Under the deliberate guidance of certain interested parties, the news of the prisoners' successful escape from Azkaban gradually faded with time, eventually slipping from the memories of most wizards. Only when a particular incident occurred did people suddenly remember that such a thing had ever taken place.
As for the few wizards who sensed that something wasn't right, most of them lacked either the means to uncover the truth or the power to change anything.
The prisoners' identities and numbers, how the Dementors responded to the breakout, and how the matter was handled afterward—all of it became an unsolved mystery.
Anyone who tried to dig deeper was met with punishment and suppression from the Ministry of Magic.
Among those made an example of was Luna's father's The Quibbler...
Which was why, when Lockhart revealed this information, even Draco—who rarely let his emotions show—couldn't hide his surprise. He stopped what he was doing.
More importantly, the meaning layered beneath Lockhart's words made it impossible for Draco to simply leave the room...
"So... the problem lies with the prisoners' identities."
After a brief moment of thought, Draco seemed to grasp something. He turned back to face Lockhart and went straight to the heart of it.
A gleam of excitement flashed across Lockhart's face, as if he had been waiting for exactly this reaction.
"I knew it! I knew you'd catch on right away! After all, you're the genius wizard I've taken a liking to."
"..."
"That's right! Their identities are extremely important. Do you have any idea how much risk I took to get this information~"
He said it as if he were complaining, but the almost feverish look on his face made it clear he was thoroughly enjoying the thrill that risk brought him.
Watching him, Hermione muttered under her breath, "Creepy."
Leaning against the doorframe, Draco's eyes narrowed.
He knew exactly what kind of state Lockhart was in.
Lockhart's twisted excitement didn't come out of nowhere.
To be precise, in the wizarding world, only matters involving a very small number of certain wizards could push this battle-obsessed man into such a state.
In other words, not just anyone qualified...
A name surfaced in Draco's mind.
"I see... It can't be related to Dumbledore. In that case... those prisoners were Death Eaters. Or rather, the group most loyal to the Dark Lord."
"Eh?!"
Draco hadn't raised his voice, but it was more than enough for Hermione to hear clearly.
She spun around, her eyes widening in shock, disbelief flickering in their depths.
Even as a Muggle-born, Hermione had heard plenty from other students about the cruelty and crimes of those Death Eaters...
...
If the escaped prisoners had been ordinary criminals, you could reasonably suspect that one of them possessed Animagus abilities like Sirius Black.
But if they were the Dark Lord's most loyal Death Eaters, the implications were entirely different—especially considering that more than one prisoner had escaped...
"Rodolphus Lestrange and his dear wife Bellatrix Lestrange, Augustus Rookwood, Mulciber, and so on... Hmm... none of these names are unfamiliar to us."
"..."
"Perhaps that's why the Ministry tried so desperately to cover it up, yet still had no choice but to briefly mention it in the Daily Prophet."
Hermione didn't fully understand the weight behind each name Lockhart recited. But seeing Draco's expression grow darker by the second, she nervously pressed her dry lower lip.
Putting together what Draco had said earlier, the sharp-minded Hermione arrived at a dreadful conclusion.
"These wizards..."
"Ah ha! If I were still your professor, I'd award Gryffindor ten points! That's right—every single one of the wizards who escaped from Azkaban were the most active and the most ruthless Dark wizards of their time."
"Which means..."
Lockhart spread his hands, his tone exaggerated despite the faint trace of feigned helplessness on his face.
"Death Eaters! And the most loyal to the Dark Lord at that!"
Unlike Lockhart, who practically itched for chaos to erupt so he could throw himself into battle against worthy opponents, Hermione's thoughts went straight to the destruction those prisoners could bring—and what their return meant for the recently resurrected Voldemort.
With those Death Eaters reunited under him, would the Dark Lord's power grow at terrifying speed?
Would their regrouping hasten Voldemort's full return?
It felt like a sword of Damocles hanging overhead, suspended but never falling—the uncertainty far more unbearable than the blade itself...
Just as Hermione was about to suggest leaving at once and gathering everyone to discuss the matter, Draco suddenly turned his gaze toward Lockhart.
Lockhart sat twisting slightly in his chair, a strange half-smile playing at his lips.
Draco's eyes were cold and sharp, as though they could pierce straight through to the thoughts hidden beneath that smile.
Under that stare, Lockhart began to tremble, as if struck by an invisible blow. His breathing grew heavier, faster.
Draco ignored the change in him.
"You're still hiding something."
"..."
"How did those wizards escape from the heavily guarded Azkaban?"
The moment the question left his mouth, Lockhart reacted as though he'd been triggered. He lowered his head abruptly, bowing so deeply it looked as if he were trying to fold himself in half.
His expression was hidden from view.
But from beneath that lowered head came a suppressed, chilling laugh that made the skin crawl.
Seeing his reaction, Draco had his answer.
He turned away.
"We should go, Hermione."
"Huh? But—wait! Don't leave me here alone!"
The well-insulated door shut behind them.
On the other side, the laughter swelled, no longer restrained—thick with excitement and anticipation.
It sounded like the ticking of a countdown.
A prelude to the chaos about to descend...