The Black Pot

The Death Eaters took advantage of the Dementors' sluggishness, streaming through their defensive perimeter and pushing their way up toward the upper levels.

The Dementors they encountered along the way eagerly swooped in to stop them, but the amulets' protection left them unable to cause any trouble.

And so, to the Death Eaters, the whole of Azkaban seemed like an empty building. They could ignore every guard except the Aurors.

As for the three remaining Aurors, they were sitting around in a room beside the passage to the top floor, roasting by a bonfire and leisurely sipping hot tea.

Their work in Azkaban was actually quite easy. Aside from making one patrol each day to check for any unexpected incidents,

they just filed reports with Ministry headquarters and received information. If none of the prisoners caused trouble or fell ill, they could even spend the whole day relaxing.

For instance, at that very moment, they were lounging in their chairs, playing Confringo Cards. The three of them were in a particularly good mood, because the most annoying one among them, Umbridge, was on patrol that day.

At least their ears would have some peace and quiet for a while. Otherwise, that annoying old toad would surely have spent ages nagging them again.

Just as they were enjoying their afternoon at ease, a sudden commotion rose outside the room. It sounded as if the prisoners nearest to them were making a racket.

"What are those prisoners yelling about? Slim, why don't you go take a look?" One of the Aurors frowned at the noise and turned to Slim.

"Bask, why don't you go?" Slim rolled his eyes, then glanced at the clock beside him and muttered, "Judging by the time, Umbridge is probably back from her patrol. Maybe she's been making