Chapter 182: Azkaban
Scrimgeour was extremely resistant to the Minister for Magic once again infringing upon the rights of the Auror Office, but he was powerless to stop it.
The 'Ministry Centralization Faction' did not have a true heavyweight to rely on. The highest-ranking member of this faction was currently Umbridge, who couldn't play any decisive role.
So, he had no choice but to begrudgingly accept the secret mission request, a file demanding the Auror Office cooperate with the Special Investigator, and he assigned an Auror as the investigator's deputy.
Heaven help him, the wizards trained by Hogwarts in recent years had not been satisfactory. In the last few years, they had only recruited Nymphadora Tonks (Tonks was 19 at this time, in early 1993), and older Aurors were retiring one after another. They were already short-staffed, and having to lose one now was simply terrible.
Scrimgeour was very displeased about the situation, but he eventually sent the Auror with the least experience, Tonks, to cooperate with the work.
Fudge looked dissatisfied. "That little witch?"
Scrimgeour had to pull out the Auror Office's operational files and explain to Fudge the current duties of every Auror. For instance, the most powerful active Auror, Kingsley, was assigned to be the Muggle Prime Minister's secretary and bodyguard, and the others all had their respective missions.
"In fact, Tonks also has a mission. After she goes to assist the Special Investigator, I will have to personally take over handling it." Scrimgeour glared at Fudge, as if to say, It's come to this, do you still have demands?
Fudge knew he couldn't push the Head of the Auror Office too far and nodded. "Fine, she's been on the job for a while, hasn't she? She should have a clear understanding of the Auror's work?"
Scrimgeour was very proud. "Every Auror in my office is exceptionally outstanding! Including Tonks!"
Fudge didn't see it that way.
He looked at the young witch who had been assigned and found it unacceptable that such a rebellious and peculiar witch would appear in the solemn and dignified Ministry of Magic.
Her face had a bizarre, mushroom-like snub nose, her hair was a mix of a dozen different colors, and she wore a T-shirt of the Weird Sisters band and a leather jacket full of studs... Even in the conference room with her superior, the Minister for Magic, and the Undersecretary present, she sat casually chewing gum in the corner chair...
Is she... reliable?
Fudge looked apologetically at Lockhart, feeling that he hadn't handled this matter well enough, but Lockhart merely offered him a gentle smile.
In truth, Lockhart had no specific demands for an Auror partner. As long as she could take him to Azkaban and bring out a prisoner to the Hall of Bloodline at the Department of Mysteries for research, it was enough.
The only issue was that Bellatrix was Tonks's aunt—her direct aunt.
In fact, most Pure-blood wizards were related to one another to some degree. Lockhart was a little wary. When he had previously captured Cobain for research, Madam Mary had tried to save Cobain, even though she had no affection for the man and even held some hatred toward him.
One's heart is a mystery. Lockhart had passed the stage of viewing the real, flesh-and-blood people in this world through the lens of his former life's like or dislike for the original book's characters, and he harbored some suspicion towards Tonks.
Perhaps sensing Lockhart's guard, Tonks didn't speak much to him. After the discussion in the office ended, the two immediately set off for Azkaban Prison.
Azkaban Castle
Azkaban is situated in a remote area of the North Sea, far from Muggle shipping lanes. It was originally a castle belonging to a formidable Dark Wizard, and the Dementors had resided in the castle even before the prison was formally established.
The area was filled with howling wind, and merely approaching the sea region involuntarily brought about a suffocating, uncomfortable feeling, which made Lockhart miss the Crabb who had previously accompanied him.
This uncomfortable sensation intensified upon entering Azkaban, as if every wall was saturated with torment and suffering.
"Wait a moment," Lockhart called out to Tonks, who was walking ahead with a toss of her hair. He turned and stared curiously at the wall of Azkaban Castle, gently reaching out to touch it.
The moment his fingertip lightly touched it, a terrible stinging and burning sensation struck him. It was not a physical sensation but a kind of information.
Lockhart took a deep breath and pressed his hand against the wall again. His face immediately paled, and he gasped. This was truly a force that touched the soul!
He forced himself to endure the discomfort transmitted from his soul. His ears were filled with the neighing of horses, the howling of wolves, and the clamorous cries of a dozen wizards. Bit by bit, he sensed the information on the wall. Finally, his vision swam, and he felt as if he saw a person hanging on the wall, their collarbones pierced by iron hooks, while a whip soaked in agonizing potions lashed out wounds that seeped blood.
"Driving the extreme pain from a person's soul and plastering it onto the walls?"
Lockhart recoiled, finally unable to endure the extreme torture and suffering transmitted by the wall, and released his hand.
"I don't recommend that," Tonks said, standing nearby with her arms crossed, chewing gum and tilting her head at him. "Azkaban Prison has its own rules. No one is allowed to investigate the prison's secrets, not even the Minister for Magic."
Lockhart drew his wand and pointed it at himself, letting the power of his Patronus surge through his body, finally dispelling the visceral feeling of rejection and discomfort.
"My apologies, it was just too fascinating; I couldn't resist taking a closer look."
Tonks shrugged nonchalantly. "It's fine. It's virtually impossible for anyone to figure out the prison's secrets just by touching the bricks a few times. Just don't make any other moves. There are some rigid, rule-abiding wardens watching."
As they continued forward, Tonks turned back again, asking curiously, "Did you figure anything out?"
Lockhart nodded, not concealing anything. "Someone once tried to use Muggles here to create wizards, attempting to activate the Muggle's magical bloodline. This is an old saying about wizards in the Muggle world—the belief that wizards emerge through suffering."
Tonks frowned. "Yeah, I heard my classmates discuss that when I was in Muggle school (primary school, she's a Half-blood). The hero in the fairy tales suffers terrible torment and finally gains the ability to cast spells and get revenge. I asked my Mum, and she said it's actually about the birth of an Obscurus, which somehow got spread to the wizarding world and became a distorted legend."
An Obscurus? That was somewhat similar, but not exactly right.
Lockhart narrowed his eyes at the wall of Azkaban Prison, quietly marveling. The image he had seen showed that the Dark Wizard who had conducted terrifying research in this castle had actually used Muggles to create a magical bloodline.
Well, a magical bloodline supported by the stone walls.
It was difficult to clearly perceive the exact methods used by this wizard from the stone walls, but Lockhart vaguely sensed traces of many modern magical systems: Wizard Portraits, magic specifically for Ghosts, Kitchen Magic, Potion-making refining techniques, some ideas from Alchemy, some ideas for creating magical artifacts...
"I heard that the Dementors here generally don't want to leave Azkaban because they are dependent on this stone castle full of torment and suffering?"
Tonks nodded. "Generally, if the Ministry of Magic doesn't specifically deploy them, Dementors do prefer to stay here and not go anywhere else."
So that's it.
Lockhart observed everything around him with keen interest and nodded.
....
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