Chapter 282
Without the aid of a ship or any other means of transportation, a black-robed figure suddenly appeared along the coastline and stepped onto the island known as Azkaban.
The waves violently crashed against the cliffs and jagged rocks, producing deep rumbling sounds.
Perhaps this was the only constant sound upon this isolated island in the middle of the sea.
The man casually observed the ancient granite fortress before him.
The towering castle resembled a massive prison buried within despair itself.
Most criminals imprisoned there would spend the remainder of their lives consumed by hopelessness until death finally claimed them.
"I have come, my loyal followers," the man whispered softly.
"I have come to save you."
"As a reward for your loyalty, you shall receive supreme glory… and my favor."
Lord Voldemort had come to break into Azkaban.
Or rather—
To rebuild his army.
Although he himself had never been imprisoned within Azkaban, he was far from unfamiliar with the place.
In fact, he knew its history very well.
Azkaban had existed since the fifteenth century, though the fortress itself had been built even earlier.
Originally, it had not been a prison at all.
It had once been the residence of a wizard.
That wizard called himself Ekrizdis.
He was an extremely powerful and utterly insane Dark Wizard.
Hidden upon this lonely island, he lured Muggle sailors from the sea, torturing and killing them purely for amusement.
He even kept a group of sirens as pets for that purpose.
Their voices were heavenly.
Even the Veela of the wizarding world seemed insignificant beside them.
Their songs could make even the greatest navigators lose themselves before crashing upon the rocks.
Using the sirens' power, the wizard endlessly captured sailors.
Day after day.
Year after year.
The sirens themselves seemed delighted by the slaughter, as though fulfilling some instinctive destiny.
Until one day—
Everything changed.
Like every foolish love story ever told, one of the sirens fell in love at first sight with a sailor standing upon a ship's deck.
She abandoned her song.
She chose silence.
The sailor had actually prepared himself beforehand.
He had heard legends of the enchanting sirens that haunted these seas.
Their songs were intoxicating wine—
And fatal poison.
So he stuffed his ears with wax and chained himself tightly to the mast.
But it was useless.
The songs of sirens could penetrate anything.
And the passion of those seduced by them shattered things far stronger than chains or wood.
When the sailor finally crossed the sea safely, he proudly believed he had resisted temptation.
He had watched the sirens' movements and assumed they were singing.
He thought his preparations had succeeded.
But he never realized the truth.
The sirens' throats trembled.
They inhaled deeply.
Their eyes overflowed with tears while their lips remained slightly parted.
They were more beautiful than ever before.
Their long hair danced wildly within the sea wind.
Their clawed hands clung desperately to the rocks.
The power of love was terrifyingly beautiful.
Yet the sailor would never know—
That somewhere upon the endless sea, there had once existed a group of sirens who deeply admired him.
The sirens gained fleeting love.
But the price they paid—
Was losing their voices forever.
The sailor survived only because the sirens willingly allowed the waters to release him.
That act enraged the Dark Wizard completely.
And so he killed every last siren.
Only after the wizard eventually died of old age did the Ministry of Magic finally discover the island and the fortress hidden upon it.
By then, the entire castle had become filled with Dementors.
The Ministry concluded that the despair and suffering left behind by the dying sirens had attracted those creatures.
Afterward, the Ministry split into two factions.
One side believed Azkaban was too evil and should be destroyed entirely.
The other feared the consequences of displacing the Dementors.
Those creatures could not truly be killed.
If deprived of their habitat, they might spread across the wizarding world uncontrollably.
Some scholars even believed the castle itself had become soaked with sorrow, madness, and black magic.
According to experts who studied cursed architecture, Azkaban itself might retaliate against anyone attempting to destroy it.
Thus, the fortress remained abandoned for many years.
A home for Dementors.
Until eventually—
A dictator-like Minister of Magic rose to power.
He forcefully established Azkaban Prison there.
According to him, Dementors made ideal guards.
The arrangement saved the Ministry enormous time, labor, and money.
And later generations of Ministry officials cared only about one thing—
Azkaban's near-perfect success rate at imprisoning criminals.
Thus the prison remained.
And so it continued until today.
Voldemort's purpose in coming here was not merely to break prisoners free.
He intended to turn the Dementors themselves against the Ministry and make them serve him instead.
He himself did not know the Patronus Charm.
It was one of the few forms of magic he had never bothered to study.
But he did not need it.
Voldemort himself embodied terror and despair.
Dementors were almost powerless before him.
However—
As he gazed toward the silent island and lonely fortress, Voldemort slowly narrowed his scarlet eyes.
He sensed something unusual.
Suddenly—
Groups of strange creatures burst from beneath the sand and charged toward him.
They were Blast-Ended Skrewts.
Their tails spat flames while giant pincers snapped violently.
These creatures currently served as Azkaban's primary defensive force.
The larger their numbers became, the more dangerous they were collectively.
Now they rushed toward the intruder like a living tide.
At the same moment—
A gigantic water serpent suddenly rose from the sea nearby.
Its body was as thick as a barrel.
With a violent swing, it smashed downward.
A towering wave exploded outward.
The seawater instantly extinguished the skrewts' flaming tails.
In mere seconds, the creatures stiffened and collapsed upon the sand, barely alive.
"Weak."
Voldemort glanced disdainfully at the dying creatures before continuing toward the prison fortress.
"Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!"
The ancient trees lining the path suddenly trembled violently as though sensing an invader.
Their branches shook wildly while strange sounds echoed through the night.
"What an irritating trick."
Voldemort frowned again.
At that moment, a fierce sea wind swept across the shoreline.
The ancient trees bent backward with the wind like giant bows drawing their strings tight enough to snap.
Then—
The wind abruptly stopped.
The trees instantly straightened.
Using the momentum they had gathered, they launched the fruits hanging from their branches like cannonballs directly toward Voldemort.
The fruits resembled coconuts.
But midway through flight—
Cracks suddenly appeared across their shells.
Eyes and mouths split open across their surfaces, forming grotesque human-like faces.
Their furious expressions looked strangely comical.
Yet Voldemort could clearly sense the savage hunger radiating from them.