Chapter 137 Azkaban Wizard Prison
In silence, Maca accepted the handover from the Ministry of Magic's detainees and the dementors of Azkaban.
It can be seen that the hands of the two detainees from the Ministry of Magic were trembling slightly when they faced the dementors. Even they don't often come into contact with these monsters.
After the prescribed handover process was quickly completed, they used the portkeys and left without looking back.
Maca was standing beside the dementors, and he could feel that after the last Riddle Crystal incident, the dementors could sense him. It's just that this kind of induction is still very weak, which makes those monsters a little bit lack of interest.
Maca glanced at them casually, and then took the initiative to walk towards the strange black stone fortress on the island with steady steps.
According to relevant records, the last owner of this fortress was an evil wizard named Extes. After his death, all the concealment spells on the island were invalidated, which was discovered by the Ministry of Magic.
As for who built it in the first place, no one knows.
Walking along a path also paved with black rocks, the dementors seem to be everywhere, they seem to be wandering and wandering around aimlessly...
In this world, I am afraid there will never be another prison like Azkaban.
Apart from the dementors, the aborigines who serve as prison guards, there are not many things set up here to prevent criminals from escaping.
Even the iron gate of the Blackstone Fortress was fully lifted.
Are they so reassuring about those dementors? Maca turned his head and looked at the monsters that were almost all over the mountains and plains. ...Well, maybe, it is indeed quite reassuring.
What the increasingly stable magic world brings is naturally the daily life, convenience, and popularization of magic, which makes the combat effectiveness of wizards and the detection of various mysteries of the magic world continue to decline.
As far as the vast majority of criminals are concerned, this place is already an abyss hell full of despair.
After passing through the tall gate of the fortress and passing through a square that had long been deserted, he walked into the inner area of the fortress.
This is the real prison transformed by the Ministry of Magic.
According to the process, Maca should have come here under the leadership of the dementors, and then was imprisoned in one of the prisons. But the Ministry of Magic would never have imagined that Maca seemed to have entered his own territory here.
In the shadowy corridors of the fortress, dementors can still be seen everywhere.
But most of them just looked at Maca subconsciously, and then let him pass by.
After walking around casually, Maca found that most of the prisons here were empty. Compared with this extremely grand fortress, the number of prisoners held here is pitifully small.
But when Maca passed a ledge behind the fort, he saw what was beyond the castle.
It was a wide cemetery, with tombstones inserted into the ground crookedly, extending from the back garden near the castle to the edge of the woods in the distance.
The tombstones closest to the castle have even fallen down, looking old and dilapidated, and one can't help but wonder how many years they have spent there?
Maca continued to go up, but the number of prisoners became fewer and fewer as they went up, and almost all of them did not respond to Maca's passage.
They are all trying to put themselves to sleep, although this will always make them wake up because of nightmares, but it is definitely better than watching dementors passing by their prison door one after another, smoking like queuing for food Your own happiness is much better!
But when Maca passed a cell on the third floor, he saw an old witch whose eyes were not completely dead.
You...who are you? How...you... The witch half-opened her eyes,
With a confused expression and a little soberness, she said intermittently, Are you... a person from the Ministry of Magic to visit the prison?
Maca looked at her with interest, and shook her head after a while.
I am a prisoner just like you. He said, Why, isn't your soul completely occupied by negative emotions?
...do you think it's... how many times... have I come in? The old witch grinned, as if she wanted to smile, but it was a very difficult thing for her to do, Hmph... ...I won't compromise just because of... this matter.
Maca looked at her and thought for a while, then raised her eyebrows and guessed, Are you Ms. Pinkston?
...you recognize me? The old witch narrowed her eyes, as if she wanted to see him more clearly.
Carotta Pinkston, born in 1922, graduated from Hogwarts Gryffindor College, a famous activist, advocated the repeal of the International Confederation of Wizards Secrecy and devoted himself to the wizarding world and Muggles The fusion of worlds... Maca randomly picked out the information he knew, and then continued to ask, Actually, you are quite famous, because you will always be guilty of deliberately violating the Secrecy Act And sent to Azkaban.
...that's a strategy too. Ms. Pinkston's eyes widened. Do you think I'm right?
Maca shrugged and said, I don't want to squat here and talk to you about this.
What do you... want to do? Pinkston asked sickly.
But Maca just waved her hand, ignored her, stood up and left.
Meeting Carlotta Pinkston was an accident, not part of his plan. He kept walking, looking at the prisoners who occasionally appeared in his line of sight seemingly casually, while walking slowly towards a higher floor.
Since these unreasonable incidents hindered his research progress, he had to arrange the situation first.
Along the way, Maca was like the master of Azkaban, inspecting every criminal locked up here.
Finally, in a certain prison, he saw a motionless woman lying on the ground.
It was a witch who seemed to be dead. Her dirty, dusty long hair was spread on the ground, completely covering her head.
The clothes on the witch's body were tattered, and her skin was ashen and dead. It was not much different from a corpse.
If it weren't for the faint rise and fall of her chest with her breathing, no one would think that she was still alive.
Dangdang——
Maca stretched out his hand, and knocked on the iron door of the prison with the chain on his wrist, making a few crisp metal impacts. The voice kept echoing in the silent corridor.
The witch's hand seemed to move, obviously she had heard the sudden sound.
Bellatrix.
Before Maca's tentative words were settled, the witch suddenly raised her head, and under her disheveled long hair, a pair of eyes full of paranoia and madness stabbed straight at Maca.
...Who are you? She growled in a hoarse voice.
Maca ignored her question directly, looked straight into her eyes and said, Answer me, are you Bellatrix?
Who are you!
The other party's madness was obviously extraordinary. She shouted hoarsely, grabbed the cell door and slammed into it, making a loud bang.
The target has obviously been found, so there is no need to continue to talk to her.
Maca turned his head, and a layer of solid silver-white light had already appeared on his hand. He reached out, grabbed the face of a dementor passing behind him, and dragged him downstairs.
In the prison, Bellatrix, who had already fallen into madness, couldn't help but take a half step back—no way, Maca's behavior has an unparalleled deterrent effect in the eyes of all Azkaban prisoners.
Facts have proved that dementors are magical creatures with no emotions at all. Even though the hapless man in Maca's hand was struggling non-stop, they didn't seem to see them at all, allowing him to leave quickly .
...
In Little Hangleton, villagers still refer to an old house here as Riddle House, even though it hadn't been lived in for many years.
The house is located on a high hillside, from which the whole village can be seen.
Several windows of the house were sealed, and the tiles on the roof were incomplete, and the ivy crawled all over the house with its teeth and claws.
Riddle Hall was once a very handsome mansion, the largest and grandest building for miles around; but now it was so dank, desolate, and covered with the marks of time. .
Villagers in Little Hangleton agree that the old house is indeed scary.
Half a century ago, a bizarre and terrifying event took place here. And until now, when the older generation in the village have nothing else to talk about, they still like to talk about this matter.
This story has been told repeatedly by people, and it has been embellished in many places. No one can say for sure what the truth is.
Every version of the story, though, begins the same way:
Fifty years ago, when the Riddles were still well-managed and dignified, a maid came into the drawing room at dawn on a bright summer day and found all three of the Riddles dead.
The maid ran screaming all the way down the hillside and into the village, waking up the villagers.
...they were all lying there with their eyes wide open! They were cold! They were still in their dinner clothes! she said.
The police were called, and Little Hangleton was overwhelmed with amazement and curiosity, and the villagers tried, but in vain, to hide their excitement.
No one wasted any effort in pretending to feel sorry for the Drills, who were not always popular in the village.
The old couple were rich, but snobby and rough, and their grown son Tom...
You may not believe it, but he is actually worse than his parents!
What the villagers are concerned about is who the murderer is - obviously, it is impossible for three seemingly healthy people to die naturally at the same night at the same time.
I went around in a big circle, and finally came back to this place— At this moment, in the Riddle Mansion, a handsome young wizard was standing by the broken window, looking outside and chuckling, Isn't it? Najib Ni...
