Chapter 358: Invasion of Azkaban

It was late at night.

In the middle of the vast North Sea, a salty sea breeze howled, carrying with it a biting chill. 

The fierce winds stirred up turbulent waves, relentlessly crashing against a small island, sending white spray high into the air.

This so-called island was nothing more than a large rock, standing like a lonely boat amidst the wild waves.

Despite its small size and remote location, the island was not deserted. In fact, a tall, black tower loomed on it, its triangular structure clearly indicating it was a product of human civilization.

But no one knew why such a peculiar building existed in the middle of the sea.

This was Azkaban, the legendary wizard prison—a symbol of death and fear.

At the top of the tower, a few Aurors pulled their thick black cloaks tighter as they patrolled on the frost-covered floor.

Azkaban, located in the cold northern sea, was naturally subject to a damp and freezing climate. 

The presence of the numerous Dementors only made it even colder. No matter how thick their coats were, they could not completely fend off the bone-chilling cold.

In this harsh environment, a few Aurors patrolled back and forth, trying to stave off boredom and drowsiness by chatting with one another.

"How long are we supposed to stay here?"

One of the younger Aurors, a blond man, grumbled in dissatisfaction. He glanced at the Dementors floating in the distance, his expression full of disgust.

"I can't stand breathing in this air filled with fear and decay any longer," he added.

"I heard that the Dark Lord issued an ultimatum to the Ministry," said another, a brown-haired middle-aged Auror, speaking in a mysterious tone. 

"Savage told me that the Dark Lord threatened to massacre Muggles if we don't release the captured Death Eaters."

"He's getting desperate, using Muggles to threaten us!" A third Auror, stout and black-haired, spoke with disdain.

The Aurors laughed uproariously.

From months of preparation to the sudden strike a week ago, the Aurors had stayed one step ahead of the Death Eaters at every turn. 

This stark contrast to the war against Voldemort fourteen years ago, where they were often caught off guard, filled them with newfound confidence. Now, the war was being led by them.

As a result, the Aurors, buoyed by their tactical and strategic advantages, no longer feared the Death Eaters. 

To them, even the Dark Lord—once feared beyond words—was now merely a powerful wizard who lacked organizational and strategic abilities.

The middle-aged Auror continued. 

"Do you know how that batch of Death Eaters was captured in the past couple of days?"

"We wouldn't know," replied a young female Auror, shaking her head. "We've been patrolling the outskirts all this time and haven't had a chance to interact with the prisoners."

"Yeah, come on, spill it."

"Don't keep us waiting, you know you're well connected," the others urged.

"Alright, alright," the middle-aged Auror tightened his cloak, and casually said, "After the Dark Lord's ultimatum, the Director saw through his plan. 

She sent people to monitor those 'noble pure-bloods.' Sure enough, when the Dark Lord ordered them to kill Muggles, they were caught the moment they made a move."

The Aurors burst into another round of triumphant laughter.

In their eyes, the Dark Lord's menace had diminished significantly.

"Director Bones is truly impressive," the female Auror said reverently. 

"She saw right through the Death Eaters' actions and captured them so easily. If we'd had to face them head-on, how many of our colleagues would have died? I never knew she had such strategic brilliance."

"No, that wasn't her plan," the stout Auror interjected. "I heard that it came from Alaric of Hogwarts..."

"The kid who took out dozens of us single-handedly?" one of the Aurors exclaimed in surprise.

"If it's him..." The middle-aged Auror sighed. "He's becoming a formidable wizard. I think he's already a match for the Dark Lord. With him on our side, along with Dumbledore..."

At that, the Aurors' eyes sparkled with excitement.

Even the blonde Auror, who had been complaining earlier, sighed softly. 

"I hope I can be transferred out of this hellhole soon. I can't wait to give those scum a taste of their own medicine."

"You won't be leaving anytime soon," a white-haired Auror spoke up, silencing the others instantly. He was the leader of the patrol team, the Auror squad captain.

"There are too many prisoners in Azkaban right now. In all my years as an Auror, I've never seen this place so full. 

We must be extra cautious, especially..." He trailed off, lowering his voice. The others immediately gathered closer.

"...especially wary of the Dementors. We've been warned that they might side with the Dark Lord again, like they did fourteen years ago. That's why we're here—to guard against them. You all know how to cast the Patronus Charm, right?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Of course."

"Don't worry, Captain," the Aurors replied confidently.

Suddenly, they noticed several Dementors gathering in the distance, floating toward the tower.

"Strange, what are they doing?"

The Aurors exchanged puzzled glances. The behavior of the Dementors was baffling. 

Though they were cruel and cold creatures, Dementors never attacked each other, nor did they engage in any kind of close interaction.

Seeing them huddled together was an unusual sight.

Sensing something was amiss, the Aurors instinctively drew their wands, pointing them at the Dementors.

But the Dementors did not attack. They merely floated aimlessly over the tower.

Then, right before the Aurors' eyes, the Dementors dispersed.

"False alarm..." 

The Aurors breathed a sigh of relief, about to lower their wands, when they noticed something unusual. In the place where the Dementors had been, a single raven appeared.

The raven, clearly weakened by the Dementors' cold, flapped its wings sluggishly. In its talons, it clutched a small iron ring.

The Aurors hesitated for a moment, but their training kicked in quickly, and they realized what was happening.

"An Animagus!"

"Beware of Portkeys!"

In the next instant, multicolored spells shot toward the raven and the iron ring.

But it was too late.

The raven had already released its grip, and the ring fell to the floor of the tower with a sharp clang.

As it hit the ground, a burst of white light crackled around it.

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