Before long, the deck of the fishing boat was littered with unconscious bodies.
Only the two rescued "prisoners" remained upright, gasping for breath while the sailors lay collapsed around them.
After a short rest, the woman pushed herself up on one arm and burst into manic laughter.
"Lockhart, you're a genius. I've never seen anyone push the Memory Charm to this extent."
Lestrange.
The two who had escaped from Azkaban were none other than Gilderoy Lockhart and Bellatrix Lestrange.
During the Ministry's investigation years ago, Lockhart had been dissected from top to bottom. Their conclusion was simple. Aside from Memory Charms, he was practically incompetent.
What they had not anticipated was that Lockhart had poured nearly all his talent into that single spell.
He had become a dangerously specialized prodigy.
Fueled by hatred for Tom, he had trained himself to cast Obliviate wandlessly. Not only that, he could surgically remove precise memories with terrifying accuracy.
After every Dementor patrol, he would extract the fear soaked recollections from his own mind, leaving himself untouched by their lingering despair.
Eventually, during an outdoor exercise period, he struck. A perfectly timed Memory Charm disrupted the Dementor assigned to guard nearby. While the creature's thoughts spiraled into confusion, Lockhart escaped.
He had not planned to bring anyone else.
But Bellatrix had seen.
And so their breakout became a joint endeavor.
"Where are we going now?" Lockhart asked once he had caught his breath. "Are you certain the Dark Lord is alive?"
"How could the Dark Lord be dead!" Bellatrix screeched. "He lives. This is only a temporary silence. It proves he requires the devotion of his loyal followers!"
"Do you know where he is?"
Lockhart was not intimidated by her madness. He had encountered this type before.
The hysterical women who once worshipped him had not looked much different.
The only distinction was that Bellatrix's object of obsession was the Dark Lord.
Lockhart had merely been a fraud.
Which was precisely why he needed the Dark Lord's power.
To kill Tom Riddle.
"I need time to determine that," Bellatrix muttered, devouring two chocolate bars she had stolen from a sailor's pocket. "First, back to Britain. Secure wands. Then Hogwarts. We kill Harry Potter and… your enemy."
She hesitated slightly.
She knew the Dark Lord's past. She knew the significance of that name.
That was why she despised Tom nearly as much as Harry.
One dared to share her master's name.
The other had reduced her master to ruin.
Both deserved death.
"You expect the two of us to walk into Hogwarts and start killing?" Lockhart stared at her as if she were deranged. "Have you forgotten Dumbledore? Even setting him aside, do you truly believe you are a match for Tom Riddle?"
"He killed a Basilisk."
"So what?" Bellatrix sneered. "Power means nothing. One Killing Curse is sufficient."
"We serve our master. We do not burden him," she continued sharply. "If you lack the courage, Lockhart, hide somewhere safe. I will kill them myself and find you afterward."
The only reason she tolerated him was his rare talent with memory manipulation.
Otherwise, even if he had assisted her escape, she would have silenced him eventually.
In the end, Lockhart chose to follow her.
Alone, he would stand no chance against Ministry patrols.
With Bellatrix, he had protection.
...
Paris.
Tom learned of the escape a day later.
The Ministry had disgraced itself again. Azkaban, the so called inescapable fortress, had lost two prisoners in one night.
The Daily Prophet announced rewards.
Bellatrix Lestrange, five thousand Galleons.
Gilderoy Lockhart, ten thousand.
Tom nearly assumed it was a misprint.
Only later did he discover that Lockhart had been the primary architect of the escape. Even Dementors had faltered beneath his Memory Charm.
Impressive.
Tom privately suspected Lockhart might wield Obliviate more deftly than he did.
Colorful lights shimmered faintly in Tom's eyes.
Fragments of future scenes flickered.
His control over the Power of Time was not yet refined. He could glimpse only limited strands, no further than three months ahead.
In Lockhart's case, the images were sparse.
But clear enough.
For at least three months, Lockhart would remain in Britain, acting alongside Bellatrix.
"They plan to come to Hogwarts?" Tom murmured.
Convenient.
If they delivered themselves, he would handle both at once.
He tossed the newspaper aside and left his bedroom, crossing the hall to knock on Daphne's door.
"Ready yet? Your mother is waiting for us for lunch."
"Almost!" came the cheerful reply, accompanied by laughter as the sisters teased one another.
Tom shook his head.
"Almost" likely meant quite some time.
Although it was not yet the end of the month, Tom had burned through the remaining materials in a final surge of productivity. There was no reason to linger further in France. Britain demanded his attention.
True to expectation, Daphne did not emerge until nearly eleven.
After bidding farewell to Nicolas and Perenelle, the trio arrived at Greengrass Manor just before luncheon.
"Auntie," Tom greeted with an easy smile.
Mrs. Greengrass returned it warmly and gestured for the house elves to begin serving.
"I have something for you," she added. "It arrived today."
Tom opened the package.
His eyebrows rose.
"A Firebolt?"
"Yes. Our family invested in the Firebolt workshop. Once production began, I set one aside for you. Something to enjoy in your spare time."
Tom realized, with faint amusement, that he had never purchased a broom in his life.
And yet, each year, the newest model somehow found its way into his hands.
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