The Principal, the Vice Principal, and the Future Principal

"What? A prisoner has escaped from Azkaban?"

Professor McGonagall's voice rose, her eyes widening in disbelief as she stared at the Headmaster.

She didn't understand.

Was a prisoner escaping from Azkaban considered a trivial matter?

Dumbledore picked up another letter and said calmly, "Yes, a Death Eater has escaped. His name is Dewey Jones. Minerva, do you still remember this name? Hmm, he was once a child of our Ravenclaw house; he should have attended your Transfiguration classes."

McGonagall sat down and searched her memory. She recalled Dewey Jones—a gloomy child who rarely spoke but was quite intelligent, with black hair and bright blue eyes.

He was tall and very thin.

"Yes, I remember him."

Professor McGonagall couldn't help but ask, "But Headmaster, how could anyone escape from Azkaban?"

Dumbledore looked at McGonagall calmly from behind his half-moon spectacles and said, "Nothing is truly impossible, Minerva. I have a book here on topology and logic written by a Muggle professor; I think you might find it worth reading. I have seen the crystallization of wisdom in these books; their insights are quite enlightening, are they not?"

Dumbledore recommended it warmly.

"No thank you, Headmaster."

Professor McGonagall politely declined.

Hearing about the Death Eater's escape, her mind raced with implications. Before leaving, she hesitated for a moment and asked, "This matter—I mean, Dewey's escape—does it have anything to do with You-Know-Who, er, Voldemort?"

Professor McGonagall struggled to utter Voldemort's name.

Dumbledore set down the letter.

He looked at Professor McGonagall earnestly, gathered his thoughts, and said, "Voldemort? It shouldn't be related. He is severely weakened and likely still in hiding. This should be an isolated incident. My dear, do not worry about this; I will handle it."

Dumbledore spoke with a deliberately light tone. He then said to Professor McGonagall, "Could you please send Professor Snape to me? I have something to ask him."

"Very well."

Professor McGonagall walked out, and a short while later, Snape entered.

He was dressed in his usual austere attire—black hair, hooked nose, sallow skin—looking perpetually stern. His hair appeared as though it hadn't been washed in years, as greasy as Fudge's.

He walked in hurriedly.

"What is it, Dumbledore? I am in the middle of brewing potions."

He addressed the Headmaster by his name.

Dumbledore did not mind.

"Severus," Dumbledore said gently, "I wish to know something. Dewey Jones—the Death Eater Dewey Jones—do you have any impression of him?"

"Dewey Jones?"

Severus Snape thought carefully. He drew his wand, tapped it against his temple, and drew out a silvery strand of memory, depositing it into the Pensieve.

After carefully observing and reviewing the memory to ensure nothing was missed, Snape said, "Yes, I remember him. This fellow joined the Death Eaters voluntarily halfway through. He was a timid yet highly ambitious individual."

"He was one of thousands of Death Eaters, but unlike those who were coerced into joining the Dark Lord, he desperately tried to get close to Voldemort after joining. He wanted to learn more Dark Arts from him and craved greater power. Yes, I still remember his ambitious, desperate gaze as he tried to climb the ranks. Young, feral, and full of desire."

"At first, he tried to cozy up to the pure-blood Malfoy family. Lucius called him a sycophant, a bootlicker with no bottom line. After being rejected, he tried to approach Antonin Dolohov, Rodolphus Lestrange, Goyle, and others in turn. All of them rejected him. Then, after that incident, Voldemort disappeared."

When mentioning that event, Snape paused slightly before continuing, "After Voldemort vanished, he and Bellatrix went to hunt down Aurors to torture them for Voldemort's whereabouts. They were caught and thrown into Azkaban."

Having finished recounting Dewey Jones's life, Snape asked, "What about him?"

"He has broken out. He escaped from Azkaban, and Fudge is very worried; he wrote to ask me what to do," Dumbledore said.

"A jailbreak?"

That was impossible.

Snape was deeply shocked. He knew how terrifying and horrific Azkaban, the island prison, truly was. Even if he were thrown into Azkaban himself, he wasn't certain he could escape.

How could someone as mediocre as Dewey Jones possibly break out of Azkaban?

"How did he do it?"

Snape couldn't help but ask.

"I don't know, Severus. I don't know."

Dumbledore shook his head and stood up. "The question now, Severus, is have you felt his summons?"

Snape shook his head.

"No, he has never summoned us."

Dumbledore had been suspicious of Voldemort.

Hearing that Voldemort hadn't summoned his followers, Dumbledore felt much more at ease.

He categorized Dewey's jailbreak as an isolated incident, concluding that it likely wasn't a major cause for concern.

Then, someone arrived at Hogwarts via Floo Powder.

"It's a disaster, Dumbledore! Merlin's beard, it's unimaginable—things have gone from bad to worse!"

Someone was shouting from the bottom of the spiral staircase leading to the Headmaster's office.

He had been blocked by the stone gargoyle.

Fudge looked nothing like a dignified Minister for Magic at this moment; his forehead was drenched in sweat, yet he had no time to wipe it away with a handkerchief.

Dumbledore allowed him entry into the office, and Fudge grabbed Dumbledore's hand in a frenzy.

His palm was clammy, slick with sweat and grease.

Dumbledore didn't seem to mind, staring at Fudge gently as he said, "Don't rush, Cornelius. Tell me slowly."

"It's a disaster."

Fudge wailed, "Black! Black has escaped! He has also broken out of Azkaban. The Dementors can no longer be trusted."

He was in a state of panic; in less than three days, two Death Eaters had escaped in succession.

This was a monumental scandal.

Even if he wanted to bury these two events under other major news, he couldn't find anything more shocking than this.

Nothing could be more serious.

If it had only been Dewey Jones who escaped, the matter would have been easier to cover up.

Dewey Jones was a nobody.

Who would care about a sycophant like that?

He was completely overshadowed by Sirius Black. Sirius Black was one of the most famous Death Eaters of the modern era and the last heir of the pure-blood Black family.

He was related to almost every existing pure-blood family. Even the currently flourishing Malfoy family and the upstart Potter family couldn't compare to the Black family in terms of wealth and influence.

Even as a prisoner of Azkaban, Sirius still held the final resources of the Black family: house-elves, wealth, and both movable and immovable property.

His escape was like a thunderclap, leaving poor Fudge completely distraught.

He had lost his composure and come to see Dumbledore in person, much like a child who hadn't been weaned seeking help from his mother.

"It's alright, Cornelius. It's alright."

Dumbledore comforted Fudge, then glanced toward Snape, catching the look in his eyes and the fire burning within them.

He understood Snape's gaze.

He wanted revenge.

For the person who caused Lily's death, whether it was Voldemort or Sirius Black, he treated them with the same hatred.

"Very well, Cornelius. Calm down."

Dumbledore signaled for Fudge to sit. His call for calm was not just for Fudge, but for Snape as well.

"It's alright, it's alright." He poured a cup of tea for Fudge, gesturing for him to take a sip and compose himself.

"Have you taken any measures, Fudge?"

Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, yes, I have. I've ordered all the Aurors and Hit Wizards from the Ministry to set out in search of these two. I've also spoken with the Muggle Prime Minister to issue a nationwide manhunt for them.

By now, their photos should be all over the Muggle newspapers and television."

Fudge was struggling to catch his breath. In his desperation, he had even skirted the edges of the Statute of Secrecy, issuing a dangerous wanted notice for both men, ensuring that both Muggles and wizards were hunting these two fugitives.

It was quite the spectacle.