Cornelius Fudge stammered, "I can't believe it... The Dementors at Azkaban have never encountered anything like this before..."
"Sirius Black is a vicious criminal—he once killed thirteen people with a single curse..."
"Half an hour ago, I informed another minister. Although I doubt he can do much, he promised to dispatch a team of Dementors to investigate..."
Jon, however, wasn't entirely convinced that Albus Dumbledore was paying close attention.
The professor's eyes remained fixed on the pebbles scattered across the beach, as if they were far more interesting than Fudge's pudgy face.
"Oh, Dumbledore!" Fudge groaned.
"I'm listening, Cornelius," Professor Dumbledore replied gently. "Unless you're suggesting that Hogwarts' staff and students assist in capturing the fugitive?"
"No, Professor Dumbledore," Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, clarified. "Surely you remember—Sirius Black was sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban."
"Yes, I remember it quite well... Eleven years ago, I personally provided the Ministry with evidence that Black was the Potters' Secret Keeper, which made him their betrayer." Dumbledore's voice carried no trace of emotion.
"Yes, Black was imprisoned as You-Know-Who's top lieutenant!" Fudge nodded vigorously.
"Azkaban's guards reported that Black has been talking in his sleep for a while now... He keeps repeating the same words: 'He's at Hogwarts... He's at Hogwarts...'" Amelia Bones spoke gravely.
"Black is clearly mentally disturbed, Professor Dumbledore... But he's clever enough to escape from Azkaban—a feat no one has ever accomplished before."
"Assuming that's the case, his likely target is Harry Potter. Black believes that killing Mr. Potter will restore You-Know-Who's power. That night Potter stopped You-Know-Who, Black lost everything. And after twelve years in solitary confinement, he's had plenty of time to dwell on it..."
"That's a reasonable theory... But Amelia, may I ask if there's another motive behind your words?"
"Yes, Dumbledore," Fudge stepped forward. "We'd like to station Dementors at Hogwarts. That way, they can intercept Black if he tries to break in—and ensure the safety of the school's staff and students."
"Hold on, Cornelius..." Professor Dumbledore interrupted crisply. "Am I to understand that you intend to use one of my students as bait to catch Sirius Black?"
Fudge looked up, visibly uncomfortable.
"Dumbledore..." The Minister's voice carried a hint of pleading.
"Well, I think I ought to consult someone else first," Professor Dumbledore said with a smile. He turned and looked at the boy who had been quietly observing from the side. "Jon, what do you think?"
"Me?" Jon stiffened, acutely aware that three powerful figures were now staring straight at him.
"What's your opinion—should Dementors be stationed at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore blinked at him. "I'd like to hear your thoughts."
"I... I'm not really sure, Professor," Jon stammered. "I don't know much about Dementors, and I've never met Black... But if there's a fugitive who might break into the school at any moment... then I suppose it makes sense for the Ministry to take precautions..."
...
Dumbledore promptly agreed to Fudge's request after hearing Jon's "opinion."
Afterward, the two high-ranking Ministry officials invited Dumbledore to accompany them to inspect Black's cell and speak with Azkaban's guards.
But Dumbledore declined without hesitation. "I'm sorry, Cornelius, Amelia—I have an appointment to meet an old friend."
After a few brief farewells, Jon and Dumbledore set off on their way back.
...
Another round of Apparition followed—and Jon felt even worse than before.
Suppressing his nausea, he looked around and realized they had landed in a sparse forest.
"Are you alright?" Dumbledore asked gently.
"I'm fine, Professor," Jon replied. "But I'm a bit confused... What exactly are Dementors?"
He did his best to sound like an uninformed twelve-year-old.
"They're creatures that drain your happiness and fill you with fear," Dumbledore said seriously. "I detest them... But frankly, they likely won't affect you much."
"Really..." Jon didn't detect any irritation in Dumbledore's tone. He had expected the professor to be displeased with him for siding with the Ministry.
They continued walking deeper into the woods.
"But I recommend you learn how to defend yourself against Dementors," Dumbledore added as they walked. "Your friend, Miss Greengrass, is likely to be severely affected by them."
"What's going on with Astoria?" Jon asked with concern.
"I'm sorry, Jon," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "That's a personal matter. I have no right to tell you... But I believe Miss Greengrass will tell you in time."
"Alright, Professor..." Jon sighed—just as he'd expected.
"By the way, where are we now? And where are we going?"
"We're in Devon," Dumbledore explained. "We're going to see someone very special—an old friend of mine: Nicolas Flamel."
Nicolas Flamel?
Jon blinked. The legendary alchemist who created the Philosopher's Stone?
...
A few minutes later, they arrived at their destination.
Dumbledore came to a stop and solemnly took out his wand... A single flower appeared in his left hand.
They continued walking forward.
Along the way, Jon saw many others—at least several hundred elderly wizards, each holding a bouquet of flowers like Dumbledore.
But unlike him, they did not proceed further. Instead, they stood silently, heads bowed in mourning.
Eventually, they reached a tombstone engraved with the following words:
"Here lie Nicolas Flamel (1325–1993), the greatest alchemist in European history, and his wife, Perenelle Flamel (1332–1993).
'With your passing, Mr. Flamel, the world is left without an alchemist.'
—Hector Dagworth-Granger, President of the International Association of Potioneers, July 1993."