In the end, Dumbledore still ignored the prisoners kneeling before him. Although he felt Horatio's methods were excessively cruel, these people were no saints either. They had it coming.
Led by Callista, Dumbledore and Grindelwald arrived at the office on the top floor of Azkaban.
Callista knocked on the office door. "Warden, they've been brought here."
"Well, well, Old Deng. What brings you and your old flame to my territory?" Horatio watched Dumbledore enter with Grindelwald, calculating his chances of defeating the two old men together. My odds of winning are only 99.99%. Isn't that basically suicide? The Black and White Dark Lords joining forces are terrifying. I should have Rita report that the Black and White Dark Lords have joined forces to rule Azkaban later.
Dumbledore had no idea Horatio was plotting all sorts of ways to set him up. He asked, "My child, what are you doing? Why are you tormenting these prisoners? Has the Dark Arts affected your heart?"
"Huh?" Horatio looked at the Dark Arts talent on his panel, which was as high as 11 points. "That big-loli Dark Arts can affect me? I'm doing this purely because it's fun."
Dumbledore had not expected the Dark Arts to have no effect whatsoever on Horatio. "Could you be a born Dark Lord?"
"Me? A Dark Lord?" Horatio pointed at himself. "What kind of trash is a Dark Lord? I'm clearly..."
Horatio pressed the music button on the speaker on his desk, then danced and sang, "I'm a sunny, cheerful young man, a sunny, cheerful young man. My only talent is making trouble. Look at the big stunt I pulled..."
"..." Dumbledore watched the self-amused Horatio speechlessly. The last trace of hope in his heart finally died. A Dark Lord was manageable—at least one acted with a purpose,