After The Dark Lord retreated unwillingly with his lackeys, deafening cheers erupted throughout Azkaban Prison.
Few present had truly wanted to fight The Dark Lord. Even though they had made ample preparations at Azkaban Prison, without Dumbledore there to restrain him, they still could have suffered devastating losses.
No one wanted to gamble with their own life.
Except for Scrimgeour, the Minister for Magic showed not the slightest hint of joy at Voldemort's retreat.
"Minister, is something wrong?"
Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Office, noticed his boss's grim expression. He quickly wiped the smile from his face and asked in a low voice.
"Sooner or later, we'll have to face The Dark Lord." Scrimgeour looked at the jubilant crowd and let out a heavy sigh. "Perhaps today wasn't the best time, but when will the best time ever come? I have a feeling that we'll never get another opportunity as good as tonight's."
As he spoke, he glanced at Gawain. "It was already difficult enough for us to stop The Dark Lord from breaking out the prisoners. Even if he retreated tonight, he could still come back tomorrow."
"Th-that can't be, can it?"
Gawain's mouth fell slightly open as he spoke uncertainly.
"Who are we dealing with?" Scrimgeour reminded him with a frown. "The most ruthless Dark Lord in history, not some insignificant rabble from Knockturn Alley. Don't cling to such unrealistic fantasies."
Gawain froze. Scrimgeour had brutally torn open that harsh truth. Suddenly, the laughter around him sounded unbearably grating, like a pack of fools celebrating a victory they thought they had won—and he had just been one of those fools.
"Gawain, when you have time, work with Pius to screen the prisoners in Azkaban. If their crimes are relatively minor, fine them a sum of Galleons and