Azkaban at Night

"Friend," Dumbledore said, his eyes seeming to be full of memories.

Jon stood quietly beside him, making no sound.

At the edge of the ancient city of Winchester, they paused for a while.

"Jon, grab my arm!" Dumbledore suddenly ordered.

Jon hesitated for a moment, then reached out and grabbed Dumbledore's forearm.

"Very good," Dumbledore said. "Now, let's go!"

Jon held onto Dumbledore's arm tightly, and suddenly, everything around him turned pitch black.

He felt like he was being squeezed from all directions, struggling to breathe as if his chest was being constricted by iron hoops. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally emerged into the cold night air, his eyes brimming with tears.

For a brief moment, he felt as if he had just squeezed through a narrow rubber tube.

"Apparition!" Professor Dumbledore said calmly. "It can be a bit painful, but you'll get used to it."

"Thank you, professor!" Jon said, getting up and straightening his clothes.

Then, he felt a strange chill surrounding him from all sides.

On this mid-July night, despite wearing multiple layers of clothing, this chill felt abnormal.

But then, Dumbledore's summoned phoenix flew down from the sky and its wings enveloped Jon's body, dispelling the chill and replacing it with a warm sensation.

Feeling rejuvenated, Jon looked around at the area where they had Apparated.

They were on a small island by the sea.

In front of them stood a massive and ominous castle, while behind them stretched an endless ocean.

In the sky, countless black specks could be seen, seemingly flying towards their location or desperately fleeing out of fear.

"This is..." Jon whispered.

"This is Azkaban!" Dumbledore said lightly. "A dreadful wizarding prison."

...

Seeing Jon's frightened expression, Dumbledore burst into laughter. "Don't worry, Jon, no one will send you to Azkaban just because you turned Bogut into a principal... Those imprisoned there are the most notorious criminals."

Jon smiled and rubbed his head.

Dumbledore checked his watch. "We still have ten minutes until 9:30. We have some time to talk."

He started rummaging in his pockets again, taking about a minute before finally finding what he was looking for.

"Look at this, Jon!"

Jon carefully took what Dumbledore was holding and examined it... His heart raced, but he had to keep a calm expression on his face.

He had to use Occlumency to forcibly suppress his emotions.

Dumbledore was looking at a beautiful pebble in his hand, seemingly ignoring Jon.

"I think..." Jon said calmly, "this should be a bullet casing?"

"Yes!" Dumbledore replied, playing with the two pebbles like a child. "It's quite amusing. I found these where Mr. Percy Weasley was attacked!"

"That's truly incredible..." Jon murmured.

At the same time, he returned the bullet casings to Dumbledore.

"It's something very intriguing, yet also very dangerous..." Dumbledore's voice grew lower.

Dumbledore tossed the objects he held forward, and with a few soft splashes, the bullet casings disappeared into the sea.

Jon found himself unable to discern the meaning behind Dumbledore's actions.

Was he warning Jon? Extending kindness? Or was it simply unintentional?

"It has been fifty years already!" Dumbledore's voice grew somber. "Since that dreadful war..."

"It claimed the lives of many of my students and friends!"

"Yousef Shaker, a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts from 1927 to 1941, an exceptional instructor... He met his end in Benghazi, Libya, in July 1941."

"Edward Tuft, the seeker for the English national team at the time. While playing for Slytherin Academy, he set a record for Snitch catches that was only broken by Harry Potter a little over a year ago... He perished in Normandy, France, in June 1944."

"Alan Rose, the most gifted transfiguration student I ever encountered... He was just fifteen years old when he died in December 1940, burned by an incendiary bomb dropped by an airplane in Diagon Alley."

Albus Dumbledore's expression was no longer that of the most powerful wizard in Europe, but that of an old man reminiscing about the past and mourning the loss.

"Nearly half of Hogwarts' teachers and almost a quarter of its graduates perished in that war... Many may have forgotten after all these years, but unfortunately, I still remember as if it were yesterday!"

"Dumbledore... Professor..." Jon said softly.

"Please forgive an old fool's nostalgic ramblings!" Dumbledore sighed, his expression gradually turning serious. "If there's anything truly terrifying, it's wizards and magical folk going to war!"

"Therefore, we must prevent it from happening!"

...

Jon was still pondering the meaning behind Dumbledore's words when a loud explosion echoed through the air, and two figures materialized less than ten yards away from Jon and Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Cornelius!" Dumbledore greeted them warmly. "And Amelia."

"Oh, Dumbledore, you're always punctual!" Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, a stout little man, wearing a dark green coat and a somber expression, replied.

Beside Fudge stood a witch with a broad build, a square chin, and short gray hair.

"Professor Dumbledore!" the witch, Amelia Bones, nodded at Dumbledore and cast a curious glance at Jon.

"He's just a first-year student!" Dumbledore smiled, without elaborating further. "Jon, this is Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge and Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones."

"Hello, Minister, and Director..." Jon greeted them quickly.

Mrs. Bones smiled kindly at him, but Fudge paid him no attention.

"What's the matter, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked. "You called me here."

"It's terrible... a prisoner has escaped... the first escape from Azkaban in so many years..." Fudge stammered.

"Sirius Black!"