North Sea.
Azkaban is dark and gloomy, as if it is the end of the world,
'Truly the end of the world for you if you are unlucky enough to be sent here..'
'I don't know what Master Cyrus will do to me..' Lucius didn't know how he got here in a daze. He felt like he was trapped in a turbulent river, unable to escape and could only be carried forward.
When he came to his senses, the gray tower that stood like a skeleton on the horizon was already right in front of him.
He looked back and saw that the number of wizards who came with him had increased.
After the gathering that belonged only to the twenty-eight sacred purebloods, although they had to take action immediately, each family still brought along some purebloods of lower status and some half-bloods.
At this moment, everyone was wearing masks and wrapped in black robes, darker than the surging black waters of the North Sea.
"Snape isn't here?"
A man squeezed in front of Lucius.
The world was spinning around him, and Lucius couldn't even tell who the man under the mask was. It was almost ten seconds later that he realized that the man was talking to him, but the voice was made unclear by the surging waves.
"I reached out to him," Lucius replied, swallowing hard.
At that moment, he had contemplated sending two separate letters—one to Snape and another to Cyrus—but with so many eyes watching him, he ultimately didn't have the courage.
As for Snape's letter, it contained very little detail. He couldn't risk revealing the plan before confirming whether Snape would participate.
"It seems he really has betrayed us!" the wizard sneered, branding Snape as a traitor, and feeling genuine disgust and hatred toward Snape's actions, as if it extended to Snape as a person.
'As if you yourself were so loyal.'
Lucius didn't respond. His mind was blank, the black waves continued to rise, crashing against the surface of the sea, and the spray that splashed up felt like icy, burning nails, harshly piercing his soul.
"Because of that rat Pettigrew's betrayal, the Ministry of Magic noticed the Dementors' vulnerabilities as guards, so they've sent a few Aurors to assist," one of the more informed wizards said. "This is good news for us—Aurors are easier to deal with than Dementors!"
Hearing this, Lucius's vacant eyes suddenly reflected the shadows of those "ghosts" circling the dilapidated tower. Though the number of Dementors had decreased, there were still a fair few left.
"Azkaban already has anti-Apparition wards. If we strike swiftly and unexpectedly, by the time the Ministry realizes what's happening, it'll be too late!" one of the wizards said excitedly.
Then came the sound of nearly a hundred people quietly drawing their wands.
Lucius quickly grasped the top of his gentleman's cane with his left hand, drawing out a short stick as if unsheathing a sword.
His wand was quite short, so he had added a bit of silver ornamentation to its tip.
"Charge!"
Someone shouted, and hundreds of people, filled with fervor, charged towards Azkaban.
They all rode high-performance flying broomsticks, sweeping across the sea like a black whirlwind, leaving behind the sound of the air being torn apart!
The Dementors, circling in the sky like sharks, sensed this wave of emotion even before the Aurors and immediately abandoned the grey tower, diving toward the advancing group. They trailed long, tattered black cloaks, like filthy, discarded souls.
"Take them down!"
Hundreds of people simultaneously shot black spells into the sky. In this world, there were hardly any spells that could kill Dementors, but as long as these creatures had a physical form, they were not invincible.
The black spells flew like a barrage of missiles.
One Dementor was struck in the chest, instantly sent flying backward as if hit by a speeding truck, its body spinning like a withered leaf for hundreds of meters before the curse's force released it.
It appeared furious and launched another attack.
However, the Dementors underestimated the wizards.
The spells continued relentlessly, and the Dementors were unable to get close to the advancing wizards, repeatedly being blasted away and forced to retreat.
Lucius didn't even know if he was aiming properly. Once the spells shot out from his wand, he paid them no mind. He just kept his arm raised, attacking non-stop until his arm ached from the effort.
The Dementors were either knocked back or fell into the sea, where the turbulent currents carried them away to unknown destinations.
In some cases, the frigid sea water might even freeze over, trapping the creatures within.
Seeing this, the Death Eaters found even more ways to handle the situation.
"Yeah! Bind their movements!"
Without needing further instruction, several clever wizards had already begun doing just that. They tossed random objects from their pockets, and with a flick of their wands, transformed them into ropes, chains, or thorny vines. In an instant, these bindings pierced through the Dementors' tattered cloaks, securely trapping them!
A few other wizards combined their efforts to cast Levitation Charms, raising the seawater to form water prisons around the Dementors. Then came the command:
"Freeze them all!"
"Yeah!"
In an instant, the water prisons, along with the trapped Dementors, froze into massive ice spheres, which then fell into the sea, drifting away with the currents to an unknown fate.
The first line of defense at Azkaban, the Dementors—creatures that had caused countless people nightmares—collapsed just like that. In truth, these beings were feared mainly because the prisoners in Azkaban were utterly defenseless against them.
The Aurors on the island soon sensed something was wrong. In fact, they should have noticed earlier, but being surrounded by Dementors had plunged their spirits into despair.
Now, as their emotions slightly recovered, they finally noticed the swarm of Death Eaters approaching like a dark cloud of locusts!
"Prepare for battle, and try to contact the Ministry of Magic!" one of the Aurors shouted. He ignited the fireplace, intending to use the Floo Network to connect with the Ministry. But he was a moment too late.
Before the green flames could fully ignite, a bolt of green lightning crossed the sea and struck down!
"Avada Kedavra!"
The spell hit the Auror squarely in the chest, sending his body flying backward. His eyes were wide open as he tumbled lifelessly to the ground, like a broken doll.
He was dead.
And then came the slaughter.
It was all too easy.
The Death Eaters stepped over the Auror's now cold body, grinning with satisfaction.
That exhilarating feeling, the thrill of taking another's life with such ease—it was something they hadn't experienced in over a decade.
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