Azkaban was pitch-black. The place had no need for lights: Dementors were blind, and they tracked their targets mainly by scent and by sensing and feeding on human emotions.
So once the Death Eaters landed, the Dementors were almost certain to find them. They would hardly pass up a Christmas feast delivered to their island. But Voldemort clearly had a plan.
The Death Eaters spread out as planned. They would split into three or four teams, head for different cell blocks, then break in by force and begin the rescue.
"Everyone! Stay with your assigned leader! Split into teams!" Lucius shouted. Some of the Death Eaters carried Dark Magic artifacts Voldemort had given them.
The artifacts were said to ward off Dementors and even keep the creatures from detecting them to some extent.
Will had one too. He was intrigued by it, but there was no time to study it.
Whatever Voldemort had given them did seem to work. As the Death Eaters entered Azkaban, the Dementors made no move to attack.
Will was not with Lucius. His team was the second to enter the prison.
Lucius was with the last group, still outside the prison.
Just then, a light flared in the distance, toward the coast.
It was the light of a spell. A silvery-white glow rose from the far side of the island's shore, accompanied by several animals made of the same silver light.
"Aurors!" a Death Eater shouted. "It's the Aurors!"
"Damn it! How did the Aurors get here?"
"Move!" Lucius roared. "Don't forget why we're here!"
Fighting Aurors in Azkaban was dangerous. But would failing their mission be any safer?
On the other side of the island, Scrimgeour leapt from his broomstick and landed on the steps before the prison's main entrance with a heavy thud.