In the frigid waters of the North Sea lay a small island, shrouded in a perpetual veil of thick mist. It was on this desolate isle that the wizarding world's most notorious prison, Azkaban, was built.
The only part of the island with stationed Aurors was the dock and the nearby lighthouse. Early that morning, the Aurors guarding the dock spotted a small boat slowly making its way toward Azkaban.
At the sight of the vessel, the Aurors immediately grew tense. Not long ago, what had been considered an impenetrable fortress had suffered a shocking breach: Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban.
However, as the boat drew closer and the Aurors recognized the wizard standing at its bow, their anxiety gave way to deference.
The man on the boat was none other than Lucius Malfoy, a distinguished guest of the Ministry of Magic.
Soon, the small boat carrying Lucius Malfoy docked, and as he stepped ashore, the stationed Aurors hastily came forward to greet him.
No one questioned his presence. Instead, the Aurors scrambled to offer their salutations. Each of them hoped to leave a good impression on Lucius Malfoy, for they had long grown weary of this miserable place and yearned for a way out.
Those assigned to Azkaban were typically either political outcasts or unconnected wizards with no influence to protect them. Lucius Malfoy's arrival sparked a glimmer of hope.
Lucius met the approaching Aurors with a brilliant smile and spoke warmly:
"Good day to you all. I am Lucius Malfoy. Today, I come bearing the Ministry's sincerest regards. You are the unsung heroes of the wizarding world, your sacrifices do not go unnoticed!"
"Christmas is nearly upon us, and I've brought along some holiday gifts from the boat, along with some food and drink. I do hope you'll enjoy them!"
Cheers erupted among the Aurors, echoing across the island and even drawing the attention of several Dementors lurking nearby.
A few Aurors voiced concerns about the risks, if so many of them got drunk at once, would it not provide an opportunity for the prisoners to escape?
But their apprehension was quickly dismissed by others:
"You really think we're the wardens of this place?" one of them scoffed. "There's only one true warden on this island, and that's the Dementors. Us? We're just prisoners, too."
As the Aurors eagerly unloaded supplies from the boat, Lucius Malfoy turned to a young Auror standing nearby.
"Might I have a look around the island?" he asked politely.
The young man looked surprised but honored.
"Of course, sir! It would be my pleasure. My name's Blu, by the way."
Lucius smiled and said warmly, "Well then, Blu, I'll remember you. A bright young Auror like you shouldn't be wasting away on this island. I'll speak to Fudge about having you reassigned to the Ministry."
At that, Blu's breath caught slightly in his throat. He looked visibly moved by the promise.
With hopeful anticipation glimmering in his eyes, Blu led Lucius Malfoy away from the dock and toward the island's interior.
It wasn't long before they came upon an old, crumbling fortress, its towering, gloomy silhouette looming ahead. Blu gestured toward it and said:
"This, Mr. Malfoy, is Azkaban."
Just then, a wave of chill swept over them. Frost began to gather at their feet, and the very light around them seemed to dim.
Blu quickly raised his voice, calling out, "I'm an Auror with the Ministry of Magic! I order you to return to the fortress!"
Lucius Malfoy knew at once what this meant: Dementors were approaching. More than one, judging by the sudden drop in temperature.
But then, he felt a searing heat on his arm. His Dark Mark was burning.
And just like that, the cold receded. The frost melted. The light returned, and the oppressive atmosphere began to lift.
Blu let out a long breath and forced a bitter smile.
"Dementors are technically under the Ministry's control," he said, "but they don't always listen. It's not uncommon for Aurors to be… harmed. Especially those new to the island. They crave human happiness."
"Many Aurors who've been here too long have learned to hide their joy. Some… become no different from the prisoners inside."
"They probably heard the cheering at the dock and came to investigate. Luckily, they weren't planning a mutiny, otherwise, we'd be in real danger."
Lucius Malfoy didn't respond. He simply sneered inwardly.
They weren't planning a mutiny? he thought. No, you just didn't see it.
Lucius was convinced that it wasn't Blu's shouting that had driven them off. It was his own presence, or more precisely, the burning Dark Mark on his arm.
Following Blu's lead, Lucius continued toward the fortress.
Before entering, they passed through a graveyard, its tombstones weathered and mostly blank. These were the graves of prisoners who had died within Azkaban's walls.
To the Aurors who managed this bleak place, burying the dead at all was considered an act of mercy. Save for a few exceptional cases, they didn't bother identifying the deceased. Most were laid to rest hastily, with nothing but a blank headstone to mark their place.
Beyond the graveyard stood the fortress itself—Azkaban.
Even before crossing its threshold, the suffocating cold from within had already begun to spill out, chilling them to the bone.
The two men exchanged a look. Then Blu reached into his robes and handed Lucius a piece of chocolate.
"Here," he said. "Have a bit of chocolate, Mr. Malfoy. It'll help, I promise."
Lucius accepted without hesitation, placed it in his mouth, and together they stepped into the depths of the fortress.
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