The Death Eaters who had just emerged from the underground passage onto the harsh surface of Azkaban Island, still spinning from the shock of their arrival, were immediately confronted by the swooping Dementors.
The sight was so terrifying, so overwhelming, that nearly half of the group scrambled back into the tunnel entrance in blind terror, trampling over each other in their desperate retreat from the approaching nightmare.
At this critical moment, Nott Senior found his voice and shrieked desperately at Broderick Bode, "Stop them, quickly!"
Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
Lucius widened his eyes and looked toward Bode with an expression of desperate anticipation mixed with terrible dread, his entire body was tense with fear. He knew with absolute certainty that if Bode couldn't stop those Dementors, they would all be doomed today.
Under the watchful, terrified gaze of those Death Eaters who still retained some measure of rationality, Bode who seemed remarkably, almost unnaturally unaffected by the Dementors' influence reached his hand calmly into the pocket of his robes.
In the next second, his hand suddenly swung out toward the attacking mass of Dementors in a sharp motion, and he threw something into the air!
It was a piece of parchment that appeared quite aged, its surface were darkened to a dull yellow, with various holes of different sizes eaten into its edges and corners by insects.
When Lucius realized with crushing disappointment that it was merely a piece of damaged parchment with no apparent special qualities, the desperate light in his eyes extinguished completely like a candle being snuffed out. His heart sank to the very bottom of despair.
But he wasn't prepared to face death willingly. His trembling hand also reached desperately into his own pocket, his fingers were fumbling for the emergency Portkey that the Dark Lord had created for this mission that would allow them to transfer away from Azkaban.
But then, before his fingers could close around the Portkey—
BOOM!
A thunderous crash exploded through the air!
The seemingly insignificant piece of parchment floating lazily in the air suddenly froze completely in mid-air. The tattered piece of paper began radiating endless, brilliant sky-blue starlight into the dark space around it.
The blue radiance swept through their surroundings, washing over everything in its path. The terrible coldness that had been seeping into their very souls quickly receded like a retreating tide, driven back by the light. An overwhelming sense of majesty and power permeated the heart of every living person present.
The dazzling glow emanating from the parchment made Lucius instinctively squint against its intensity, raising one hand to shield his watering eyes.
But even through his narrowed eyelids and the glare, he could still clearly see the phantom of an exquisitely crafted, ingeniously designed diadem flickering into existence on the parchment that blazed with endless blue starlight.
In mid-air above them, the attacking Dementors were swept over by the expanding sky-blue glow.
After the light touched them, they became docile one by one. They hovered motionlessly in the air, no longer advancing, simply staring at that piece of parchment with their faces turned toward it. These creatures with minimal emotion and even less capacity for expression could only convey their aversion to the parchment through their cold gaze.
"Now—" Bode turned to look at Nott Senior, his face still showing that same blank expression. "You can command their movements."
Crying, cursing, repenting, pleading, begging for mercy—in the fortress of Azkaban, these sounds of human suffering never ceased year-round. They formed a constant background chorus of misery and madness that echoed through the corridors.
In one of the countless dark cells that honeycombed the tower, Cliodna sat in contemplation. She wore a simple blue-gray prison robe and matching pants which was the standard-issue clothing for all inmates.
Her knees were drawn up, sitting on the floor that was covered with some scattered straw for minimal comfort, her back was leaning against the icy stone wall that leached all warmth from her body.
Her arms encircled her knees in a embrace, and her pale face rested against her arms as she quietly gazed through the small opening in the back wall. The gap was barely large enough to fit a hand through, but it provided her only view of the boundless darkness outside, the endless black sea that surrounded this cursed island.
Unlike the overwhelming majority of other prisoners held in this terrible place, she hadn't appeared to have fallen into the madness that grabbed most within weeks or months at most. In her still bright eyes, the light of reason and consciousness continued to flicker steadily.
Apparently, the Dementors couldn't adversely affect her the way they devastated normal prisoners.
A person's thoughts are always free. They remain impossible to bind with high walls or chains.
"Hogwarts... never forgets…. but she also never holds onto hatred."
In the dark abyss, in eternal silence, a lost whisper sounded.
Beside that dreamlike ice castle, the silver-haired, purple-eyed man had said this to her.
The imprisoned Cliodna slowly withdrew her distant gaze from the abyss beyond her window. She buried her face completely in her arms, allowing the oppressive darkness and bitter cold to engulf her completely as she retreated into her thoughts.
CRACK!
A tremendous clap of thunder or something very like thunder transmitted through the small openings into each cell throughout the tower.
The Dementors, responding to whatever had caused that sound, departed from their positions throughout the tower. Their absence briefly freed the suffering prisoners from their terrible nightmares and the despair that normally never lifted.
The prisoners awakened from their nightmare-plagued sleep, blinking in confusion and disorientation. They gazed with ecstasy and intoxication at the beautiful sky-blue light that was suddenly shining into their cells through the openings.
The sky of Azkaban was gray, oppressive and lifeless. The ground was black as coal, stained with old blood and worse things. The prisoners, deprived of freedom and even basic human rights and dignity, had never seen such beautiful, warm colors within these walls.
Many criminals knelt on the ground almost as if in worship, devoutly gazing at the radiance streaming through the openings, weeping uncontrollably.
BOOM!
Another thunderous explosion rocked the tower—no, this was definitely an explosion this time, not thunder. The commotion was so great, so violent, that the criminals could actually feel the entire massive tower shaking beneath them!
In Azkaban prison, where desperate wailing was the year-round main theme, this unusual activity soon erupted from the bottom floors of the cells.
Explosion after explosion rang out in rapid series, each one closer than the last. The violent shaking continued without pause.
Immersed in the death-like stillness of her own inner world, Cliodna heard all the commotion echoing up from below. Even in her meditative state, she couldn't ignore such violence. She could sense many people, more and more people with each passing moment climbing upstairs.
She heard when they released the woman from the cell below hers. That prisoner let out shrill, utterly maniacal laughter. But despite the chaos erupting all around her, Cliodna's own heart remained utterly calm.
"Miss Cliodna—"
Soon, someone arrived at the floor where she was imprisoned, seeking her out.
A pale face emerged slowly from the darkness outside her cold iron bars.
Lucius Malfoy gazed at the young girl who appeared to be sleeping peacefully against the wall in her cell, seemingly undisturbed by the explosions and chaos.
He called out softly, respectfully, "Miss Cliodna?"
When the girl slowly lifted her head in response to her name and cast a calm, observant gaze toward him, Lucius's heart trembled.
A calm gaze and peaceful expression wouldn't be remarkable anywhere outside Azkaban's walls. But here, in this place specifically designed to break minds and destroy hope, such serenity was utterly wrong. It showed either madness of a different kind or extraordinary strength of will.
But when he considered carefully that the young girl sitting before him had once matched with Bryan Watson himself, the astonishment in Lucius's heart diminished considerably.
"You've come," Cliodna said softly, her colorless lips parting slightly to form the words. She spoke as if she had long anticipated this day would eventually arrive.
Lucius bowed deeply, "I have come on the Dark Lord's orders to rescue you from this place."
Cliodna tilted her face slightly. She looked deeply at Lucius, then shifted her gaze to peer past him at the many Death Eaters gathered in the darkness behind him. Each of them cast curious and somewhat fearful glances her way. After a long moment of silent observation—
Cliodna slowly stood up from her position on the floor, rising to her feet.
Beside her bare feet, where she'd been sitting for so long, several withered straws that had been pressed flat against the stone floor transformed.
The change was slow enough to follow with the eye but definitely magical. The stalks shifted color from dead, dark yellow back to vibrant, living green, as though time were reversing itself for these small plants alone.
Under the incredulous, disbelieving stares of Lucius and his group of Death Eaters, white root tendrils suddenly extended from the ends of the now-green grass stalks. The roots grew with speed, reaching out like grasping fingers.
These white root tendrils rapidly climbed up the iron bars of her cell door, wrapping around the metal like serpents.
After a teeth-grinding sound of twisting metal being tortured beyond its capacity, the supposedly unbreakable iron bars were forcibly broken open.
"Then let's go—" Cliodna said softly.
Under the wary, newly frightened gazes of many Death Eaters who were now reassessing exactly how dangerous this young woman might be, she walked past them toward the stairs, moving alone.
"Phew, that woman makes it hard for me to breathe!" Nott Senior gasped the moment Cliodna had disappeared into the darkness of the stairwell below.
He wiped nervously at the cold sweat that had broken out across his forehead, his hand was trembling slightly. "She can still use magic without any wand at all, and after months in this place! No wonder she could help the Dark Lord achieve his resurrection and made Watson expend so much effort to finally defeat her. That's not normal power."
He paused to catch his breath, then continued, "Now that all our people are gathered, shouldn't we retreat immediately, Lucius? Before the Ministry realizes what's happening and responds?"
"Yes, let's go," Lucius agreed, his own voice was still slightly shaken by what he'd witnessed. "The Dark Lord is still waiting anxiously for our good news, and we've accomplished the mission he set for us."
"Hey, leaving so soon?" a harsh male voice called out from nearby.
A man still wearing tattered prison clothes, his face bony from malnutrition but his eyes burning with hatred and dark humor, laughed with cruelty. "We just got free, and you want to scurry back like frightened rats?"
"I said, Dolohov, the Master is still waiting for us to return!" A dangerous flash of light passed through Lucius's gray eyes.
As if anticipating where this confrontation was heading and trying to head it off, he said sternly, his voice took on a commanding tone: "Don't you want to see him as soon as possible?"
"You're not qualified to lecture me about loyalty, Malfoy, you cowardly hypocrite!" Dolohov roared back ferociously. Years of resentment were poured out in his words.
"You were living comfortably on the outside, safe in your manor, while we rotted in this hellhole! We were imprisoned by the Ministry of Magic for fourteen years—a full fourteen years of torment and madness! Do you have any idea what that means? What we've endured while you played politics?"
His voice grew louder, and more unhinged, "I want to teach the Ministry a lesson they'll never forget! I want to release everyone imprisoned here!"
"I'm telling you again, Dolohov, and I won't repeat myself a third time!" Lucius also roared back.
"The Dark Lord is waiting for us to return! He wants us back as quickly as possible, that was his explicit command! Moreover, he didn't give me any orders to release all the prisoners here! Do you mean to tell me that the very first thing you do after leaving your cell is to disobey the Dark Lord's command?"
"You're bluffing, Malfoy!" Dolohov immediately retorted.
But he had barely finished shouting his accusation when a thin woman with wild, disheveled hair suddenly rushed out from the shadows beside him, and before anyone could react to stop her, she had snatched the wand directly from Nott Senior's grip.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Amid high-pitched, utterly maniacal laughter that sent chills down even the Death Eaters' spines, cell door after cell door was blown open in rapid series. The woman moved down the corridor, destroying every lock she passed.
Wafting smoke and choking dust engulfed the entire floor, making it impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction.
"Stop this immediately, Bellatrix!" Lucius roared, waving his own wand in a complex pattern to magically disperse the thick smoke and dust that obscured everything.
But Bellatrix Lestrange, laughing like a woman possessed which perhaps she was, after so many years in this place had already rushed down the stairs to the floor below, apparently intent on continuing her campaign of destruction.
Lucius hurried down after her with several other Death Eaters close behind. They were immediately greeted by more rolling clouds of smoke and dust from fresh explosions echoing up from below.
The sound of Bellatrix's manic laughter continued, growing more distant.
"I've really had enough of this!" Lucius shouted into the chaos. "If you don't restrain your behavior immediately—"
Lucius's angry howl was suddenly cut off mid-sentence. He narrowed his eyes, suddenly alert to new danger, and stared with suspicion at two figures emerging slowly from the smoke and dust like ghosts emerging from fog.
A woman supporting a man appeared before Lucius and his group, stepping out of the obscuring clouds. Both were clearly prisoners based on their clothing and appearance.
The man was not young, but his hair was completely gray and disheveled. But despite his apparent age and the obvious toll Azkaban had taken on his body, the light of pure, burning hatred flickering intensely in his brown eyes remained absolutely clear and focused.
The woman supporting him, however, was quite young. Her outstanding appearance were no less impressive than Cliodna's.
The man stared directly into Lucius's wary, suspicious eyes, meeting his gaze without flinching or showing any sign of fear.
"If we swear allegiance—" the man said slowly. "Will your... Dark Lord accept us?"
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