It was on that very day.
Azkaban's chief designer, Valerius, stepped off the inspection boat.
Umbridge and the Squib jailers welcomed him in neatly arranged ranks.
As chief designer, Valerius had come specially for New Azkaban's first anniversary to conduct an inspection and upgrade some of the equipment and defensive systems.
Naturally, Umbridge welcomed anyone who maintained a friendly, neutral stance toward Douglas.
At the edge of Azkaban's waters, within Muggle waters.
A Muggle yacht sat on the sea.
Four fishing rods hung from the stern, their lines, well, swaying as they stretched down into the sea.
Sirius reclined in a deck chair, wearing sunglasses that covered half his face.
"Trust me, this spot has the most fish. I passed through here last time."
Lupin sat beside him, preparing bait, the sea breeze tousling the loose hair over his forehead.
"If you actually manage to catch a fish, I might believe that."
Bill poked his head out of the cabin, a camera hanging around his neck.
"Neither of you move. This angle is perfect. An exhausted werewolf, a fugitive revisiting his old haunts, oh, and a fishing rod about to be stolen by a seagull."
Sirius said dryly.
"One correction: I'm an innocent citizen now, and a very rich one."
Bill pressed the shutter. There was a click, and the flash went off.
Lupin couldn't help laughing.
"You should print that on your business card."
Douglas's voice came from the cabin:
"You should add another line: three hours of fishing, zero fish caught."
Sirius turned his head and shouted.
"That's because last time I only ate them, so they remembered the scent of danger."
Lupin passed him a lump of bait.
"Keep going. Don't fling the bait back onto the boat this time."
Only then did Sirius reel in his