The pitch-black sea concealed countless dangers.
The ocean at night was the most terrifying. Endless darkness loomed like a colossal beast ready to swallow everything.
Even the most experienced old sailors would find their nerves eroded by the oppressive atmosphere of the night.
A young sailor had made a bet with the crew that he could stay outside all night.
Before the darkness truly fell, he was brimming with confidence.
But as the sunlight completely faded, that boundless darkness and solitude seemed ready to devour him.
The noise of the ship cutting through the water echoed endlessly in his ears.
His youthful pride forced him to hold on, refusing to give up. Fear and cold spread over him like a rising tide, climbing from his ankles and creeping over his body.
The only way he could distract himself was by searching the sky for constellations.
His dream was to live his life as a captain, and reading the stars was a skill every captain had to master.
He raised his head and looked toward Sagittarius.
Fortunately, the sky was clear that night, with no clouds to hide the stars.
The scattered starlight shone far more brightly than it ever could in a city.
"You can do this. Don't let them look down on you."
The young sailor encouraged himself and gradually became absorbed in the starry sky.
Just as he was recording the route of this voyage, the stars suddenly vanished into darkness.
As if the end of the world had arrived, everything lost its vitality.
The sailor screamed and frantically pounded on the cabin door.
"The sky—the sky has been swallowed!"
The young sailor was driven to the brink by the darkness, but the old sailors in the cabin burst into laughter.
They mocked the young sailor's cowardice.
No matter how he tried to explain, they only believed he couldn't handle the darkness of the sea.
...
Meanwhile, the darkness in the sky faded.
More precisely, it passed overhead.
It was a creature like a colossal beast. With bat-like wings beating through the air, its shadow blanketed the sea.
Orcas in the ocean called out to their companions.
Fish burrowed into the sand and mud.
Lacking intelligence, they possessed senses far keener than those of humans.
All the creatures of the sea knew that something enormous, carrying the shadow of destruction, was crossing the ocean.
Wings beat from morning until night.
John had transformed into Wotan, the Shadow of Destruction, his massive form flying for an entire day.
The location of Azkaban had not changed for hundreds of years.
Within the endless darkness, he caught sight of the island standing in the void.
The fortress upon it had never changed.
From the time of Ekrizdis, to when the Ministry of Magic took control, and later when John intervened, only then did Azkaban begin to undergo some changes.
Arriving above Azkaban, John's massive body pierced through the clouds as it rapidly shrank.
He transformed back into human form and plunged downward through the clouds.
His body crashed straight into the sea.
A shark roaming the ocean caught his scent and swam toward him with its jaws wide open.
John turned and waved his wand. An invisible blade sliced through the shark's body.
The shark swam two more meters before its body split cleanly in half.
The thick scent of blood spread through the water, driving the nearby predators into a frenzy.
Then a terrifying draconic aura suddenly spread across a hundred meters, snapping those creatures back to their senses and sending them fleeing for their lives.
A dragon's tail grew behind John, moving through the water like a fish's tail as he swam swiftly.
Fortunately, since he would eventually take over the reconstruction of Azkaban in the future, he knew the place very well.
At the very bottom of Azkaban was a sea cave carved out by erosion. Long ago, Ekrizdis had used it as a docking point to lure sailors closer.
After the Ministry of Magic took control, they had no need to interact with sailors and simply abandoned the place.
After all, they traveled by Thestral-drawn carriages and had no use for it.
John leapt out of the seawater, the tail behind him flicking away the droplets.
He tapped the rock wall with his wand.
A heightened sensing spell activated, feeding the surrounding environment back into his vision.
No one ever came here. Even the guards of Azkaban didn't know this place existed.
Many wrecked ships, broken and soaked by the sea for years, lay hidden at the cave's entrance.
Inside the cavern was a staircase leading upward.
But it had long since been sealed shut.
John walked over to the stairs and lightly tapped them with his wand.
A flash of white light passed through, and the sealed entrance began to peel away layer by layer.
"Alright then, it's time for the Pokeball—ehm—Dementor Catcher!"
John pulled a red-and-white sphere from his homemade pouch and threw it toward the opening.
The red-and-white ball struck the wall, bounced upward, and then rolled along the ground. Even when it reached the stairs, it clung to the wall and continued moving.
He tossed out more than a dozen of them. The Dementor Catchers scattered into various hidden corners of Azkaban.
After finishing all this, John landed on a wooden ship that had run aground against the rocks.
The vessel had been there for hundreds of years, and it was clear it had once been a merchant ship.
John stepped in from the deck and entered the cabin.
Everything inside was covered with moss and mold. Kicking open a chest, a pile of jewelry and ornaments spilled out.
John merely glanced at it. The most valuable things on this merchant ship had been a stack of porcelain and the tea leaves that had long since been ruined.
There were no corpses or bones.
They had probably been taken away by Ekrizdis for his experiments.
The ship's owner could never have imagined that he would escape pirates, only to fall victim to an evil wizard.
"The power of wizards…"
He recalled Gael's words about changing the world.
Wizards possessed immense power. They were a group driven by belief and will.
It could be said that the limits of a wizard's power were impossible to define.
The stronger a wizard became, the more extreme they tended to grow. That was the price of power.
Gael wanted to change the world. Since he could never kill every Muggle, the only thing he could do was make the world fear wizards.
"In the future, his followers will carry his ideals and sweep across the entire European continent."
John fell silent. What would he do in that situation?
"Only when facing an even stronger enemy could such a thing truly happen."
John shook his head. Idealists would eventually die pursuing their ideals.
He spent the night in the sea cave beneath Azkaban, and that night became a disaster for the Dementors.
...
As the guards of Azkaban, Dementors found their greatest pleasure in draining prisoners of their will.
Every night, the prison echoed with the desperate wails of inmates.
Those cries were enough to drive anyone mad.
But to the Dementors, it was the most beautiful music.
One Dementor drifted through the prison corridors of Azkaban.
A prisoner had already been drained of all happiness and lay there like an empty shell, motionless.
The Dementor wiped its mouth and moved toward the next cell.
Suddenly, it stopped.
Turning its head, it looked toward a certain direction. From there came the trace of happiness.
Had a prisoner escaped?
No matter. I will deal with it.
Dementors loved situations like this, because it meant they could simply drain the foolish prisoner dry and give them a deadly kiss.
The Dementor glided toward that place.
Wherever it passed, frost formed on the ground, a mark of death.
Circling around a cell, it followed the scent of emotion with greedy anticipation, entering the darkness untouched by moonlight.
The next moment. Arrg~~!
Fear spread through the Dementor.
It fled wildly from the darkness, but black threads wrapped around it, dragging it back bit by bit.
In the darkness, a red-and-white sphere opened, and countless black threads extended from within, binding the Dementor and slowly pulling it inside.
The space was small. The Dementor had to be folded in half to fit—if it even had bones.
The night was silent.
The Dementor's shrill scream was swallowed by the darkness.
Even the prisoners who had long since lost their happiness did not dare to breathe.
One after another, Dementors in Azkaban were seized by black threads emerging from the shadows.
Like prey encountering their natural predator, the Dementors fled frantically throughout Azkaban.
But the result was always the same. They could not escape the black threads' grasp and were eventually stuffed into the red-and-white spheres.
After swallowing thirteen Dementors, the red-and-white balls rolled out of the shadows one by one, heading back the way they had come.
The clinking sounds echoed eerily through the silent prison.
After that night, a rumor about mysterious clinking noises in Azkaban began to spread.
But only within Azkaban itself. To outsiders, it sounded more like the ramblings of prisoners who had been drained by Dementors too many times and had gone mad.
After the sun rose, John reopened the wall.
A neat row of red-and-white spheres appeared there.
He picked them up one by one.
John tapped the button in the center of a sphere.
The sphere opened again and spat out a Dementor.
The Dementor thought it had been saved, only to see John's smiling face.
"Hello there, Dementor."
Clearly, the Dementor didn't recognize this person.
Creee~!
But it recognized the black threads that had unraveled it.
The Dementor's body was taken apart, the black curse and the silvery-white soul separated to either side.
From the ship, John found some containers that could be used to store things and stuffed the Dementor souls inside them.
Looking at the thirteen pure silver-white souls, John stroked his chin and said, "Seems like it's not quite enough."
Then he might as well stay a little longer.
When night fell again, another thirteen Dementors were captured.
For several days in a row.
By the time the Dementors realized what was happening, John had already left Azkaban with forty collected Dementor souls.
"There really are more Dementors in this era."
He rode on a battered ghost ship, with a soul lantern he had crafted placed at the bow.
Though worn and broken, the ship never sank beneath the seawater.
John set the copper snake on the ship's wheel.
The magic within it guided his direction.
He planned to visit the pyramid that supposedly contained the Sands of Time.
The ghost ship sank beneath the sea, avoiding all detection.
____
So, in the canon, Dumbledore says that there is no way to kill a Dementor, yet he said that there were more Dementors in the past—Big brain time🎃
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