"Yes, yes!"
He nodded frantically.
But the surrounding prisoners were confused.
You came to Azkaban in the middle of the night…just to chat? Are you out of your mind?
Even after being tortured by Dementors every day, none of them had gone that insane.
"Silence."
Edward cast a glance at them. "Everyone will get a chance to talk. Everyone will get a chance to leave. But only if you keep quiet."
The prisoners' voices gradually died down, fading into silence. Only a few who had clearly gone mad were still laughing and shouting hysterically—so Edward simply erased their mouths altogether.
Once the surroundings were mostly quiet, he waved his wand and conjured a chair for Audrey.
"Can you tell me your name?"
"Elphin…Rosier."
"What were you imprisoned for?"
"I—I was framed."
"Framed for what?"
"They said I was a Death Eater! But I was actually under the Imperius Curse! By the time I came to my senses, I was already standing trial!"
Audrey nodded noncommittally, lighting a candle as she casually asked, "Do you still have any family?"
"Yes."
"What's your relation to Vinda Rosier of the Rosier family?"
"She's my niece."
"And how would you describe life in Azkaban?"
He gritted his teeth. "Miserable. Horrible. Worse than death!"
"Oh? And yet you haven't committed suicide. Why is that?"
"...Huh?"
Audrey's conversation with Elphin Rosier unfolded steadily.
As the candlelight flickered, Elphin's gaze grew more and more unfocused, his consciousness slipping away—Audrey had begun speaking directly with his mind.
Once she had fully entered the right state, Edward layered several defensive enchantments on her, then left Lilith and Susie nearby to stand watch while he moved on to inspect the other cells.
Roughly 80% of the prisoners here were men, and 20% were women.
All of them wore tattered clothes, with filthy, matted hair and grime-covered faces.
Unless he got up close, it was nearly impossible to tell who was who at a glance.
Edward took out a notebook and, recalling everything he had seen along the way, began recording the architecture and layout of Azkaban.
By the time he was done, he had reached the central section of the prison.
"Can anyone tell me which of you are Death Eaters?"
He looked around as he asked.
"I know! I know!"
A prisoner instantly shot up his hand and shouted, "Selwyn, Rookwood, Avery, Travers, Yaxley, Bellatrix, Sirius Black..."
He rattled off over twenty names in one breath—most of them from the so-called Sacred Twenty-Eight families.
"Oh, and...Rosier too! The one your friend is talking to—he's absolutely a bona fide Death Eater! He's always taken pride in that!"
Edward smiled. "And what about you, sir? Why are you in here?"
"I...I just accidentally killed a few Muggles," he mumbled.
"But it was really an accident. I was attacked, and I fought back. My spell went off course, exploded, and killed some passing Muggles."
Edward flicked a coin and raised an eyebrow. "Huh. You're telling the truth."
"Of course, sir! I'm just an ordinary wizard! Even if I did kill someone by accident, I shouldn't be locked up for life!"
"Tell me where the Death Eaters you mentioned are being held."
He quickly pointed in every direction as he spoke, "Selwyn's over there, Rookwood's there, Bellatrix is that way, and Sirius is in the cell next to hers…"
"Thank you for your help."
"Then...then can you let me go now?"
"No rush. One step at a time."
Edward took out a piece of chocolate and tossed it to him—
In Azkaban, chocolate was more valuable than anything else.
Dementors fed on joy, and chocolate—or anything high in sugar—helped restore a person's happiness.
"Thank you, thank you!"
Edward then stopped in front of each Death Eater's cell for a few seconds.
These people were clearly "well taken care of" by the Dementors—some were curled up in corners, unconscious, others mumbled incoherently like lunatics.
A few were outright screaming about how the Dark Lord would come to rescue them and lead the Death Eaters to rule the wizarding world.
One of those screamers was Bellatrix.
The Dementors' torment hadn't broken her loyalty in the slightest—in fact, it had only driven her deeper into madness.
Seeing Edward approach, she pressed her forehead against the bars, tilting her head and grinning maniacally:
"Here to take revenge on the Death Eaters? Who are you? Did we kill your wife? Your son?
Don't worry—the Dark Lord will reunite you with them very soon! Hehehehehe!"
Edward's lips curled into a cold smile.
Suddenly, the bars of her cell came alive, twisting into coils and tightening around her throat, lifting her off the ground.
Bellatrix thrashed wildly, but it was no use.
She could only watch in horror as her vision darkened and her breath grew shorter and shorter...
Just when she thought she was going to die, the bars strangling her throat suddenly loosened. Though she was still hanging in midair, at least she wouldn't die for the time being.
"Hehehehe…You don't dare…You don't dare kill me…You're afraid the Dark Lord will avenge me, make you wish you were dead!"
Edward no longer paid her any attention. He walked forward and stopped in front of Sirius Black's cell. Like the rest of the Death Eaters, he huddled in the corner without moving a muscle.
It wasn't until Edward stared at him for a full minute or two that he slowly sat up. His head drooped, long, greasy hair covering most of his face. A low, hoarse laugh escaped his lips.
"What are you staring at?"
Bang!
He suddenly lunged forward and slammed into the bars with a loud clang, stretching out his hands, clawing at Edward.
"Come on! Don't just stand there—get in if you like watching so much!"
His bloodshot eyes gleamed as he grinned, revealing yellowed teeth no different from the other prisoners. "Hey, with that soft skin of yours, I bet you'd taste delicious."
Edward tossed a piece of chocolate through the bars.
Sirius instinctively caught it, a flicker of surprise flashing through his eyes. Then, without even unwrapping the foil, he shoved the entire thing into his mouth and chewed with a twisted grin.
"So, you're here for the Black family fortune too?"
Edward considered for a moment before asking, "Sirius, why exactly were you imprisoned?"
"Heh, don't you read the papers? I remember I was front page back then." He spread his arms dramatically and shouted, "I, Sirius Black, James Potter's best friend, betrayed the Potters to the Dark Lord, killed Peter Pettigrew, and blew up an entire street!"
"Oh, impressive! Very impressive." Edward clapped lightly.
"…."
For some reason, Sirius could feel the mockery in his tone.
"So if I let you out now, would you continue to serve your Dark Lord?"
"Of course!"
"Wonderful! I'd like to serve the Dark Lord too. Become a Death Eater. Why don't you take me with you?"
"…"
Sirius suddenly didn't know how to respond.
Edward's smile faded. "Alright. That's enough joking around."
Sirius: "???"
"A while back, Dumbledore learned the truth about that night from Peter Pettigrew."
"Peter? He's dead. Died by my hand."
Edward spread his hands. "Actually, no. He transformed into a rat using his Animagus ability at the moment of the explosion, and hid for over ten years…"
"Impossible! You're lying!"
Sirius gripped the bars tightly and roared with rage.
"But now he really is dead. Burned to ashes in Fiendfyre," Edward shrugged. "That's why Dumbledore can't help you clear your name and get you released."
"…"
Fury flashed in Sirius's eyes. He let out a low, guttural growl like a wounded wolf.
"Then who are you? What the hell are you doing here? And where are the damn Enforcers and Dementors?"
"They won't be disturbing us anytime soon. As for me…You'll find out soon enough."
"Don't feed me that crap!"
"Well, to be honest, I was supposed to come during the Christmas holidays," Edward said casually. "Because I wanted to give someone a Christmas present."
Sirius pointed at himself. "Me? A Christmas present? Are you insane?"
"Hahaha." Edward laughed. "Harry Potter. That name must sound familiar to you."
Sirius's pupils contracted.
"He hasn't had it easy all these years living with his aunt and uncle—bullied, mistreated…Living under the roof of his only blood relatives, yet never once knowing what true family feels like."
"And you, as his godfather…I'd say you're the best Christmas gift he could receive."
Sirius was momentarily stunned.
"But…" He quickly regained his wariness. "What do you want from me first?"
"Simple." Edward raised his wand.
Click.The cell door creaked open. Before Sirius could react, a wand was tossed into his hands.
"Soon, when I tell you to kill someone—you kill them."
"…"
As Sirius stepped out of the cell, the first thing he saw was Bellatrix still suspended midair. She clutched the bars tightly, glaring at him with an eerie grin.
"Sirius…hehehe…You really are a disgrace to the Black family! Always liked mixing with Mudbloods—now you suddenly decide to serve the Dark Lord? Hehehe…The Dark Lord will…he will return and kill you."
Sirius muttered, "You'd better worry about yourself first, Bellatrix."
When Edward returned with the still-suspicious Sirius in tow, Audrey was already performing "psychological therapy" on her tenth subject. Lilith and Susie flanked her like two loyal sentinels, standing guard.
The reason she worked so quickly was, of course, because she wasn't actually treating them like a real therapist would. There were no patient listens, no gentle counselling. It was all done with supernatural force.
For those with mental disturbances—placate. The ones howling like maniacs—suppression spells. Anyone who dared get violent—frenzy. And finally, all were forcibly 'treated' through powerful psychic cues.
—Of course, this relatively crude form of acting wouldn't help much with potion digestion progress, but it was still far quicker than dealing with moody Hogwarts students going through puberty.
"What's she doing?"
"Therapy. For prisoners. Hm…Does the wizarding world not have psychiatrists?"
Sirius's eyes flashed, and his expression turned gloomy. "...I remember Lily once mentioned it."
"Oh?"
"When we were beating up Snape…she told us, if we were so messed up in the head, we should go home and see a therapist."
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.