On the darkest night of April, when the moon had turned her face from the earth below, a fire burned, its crackling and spittle the colour of bruises. Resting upon the flames like a burnished crown was a cauldron, so large that it might fit a man if he contorted himself into the smallest of shapes.
Voldemort has returned.*Check out our new site wanted ads and new member group, the 'rooks'!