It Was All Fudge's Fault

Ever since inviting Lucius over for dinner, Fudge had instructed his assistant to arrange an inspection trip to Azkaban prison.

To be honest, Fudge disliked Azkaban prison. Probably no wizard wanted to set foot on that island. If he could avoid it, Fudge would never go to such a hellish place.

After receiving word, Scrimgeour, head of the Auror Office, had no objection to Fudge's inspection. Nor would he object. To put it bluntly, Fudge was merely going through the motions. Especially after Scrimgeour had heard certain rumors, he found their Minister's supposed reason of safeguarding peace in the wizarding world rather amusing. This political stunt seemed a little late.

The wizarding world's infamous Azkaban prison stood on an island in the middle of the North Sea. It was shrouded by storms year-round, and the island was often swallowed by the waves. Only when a ship drew very close could one see a towering fortress standing amid the storm. The light spilling from the fortress could barely penetrate the curtain of rain and be noticed from outside.

There were no living creatures here apart from the prisoners. Ministry of Magic employees simply could not work in such harsh conditions, nor would any wizard be willing to remain here and work.

Under normal circumstances, only a handful of Aurors dealt with Azkaban's guards. Prisoners were escorted by Aurors, then handed over to the Dementors.

As for prison visits, Azkaban had no such thing.

Fudge's inspection undoubtedly required considerable resolve.

On a stormy night, a ship sailed through the wind and waves toward Azkaban prison in the North Sea.

The ship's cabin was spacious. Fudge stood by a window beneath warm yellow light, absentmindedly gazing through the glass at the pitch-black night and the raging sea, no one knowing what he was