After the week-long, training-camp-like ordeal came to an end.
"I believe I will be taking my leave now."
Dumbledore, in a half-dead state and limp as a noodle, no longer had the energy to move and Apparated away. The swamp had been transformed into a scorched wasteland.
Afterward, with Ardeura's help, Harry and I teleported back to London.
It wasn't that my condition had deteriorated to the point where I couldn't Apparate myself, not at all.
In fact, unless you were as sensitive in these matters as Albus, you wouldn't have easily noticed that anything was wrong with my magic use.
However, it was… a matter of feeling, shall we say. Like how you try not to walk as much as possible after a hospital tells you you've sprained your ankle, even if it doesn't hurt that much.
Of course, a significant part of it was that Albus and Harry, terrified of what might happen if I had a problem while using high-level magic, had insisted I not do it. But anyway, that was that.
We returned to the Savoy Hotel, our usual residence in London, unpacked our things, and collapsed in our customary suite.
Harry looked at me and said with a smirk, "Master, you know you have to refrain from using magic for a while, right?"
I asked, dumbfounded, "You punk. Are you happy that your master can't use magic?"
"It's not like you can't use it forever. Think of it as a well-deserved break."
*Tsk.* It seemed Harry was quite pleased that we were both unable to use magic.
Though the Ministry of Magic itself didn't know why, I was officially classified as an adult wizard, so I could use magic even during the holidays.
But Harry, of course, was an underage wizard, so he was normally forbidden from using magic during the break—unless I created a barrier for him or a teacher like Albus was present, as was the case during our training camp.
Now that I was also semi-banned from using magic, it seemed he felt a sense of camaraderie and was in a good mood.
Seeing his smirking face, a mischievous thought struck me, and I ruffled his hair. "Well then, you should take a solo trip to the Mediterranean soon."
"…Pardon?"
To Harry, whose face clearly asked *Why the Mediterranean all of a sudden?*, I gestured with my head toward Ardeura. "I promised Ardeura I'd catch her a Kraken, but since I can't use magic, I suppose you'll have to catch it for her."
"Uh…"
For reference, the Kraken is a rather difficult creature to hunt. Not only is it powerful in its own right, but its deep-sea habitat means you have to hunt it in the middle of the ocean.
It's only because she has a brilliant master like me that she gets to eat it often; normally, a phoenix like Ardeura would have to make a very firm resolution to hunt a Kraken just once.
Harry, already well aware of this fact, gave an awkward smile and made an excuse. "Ahaha. I'd love to, but as you know, Master, I'm an underage wizard. Hunting a Kraken by myself would surely get me in trouble with the Ministry…"
"I'll send Albus with you, so don't worry."
*He raises a phoenix too, so he'd probably be willing to tag along for a Kraken hunt.*
At those words, a crack appeared in Harry's expression. "Haha. I see…"
"Right. So the two of you can each catch one."
*Tap-tap.*
As I was chuckling at the ripples of despair spreading across Harry's face, a sudden tapping sound came from the window.
I turned my head in curiosity and saw a brown-feathered owl pecking at the window with its beak, as if demanding to be let in. It was a familiar owl.
As I went to the window and unlatched it, the owl swooped in as if it had been waiting and landed on the table.
*—Grrrrowl.*
It immediately retreated at the growl from Hedwig, the white owl, who seemed to be threatening it for being in her spot.
*—Hisssst.*
It didn't seem to notice, however, that Silly, slithering on the floor and staring at the owl with gleaming eyes, was a far greater danger.
For the record, Silly was wearing magic glasses that sealed her ability to turn things to stone with a look, but swallowing an owl whole would be no trouble at all.
In any case, Harry gave the owl, which had just unknowingly survived two threats, a piece of a snack from the table.
*—Wooo-ong!*
With a strange cry of satisfaction, the owl handed over the letter and newspaper it had been clutching tightly. After preening its feathers for a moment, it flew back out the window.
I asked, "That was the Black family's owl, wasn't it?"
"I think so."
*Did he send a letter inviting us over? Come to think of it, this is the first holiday Harry has had with Sirius Black since he was officially exonerated. Then what's this newspaper for?*
I opened the letter and read it.
Written in a scrawled hand, as if in a great hurry, were only a few short words.
[To Harry and Aisen. Urgent. Read the newspaper. Be careful. P.S. - Come visit during the holidays.]
Harry, reading over my shoulder, said, "I don't know what's so urgent, but he still managed to write the postscript properly."
"He did, didn't he? But what could be in the newspaper?"
I unfolded the paper with a sense of wonder, and there, on the front page in enormous letters, was the headline we were looking for.
[BREAKING NEWS: BELLATRIX LESTRANGE ESCAPES AZKABAN!]
Harry let out a gasp of admiration. "Wow, she was still alive! How did she escape?"
"I know, right? She's quite talented."
After staring at the article for a moment, Harry asked, "But what's the problem?"
"Hmm, good question."
Harry couldn't seem to imagine that Sirius would send an urgent letter over the mere escape of Bellatrix Lestrange.
***
One day before the article was published, in Azkaban.
Bellatrix, imprisoned in her solitary cell, felt a light pierce through her eyelids and stab at her eyes.
"Ugh… What is this?"
Her muttering was brief. Her foggy mind cleared in an instant.
"Light?!"
In Azkaban, especially in her cell in the deepest part of the prison, not a sliver of light ever entered. No sunlight, of course, and certainly no artificial lighting.
The moment she realized this, Bellatrix shot to her feet.
And then, her jaw dropped.
This wasn't Azkaban.
No, it *was* Azkaban. The giant tower next to her was unmistakably Azkaban.
But she wasn't *inside* it.
There was no dark chill, no sound of despair. She was standing outside Azkaban.
Come to think of it, she no longer felt the pain that had wracked her entire body. The dreadful agony that hadn't left her alone for a single hour since Harry Potter's visit was gone.
Her mind was whole. She was lucid, without the ghastly feeling of having her life force sucked away by Dementors. Her mind was clearer now than at any other moment in her life.
Stunned, with a look of disbelief, she took one step, then another.
Turning to look at Azkaban, she understood how she could be here.
For some reason, there was a large hole in one of the walls of Azkaban.
She must have been able to get out through there.
What in the world had happened?
She couldn't know, but one thing was certain.
Her master had given her a chance for revenge.
A task had been bestowed upon her.
The thought was so ecstatic that Bellatrix collapsed, a grin splitting her face.
It felt like every single cell in her body was melting. A sound like a moaning gasp of admiration escaped her lips. "Ah… Master! You have given me another chance!"
Bellatrix was certain. The only person who could get her out of Azkaban in such a bold fashion was her master, and her master alone!
And then, she broke into manic laughter. "Kyahahaha! Foolish Harry Potter! You were wrong! My master is alive!"
Wasn't this proof that Harry Potter had failed?
She cursed her past self for having been deceived, even for a moment, by that little brat who had boasted of killing Voldemort when they met.
To have doubted, even for a second, the absolute power of the great Dark Lord!
Soon, she quieted her voice and focused her mind on her nemesis.
Licking her lips like a predator thinking of its prey, she thought, *'Alright… Potter. So you have the mental fortitude to properly use the Cruciatus Curse. I'll give you that, you live up to your name. But you won't stand a chance this time.'*
She would return the pain he had given her, multiplied by ten thousand, a hundred thousand. No, that wasn't enough.
*Yes. First, I'll bring one of his acquaintances and break them in front of his eyes. And then, as he screams in despair, I'll torture him little by little. Yes….*
As she planned her revenge with a grotesque smile, a single line of a voice suddenly entered her mind.
[The ghost…. Find the ghost of the island.]
A voice that was somehow unfamiliar, yet one she felt she had heard once before.
At the dry, cracked voice of an old man, Bellatrix's eyes widened. "Master?"
It was quite different from the voice of Voldemort she remembered, but for some reason, she felt a groundless certainty that it was her 'Master's' voice.
*Yes, time must have passed, so his voice must have changed.* Bellatrix pushed aside her thoughts about the voice and focused on the content.
A ghost? Was there a ghost on this island?
Her curiosity was brief. Bellatrix began to search the island to carry out the command her master had placed in her mind.
Though it wasn't as bad as inside Azkaban, there were still Dementors roaming the exterior, so she moved as carefully as possible to avoid being seen. She still had no wand, which meant she had almost no way to defend herself against them.
The island wasn't very large. In fact, it was little more than a pile of rocks with the tower of Azkaban on it. The only difference from a reef was that the ground wasn't just bare rock.
Therefore, it didn't take her long to find a cemetery—a perfect place for a ghost.
After a brief look around, Bellatrix realized it was the graveyard for prisoners who had died in Azkaban.
Naturally, the graves for criminals were not well-made. Very few had proper headstones, and on some, the wind and rain had washed away the soil, exposing white bones.
As she looked around, she soon found one of the few properly erected headstones.
Unlike most of the others, which were scattered among broken debris, this one stood tall and straight, without a single crack, as if someone had tended to it within the last few years.
Bellatrix wiped a finger across the tombstone, which was covered in dust, obscuring the letters.
Finally, the name hidden by the dust was revealed.
[Sebastian Sallow]
[1875-1897]
Bellatrix unconsciously murmured the name. "Sebastian… Sallow?"
"What business do you have at someone else's grave?"
Just then, a voice suddenly came from behind her.
Having sensed no presence at all, she whipped around in shock.
And what was there was—
—a grayish-white, translucent man. A ghost.
The ghost, who looked much younger than Bellatrix herself, glanced at the tombstone and asked, "I'm the owner of that grave, Sebastian Sallow. What is your business here?"
***