The pitch-black night was suddenly torn apart by a streak of white light. Before its remnants had fully faded, countless black shadows seemed to skim swiftly across the churning sea, plunging headlong into the waters ahead, shrouded by raging winds and torrential rain.
Freezing rain lashed hard against their faces, piercing their skin like needles. Even beneath thick waterproof cloaks, they could not block the bone-deep chill carried by the downpour, which thoroughly extinguished the participants' earlier enthusiasm. Yet no one complained about the dreadful weather. Before coming, they had already been warned of the predicament they would face.
At that moment, everyone on their Flying Brooms needed only to focus on the light ahead and follow Albert's lead toward the legendary Azkaban.
After an unknown amount of time, just as their bodies were about to stiffen from the freezing rain, the guiding light ahead stopped without warning. Then a calm voice sounded by their ears. "Close your eyes."
A few seconds later, a dazzling orb of light exploded in the black sky, allowing them to see the island ahead and the fortress standing upon it. It was the legendary Wizard Prison: Azkaban.
"Watch out, Dementors are coming!"
Albert's voice pierced through the rain curtain and rang directly beside their ears again. A silver-white orb then flared abruptly in the darkness, continuously radiating dazzling light in every direction. Like an invisible shield, it knocked away the Dementors rushing toward them.
Dedalus Diggle stared at the orb that kept emitting white ripples and muttered, "Won't this draw the enemy here?"
He had thought himself reckless enough, but Albert's actions now seemed even more rash.
What was this supposed to be? Were they directly challenging all of Azkaban? Since Azkaban had become a Wizard Prison, perhaps no one had ever forcibly broken