"Get up." Paul burst into the little darkroom and hauled Roger into his arms before the boy could properly steady himself. His grip was rough, but there was an excited edge to him now, as if some grand idea had made him forget his own temper.
"Sir, you…" Roger began, keeping his voice small. He did not struggle, because struggling in Azkaban only made people remember how easy it was to hurt you.
"Heh. Haven't you always wanted to see your mother?" Paul said, grinning as he carried him down the corridor. "Fine, then. I'll grant your wish."
He opened Cell C2 and threw Roger inside. The impact knocked the breath out of him, but the first thing Roger did was raise his head and look for Jessica in the gloom. Paul stood outside the bars, smiling as though he had performed some generous kindness instead of tossing a child into a prison cell.
"No need to thank me, either of you," Paul said. He locked the door and turned away, already thinking about the owl he needed to find and the letter he needed to send. Miserable little Death Eaters, he thought sourly, always causing trouble even when they were useful.
After the war against Voldemort ended, the entire wizarding world had been left bruised and thinned out. Families had vanished, shops had closed, and old friendships had been buried beneath fear, grief, and suspicion. Diagon Alley, once lively enough to make a first-time visitor dizzy, now looked half-asleep beneath the grey London sky.
If not for the approaching start of term and the few families drifting in to buy school supplies, a stranger might have doubted this was Diagon Alley at all. Shutters hung over several storefronts, the chatter in the street came in thin bursts, and even the bright window displays looked as though they were trying too hard to pretend everything was normal.
Rita Skeeter sat near a window with her smooth blonde curls perfectly arranged and her arched brows drawn in careful lines. She was nearing forty, though she would have hexed anyone impolite enough to say so, and she spent each day searching for the sort of story that could stir anger, curiosity, and outrage in equal measure. A safe article bored readers; a controversial one made them buy three copies.
She adjusted her jewel-studded glasses and set her luxurious quill moving. The gleaming green Quick-Quotes Quill darted across the parchment, eager as a hungry beetle, and within moments a fresh report lay before her. Rita read the opening paragraph, clicked her tongue, and tore it in two.
"People have lost interest in You-Know-Who's affairs," she muttered.
Another draft joined the overflowing wastebasket beside her desk. Rita picked up her coffee and stood by the window, watching the thin crowd in Diagon Alley while she considered what the public truly wanted now. Fear had sold papers during the war, but after so many years of it, fear alone had become stale.
"Hoo, hoo."
An owl landed on the windowsill, damp from a long flight and glaring at her as if she personally controlled the weather. Rita gave it a few treats, then casually picked up the letter tied to its leg. The handwriting on the front was messy and uneven, the sort of scrawl she usually expected from some rural wizard who thought his neighbor's cursed turnips deserved front-page attention.
Normally, she would have thrown such a letter away without reading past the first line. This one, however, was different. It had come from Azkaban.
A smile bloomed at the corners of Rita's eyes. Her red nails tapped the wax seal once before carefully breaking it open, and her mind began working before the letter was even unfolded.
Azkaban. Death Eaters. Prisoners left behind after the war. There was material there, if one knew where to dig.
Nearly every wizarding family had some relative, friend, rival, or former classmate locked away in Azkaban. If Rita wrote one or two clever pieces about what really happened inside that fortress, then turned her quill against the Ministry and its beloved Dementors, her name and sales would rise together. The public adored justice when it came wrapped in scandal.
She scanned the letter idly at first. The handwriting was difficult enough to make her eyes ache, but the contents slowly made her straighten in her chair.
"A child?" Rita whispered. "Azkaban has been holding a child for eleven years?"
Paul had exaggerated, of course. In his clumsy phrasing, he made it sound as though a baby had been imprisoned by the Ministry of Magic and left in Azkaban for more than a decade. His letter danced between implication and accusation, but it gave Rita exactly what she needed: outrage with a name, a place, and enough uncertainty to make readers hungry for more.
By the next day, an article signed by Rita Skeeter had stirred discussion across the wizarding world. Its headline was impossible to ignore: The Ministry's Secret: Have We Created Another You-Know-Who?
Just as the wand and scales in the Ministry Atrium mural symbolize law and justice, we have long expected the Ministry of Magic to stand as a guardian of order and truth. But when the symbols of fairness are touched by shadow, can we continue to trust the institution built beneath them? A society that defeats a Dark Lord must still ask whether it has preserved the values it claimed to defend.
According to information recently obtained by this reporter, the population of Azkaban rose sharply during the war. What remains troubling is whether every prisoner reached those cold, damp cells through fair and proper trials, or whether wartime panic allowed certain Aurors to bypass the protections meant to separate justice from revenge. It is an uncomfortable question, but discomfort has never been an excuse for silence.
During the war, force was often praised as necessary, even heroic. Yet when extraordinary power becomes habit, we must ask whether we are protecting the wizarding world or preparing the ground for the next tyrant to rise from fear and resentment. History has already taught us what happens when one person decides that certainty matters more than law.
Let me be clear: criminals deserve punishment. Death Eaters, Dark wizards, and anyone who willingly harmed our society must answer for their crimes. But Voldemort also claimed to act for a higher purpose, and he too believed his cause placed him above ordinary rules.
He did not ask questions. He did not allow fair judgment. He simply took rights away from those he considered enemies and dragged the wizarding world toward fear and chaos.
The Ministry of Magic and its Aurors are meant to protect us. To do so, they must respect law even when the law is inconvenient, and they must remember humanity even when facing those who have shown none. Power used without oversight does not become justice merely because it is aimed at people we dislike.
There is something more dangerous than You-Know-Who: a society that loses its dignity while claiming to defend it. We must regard justice as our shield, not our sword. Only then can the wizarding world truly emerge from darkness, defeat future threats, and protect witches and wizards from becoming victims of another age of fear.
In this sharp, carefully stinging article, Rita used her seasoned and sensational style to accuse the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot of allowing wartime detentions in Azkaban without proper trials. She did not need to prove every detail at once. She only needed to make people ask whether something had been hidden from them.
Officials from both departments read the article and laughed instead of panicking. The matter, as far as they were concerned, had been settled years ago. That sharp-tongued woman attacking them on this issue was irritating, but hardly dangerous.
Under Minister Fudge's direction, the Minister's office quickly drafted a public announcement. It was released that same day, formal, polished, and confident enough to reassure anyone who did not wish to look too closely.
Respected witches and wizards, the Ministry of Magic has recently received concerns from citizens regarding the imprisonment of Death Eaters and Dark wizards in Azkaban during the war. Upon review, it is acknowledged that certain emergency measures were taken by Aurors in extraordinary circumstances, including the direct detention of dangerous individuals where immediate action was required.
Because this matter touches upon the principle of legal justice, the Ministry of Magic wishes to clarify the relevant circumstances. First, all individuals directly imprisoned under these procedures were key members of Voldemort's forces, with substantial evidence linking them to serious crimes that endangered the peace and order of wizarding society. Their actions presented a clear risk of escape, retaliation, and further harm.
Second, due to the complexity and severity of Death Eater activity, the Ministry implemented special procedures for certain core offenders in order to maintain public safety and prevent greater damage. These measures were not taken lightly, nor were they intended to replace the rule of law. They were wartime responses to urgent threats.
Third, after the war ended, the Ministry conducted strict reviews of the aforementioned cases and completed the required legal procedures. We remain committed to upholding justice, preserving order, and protecting the basic rights and interests of every witch and wizard.
Any lawbreaker will receive the punishment due under the law. We thank the public for its attention to this matter and welcome continued supervision of our work. Let us work together to build a fairer and safer society for the wizarding world.
Ministry of Magic and Wizengamot Joint Statement, July 2, 1991.
Rita sat on her flying carpet and smiled as she read the announcement again. It was obvious the drafter had been in a good mood, because the rebuttal was steady, reasonable, and just polished enough to calm nervous readers for the moment.
"For the moment," Rita said.
She waved her wand, and the tea set beside her came to life. The teapot rose into the air and poured fragrant black tea, while a white porcelain cup with gold trim hopped neatly into her hand. Rita took a sip, leaving a bright red lipstick mark on the rim, then slid the Ministry's announcement into her calfskin folder.
In the distance, Azkaban loomed on its storm-battered island. The fortress appeared through the mist like a jagged piece of night, half-swallowed by sea spray and cloud. Rita's smile sharpened as the flying carpet carried her closer.
"Dear Ms. Skeeter, welcome." Paul waited eagerly in one of Azkaban's high towers, staring at the elegant woman before him as if she were a rescue ship sent from heaven. His greeting was almost painfully enthusiastic.
"Hello, Mr. Paul." Rita removed her gloves and shook hands with the untidy wizard in front of her, hiding her distaste behind a professional smile. The moment Paul turned away to introduce the prison, she quickly used Aguamenti to clean her right hand.
"With all due respect, Mr. Paul," Rita said as they walked toward his office, "the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot issued a joint statement this morning."
"Statement?" Paul rubbed his nearly bald head. Azkaban was too far from everything, and even owls disliked flying there. He rarely knew what was happening in the wider wizarding world until the news was already old.
"Yes," Rita said, covering her nose as they entered the corridor. A Dementor had drifted past earlier, leaving her legs weak and her mood worse, and she already loathed this place. "The statement addressed the people you mentioned in your letter—the ones supposedly imprisoned in Azkaban without trial."
Paul frowned, and Rita gave him a sympathetic look that did not quite reach her eyes. "I'm very sorry, but the Ministry claims it conducted a review at Fudge's request. After what it calls a rigorous investigation, it insists the situation you described would not have occurred."
"They're lying!" Paul snapped.
He yanked open a drawer and pulled out Roger's Hogwarts acceptance letter. Waving the envelope in the air, he held it toward the candlelight, where the Hogwarts crest shimmered with a distinctive glow.