Nightfall |Draco Malfoy|

Don't Mention the Portriats

BLACK STILL AT LARGE

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.

"We are doing all we can to recapture Black," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm."

Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

"Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it — who'd believe him if he did?"

While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

The sun was beating down on the back of Violet's neck as she read the newest article in the Daily Prophet. She had cut her hair into a shorter style, not wanting to deal with it under the intense heat of the desert for a month. As her eyes moved over every printed word and her bangs flowed in the gentlest of breezes, her stomach felt like it was becoming more and more knotted and twisty.

Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban.

Violet didn't know what that meant, but before she could give it anymore thought Molly appeared and pulled the paper straight from Violet's grip.

"Now, don't you worry about this one bit, darling." Molly folded the newspaper up and stuck it under her arm as she rubbed Violet's back. "He'll be right back in Azkaban before we even return home. Those guards are probably the angriest they've ever been. It won't take too long."

With a nod of her head, Violet looked over at Molly. Her green eyes showed fear and a bit of confusion. "Won't he come looking for me? I mean, we do share a last name."

Before Molly could answer Fred and George appeared out of nowhere and gripped each of Violet's wrists.

"It's your turn, Lilac," Fred teased as the two started to drag Violet in the direction she tried her best to flee from. And she was doing quite well, but then she noticed the newest issue of the Daily Prophet on the stand.

Arthur had won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw. The prize being 700 galleons. The family had decided to use a decent chunk of the prize money to visit Bill in Egypt for a few weeks before the start of the new school year. And for the past month, Arthur has turned into the most typical Muggle tourist possible. Somehow he had overheard during one of their historical visits that in the old times Muggles use to get intricate paintings done of themselves, and since that exact moment, Arthur has been a man in a mission.

"No, guys, please don't make me," Violet begged as she activated 'dead weight mode' and dug her heels in to the sandy street, but both of the boys had expected this and George had moved from his position on her left to pick Violet up from just behind her knees.

She tried her best to return to the ground, but the twins were definitely not going to let that happen. If they had to sit through being painted, Violet had to sit through it. If they had to have an awful picture of themselves on a wall in the Burrow, Violet had to be up there as well.

The twins had successfully plopped her on the stool in front of the painter and stood on either side of her while Bill and Charlie were off to the side, ready if she tried to dash off again.