The Last Black (Hermione Granger x Male Reader) Vol.2

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: February 1996

I sat at the Slytherin table enjoying fried eggs on toast whilst Bridgett finished a Defence Against the Dark Arts essay on inferi. "This is bullshit," she complained between bites of buttered toast, "I don't see how writing an essay would save me against an army of the undead!" I shrugged my shoulders, more focused on my breakfast, when the morning post came in. "Right, I'll read the paper then continue," Bridgett narrated as she put down her quill, closed her textbook and tucked a few knuts in the owl's leather leg pouch. Her hands flapped the newspaper open, and on the front page I could see the image of a criminal. "Can I have page one?" I asked, my mouth full of scrambled egg. Bridgett nodded her head and slipped off the outer page of The Daily Prophet. My eyes scanned the headline.

'Mass breakout from Azkaban' it read, an image of one of the escaped convicts, a woman who looked familiar to me, plastered to the front. If it weren't for the insane expression on her face, and the ratted hair, I would have believed her to be Aunt Dromeda. They shared a similar facial structure, yet whereas Aunt Dromeda always appeared kind and warm, this woman looked cold and sinister – her cheeks gaunt and her browbone more prominent. Despite the madness, there was still something eminently 'Black' about this woman. Perhaps it was the nose, or the hair, or the eyes, or the lips.

After flicking through the pages she had, Bridgett seemed interested in what I was reading, and we both read the article on the front page silently.

'The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban.

Speaking to reporters in , 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.'

Bridgett and I stared at each other worriedly after reading the first column, eager to find out who in fact had escaped the prison. It seemed everybody else had a copy of The Daily Prophet as the hall fell silent as other students read the article.

'"We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were 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 beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached."'

Bellatrix Black... Lestrange.

I'd seen her name on the family tapestry. She was Andromeda's sister – mine, and Sirius's cousin.

People in the Great Hall begun to turn around in their seats and stare at me. It had been the same in my fourth year when Sirius had escaped Azkaban. Whenever the Black name was mentioned in the Prophet, I was immediately the main subject of gossip. Bridget looked me in the eyes caringly, "do you think it could've been him?" She asked, referring to Sirius. It was too dangerous to tell her about The Order, and about Sirius' innocence.

"No, it wouldn't have been," I shook my head, "he escaped once, I doubt he'd risk going back there to free others."

Bridgett nodded, "You-Know-Who then?"

"Most likely," I muttered, handing her back the front pages of her newspaper and picking up my satchel. "I'll see you at dinner," I told her glumly, knowing for a fact that some people were going to use my family's mention in The Daily Prophet to antagonise me.