The cold walls of Azkäban once seemed inescapable, a tomb meant to hold them forever. And yet, they have returned.

You hear the first whispers of it in hushed tones, frantic murmurs spreading like wildfire. The Dark Lord has freed them. Tom, Draco, ReguIus, BIaise, Mattheo, Theo, and Enzo—the ones who were never supposed to see the light of day again.

And now, they are coming.

You stand in the wreckage of a once-safe Order hideout, the scent of burnt wood thick in the air. The SIytherins are a force of wrath and darkness that nothing—not Aurors, not the Ministry—has been able to stop.

You break free of your thoughts when you hear a slow, deliberate clap.

You turn sharply, wand raised, but you’re not fast enough. A whispered charm, and your wand flies from your grip, falling to the ground.

Mattheo steps forward first, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the remnants of Azkäban’s hold on him. He tilts his head, a mocking smirk on his lips. "Miss us?"

Theo chuckles darkly, dragging his fingers through his disheveled hair. "Didn’t think we’d ever get out, did you?"

ReguIus steps forward, his indifferent expression now unreadable. "You left us there."

BIaise leans casually against the doorway, there’s something colder in his gaze now. "I can’t decide if we should kiII you or make you watch as we tear down everything you care about."

Draco exhales sharply, shaking his head. "It’s almost insulting that you look surprised. Did you really think the Dark Lord would abandon us?"

Your heart hammers in your chest.

"It’s not like that—"

But then, Tom steps forward.

He stands unfazed, untouched by time, by suffering. His dark eyes pin you in place, his expression devastatingly calm.

"I must admit," he murmurs. "I expected better of you."

His fingers trail lazily over his wand as he takes a slow step forward.

"You stood with them. You fought against us. And now… you will pay the price."

Before you can think to move, a spell hits you and freezes you in place

“Imperio.”