---
Chapter 50 – The Azkaban Massacre
At last they arrived in Azkaban by Portkey after casting Warming Charms on one another. Their sudden appearance immediately drew the attention of the Dementors.
One Dementor that seemed to be their leader glided forward.
"State your identification and purpose."
Its hoarse rasp was unpleasant; Dementors had no vocal cords and produced sound by vibrating the air through magic.
Kingsley stepped ahead and presented his credentials.
"According to Ministry intelligence, Dementors are suspected of collaborating with Death Eaters. We now request that you conduct a full prisoner count and immediately withdraw from Azkaban so it may be taken over by the appropriate Ministry departments."
"What?! You cannot do this!" the Dementor screeched. "The agreement forbids us from hunting freely, but we are to guard Azkaban for eternity!"
"The agreement holds only when you do not oppose the Ministry of Magic," Kingsley replied coolly. "Once the investigation is complete, we may consider allowing you to remain."
"No! Minister—this is your order?"
The Dementor turned towards Arthur, who was disguised as Fudge.
"You have taken Azkaban from us, yet provided no habitat, and you forbid us from feeding on Muggles. Do you intend to destroy the Dementors?!"
"This is my order. Comply at once," Arthur said firmly.
The Dementor stared at him for a long, hollow moment—then threw back its head and shrieked.
"This is bad—the signal for resistance!" Lockhart shouted, even though he didn't understand Dementor language. He was simply provoking the fight. "Attack!"
Before most people could react, several quick-moving members of the Order of the Phoenix had already raised their wands.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Blazing silver Patronuses slammed into the Dementor. It was torn apart by several corporeal Patronuses at once.
Lockhart had been right. The shriek was the uprising signal. The Dementors had already aligned themselves with Voldemort, waiting only for rewards and a defined territory before releasing the Death Eaters.
Moments later, the first Death Eater appeared—holding a wand.
That alone was enough proof. No prisoner should possess a wand; the Dementors must have provided them.
"One team, move to the high-security wing—leave no survivors. Anyone with a wand is to be killed on sight! Second team, surround and suppress the Dementors. Third team, get to the lower levels—do NOT allow anyone to sabotage Azkaban's anti-Apparition field!" Arthur commanded sharply.
These were elite Aurors. Lockhart followed the first team into the high-security block. As soon as they climbed the stairs, they encountered a swarm of notorious Death Eaters—thin, ragged, and utterly weakened.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
The most vicious Death Eaters versus the most ruthless Aurors—no hesitation, no warning shots. This time, the Aurors held the advantage. The Death Eaters, drained by years of Dementor torment, lacked sufficient magic to cast powerful spells continuously. Within minutes, they had resorted to weak, low-energy combat spells.
Many of these Death Eaters had once been infamous—terrifyingly powerful. But long imprisonment had destroyed their magical strength. The Aurors, though not individually superior, fought fully prepared and protected, with their enchanted anti-curse vests giving them a massive advantage.
Lockhart, masked, stayed behind Moody—watching the legendary Auror unleash terrifying precision. Moody had always been monstrously strong; Lockhart had learnt that in his first week of training. Even now, surrounded by Death Eaters, he didn't flinch. His spells were fast, relentless, deadly.
The Death Eaters recoiled the instant his magical eye swivelled towards them.
Lockhart excelled only at ambush and memory magic. Even with power far above an average wizard, he still avoided unnecessary risk—preferring to strike from the shadows.
A tall, gaunt female Death Eater with wild hair caught Lockhart's eye. Female Death Eaters were rare—and even rarer in Azkaban.
Bellatrix.
Lockhart lunged forward.
The Dark Lord's most devoted servant had to die.
Her magical strength, brutally diminished after years in Azkaban, dwindled quickly under the barrage of spells. Forced entirely on the defensive, she stumbled backwards, clearly waiting for her master to rescue her.
"One Breath Breaks Through !".
Lockhart fired his self-created piercing spell. It wasn't lethal, but it shredded magical defences.
Under the combined assault, Bellatrix collapsed—helpless, unable even to snarl a final insult.
Lockhart suppressed his triumph.
The plot had changed.
He spotted Barty Crouch Jr. in another corner, already surrounded by Aurors. He was fortunate in that Lockhart did not reach him first—but unfortunate otherwise. He had contributed more than anyone to Voldemort's resurrection, yet before he could become the Dark Lord's most valued subordinate, he was betrayed and died pathetically inside the prison he had once escaped.
A sudden explosion rocked the prison.
"Damn it! The anti-Apparition field has been tampered with—it's blown itself apart!" Arthur shouted.
The surviving Death Eaters screamed in wild ecstasy. Ignoring incoming spells, they attempted to Apparate away from the nightmare fortress.
Apparition took time to cast; it wasn't instantaneous and couldn't be used recklessly in combat. Many Death Eaters who completed their Apparition found themselves missing limbs—or struck dead mid-spell.
---