Scrimgeour deeply resented the Minister of Magic's repeated infringement upon the Auror Office's authority.
But he was helpless against it.
The 'Ministry Centralization Faction' didn't have a true leader they could rely on. The highest-ranking figure in that faction currently was Umbridge, who played no decisive role whatsoever.
So, he could only grimace and accept the confidential order demanding the Auror Office cooperate with the special envoy. He then assigned an Auror to serve as the envoy's deputy.
Good heavens, the wizards trained at Hogwarts these past few years hadn't been particularly impressive. In recent years, they'd only managed to recruit Nymphadora Tonks, and older Aurors were steadily retiring. They were already short-staffed, and now to actually lose one was utterly dreadful.
Scrimgeour was very displeased about the situation and ultimately assigned the least experienced Auror, Tonks, to assist.
Fudge looked quite dissatisfied. "Just that young witch?"
Note: In early 1993, Nymphadora Tonks was 19 years old.
Scrimgeour had no choice but to pull out the Auror Office's action files and explain to Fudge each Auror's current assignments. For example, Kingsley, the most powerful Auror in active service, had been assigned to serve as secretary and bodyguard for the Muggle Prime Minister, and everyone else had their own duties.
"In fact, Tonks also has an assignment. After she goes to assist the special envoy, I'll have to personally take over," Scrimgeour glared at Fudge, as if saying, it's come to this, what more do you want?
Fudge knew he couldn't push the Head Auror too far and nodded. "Alright, she's been on the job for a while now, hasn't she? She should have a clear understanding of Auror work?"
Scrimgeour stated with pride, "Every Auror in my office is exceptionally outstanding! Tonks included!"
Fudge didn't see it that way.
Looking at the young witch who had been assigned, he truly couldn't accept such a rebellious and eccentric witch appearing in the solemn and dignified Ministry of Magic.
A strange, mushroom-like pig nose on her face, multi-colored hair with over a dozen hues, wearing an odd Sisters of St. Gloriana band T-shirt and a leather jacket covered in studs...
Even in the meeting room, with her superior, the Minister, and the Undersecretary present, she sat in a corner chair, casually chewing gum...
This...
Could she be relied upon?
Fudge looked apologetically at Lockhart, feeling that he hadn't handled the matter well enough, but saw Lockhart simply smile gently at him.
In truth, Lockhart had no specific demands for his Auror partner. As long as she could take him to Azkaban and retrieve a prisoner to the Department of Mysteries' Hall of Geneaologies for some research, that would be sufficient.
The only problem was—Bellatrix was Tonks's aunt, her proper aunt.
In fact, most pure-blood wizards and witches had some form of familial connection.
Lockhart was already getting a bit paranoid. When he'd previously captured Corban for research, Madam Mary had tried to rescue him, even though she felt no affection for her father and had even harbored some hatred towards him.
It was hard to know what truly lay within a person's heart. Lockhart had long passed the stage of viewing real, flesh-and-blood people in this world through the lens of his past life's likes and dislikes for original story characters. He was somewhat wary of Tonks.
Perhaps sensing Lockhart's apprehension, Tonks didn't speak much with him either. Once their discussion in the office concluded, the two immediately set off for Azkaban prison.
Azkaban is located in a remote part of the North Sea, far from Muggle shipping lanes. It was originally a castle belonging to a formidable dark wizard, and Dementors had inhabited it even before Azkaban prison was established.
A chilling wind howled there; simply approaching the waters made one feel an oppressive unease, causing Lockhart to long for the presence of Crabbe, who had accompanied him before.
This oppressive feeling became even more pronounced upon entering Azkaban, as if every wall was saturated with torment and pain.
"Wait a moment first."
Lockhart called out to Tonks, who was walking ahead, flipping her hair. He turned and curiously stared at the walls of Azkaban Castle, gently reaching out to touch them.
The slightest touch of his fingertip brought a horrifying stinging and burning sensation.
It wasn't a physical sensation, but rather a transfer 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 power that touched the soul!
He endured the discomfort transmitted from his soul. His ears were filled with the sounds of horses neighing, wolves howling, and the clamor of a dozen wizards screaming. He slowly tried to perceive the information on the wall until his vision blurred. He felt as if he saw someone impaled by iron hooks through their collarbones, hanging on the wall, and whipped with a potion-soaked lash that drew oozing wounds.
"To beat the extreme agony out of people's souls and smear it onto the walls?"
Lockhart recoiled, finally unable to bear the extreme torment and pain transmitted from the wall, and released his hand.
"I wouldn't advise you to do 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 permitted to probe the secrets of this prison, not even the Minister for Magic."
Lockhart pulled out his wand and tapped himself, allowing the power of his Patronus to surge through his body, finally dispelling the deep-seated discomfort.
"My apologies, it was just too fascinating; I couldn't resist looking longer."
Tonks shrugged nonchalantly. "It's fine. It's almost impossible for anyone to figure out the secrets of this prison by just touching a few bricks. Just don't do anything else. There are some stickler wardens watching here, you know."
With that, the two continued walking, and Tonks looked back again, asking curiously, "Did you figure anything out just now?"
Lockhart nodded, not hiding anything. "Someone once tried to use Muggles here to create wizards, attempting to activate their magical bloodlines. This is an old Muggle world superstition about wizards, believing that wizards emerge through suffering."
Tonks frowned. "Yes, I heard my classmates discuss this when I was studying in the Muggle world (primary school, she's a half-blood witch). The protagonist in fairy tales suffers terrible torment and eventually gains the ability to cast spells for revenge. I asked my mother, and she said it's actually the birth of an Obscurus, somehow passed into the wizarding world and twisted."
An Obscurus?
It was somewhat similar, but not entirely.
Lockhart narrowed his eyes at the walls of Azkaban prison, silently marveling—yet, in the image he'd seen, the dark wizard who had conducted such horrifying research in this castle truly did manage to create magical bloodlines using Muggles.
Yes, magical bloodlines that were anchored to the stone walls.
It was hard to clearly perceive from the stone walls what methods this wizard had used, but Lockhart vaguely detected traces of many modern magical practices:
Wizarding portraits, spells targeting ghosts, culinary magic, potion-making refinement techniques, some alchemy principles, and ideas for creating magical artifacts...
"I heard that the Dementors here generally don't like to leave Azkaban because they depend on this stone castle filled with torment and pain?"
Tonks nodded. "Unless the Ministry of Magic specifically assigns them, Dementors definitely prefer to stay here and not go anywhere else."
Is that so?
Lockhart observed everything around him with interest and nodded.