Inside a pitch-black room, devoid of any light source.
A place surrounded by cold metal, where not a trace of life could be felt.
In that space, somewhat large for just one person, lay a single, twitching prisoner.
The only sign of life from the figure, clad in a single piece of sackcloth, was the occasional rise and fall of their chest.
With matted black hair, it was impossible to tell if they were a man or a woman. Only the nameplate on the door defined their existence.
[Bellatrix Lestrange].
That was her name.
This bleak space surrounding her was, of course, Azkaban, the final destination for criminal magic users.
Perhaps she lacked even the will to eat the provided meals, as the remnants of rotten food were scattered all around her. It was no wonder, for she had, to put it crudely, lost her mind.
Had this been the outside world, someone would have surely cared for her in her mental state, but this was Azkaban.
There was no one here to care for a criminal. On the contrary, it was filled with those who would laugh at the downfall of a fallen convict.
No, to say it was filled with people who would laugh would be a misstatement. The guards here were not human, to begin with.
*Swoooosh—*
With a sound like a gust of wind, a black, humanoid figure appeared. That shape, like something wearing a dark hood, was none other than a Dementor, the guard of this dreadful prison.
*Huuuuuuh.*
Approaching the woman sprawled in the cell, the Dementor made a sucking sound. The inmate's vitality, happiness, passion—all positive emotions.
Having consumed them, the Dementor tilted its head as if somewhat disappointed, then left the cell.
"Uggghhh…"
After the Dementor had gone, a groan escaped Bellatrix's lips. Ironically, it was only in the moments immediately following the unbearable torment from a Dementor that Bellatrix could maintain her sanity.
Briefly lucid, Bellatrix managed to move her hand and touch her throat.
"Ah, ah. Aah…"
A hoarse, raspy voice came out, as if she were using her vocal cords for the first time.
Being alone, there was no difference between thinking and speaking, but Bellatrix still bothered to open her mouth and mutter, "Harry… Potter. I'll kill you."
The root cause of her current, worse-than-death state.
No, even before that, her very imprisonment was, in a way, because of that Harry Potter.
After that cursed 'Boy Who Lived' appeared, her master had vanished from the world.
If not for him, the world would have long since become the righteous place it was meant to be, ruled by her great master.
But after the great Dark Lord disappeared, the world was steeped in light.
Unable to bear it, Bellatrix had not hesitated to start a riot, which ultimately led to her being imprisoned in Azkaban.
But her ill-fated connection with Harry Potter did not end there.
One day, Harry Potter had suddenly appeared in Azkaban and cast the Cruciatus Curse on her.
She had told the human wizard guards who occasionally came by, but of course, no one believed her.
Harry Potter (age 8) had secretly infiltrated Azkaban, the world's most secure prison, and used an Unforgivable Curse on a notorious terrorist.
Even she herself found it so absurd it was almost laughable.
Gritting her teeth amidst a burst of hollow laughter, Bellatrix thought, "The day my master returns, I will tear that little brat to shreds with my own hands."
But her time for vowing revenge was not long.
She could feel the chill left by the Dementor beginning to fade. Once this feeling, like everything in life was about to disappear, was gone, the scars of pain left by the cursed Harry Potter would once again gnaw at her soul.
Then, Bellatrix would once again lose her reason and revert to a mere beast, writhing in agony.
The situation, her sanity slipping away in real time, brought Bellatrix a deep sense of despair.
Nevertheless, she was Bellatrix Lestrange, the most loyal servant of the great Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort. Until he returned, she could never succumb to such pathetic pain.
Gritting her teeth, she once again slumped to the floor, reverting to a piece of meat that could only repeat intermittent convulsions.
…
*Swoosh.*
How much time had passed?
A person wearing a black robe appeared where she was.
When he finally spoke, his voice was somewhat low and grim. It was a cracked, old, and unimpressive voice, but his words held power.
"Bellatrix… my servant. Rise and receive my command."
The next day.
Every newspaper in Britain was in an uproar with the news of Bellatrix's escape from Azkaban.
***
"Hyaaaaaap!"
In a jungle in Britain.
If you were to ask why there was a jungle in Britain, it could only be explained as a place magically concealed from Muggles.
In any case, the spirited cry of an old man echoed through that jungle.
"Partis-Temporus!"
With the incantation, a massive vortex of flame erupted from his ebony wand, incinerating countless Inferi.
It was a thrilling display of magical skill, fully deserving of the title of Archmage. He was Albus Dumbledore, regarded as the most powerful wizard of the 20th century.
The storm of fire did not stop at merely annihilating the Inferi; it blazed with a ferocity that seemed poised to burn down the entire jungle.
Despite this, Albus showed no sign of relief, instead using his wand to make the fiery vortex even larger.
The Inferi had long since been burnt to nothing, but they were never the most dangerous presence here in the first place.
Watching the firestorm from the air with flight magic, I exclaimed in admiration, "Albus, I didn't realize how much your skills have improved!"
I was struck anew by the realization that the Albus of today was a completely different person from the 20-year-old Albus I remembered.
How long is a hundred years for a young man? The magical skill Albus was showing me now was like the crystallization of that time.
"Try blocking this, too!"
As I flicked my wand, the magical energies inside Albus's right arm began to clash with each other.
If left alone, the interference and collision of magic would cause his right arm to explode spectacularly. Realizing this, a horrified Albus focused his magical power on his right arm to resolve the conflict.
Seeing this, I called out cheerfully, "Albus! At this rate, you'll lose control of the flames! Try again!"
At my words, Albus glanced at the flames with a start, but it was too late.
The firestorm, now under my control, was flying toward him at my command.
Albus shouted, his voice tinged with tears, "Sunbae, this is a bit… too much! Isn't it!"
But even as he spoke, Albus quickly used the Finite charm to quell the storm cluster by cluster.
He held his wand in his left hand, as if his right hand had not yet fully recovered.
I grinned and shouted, "You're blocking it just fine, so what's the problem!"
In truth, I was being quite considerate of Albus.
Most beings that would threaten Hogwarts would be Dark Wizards, so it was safe to assume the Unforgivable Curses would be the default.
Yet here I was, not even using Crucio, let alone Avada Kedavra. If that wasn't consideration, what was?
Hearing my reasoning, Albus shouted back in disbelief, "Sunbae! These days, even Dark Wizards can't use the Unforgivable Curses unless they're exceptional!"
*The standard for Dark Wizards has fallen so low? They've become drenched in peace… No. This is a good thing.*
Momentarily at a loss for words, I soon replied, "And you think the ones who would attack Hogwarts would be anything but exceptional?!"
Just then, a wail echoed from somewhere in the jungle.
"Could you two please go a little easier…."
It was Harry's voice.
Believing that time is gold, I had, of course, planned for Albus and Harry to train together.
I attack Albus, and Albus blocks it.
Naturally, with all sorts of spells clashing, the jungle was being laid to waste as magic, instead of rain, fell from the sky.
And amidst that jungle, where wide-area spells rained down like water, Harry had to survive.
I glanced up at the sun.
It was already sinking toward the west, painting a red sunset.
"It's about time for dinner."
"Then…?"
Albus looked at me with a hopeful gaze.
"Just block one more, and then we'll go eat."
And with those words, I recalled a spell I had recently seen in Nicolas's letter.
Since it was my first time using the spell, I spoke the incantation aloud for the first time in a while.
Conducting the Elder Wand as if leading an orchestra, "Protego-Diabolica."
Blue flames flared up from the spot I pointed at with my wand.
But it didn't stop there. The flames surged with a ferocity that seemed to want to burn everything around them, eventually taking the form of a dragon.
Impressed by the spell's surprising power, I got excited and brandished my wand more vigorously.
The Elder Wand, too, seemed to get excited, drawing on magic even more actively. It was like a dog enjoying a long-awaited walk.
*Fwooooosh!*
As I watched the dragon of fire that raged fiercely enough to swallow the entire jungle in an instant, a thought occurred to me.
*Huh. This got a little too strong. How do I tone this down?*
"Sun-bae! You expect me to block THIS—!"
"Master!! Are you trying to kill me?!"
*No. Hmm. Can they not block it?*
The spell had become so powerful that even I was a bit taken aback. I tried waving my wand, but the power didn't seem to diminish much.
I forced an awkward smile and shouted, "Albus, you can do it!"
Albus finally dropped his formal speech and yelled, "If I could block this alone, I would have just killed Voldemort!"
"That's what this training is for!"
"…Ah."
*If you didn't want to suffer, you should have run the school better. It's been two years at Hogwarts, and there's been a major incident every single year.*
My logical counterargument left Albus with no choice but to tearfully raise his wand.
***
About an hour later.
Albus, who had barely managed to suppress the jungle fire, and Harry, drenched in sweat, came and sat at the dining table.
"Oho, you're here! Come and sit down! Deek has prepared some delicious food!"
—*Kirururuk!*
—*Kieeeek!*
—*Grrrrrr.*
—*Hisssst.*
Seeing the luxurious meal set up right next to the post-apocalyptic scene of mixed wasteland and swamp, with magical beasts of XXXXX-rating or higher already eating beside it, made Albus's and Harry's heads feel a bit strange.
Harry, who had experienced this sort of thing more often, quickly regained his composure and sat down. "Thanks, Deek."
Albus, too, quickly came to his senses and sat at the table. "Mmm, thank you, Deek."
*Let's just eat first.*
Their survival instincts having been severely stimulated throughout the day, the two began to practically inhale the food Deek had made.
*Yes, eat up. That's how you'll have the strength to be put through the wringer tomorrow, too.*
I watched them grow stronger with a warm smile.
*Maybe I'll try launching a Tsar Bomba tomorrow. Albus should be able to block it, right?*
***