The Dementor's Submission

Dementor's Submission

Ian stood in the empty corridor, like a drop of water vanishing into the sea. Night at the African Ministry of Magic was deathly silent in a way entirely unlike the daytime. Ghastly white magical wall lamps were set into the walls, casting cold halos that barely dispelled the thick darkness, only making the place feel even more sinister.

The air was heavy with the stale smell of old parchment, dust, and some sort of magical cleaning agent. He unfolded the hide map Babua had provided, his fingertip moving slowly across it as his mental power, like invisible tendrils, verified the defensive nodes marked on the map.

Thanks to this outrageously detailed intelligence, Ian already had a complete grasp of the magical layout of the area.

"Anti-Apparition wards. Average strength, sparse node distribution..."

"Magical alert network. There are blind spots in its coverage, and its energy fluctuations are sluggish..."

"Patrol puppets? Oh, they're charging and dormant around the corner of the third corridor... Tsk, tsk. That saves quite a bit on manpower. Looks like the Ministry has a Commissioner Smith here too."

"Spatial confusion wards... The setup is somewhat interesting, but the maintenance is lacking. The energy flow is sluggish, and the flaws are obvious. One look tells me the craftsmanship isn't up to standard."

Ian strolled through the labyrinthine corridors as if taking a leisurely walk, silently passing judgment in his mind. His movements were as light as a ghost's, his feet making not the slightest sound on the polished marble floor. Every so often, his figure blurred as though melting into the shadows, only to appear in another corner dozens of meters away the next instant, cleverly evading every monitoring spell and physical sentry still in operation.

He even passed several rooms that were presumably staff