glint in Dumbledore's eyes. Emmeline could not muster a word. She stared at the man she had once respected. The man who had killed another in cold blood. It was then that she realised that that man no longer existed.

"He deserves it. He orchestrated my years of torture. Azkaban will fall soon. Those who immerse themselves in such arts will receive no mercy. They are either with us, or against us."

Azkaban became smaller and smaller until it was just a stain in the distance. Despite the terrible changes in her leader, Emmeline could not help but feel a burden lift from her shoulders. They had succeeded; Dumbledore was free.

-Scene Break-

There was no mistaking why Julius Vallidus had become the Minister of Magic. He stood tall and straight, the perfect leader. His sleek black hair was parted down in the middle and matched his charcoal, emotionless eyes. His square jaw and expensive, loose-fitting robes drew attention away from his thin body. There was no hesitance in the public's eyes. On one hand there was Rufus Scrimgeour, a string of poor decisions while in charge, battle-scarred and positively frightening in appearance. On the other was this smooth, silky enigma who had risen rapidly through the Ministry. His promises of social security (including bonuses for top Wizengamot members) and post-war reuniting of the divisions of society had guaranteed a strong victory. Luckily for him, Madam Bones had refused the position of Minister as she wished to slowly lessen her workload in the years leading to retirement.

Unlike most politicians, he had kept his promises and remarkably effectively oversaw the round up of the last of Voldemort's supporters. There was disquiet among the highly-ranked Ministry officials, however. While many of the senior heads of department claimed they were in his confidence it was clear that the Minister worked alone. He made decisions without consulting a soul and even abolished the position of Senior Undersecretary without the permission of the Wizengamot. Slowly and subtly, he was broadening his span of control.

Julius wore a mask of grave defiance as he slipped into the press room. He always loathed answering the tedious questions from reporters and family heads. However, whenever an event as important as this occurred, he had no choice but to face the public and disclose the details.

He peered up at the assembled group and mentally ticked off the attendees: the Daily Prophet, the Quibbler, the Malfoys, the Bones', the Diggorys, the Weasleys (who had only recently been added thanks to their son, Bill), the Smiths, the Corners, the Vaiseys, the Zabinis, the Greengrasses, the Boots, the Turpins and the Macmillans. All the prominent pureblood families were represented but there were a few empty seats. The Potter, Black and McKinnon seats had, of course, been resolutely empty for many years, and then there were the seats of the Death Eaters who had landed in Azkaban. Julius snapped out of his reverie and stood at his podium.

"I apologise for calling this meeting at such short notice, but a grave situation has arisen," said Julius slickly, his deep, clear voice ringing around the room. "Our worst fear has been realised, Dumbledore has been freed."

He stared intensely at Bill Weasley; he was sure he knew who the culprit was but did not have enough evidence to bring him in for questioning. The middle-aged Weasley stared back defiantly and betrayed no uneasiness.

"Freed? How do you know he hasn't escaped?" demanded Blaise Zabini, who had recently come into his inheritance as head of the Zabini household.

"Yes, Dumbledore certainly isn't unable. In fact, I expected him to escape the moment he was thrown in," said Amelia Bones evenly.

"I was fortunate enough to carry out a check on him a fortnight ago, he is mentally unstable. Clearly his memories have caused him to become insane far quicker than was expected."

"But still, he has powers we cannot comprehend; I don't doubt he could just blast a hole in the wall wandlessly," said Torres Greengrass and was met with a multitude of nods.

"We are not here to dispute fact," said Julius forcefully. "As a matter of fact, there are eye-witnesses who saw him leave with three other individuals, but not before murdering an innocent law-enforcer." There were shocked murmurs, many did not believe that Dumbledore had tried to murder the minister in the first place, but now that he had been seen killing someone...

"Minister Vallidus, how dangerous do you consider Dumbledore? Will you be putting the Auror department on red alert?" called a small, pale Daily Prophet reporter.

"Dumbledore is the most dangerous man alive," said Julius slowly, pausing for effect. The reporters began scribbling furiously, glad for such a sellable quote.

"Aren't you going a bit overboard?" said Bill testily.

"No, consider this: Dumbledore was thought of as the greatest wizard alive a decade or so ago. Azkaban does not rob you of your knowledge or skill, he is still obscenely powerful. However, now that he's powerful and delusional, there's no telling what he'll do. He may attack the Ministry or other establishments with his band of followers."

"Why on earth would he do that? What motivation would he have?" demanded old Amos Diggory.

"Revenge," replied Julius darkly. "He'd want to attack the very institution that brought justice to him. Not only that, but the guards have reported some grave news. Dumbledore is obsessed with the Dark Arts; he believes every person he meets is a dark wizard by default. One guard has been threatened with death thirty five times in a month. He is a very real menace, perhaps even greater a threat than Voldemort himself was..." The occupants of the room broke out in muttering and he was glad to see that most were convinced.

"Minister Vallidus, would it be fair to say that Dumbledore is breeding an army of Ridge-Backed Snarders to contest with the Ministry's own army of Helipaths?"

Julius wasn't amused. What was at first mildly amusing was now tedious. Luna Lovegood had grown into adulthood with the same oddities that had caused her outcast status in her school days. She was now Assistant Head of the Quibbler and caused Julius much pain at almost every press conference.

"No."

"Minister Vallidus," said a tall black woman, Angelina Johnson, "there has been some raised eyebrows in recent weeks over the security of the public. This is the second breech of Azkaban is recent history, would it be fair to say that Azkaban no longer poses difficulty for the cunning and powerful?"

"No," said Vallidus coolly, "Azkaban remains the most secure place in the world. It is highly unlikely that any wizard as powerful as Dumbledore will ever go to Azkaban, it will not happen again."

"Minister Vallidus, some have been calling for your resignation after this blunder. Do you accept responsibility for this error?"

"Firstly, latest opinion polls show an increase in public support for the Ministry at the current time. As to the Ministry's responsibility, there is none. Short of killing him, there was no way the guards could have stopped Albus Dumbledore. Any other questions?"

Not a single hand was raised. Vallidus smiled faintly - the press were too predictable. He knew that if he was completely open, the number of questions would be very limited. This is a trick he learned at the expense of Scrimgeour's conferences which sometimes ran for hours. He slipped out of the room, which was now buzzing with fierce conversation, and marched to his office in the floor above.

He tiredly slipped into his seat and reviewed the main points raised at the previous night's Inter-Departmental Meeting. He smiled slightly and tore this paper cleanly in half. There was a sharp knock on the door. Vallidus bade the person to enter.

In came a straight-backed man who wore a hood low over his face. Vallidus was glad to see him; he had been waiting for this visit for quite some time and had grown impatient. His visitor calmly took his seat across him and ran his fingers across his chin. Vallidus had been calling him 'Mick' in case there were any eavesdroppers; top-secret conversations were best left so.

"I was expecting you far earlier, Mick," said Vallidus coolly. Mick did not flinch but had the grace to look mildly abashed.

"Time has been a strain, Minister, and I apologise." The Minister betrayed not a flicker of emotion and gazed at Mick intensely.

"Do you have the information that was requested?"

"I was tirelessly searching for the answer over the past few hours, even breaking into-"

"Get to the point," snapped Vallidus. He had never been a man to waste his time listening to excuses and petty blether.

"In short, yes. Various international sources of mine have confirmed that Potter is indeed alive. They wouldn't have told anyone but me about it, by the way - they're sworn to secrecy. I believe that Dumbledore will certainly be able to track him down, Merlin only knows how. I think it's best if you approach Potter quickly before Dumbledore gets a hold of him." Vallidus was stunned by the information but made sure not to show it.

"No, I have a better idea." I will wait for Dumbledore to smoke Potter out. When he does, I will arrange a meeting with him.

"What is it?"

"Thank you for the information, you have been most helpful to the Ministry. I will arrange dinner plans for yourself and your partner tomorrow night at The Roche as well as a small gift which should help to ease tight finances." Vallidus smiled slightly as he saw Mick biting his tongue. His accomplice finally forced a smile and got up heavily.

"Thank you, Minister," he said before exiting the room.

Vallidus idly twirled a quill as he pondered on his future moves. He needed to speak with Harry Potter as soon as he came out of hiding. What he didn't know was that it would take two years for this to happen.

*