Tonks, a distinguished Hogwarts graduate, had earned multiple subject certificates and smoothly transitioned into an Auror trainee. After rigorous training, she surpassed most of her peers and had seen many skilled Aurors and Hit Wizards in action.
She'd heard of the young professor's impressive record—subduing a raging dragon and a gang of dark wizards, earning a Merlin Second Class. Yet, she assumed his victories leaned on cunning rather than raw power. Even if his magical skill exceeded hers, the gap couldn't be that wide.
No one expected to witness Professor Levent in action at Azkaban.
Tonks gazed up at the shimmering silver light, transfixed by the giant serpent Patronus tearing through the Dementors. Her expression was dazed, and perhaps due to the chilling aura around her, her skin prickled with goosebumps.
In her pocket, Scabbers—Peter Pettigrew—curled into a terrified ball. Wasn't this man a cunning, ruthless dark wizard? How could he cast a Patronus Charm?
Among students, Levent had a glowing reputation—kind, gentle. But after being revived from petrification, Peter had been kept in a glass jar, subjected to all manner of coercion and intimidation. The Dark Mark was practically branded on him. Peter was convinced Levent's ruthlessness surpassed many Death Eaters. Yet now, not only could the young professor effortlessly summon a corporeal Patronus, but the serpent weaving through the silver glow was no ordinary creature.
Wasn't Dumbledore the only wizard in the magical world with a magical creature as a Patronus? Why was this professor's so unique?
The swirling light resembled a fully grown Horned Serpent, far larger than the juvenile one Levent kept, with longer horns and a more fearsome presence.
The Patronus Charm, a renowned defensive spell, was said to originate from ancient magic—a complex spell and a symbol of one's inner self and soul. Most wizards could only muster a wisp of silver mist, and dark wizards couldn't cast it at all.
A few could summon corporeal Patronuses, typically ordinary animals.
The Dementors in the room fled in panic, leaving only one or two at the window.
If Dementors once existed in a state between phantom and beast, closer to the latter, they now resembled bodiless ghosts—translucent, their cloaks faded and gray, weak and sluggish, the chill they exuded greatly diminished.
Melvin, noticing the Dementors were gone, ceased casting. The restless silver glow froze for a moment before dissolving into scattered flecks of light.
The prisoners in the cell remained slumped on the floor. Some weaker-willed wizards had fainted, while others twitched, their tattered clothes crusted with filth and glistening with cold sweat turned to ice.
Melvin wanted to say something but didn't know where to begin.
These prisoners were criminals, deserving punishment.
Yet using them as fodder for Dementors felt… wrong.
Melvin wasn't like Hermione, overflowing with compassion. But seeing humans reduced to food for monsters left him faintly unsettled. He sighed almost imperceptibly and turned to leave. "Let's go. On to the next stop."
"Right, Professor Levent," Tonks said, hurrying after him.
Stepping out of the cell, Tonks rubbed her arms. The Dementors' prolonged presence had chilled the room, and the sudden shift to warmer air was jarring.
"Professor, is your Patronus a magical creature?" she asked.
"A Horned Serpent, a North American magical beast," Melvin replied, noticing her curiosity. He shook his head. "I only managed a corporeal Patronus recently. Before, it was just a silver mist. As for why it's a Horned Serpent, I haven't figured out the reason yet."
"I see…" Tonks didn't press further.
Every wizard's Patronus was unique, often tied to their personality or inner state. Most were common animals—cats, dogs—but history recorded exceptions. A medieval Greek wizard had a dragon Patronus, Britain once saw a Thestral, and even an extinct mammoth appeared. The most recent case was Dumbledore's phoenix.
Now, a Horned Serpent joined the list, and Tonks felt like she was witnessing a marvel.
"What's your Patronus?" Melvin asked suddenly.
"A jackrabbit."
Tonks waved her wand, summoning a nimble rabbit that darted off, trailing silver wisps, vanishing swiftly.
Melvin watched it bound away, his eyes glinting as he sifted through distant memories.
Would this jackrabbit turn into a coyote again?
"Tonks, did you know a Patronus can change?" he said. "Scholars believe it reflects the soul and heart. Major life events or shifts in character can alter it…"
They chatted as they walked, Melvin sounding like a Charms professor at times, while Tonks, as their guide, explained Azkaban's layout.
They continued along the rugged stone path, passing a cemetery. Tonks explained it was for prisoners' burials. Melvin scanned the names on the tombstones—none familiar.
"Some died of illness, others from Dementor torment, taking their own lives. Few families claim the bodies," Tonks said, pausing as if recalling something. "A few years back, Crouch from International Affairs came for his son's body, I heard from other Aurors."
"Death Eater Barty Crouch Jr.?"
"Yes. He was defiant at trial but died of illness soon after arriving here."
"…"
Melvin fell silent.
If he recalled correctly, shortly after Barty Jr.'s imprisonment, Mrs. Crouch used Polyjuice Potion to swap places with him during a visit. The one who died in Azkaban was the ailing Mrs. Crouch.
Azkaban's security was like a sieve.
Melvin's expression turned odd. After a beat, he said, "Azkaban's defenses seem… lax."
"As I said, Azkaban doesn't need high walls or waves. For wandless prisoners, Dementors are the best guards," Tonks said, waving dismissively. "You'll see soon enough."
They returned to the fortress at the island's center.
Entering through another door, the corridor differed slightly—wider, like Hogwarts' underground passages, allowing them to walk side by side comfortably. Kerosene lamps embedded in the walls cast dim light on the floor.
At the corridor's end stood a heavy black iron double door, etched with "Azkaban," cold and imposing, like the jailers within.
"This is where the Death Eaters are held," Tonks said, her voice echoing.
Pushing open the door revealed a forked path, branching in different directions. Cells lined both sides, resembling Hogwarts' underground classrooms, with front and back doors, each with a square observation window and a brass nameplate.
"Antonin Dolohov."
"Augustus Rookwood."
"Travers, Mulciber…"
Melvin scanned the names, searching for his target, his footsteps echoing as he passed cell after cell.
"Rodolphus Lestrange."
"Rabastan Lestrange."
"Bellatrix Lestrange."
Melvin stopped, peering through the observation window of her cell. Inside were a bed and a table.
A witch lay on the floor, her black hair a tangled mess, eyelids swollen, cheeks sunken. Her tattered robe hung loosely on her emaciated frame, too large for her withered body.
She looked like a madwoman, scraping moss from the floor, gathering it into a small pile, and chewing it slowly, as if savoring a delicacy.
---