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HP: Bloodraven Chapter 280 - Plans in Plain Sight (I)
🕑 Added 2025-11-20 14:54:16 +0000 UTCRumble!
The sky convulsed as thunderclouds crashed against one another in a furious, endless cycle.
Crackle!
Lightning burst outward in wild, twisting forks and each flash framed the massive structure below in stark white, turning it into a titan standing defiantly beneath a sky that seemed determined to swallow it whole.
Below, the sea raged. Waves heaved upward and smashed against the cliffs with furious strength, exploding into spray that vanished into the storm winds. The entire island felt locked between two wraths, one above and one below, and the air pulsed with raw, crackling pressure.
Azkaban. Island, fortress, storm and sea, all work together as if the world built this place to cage the damned. Its very name is tied to despair, its walls echo with madness, and its inmates rot under the presence of Dementors who feed on every trace of happiness and trap them with their darkest memories.
Only once in its entire history has anyone ever escaped from here, and that single incident was immediately buried under layers of countermeasures as soon as the method was discovered. It was, in truth, a rather unremarkable escape, simply exploiting a loophole and nothing to do with overwhelming magic.
To this day, a forceful escape was considered impossible, as the prisoners could barely hold themselves together after the Dementors had their way with them. An attack from the outside was never even considered, perhaps because in the dreadful fortress’s long history, nothing like that had ever happened.
BOOOM!
Amid the thunderclaps shaking the skies and the roar of the ocean, suddenly, a deafening explosion tore through the eastern side of the colossal structure, carving a charred scar of molten rock across the wall.
ROAR!
From the jagged breach, a torrent of fire erupted in a sweeping inferno, curling and twisting like a massive serpent that howled against the raging storm.
Moving closer to the opening, two silhouettes became clear, one cloaked entirely in black, a hood pulled low over their face, and the other a woman who looked as if madness itself had taken shape. Her eyes were bulging, and her smile looked wicked and unhinged as she lowered her wand, surveying the carnage she had unleashed with unsettling satisfaction.
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TERROR AT AZKABAN: DEATH AND DESTRUCTION ENSUE!
Setting the stack of papers down, Maverick leaned back in his chair and a light smirk appeared on his lips. His eyes drifted once more to the moving picture beneath the headline, where the scene of Azkaban replayed in stark detail. Thunder and lightning raged across the sky, the sea thrashed violently against the cliffs, and the prison’s eastern wall had been torn open like a jagged, bleeding scar.
It was a prison break, obviously, though one that started from the outside. A band of dark wizards led by a mysterious greatmagi shattered the outer defenses and threw Azkaban into turmoil. The Aurors arrived almost instantly and fought hard until the situation finally settled under their control.
Well, that was the official report, at least. The article claimed the Ministry’s elite Aurors arrived just in time to stop the chaos from spreading, conveniently leaving out any mention of escapes.
If it were any other time, he would have scoffed at the article, however, this time he couldn’t even if he wanted to. Everything had happened from start to finish, from the chaos to the aftermath and even the reports, all of it unfolding under his knowing, or rather, under his acquiescence.
In fact, he had been there at Azkaban when it all happened.
At first, when he received the news from Lucius, he was a bit taken aback, because he remembered nothing like this happening in the original story, at least before Voldemort’s resurrection. But just as quickly he brushed the thought aside, because he had learned by now that not everything would happen in the canonical order, or even happen at all.
Still, though, logically speaking, launching an attack on Azkaban would be sheer madness for any ordinary witch or wizard, or even for a daring group of them. It was simply not worth it, because, terrifying as the prison was hailed to be, the inmates there were nearly all nothing but Magus rank or lower.
To risk getting caught, or worse dying for a bunch of Magus‑rank prisoners, would simply be a stupid decision.
Moreover, it was no secret that the prison had a direct link to the Ministry of Magic, and elite Aurors, including Britain’s Great Magi, could be dispatched in no time should any ruckus occur.
Not to mention, the guards there were not exactly nobodies either, and by guards, actual witches and wizards—few in number, yes, but still stationed throughout the prison. After all, if it were only Dementors guarding the prison, the first thing that would happen to the prisoners would be death by starvation.
In other words, it would have been impossible if it had been just a bunch of Death Eaters at the Magus rank to pull it off, but somehow, it turned out they had help from an unknown Great Mage who led the operation.
Maverick had no idea how Voldemort’s sorry state had even managed to convince a Great Mage to do it, and he did not care anyway.
Moving on, what really happened was that the "mysterious" Great Mage struck Azkaban from the outside and freed Voldemort’s Death Eaters, including Bellatrix Lestrange, the most dangerous inmate locked in the prison at the time.
The madwoman was a Great Magi herself and Voldemort’s most formidable lieutenant, having served him during the upheaval that had shaken wizarding Britain over a decade ago.
The part about the Ministry dispatching its elite force in time to intercept was true as well, with Alastor Moody leading the offensive. Unfortunately, they were still unable to prevent all of the Death Eaters from escaping. After all, Moody was only one man and could not contend with two Great Magi working together.
To their credit, though, the Aurors did manage to stop many of those attempting to escape, leaving only a dozen or so of the hundreds to truly become fugitives.
Meanwhile, Maverick simply made sure no Aurors died in the skirmish, with a miss here and a nudge there—basically, every single exchange of hexes was completely under his control. Of course, nobody there knew a puppet master was twirling his fingers and assumed everything had happened by coincidence.
He also did not take any action to stop the fugitives who escaped, including Bellatrix Lestrange. Anyways, they would not be making any moves before old Voldy was resurrected and would likely lay low until then.
It was not a guess, and he had confirmed it by listening to the exchanges between Bellatrix and the other Great Magus. Mad as the woman was, she would follow Voldemort’s orders as if they were gospel.
What he did do, however, amid all the chaos, was plant a highly advanced tracking magic from the Sorcery system on every single one who had managed to escape from Moody and his men. Now, there was nowhere on earth they could hide from him, and more importantly, he would know exactly where Voldemort was.
Hmm?
Outside the floor-to-ceiling window lay only darkness, the hour creeping past midnight while the castle slept in utter silence. His train of thoughts were interrupted when his magic alerted someone closing in on his office door.
What’s this old thing doing here in the middle of the night?
A knock came, but before the second one, he waved his hand and the door opened, revealing Dumbledore, thank Merlin not in his nightgown, holding a candlelight on the other side.
“Headmaster, to what do I owe this… untimely visit?”
The old man unceremoniously let himself in, though Maverick saw none of the usual expressions on his face. Even that damn annoying twinkle in his eyes was gone. And while Dumbledore tried to hide it, Maverick could tell from the first glance that plenty of bubbling thoughts were churning inside his head.
He sat down across the table from him, set the candle on the surface and let out an exhale.
“I take it you’ve seen the newspaper?” His eyes darted momentarily to the stack of papers in front of Maverick first, then to him.
“Hard to miss…” Maverick shrugged. “Is there something you want to talk about, Headmaster?”
Dumbledore stared at him absentmindedly for a moment, then instead of answering, he posed a question in return. “You know what this means, right?”
“You’ll have to be a little bit more specific…”
“Lord Voldemort…” he said, as if releasing something heavy from his chest. “He’s ready to make his move...”
Maverick leaned back first, resting his elbow on the chair’s armrest and tilting his head slightly. He really wanted to pry open the old man’s skull at this moment and check his brain to see what in Merlin’s name was wrong. A dignified archmage behaving so pathetically, it was honestly embarrassing.
“You think they might start terrorizing Britain again, or make a move on Hogwarts… or,” he said after a brief pause, “come after Potter?”
“Indeed.” Dumbledore nodded slowly. “I spoke with Severus. He tells me the mark Lord Voldemort left on him has grown… considerably stronger, all at once.”
“You think he’s somehow resurrected?”
“No.” Shaking his head, Dumbledore also leaned back. “The Dark Lord, he must have found a way at least. And he is preparing.”
Maverick let out a long exhale and decided to speak directly about what was on his mind. “Headmaster, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but why are you acting like the whole world is about to end? Even if that lunatic regains the full power of his heyday, you’re still Albus Dumbledore. You’ve even broken free from his curse, so why are you behaving… embarrassingly...” He paused briefly, then added, “Forgive me for saying it, but like a coward?”
Dumbledore raised his head but did not answer.
“What is it about him that makes you look so weak?” Maverick continued without pause. “I can’t even recognize you like this.”
“You don’t understand his madness, Maverick.” Dumbledore drew in a deep breath. “You weren’t there. He is evil. The purest, darkest kind of evil you can imagine, the sort that would do anything to get his way. And if he thinks he can’t reach you, he will go after those around you, threaten them, take hostages… anything.”
Merlin’s thick beard. How much had old Voldy tortured this man psychologically while he was alive?
“During his rampage over a decade ago…” Dumbledore went on, murmuring, “…the Dark Lord used every vile trick he could imagine to strike at me. Knowing he could not best me in magic, he turned his cruelty on everyone close to me—my students, my friends, my allies. So many perished. And even without ever confronting me directly, he ensured I suffered every ounce of pain he could inflict. Even those who survived, like the Longbottoms, remain trapped in hospital wards to this day, neither truly dead nor truly alive.”
He lifted his head, his expression solemn, and met Maverick’s gaze. “The Dark Lord is a danger of an entirely different kind. People think he is a madman, and they are absolutely right. But I know that boy. He is mad beyond reconciliation, yet shrewd in his thinking. He is a schemer... the most vile of his kind. Otherwise, he would have confronted me directly instead of resorting to all those dirty, despicable means.”
“He is not Gellert,” he sighed, “nor a straightforward terrorist. It would be foolish to underestimate him, or his methods, simply because someone might surpass him in magical skill. I learned that lesson the hard way.”
A tense silence stretched across the office as the two, one old, one young, held each other’s gaze. Maverick’s expression had grown serious as well, for what Dumbledore had said was neither an over-glorification nor an exaggeration.
Now, was Maverick being overly confident in his own strength, so much so that he hadn’t even considered those points? Not at all. He was well aware of just how much of a lunatic Voldemort was. Yet, as Dumbledore had pointed out, he also knew that Voldemort was a cunning, scheming mind, one who planned far beyond raw madness.
At this moment, Voldemort was at his weakest, reduced to a decadent wraith, with nothing more pressing than reclaiming a physical body of his own. And precisely because of that, Maverick was fairly certain Voldemort would not allow his dogs to fuck around and find out, risking exposure or revealing his location before he was fully resurrected.
Anyway, Maverick had marked every single one he had allowed to escape, deep down to the root of their souls. They could not hide from him, and as a result, Voldemort would now always remain under his radar.
“It’s not that I haven’t considered those points, Headmaster.” Maverick gave the old man a nod, briefly diverting his gaze, and let out a sigh. Perhaps, he thought, it was about time to come completely clean.
With that thought, he raised his arm, coiled his fingers, and his Patronus sprang to life between them, splitting into two shimmering ravens.
In front of Dumbledore’s inquisitive gaze, he murmured, “Go,” and the Patronus shot forward, phasing effortlessly through the window, while Maverick met the old wizard’s eyes once more.
“It’s best if Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick are here as well.”
“To discuss countermeasures against the Dark Lord?” Dumbledore tilted his head, a flicker of puzzlement in his expression at Maverick’s sudden, inexplicable actions.
“No,” Maverick said quietly. “To confess. I haven’t been entirely honest with all of you.”
Comments
QuantumServer
Thanks for the chapter
