In the middle of the North Sea lies a region perpetually shrouded in storms.
This area is forbidden not only to Muggles but also to wizards, for at its center stands a small island that houses a notorious prison, Azkaban.
It was July.
The storms reached their annual peak, with howling winds and relentless waves battering the island, as if determined to topple the black stone prison that loomed above the sea.
Amid the thunderclouds, a black carriage resembling a hearse streaked through the sky, heading toward the island.
Seven thestrals pulled the carriage.
An Auror, gripping the reins tightly, guided the thestrals as they descended through the torrential rain. The wheels of the carriage skimmed the churning water, sending up an enormous spray in its wake.
The spray radiated outward from the carriage like a majestic bloom on the stormy sea.
But the winds howled fiercer, and the waves surged higher, as if to drive the carriage away from the island.
A massive iron chain emerged from the water like a black serpent, slithering across the surface.
The chain, over 200 meters long, coiled and twisted before arcing like a scorpion's tail and latching onto the island's rocky cliffs with a resounding clang. Sparks flew from the impact.
Pulled by the chain, the carriage slowly approached the island.
The carriage door opened, and a wizard stepped out.
He was short and rotund, with meticulously groomed gray hair that gleamed in the dim light.
He wore a pinstriped suit, a bright red tie, a long black cloak, and pointed purple boots.
Atop his head sat a dark green bowler hat, which was promptly snatched away by a strong gust of wind.
Behind him followed a dozen Aurors.
"Oh, Merlin…" Cornelius Fudge muttered as his feet touched the solid ground, the queasiness from the journey finally subsiding somewhat.
"Terrible weather, isn't it, Lucius?"
"Indeed, Minister," replied a man with pale blonde hair, standing beside him.
"I must admit, I'm quite curious as to why you've come here."
Fudge strode toward the prison, while a group of Aurors moved ahead to negotiate with the Dementors.
He had no intention of being mistaken for food by those soul-sucking creatures.
"If I'm not mistaken, this is your second time requesting a visit to Azkaban?" Fudge said casually.
"The first time was when your wife visited, wasn't it? That was last summer, if I recall correctly…"
"Yes, Minister, your memory serves you well," Lucius Malfoy replied, pulling his luxurious cloak tighter around himself against the cold.
"You see, my wife, Narcissa, is a member of the Black family. As Bellatrix's younger sister, it was only natural for her to visit her sibling.
"This time, Narcissa was supposed to come again, but she's unwell. So I've taken it upon myself to make the visit. After all, I am Bellatrix's brother-in-law."
"But we both know," Fudge said uneasily, "it's best to keep one's distance from Death Eaters."
"Of course, no one despises the Death Eaters more than I do," Lucius drawled, elongating his words.
"Yet, for families like ours, pure-blood families, there's a certain… noble bond in the bloodline that's hard to sever, wouldn't you agree?"
"That's a fair point," Fudge said with a faint smile.
"But it's best not to let Dumbledore hear you talking about pure-blood pride. He wouldn't approve of you visiting a Death Eater, either."
"Well, Minister, I thought you were the one in charge, weren't you?" Malfoy's gaze darkened.
"We all know Dumbledore is extraordinary, but don't you think he oversteps his bounds at times?
"A headmaster should act like a headmaster and mind his own business."
"Lucius, I understand your grievances with Dumbledore," Fudge replied, feigning ignorance of Malfoy's attempt to sow discord.
"After all, he did band together with other wizards to remove you from the school's Board of Governors."
"He only did that because he knew I would oppose Hagrid being appointed as a professor!" Malfoy retorted indignantly.
"Just look at the kind of people Dumbledore hires as teachers, smugglers, Death Eaters, dark wizards, and frauds.
"And now he wants Hagrid, a known criminal, to teach Care of Magical Creatures.
"Frankly, I'm considering advising my son Draco not to take that course. I wouldn't want him getting hurt."
Fudge cleared his throat and replied, "Well, I'm not particularly fond of Hagrid either, but he's been exonerated."
"Fine, let's not discuss Hagrid," Malfoy said, switching gears. "But the Weasley boy nearly killed my son, and Dumbledore has yet to give me an explanation. You must understand…"
Fudge waved a hand to cut him off. "Lucius, Dumbledore is the headmaster. Matters of the school are beyond my jurisdiction.
"Let me reiterate my advice, keep your distance from these Death Eaters. We all know the Dark Lord is gone, and those who served him have no future."
Malfoy nodded slightly. He had no desire to be associated with the Death Eaters either. What he was after was the gold in Gringotts.
Why else would he bother making this dreary trip to Azkaban?
Fudge continued, "Lucius, instead of dwelling on the Death Eaters, perhaps you should focus more on our Ministry.
"Merlin's beard, can you believe this?
"We traveled to Azkaban in an outdated thestral-drawn carriage! The ride was unbearably rough. Unfortunately, this year's budget just doesn't allow for better transportation…"
Malfoy stiffened at the unsubtle hint, pulling his cloak tighter around himself as if to ward off the chill.
"What's wrong, Lucius?"
"Nothing," Malfoy replied, his face a picture of inner conflict. Finally, with visible reluctance, he sighed and said, "The Ministry's transportation system is outdated… Fine, I'll make a donation. How does that sound?"
"Such generosity!" Fudge exclaimed, seizing Malfoy's hand with delight. "Lucius, you are far too kind. I don't even know what to say.
"You truly are the conscience of the wizarding world!"
Conscience? Malfoy thought bitterly, clutching his chest as if he could feel his heartache physically.
"Come on, let's go see Bellatrix, that lunatic," Fudge said, clearly in high spirits.
"She's your sister-in-law, right? I'll give you half an hour alone with her, in a private room. How does that sound?"
"That would be much appreciated," Malfoy said with a polite smile. "I'd also like to see Sirius Black. He was my wife's favorite cousin, after all."
Fudge glanced at Malfoy before nodding.
The group followed a rocky path leading to the Azkaban prison.
The building was triangular in shape and dominated most of the island's surface. Inside, space was magically expanded with an Undetectable Extension Charm, ensuring it could house all the prisoners in Britain.
Before long, figures appeared in the corridor.
Standing at nearly three meters tall, they wore black, hooded cloaks, their gray, corpse-like bodies visible beneath.
The Dementors moved by gliding across the ground, their scabbed, bony hands emitting a faint glow. Trailing behind them were shriveled, lifeless bodies of wizards.
The Dementors sensed the emotions of the group, especially the two brightest among them, whose happiness stood out like fireflies in the night, intense and glaring.
With a long, deliberate inhale, the Dementors drew in the group's joy, their movements like that of long-deprived smokers savoring every wisp of a cigarette.
Even secondhand happiness seemed enough to agitate them.
"What are they doing?" Malfoy asked, suppressing a wave of nausea.
"Disposing of the bodies," Fudge replied. "Every day, wizards die here. The Dementors have a mass grave behind the prison where they dump the corpses."
Fudge's voice turned cold.
"Lucius, whatever your reasons for coming here, let me remind you, no one can survive the Dementors' feeding unscathed.
"The prisoners in Azkaban are all madmen, and this place is the wizarding world's most brutal… torture chamber."