novelnext Chapter 574, page 583: Deep Space Echoes March 3
Chapter 574, page 583: Deep Space Echoes March 3
Chapter 574, page 583: Deep Space Echoes March 3
In Azkaban, there will never be starlight at night.
This black fortress, standing on an isolated island in the North Sea, resembles a lurking beast, stretching its cold back out of the sea, allowing the ceaseless waves to wash over it day and night.
"Splash splash~ Splash splash~"
The seawater, carrying the chill of the deep, crashed against the rocks at the bottom of the fortress again and again, producing a dull and desperate roar, like the sobs of countless prisoners.
It lingered on the vast sea.
The fortress walls were built of dark, massive stones, each engraved with ancient and cold forbidden runes that shimmered with a faint gray light in the darkness.
It exudes a suffocating sense of oppression.
The omnipresent Dementors hovered over the fortress like ghosts, their wide black robes fluttering in the night wind. Their empty eye sockets were devoid of any light, yet they could accurately capture any trace of vibrant emotion, slowly stripping away despair and fear, only to return it all to every living being in this prison.
Even on the brightest day, only a hazy glimmer of light barely penetrates the thick clouds. At night, the dense darkness completely engulfs everything, leaving only a bone-chilling cold, like countless fine needles piercing the skin through the seams of clothing and into the marrow, making every breath a cold, stinging pain.
At this moment, Dumbledore and Grindelwald stood side by side on a rock outside the main gate of Azkaban.
The surface of this reef has become smooth and slippery under the long-term erosion of the waves, with a cold bluish-gray sheen, as if it could be swept away by a giant wave at any moment.
The waves roared wildly at their feet, huge sprays leaping up and crashing down, the foam gleaming pale in the darkness like scattered bones, only to be swallowed up by new waves in an instant.
The sea breeze made their robes flutter. Dumbledore's signature purple robe billowed in the wind, the edges fluttering in the night air, revealing a neatly pressed white shirt underneath. Grindelwald wore a long black overcoat, the thick fabric of which still couldn't keep out the sea breeze. His hair was disheveled by the wind, sticking to his smooth forehead, which made his deep-set face look even more stern.
Dumbledore's left hand gripped one end of the magical shackles tightly, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force. The other end of the shackles was locked to Grindelwald's wrist. The silver shackles, engraved with countless sealing runes, gleamed faintly in the darkness, appearing indestructible.
It seemed to be able to lock away the most powerful magical forces in the world.
The cold metal pressed against Grindelwald's skin, yet it seemed to have no effect on his expression. Both of them knew that it was just a prop.
Although the runes on the surface appeared complex, they did not actually contain any binding power. Grindelwald could easily break free with just a little effort. Their "transfer" was a meticulously planned act from beginning to end, a deception staged for everyone in Azkaban.
The two harbored their own thoughts, yet reached a temporary tacit understanding, just like many years ago, trusting each other while also being wary of one another.
Grindelwald glanced at the shackles on his wrists, a hint of amusement flashing in his heterochromatic eyes. He lowered his voice, speaking in a volume only the two of them could hear, "Albus, don't be too surprised when I tear this thing off later."
His voice was deep and husky, with a unique magnetism, yet it also contained a hint of subtle provocation.
Dumbledore's lips twitched slightly, a hint of helplessness flashing in his eyes. He lowered his voice in response, "Don't overdo it. Overacting will make it look fake."
"Gleason isn't stupid, and those Aurors aren't useless either. Being too flamboyant will only arouse suspicion." His voice was calm and composed, carrying a worldly-wise steadiness, as if he had already taken everything into his own hands.
Grindelwald gave a soft hum, offering no reply, but slowly turned his head, casting his gaze toward the dark fortress in the distance.
His heterochromatic eyes shone brightly in the darkness, as if they could pierce through the thick gloom and see everything inside the fortress. The sea breeze still howled, and the waves still roared. The two figures appeared and disappeared in the darkness, like two silent statues, letting the sea breeze blow their robes, quietly waiting for the play to begin.
Outside the main gate of Azkaban, two Aurors dressed in scarlet robes patrolled back and forth. Their scarlet robes stood out starkly in the darkness, creating a striking contrast with the surrounding darkness. The collars and cuffs of their robes were embroidered with gold badges, the insignia of the Ministry of Magic's Aurors, symbolizing authority and justice.
The Auror's wand flickered with a pale blue detection magic, like two faint stars swaying in the darkness, warily scanning every inch of the surrounding shadows. This was the most secure prison in the magical world, and even the patrolling Aurors were carefully selected elites.
They not only possess powerful magical abilities, but also have extremely strong vigilance and mental fortitude; even the slightest anomaly cannot escape their notice.
therefore.
"There are people over there!" A younger Auror suddenly stopped, his body stiffening slightly. His wand instantly pointed in the direction of Dumbledore and Grindelwald, his voice trembling with tension. "Two people! On that rock! Right there!"
He looked to be in his early twenties, with a youthful innocence still lingering on his face. His eyes were filled with vigilance and a hint of barely perceptible panic—in a place like Azkaban, the appearance of an unidentified person late at night was never a good thing.
Another, older Auror immediately stopped. He looked to be in his fifties, with graying hair and a face etched with the marks of time, but his eyes were exceptionally sharp.
He squinted, trying to make out the two figures in the darkness, his brows furrowed, and his fingers unconsciously tightened around the wand in his hand.
A few seconds later, when he could make out the outlines of the two figures, the Auror shuddered. His pupils contracted sharply, and the color drained from his face. His voice trembled with disbelief: "That's—Professor Dumbledore! And—By Merlin, that's Grindelwald!"
Shocking!
The young Auror's face instantly turned deathly pale, paler than the walls of Azkaban. His hands trembled violently, his wand nearly slipping from his grasp. He instinctively took a step back, stammering, "Grindelwald?! That Dark Lord?!"
"How did he get here—wasn't he released on bail? How come he's with Professor Dumbledore?" This young Auror was actually quite mentally strong.
However, it is truly terrifying that Grindelwald's influence could not be resisted.
Grindelwald's reputation is etched into the very bones of every wizard. Even a rigorously trained Auror would feel a sense of dread upon hearing his name.
That man who once plunged the entire European wizarding world into chaos, that dark lord with powerful magic and ruthless methods!
How did they end up outside Azkaban's gates?
"Don't panic!" the older Auror said in a low voice, forcing himself to calm down. Although his voice was still trembling, it was more firm. "You stay here and immediately use magic to inform the captain of the guard and Mr. Gleason that Professor Dumbledore has brought Grindelwald and has important matters to discuss."
"I'll go take a look. Remember, don't act rashly. No matter what happens, don't attack first. That's Professor Dumbledore and Grindelwald. We're no match for them."
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his wildly beating heart, gripped his wand tightly, and walked step by step toward the two figures. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks roared in his ears, as if to shatter his eardrums, and the icy sea wind stung his throat.
Every step was extremely difficult.
no way.
The older.
The more you know, the more terrifying Grindelwald is than Voldemort.
His gaze was fixed on the two figures, a mixture of awe for Dumbledore and fear of Grindelwald, two emotions intertwined within him.
It made his whole body tense up.
As he approached, Dumbledore slowly turned his head to look at him. His deep blue eyes shone brightly in the darkness, like a deep lake, carrying a reassuring gentleness that seemed to soothe all fear and unease.
Dumbledore wore a faint smile, a smile that was gentle and composed, without the slightest hint of panic, as if it were just an ordinary night.
I ran into an old friend.
"Good evening," said Dumbledore, his voice calm and composed, like the warm winter sun dispelling some of the surrounding chill. "Please inform your supervisor, Mr. Jeffrey Gleeson. I have important business to discuss with him; it is of utmost importance and cannot be delayed."
"Ah?" The older Auror's gaze swept back and forth between Grindelwald and the shackles between the two, his expression becoming incredibly complex—a mixture of doubt, fear, and disbelief. He opened his mouth, hesitated for a moment, and then cautiously spoke: "This—Professor Dumbledore, this—how did you bring Mr. Grindelwald here? And—how did he end up in shackles?"
He simply couldn't understand why Dumbledore would personally bring Grindelwald to Azkaban, and he couldn't understand the arrogant Dark Lord either.
They would willingly be chained up.
Upon hearing this, Dumbledore immediately got into character and sighed, a sigh that carried a hint of weariness and helplessness, as if it bore too much weight.
"Grindelwald has violated his bail agreement. As his guarantor, I hereby formally withdraw my guarantee against him and he must be transferred to Azkaban to serve the remainder of his sentence." His voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable firmness that left no room for argument.
The Auror was stunned. His eyes widened, his face filled with disbelief. He never imagined that Grindelwald would break his bail agreement, much less that Dumbledore would personally hand him over to Azkaban.
In his memory, Dumbledore and Grindelwald shared a hidden past; they were once the closest of friends, but later parted ways due to differing ideologies, becoming adversaries. Now, Dumbledore was personally handing Grindelwald over to prison!?
What exactly is hidden in this?
Aurora was completely baffled.
Grindelwald sneered, saying nothing, but slightly raising his chin, his eyes full of disdain and mockery. He deliberately shook the shackles on his wrists, making a crisp clinking sound, as if mocking the ridiculousness of the shackles, and also mocking the naiveté of the Auror before him.
These shackles are nothing but a joke, a prop used to deceive everyone, yet this Auror actually believes that these shackles can bind him.
"Is that so?" The older Auror snapped out of his daze. He knew that Dumbledore's decision was not one he could question. He quickly nodded and said respectfully, "Yes, Professor Dumbledore, I will inform Mr. Gleason immediately. Please wait a moment with Mr. Grindelwald."
He still had to maintain his respect for Grindelwald. After all, there were still many saints. After saying that, he gave Grindelwald one last deep look, his eyes still filled with fear, then turned and quickly left the reef, his steps even more hurried than when he came, as if something terrible was chasing him.
Dumbledore and Grindelwald fell silent again. The sea breeze continued to howl, the waves continued to roar, and the darkness remained thick. Grindelwald turned his head to look at Dumbledore, a hint of doubt flashing in his heterochromatic eyes: "Albus, are you sure Gleason will believe you? That old man, though cowardly, isn't stupid. Won't he have his doubts?"
Dumbledore shook his head slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips: "Gleason is a coward, and all he cares about is his position."
"He knew what to say."
Despite the dedication of many, Old Deng remained as outstanding as ever.
Grindelwald gave a soft hum, nodded, and said nothing more. He knew that Dumbledore's judgment was correct.
Ten minutes later.
Led by the older Auror, Dumbledore and Grindelwald entered Azkaban.
Passing through the heavy iron gate, an even more intense chill and despair rushed in, more biting than the sea breeze outside. The interior of Azkaban was dark and damp, with dim torches hanging on the walls along the corridors. The weak and flickering torchlight cast long, long shadows of the two men, which twisted and writhed on the walls like ghosts.
The corridor was filled with the desperate screams and cries of prisoners, as well as the low whimpers of Dementors; the sounds mingled together.
It forms a symphony of despair, sending chills down one's spine.
"Dumbledore! Help me!"
"Let me out! Do you know who my father is?"
"Our master won't be able to save us; you will all die!"
The cells on both sides of the corridor held countless dark wizards and Death Eaters, some huddled in corners with empty eyes, like walking corpses.
Some of them frantically pounded on the iron doors of the cells, screaming and howling, their faces filled with madness and despair.
Others had all their joy drained by the Dementors, leaving only empty shells lying quietly on the cold ground, lifeless.
Each cell door was engraved with powerful binding runes, which emitted a cold light, trapping the dark wizards inside and preventing them from escaping.
Grindelwald's gaze swept over the prisoners in the cells, his face devoid of any sympathy, only a cold mockery. In his eyes, these people were all trash, scum rejected by the magical world; they were unworthy of magic, and even less worthy of living in this world.
He once wanted to create a completely new magical world, a world ruled by powerful wizards, and these people were clearly not in his original plans.