Chapter 139: A Trip To Azkaban
Until Vaughn told her the price, Mrs. Granger calculated Hermione’s annual Gold Galleon allowance and the cost of new textbooks for the academic year before reluctantly giving up.
Vaughn was willing to lend them some Gold Galleons, or exchange Pounds Sterling with them according to Gringotts’ exchange rate.
But the Grangers, who already knew that Pounds Sterling were worthless in the Wizarding World, firmly disagreed, believing it would put Vaughn at a disadvantage.
In the end, they had to give up.
After playing with Guo Guo Cha for a while, Mother was still packing. The clothes and personal belongings summoned kept increasing, and Arthur was almost collapsing, frantically trying to catch Vaughn’s eye.
But Vaughn could not help him.
In this family, no one could defy Molly Weasley’s will, nor could anyone refuse Molly Weasley’s boundless love!
To avoid becoming a clothes rack himself and suffering the same fate as Arthur, Vaughn quickly carried Guo Guo Cha back upstairs.
However, he did not return to his own room. After taking Guo Guo Cha back to Ginny’s room, he gently opened Ron’s bedroom door.
This was his main purpose for returning to The Burrow.
Ron’s room was not large. Before the age of 8, it had actually been the shared bedroom for the two brothers. Even after Vaughn moved out, the original furnishings remained.
Two beds were placed on opposite sides of the room. Ron was fast asleep on the bed by the window. The floor and the other bed were piled with messy belongings. The walls were plastered with several posters of Charlie’s Quidditch team. Due to the long time they had been there, the magic had gradually faded, and the images flickered like a broken television.
On the bedside table, an iron cage sat there, with Scabbers curled up inside.
As if hearing someone open the door, the fat rat stirred and woke from its sleep.
Then, it saw Vaughn, and its fur instantly stood on end as if electrocuted. It opened its mouth to shriek, to alert Ron—the devil had arrived!
However, its cry never had a chance to escape.
“Legilimency!”
A faint silver light flashed and disappeared in the room. Scabbers froze in place. All emotion in its beady little eyes rapidly vanished, leaving only the dullness and confusion of a mind under control.
Vaughn smiled, playing with his wand as he walked in. He opened the cage, and with a Levitation Charm, pulled Scabbers out of the cage, suspending it before him. Then, he tapped his wand lightly.
“It’s been a while since I dealt with your memories. Let me see, what have you been thinking about lately, Peter?”
In the bedroom shrouded by night, large masses of silvery-white mist were pulled out from the body of a hovering fat rat.
Amidst the swirling mist, faint images could be seen flashing by.
And scattered, rustling whispers.
“…Master, he is still alive, my Master is still alive…”
“Vaughn Weasley, that terrible devil, he killed Master…”
“…I’m sorry, Harry…”
“I want to escape! I want to escape! Why… why do I want to escape? Why?”
“Who am I? Am I a mouse? No… no, I am Peter Pettigrew, I… yes, I am a mouse…”
They were so chaotic and disorganized, as if constantly being interfered with, distorted, and corrected by some unknown force, preventing them from forming a coherent system and leaving them to wander in memory as mere stray thoughts.
From Vaughn’s perspective, the existence of this interference was only natural.
A vague and blurry net was deeply embedded in the smoke pulled from Peter’s body. It was this net that extended countless mycelium-like tentacles, connecting and influencing Peter’s memories and consciousness.
This was the Persona Embodiment Vaughn had tailored for Peter!
He extended his wand, stirring it in the memory smoke. When he pulled it out, the net was also dragged out.
Vaughn’s pupils glowed with a faint, silvery-blue light. He gazed at the net, countless images flowing through his pupils.
Soon, Peter’s memories and thoughts from the past month were completely exposed before him.
Not long after, the ghostly light in his pupils extinguished, and Vaughn nodded with satisfaction: “It’s running very stably, and the concealment effect is also very good. Borrowing some effects from the Confundus Charm, it has reasonably jumbled Peter’s own thoughts. He hasn’t even noticed anything unusual.”
“However, there is still room for improvement. The efficiency of locking onto ‘keywords’ is still a bit low, making it impossible to break down and shield thoughts and memories according to the ‘blacklist’ in a timely manner. This leads to Peter still occasionally remembering his identity. In the next step, this filtering function needs to be strengthened…”
Of course, that didn’t need to be done now.
Thinking this, he casually reached into Peter’s memory smoke. The rustling whispers instantly turned into silver light points, which he held in his hand.
He squeezed them with force.
Crackle!
Amidst faint crackling sounds, the silver light points were completely annihilated.
As he delved deeper into Memory Magic, a person’s memories and thoughts became more fragile to Vaughn.
After calmly completing all this and modifying and clearing the memories Peter had of him that night, Vaughn re-inserted the “net” back into the memory smoke and then dragged the smoke back into Peter’s head.
The plump rat remained stiffly frozen in place.
Vaughn took out a camera, took a picture of him, and then put him back in the cage.
“You should be glad you still have some use…”
He whispered coldly and left the bedroom.
In fact, ever since he had shown his malice towards Peter, the fat rat had always wanted to escape. So, after learning Legilimency, Vaughn’s first experimental subject was not Harry, but Peter.
This traitor, who had actually caused the deaths of James and Lily, had actually been under memory manipulation for the past six months, he just didn’t know it himself.
That was also Vaughn’s way of controlling him.
Otherwise, if an Animagus was determined to escape, it would indeed be difficult to guard against.
…
The next day, Vaughn prepared a Developing Potion and developed the photos.
Molly had also finished packing her “luggage.”
The worry and love from his mother were fully reflected in the mountain of clothes and supplies. If Vaughn hadn’t had a satchel with a huge capacity, he wouldn’t have known how to pack them all.
Then, in the afternoon, as Arthur and Molly had predicted, Vaughn received a letter from Dumbledore informing him that his application to Azkaban had been approved and inviting him to meet at the Ministry of Magic.
【…The Ministry will send officials to accompany you, which is a necessary procedure…】
Dumbledore said in the letter.
But Vaughn suspected that this was likely Fudge’s little trick.
As expected, when he arrived at the Ministry of Magic via the fireplace, he saw Fudge, his belly bulging and buttons straining, standing next to Dumbledore, speaking loudly. Beside them were several people who looked like reporters:
“…Normally, we don’t allow any private individuals to visit Azkaban, but who can refuse Dumbledore? He is so highly respected, his requests don’t even reach my desk, and naturally, someone will make things convenient for him…”
Hearing his words, Vaughn chuckled.
After repeated setbacks, the dear Minister seemed to have changed his strategy again, preparing to position himself in a relatively disadvantaged position, trying to provoke public dislike for Dumbledore’s strong stance and gain sympathy for himself.
Truly tenacious.
Unfortunately, if he had put this energy into development rather than conflict, Vaughn would probably not have been his enemy.
But that’s how political creatures are.
Their thinking is fixed, accustomed to playing games within a ball of yarn, like a dung beetle protecting the dung ball under its belly, thinking it is the most precious treasure in the world!
Upon seeing Vaughn, Fudge’s expression darkened for a moment, but as expected, he ignored him, acting as if Vaughn didn’t exist.
This was normal. Being expelled from the courtroom by a 12-year-old young wizard with magic was not a good reputation. The more he cared, the more people would talk about it.
It was better to ignore it!
Vaughn was too lazy to bother with him and stood aside, watching him make veiled attacks and stir up trouble. Only when even the reporters began to lose patience did he stop, still not entirely satisfied.
After seeing the Minister leave, surrounded by a group of people, Vaughn complained to Dumbledore: “If I were you, I wouldn’t allow such a clown to be in the Minister’s position. His existence is of no benefit at all.”
Dumbledore, of course, understood this logic.
But he was also helpless: “It’s easy to bring him down, but who can replace him?”
Vaughn was speechless.
Theoretically, both Amelia and Rufus Scrimgeour were suitable. They were both capable, just lacking a bit of seniority.
But in the Wizarding World, seniority was precisely the most important thing.
If it were solely based on ability, with so many departments under the Ministry of Magic, no one would respect anyone else—ability has no standard, so why should you be better than me?
Only seniority is clearly visible!
Cornelius Fudge’s rise to power was because after Barty Crouch withdrew from the election, only his seniority left everyone speechless.
“Alright, my dear, let’s not dwell on these depressing topics.” Dumbledore’s expression quickly became cheerful again. He raised his arms, signaling Vaughn and the Ministry official who was pretending to be mute to grab on: “It’s time to go. I haven’t been to Azkaban in a long time, I’m actually quite excited!”
Vaughn rolled his eyes at him and grabbed his arm.
With everything ready, with a crackle, the three of them twisted and disappeared into the air.
A few seconds later, the North Sea, thousands of miles away from London.
On a small island in this vast sea between England and Denmark, hidden by magic, the three of them emerged from the air.
After recovering from the brief dizziness of long-distance travel, Vaughn saw a vast, endless ocean spread out before him.
The waves surged.
The dark sea surface stretched to the horizon, connecting with the overcast sky.
Not a single ray of sunshine could be seen in the sky, blending with the monotonous sea surface, making everything appear veiled in gray.
Like a cold wind hitting one’s face, there was not a hint of warmth from the physical sensation to the visual.
Even the coastline underfoot was a stretch of rugged, rocky mudflats.
“Gentlemen, welcome to Azkaban!”
The Ministry accompanying official, who didn’t deserve a name, spread his arms and tried to force a smile, seemingly trying to lighten the mood.
But the strong sea breeze choked him, making him cough repeatedly.
Ignoring his awkward and flustered appearance, Vaughn turned his head and looked at the monotonous, gray, cold, and hard island behind him, which was the same as the ocean and sky, and pouted: “It should be called ‘Welcome to Hell’!”
As far as the eye could see, this island surrounded by the vast ocean had no trace of green, not even soil.
Everywhere there were black, strangely shaped stones.
They extended from the coastline towards the interior of the island, pressing and piling against each other, forming bare “hills.” The higher the elevation, the higher the ground towards the center.
At the end of the view, a steep cliff rose sharply, like a blade pointing towards the sky. A huge stone fortress stood atop the cliff, shrouded in clouds and mist.
Hearing Vaughn’s complaint, Dumbledore smiled: “Yes, this is indeed hell. Promise me, my dear, never to be imprisoned here.”
“Okay, you too, Albus!”
After retorting to Dumbledore, Vaughn looked at the Ministry official and said, “You there, aren’t you going to notify the prison?”
“Oh, apologies, Mr. Weasley!”
The pitiful official, who had no desire to be involved in the powerful people’s struggles but was forcibly sent by the Minister, hurriedly agreed while drawing his wand and pointing it at the sky.
A red spell signal flew into the sky and exploded.
In response to this signal, a muffled horn sounded from the fortress in the distance.
Not long after, several wizards riding broomsticks, escorting a carriage, flew over.
“The Island of Hell, thestral carriage, what a perfect combination.”
Dumbledore’s tone was cheerful, as if nothing could affect him. He turned back and waved to Vaughn: “Come on, my dear, Azkaban is about to unveil its mysterious veil to you!”
Vaughn ignored his teasing and simply looked at the approaching wizards, “Albus, are you sure Fudge won’t set up any traps at Azkaban and try to imprison both of us?”
Dumbledore laughed heartily: “Haha, he doesn’t have the guts!”
The Ministry official broke out in a cold sweat and hurriedly agreed: “Yes, Minister Fudge absolutely wouldn’t… uh, absolutely wouldn’t do such a thing, I guarantee it, Mr. Weasley.”
Vaughn remained noncommittal: “In any case, I’m stating my position upfront. I will not hand over my wand, nor will I allow Aurors to search me. Mr. … Official, you’d better communicate with your colleagues first, to avoid any unpleasantness later.”
Dumbledore smiled silently, letting Vaughn “bully his way through.”
“Yes, of course, I will communicate. That is my duty.”
The official wiped his sweat repeatedly.
This was not due to a lack of composure. Everyone in the Ministry of Magic knew by now that Vaughn Weasley was arrogant and possessed great magical strength.
He had even dared to blast the Minister out of the courtroom with a spell.
He had no courage to provoke him. What if the other party, if displeased, also blasted him with a spell? Who would he seek recourse from?
Relying on Fudge?
Forget it!
With a dejected and anxious heart, as the wizards and carriage from afar approached, the official busied himself with negotiations.
After a friendly exchange, he returned beaming: “Mission accomplished, sirs. No search, no need to hand over wands. Please board the carriage, we’ll depart immediately!”
Having successfully resolved a potential conflict, the official finally felt his mood improve. He enthusiastically invited Dumbledore and Vaughn onto the carriage, even sharing a broomstick with an Auror to make the two distinguished guests more comfortable.
Therefore, he naturally had no idea that the two distinguished guests, after boarding the carriage, had a rather low opinion of him and their current experience.
“There are management loopholes everywhere. As the most secure prison in England, the inspection of visitors is so lax. A Ministry escort official arguing a few words, and they actually agreed to my clearly non-compliant request!”
Watching the scenery gradually recede outside the window, Vaughn narrowed his eyes slightly.
Dumbledore also restrained his smile, sighed, but still tried to defend: “It’s mainly because of the Dementors. With them around, no one can escape Azkaban…”
“Is there really no one?” Vaughn interrupted him.
Dumbledore was speechless.
Ever since Barty Crouch had defected to Vaughn, Dumbledore had guessed the hidden reasons behind it, and naturally understood that the incident of young Barty Crouch “dying” in Azkaban years ago was suspicious, likely a deception.
He was silent for a moment and asked, “What do you intend to do with this issue?”
He didn’t believe Vaughn cared about Azkaban’s system.
Facing his question, Vaughn did not conceal it: “Fudge is too annoying, I want to give him something to do!”
For example, convene a Wizengamot meeting, question the Ministry of Magic based on the loopholes in Azkaban’s system, and if someone were to escape, that would be even better!
…
Deep within the dark, cold dungeons, in a cell.
When the horn sounded, Sirius Black, curled up in the corner, stirred. He raised his head and looked at the skylight above, which was only about half a foot square. That faint light was the only source of illumination in the entire room.
During his more than ten years of imprisonment, apart from the sea breeze coming through the skylight and the wails of the madmen around him, he rarely heard any other sounds.
The horn sounded only once every few years.
“Is another important figure putting on a show?”
He thought.
Those political animals always liked to do meaningless things, such as caring for criminals. Who among those imprisoned here deserved care?
Especially that idiot Minister of Magic who came to power the year before last. He visited once every year, shouting about human rights while trembling outside the cage, posing for photos with them, the criminals.
Hypocritical!
Of course, apart from him, the other criminals in Azkaban really liked Fudge.
When facing the camera, that idiot would satisfy some of their small requests, bringing them newspapers, chocolate, and so on. Although they couldn’t leave hell, it was still a form of consolation.
While he was thinking, Sirius heard a madwoman’s voice from deep in the corridor: “Hee hee hee hee—Fudge, dear Fudge, is that you?”
The laughter, with the tune of a children’s song, echoed between the dark cells, sending shivers down one’s spine.
“Bella, shut up!”
An Auror on guard shouted loudly.
But the woman named Bella didn’t care at all, still laughing loudly and shrilly, her piercing voice echoing in the deep corridor, like a night owl’s cry.
The guard, perhaps enraged, uttered a spell, and faint flashes of lightning lit up in the darkness a few times.
Crackle…
The sound of current hitting the body, twitching sounds, suppressed screams, and after the screams, even more frenzied laughter.
“Hee hee ha ha ha—a little harder, my little cutie, ha ha ha—”
Turning this dark space into a veritable purgatory.
Madwoman!
Sirius thought indifferently. He recognized the madwoman, Bellatrix Lestrange. Lestrange was her surname after marriage. Her original surname was Black; she was his first cousin.
But that didn’t stop Sirius from despising her.
In his heart, Bellatrix was a madwoman, a lunatic, a loyal dog of the Dark Lord. The day she joined the Dark Lord’s ranks, any semblance of kinship ceased to exist in his eyes—in fact, their relationship had always been mediocre.
Black was never a warm family. Like all ancient things, this family was permeated with the stench of decay.
He had hated everything about it since childhood, hated its stale and strict rules, detested the decadence beneath its shiny facade, and even more so, hated the twisted individuals nurtured by that corrupt, putrid system!
Bella was a “leader” among them.
Frenzied, perverted, brutal…
These nouns that would never appear on normal people were her labels.
Lightning flashed again in the distance, and Bella’s screams and wild laughter continued. The criminals in the surrounding cells also began to clamor.
Whistles.
Equally frenzied laughter.
For a moment, it was like a dance of demons.
The guard roared in exasperation: “Madmen! Madmen! Want to see the benevolent Minister Fudge and hope he brings you some amusement? Dream on! Dumbledore is here this time, the wizard your dead master feared the most!”
Dumbledore!
The name seemed to possess some magic. The corridor, filled with ghostly wails, immediately fell silent. Even Sirius, whose heart was numb and who had no will to live, couldn’t help but look up.
As if in response to the guard’s words, a faint but incredibly clear whistling sound of a carriage flew in from outside.
“Hear that, scum? That’s the thestral carriage sent to pick up Dumbledore!”
Sirius leaned on the damp, slippery stone wall, managed to stand up, and looked up at the small skylight above. The background there was still the usual dense, hazy gray clouds.
But there was a difference.
In the gray sky, a carriage flew by smoothly. The carriage used for welcoming guests was reinforced with magical markings to display the identity of the passenger. At this moment, the emblem outlined on the carriage’s surface was Hogwarts’ crest.
Sirius stared blankly, and even after the carriage had disappeared, he didn’t look away.
Perhaps due to Dumbledore’s deterrent power.
The area outside the cell returned to its usual lifeless state. Even Bella, who had been provoking the Aurors, fell silent.
The Auror grumbled and reprimanded a few more times before continuing his patrol, gradually approaching.
The daydreaming Sirius suddenly snapped back to attention. He hobbled to the cell door, gripped the bars with both hands, and strained his head towards the gap in the bars.
The Auror holding a Lumos Charm was startled by him. In the faint light of the Lumos Charm, Sirius’s appearance was too horrifying.
After more than ten years of imprisonment, his body had long since deteriorated. Now, he was emaciated, almost skin and bones, with sunken eye sockets and protruding eyeballs and cheekbones.
Having not seen sunlight for years, his skin was a sickly white, stained with accumulated grime, and his eye sockets were an even more sickly scarlet.
At this moment, his wide-eyed appearance was like a corpse crawling out of a grave.
The Auror roared angrily, “What are you doing, get back!”
Sirius remained unmoved, only parting his lips, his voice dry: “Dumbledore… what is he doing at Azkaban?”
“It’s none of your business. What, do you still hope Dumbledore will save you? Give up on that! You killed James Potter, and Dumbledore showing mercy by not killing you himself is already kind!”
…Yes, I killed James…
Sirius thought with delayed thoughts, slowly releasing his grip, and curled back into the corner.
For more than a decade, the self-blame, guilt, and regret that had been tormenting his heart resurfaced. If he hadn’t been so clever back then and changed the Secret-Keeper of the Potter family home from himself to Peter, then…
He buried his disheveled head deeply between his knees.
Yes, I deserve it… I deserve to die here…
…
The thestral carriage circled the fortress several times before stopping at the top-level terrace.
The Auror Squad stationed at Azkaban, led by their captain, warmly welcomed Dumbledore, who was dressed in white robes, and… Vaughn, dressed in Wizengamot attire!
In fact, when the carriage door opened and he saw the iconic deep red robe, the Auror captain named Wayne’s face turned green.
But circumstances were beyond his control, and he could only force a smile: “Welcome Dumbledore, welcome… the esteemed member of the Wizengamot, Mr. Vaughn Weasley, welcome to Azkaban!”
As if not seeing the forced smile on his face, Dumbledore greeted cheerfully: “Ah, Wayne Wright, good boy, I was wondering who was in charge of Azkaban… My dear, have you been graduated for ten years?”
“Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore…”
The captain was held back by the esteemed Headmaster for pleasantries, so other Aurors had to attend to Vaughn. They soon discovered that this little fellow, who had deliberately changed into a deep red robe in the carriage, was indeed not easy to please:
“The fortress looks very clean!”
This was what Vaughn said to the Auror accompanying him after scanning the surroundings of the fortress.
The Auror was initially happy and humbly replied: “A clean environment is beneficial…”
Then he was interrupted by Vaughn: “What I mean is, where are the Dementors?”
The Auror was a bit confused: “Esteemed Mr. Weasley, this…”
Vaughn didn’t even look at him, but pressed on aggressively: “Aren’t Dementors the jailers of Azkaban? Where are they? I thought I’d see a bunch of tattered robes flying in the air as soon as I got off the carriage, but sir, please look around. If I weren’t sure Dumbledore wouldn’t make a mistake about the location, I’d think I’d arrived at a Muggle seaside resort!”
The Auror was so pressured that sweat beaded on his forehead.
“Uh… Dementors are monsters after all, we were afraid they might bump into our distinguished guests…”
Before he could finish speaking, he saw Vaughn snap his fingers. A quill and a piece of parchment flew out of his robe automatically.
He heard Vaughn coldly command: “Record this: In Azkaban, Dementors can be temporarily withdrawn to welcome superiors or so-called distinguished guests!”
The Auror was almost numb: “Wait, Mr. Weasley…”
But Vaughn ignored him and walked into the fortress.
Although stationed in the North Sea, far from England.
However, the Aurors’ news was not blocked. It wasn’t just the 《 Daily Prophet 》 frantically competing for sales, claiming to deliver fresh newspapers from the Antarctic and Arctic on the same day.
Internal communication, which was not prohibited, was enough for the Aurors on this remote island, far from civilization, to learn about major and minor events in the Wizarding World.
According to regulations, Azkaban was not allowed to communicate with the outside world without authorization. However, since Fudge came to power, such regulations had long become nominal—to win over support from various departments for his rise, and to prevent passive resistance, Fudge’s ministerial cabinet had made great concessions.
As long as you were obedient, even if you slacked off at work or were in love, the benevolent Minister could pretend not to see!
Small-scale internal communication was naturally the same.
Therefore, these Aurors stationed at Azkaban for two years were actually very familiar with Vaughn.
After all, for the past year, he had not only been a regular in the 《 Daily Prophet 》 but also the undisputed protagonist of many rumors in the Ministry of Magic.
For example, slapping Fudge in the face, toying with Fudge, beating Fudge up, and so on.
But before this, having not encountered him, they ultimately lacked a real sense of it, feeling that the descriptions of Vaughn Weasley in the rumors were slightly exaggerated.
A 12-year-old young wizard, no matter how arrogant, how arrogant could he be?
And today, they had opened their eyes!
“Record: Azkaban is isolated overseas, and the local management department appears to be derelict in its duties, making no restrictions on visitors…”
This was what Vaughn instructed the automatic quill and parchment when the Aurors did not stop him from entering the criminal confinement area.
When the Aurors reacted and tried to stop him, this double standard was dazzling.
“Record: Azkaban is isolated overseas, and the local management department seems to be out of the Ministry of Magic’s control, obstructing surprise inspections of Wizengamot members with bad intentions…”
Local Management Department: “…”
You get to say all the good and bad things, right?
After three such instances, the Aurors simply gave up and let him wander around the confinement areas of various criminals within the fortress.
Not even one of them was willing to follow him anymore—
It’s simple. Everyone has a temper. Who would want to stay by the side of someone who is constantly finding fault with them?
Anyway, there are Dementors, no one can escape Azkaban, let him look then!
And this was precisely Vaughn’s goal.
After inspecting one floor of cells with a stern face, Vaughn returned to the magical elevator room and asked the Auror in charge of operating the elevator, who looked dejected, “What kind of prisoners are held on the next floors?”
The Auror answered listlessly, but with resentment: “Death Eaters, esteemed! Mr. Weasley!”
Vaughn was unconcerned: “Is it the Lestrange brothers, and people like Bellatrix?”
“Yes, and the ferocious Black, Rowle, Rosier, Selwyn, Travers, etc. In short, all serious offenders, who will be imprisoned in Azkaban until the day of their death…”
As he spoke, the Auror smiled with a strange expression and “kindly” reminded: “Esteemed Mr. Weasley, I suggest you better not go. Those are all vicious villains… Oh, I’m not saying you should fear them, but you are of noble status, what if…”
Hmph, a clumsy attempt at provocation.
Vaughn’s expression was blank, and then, in a manner that met the other’s expectations, he rigidly demanded: “Take me there!”
