The Dementors trembled as they looked at Charle, who had declared that they would become livestock. Their eyes were filled with fear and despair.
In the Wizarding World, it had always been wizards who feared them.
Even the most vicious Death Eaters would tremble at the thought of facing Dementors in Azkaban, wouldn't they?
But Charle, who had appeared today, looked at Dementors as if they were food.
That indescribable platinum-white figure ate Dementors as though he were eating little bread rolls!
This fear made the loyalty-less Dementors submit far more readily than any order from the Ministry of Magic or Voldemort.
Sensing the Dementors' gazes upon him, Charle's expression did not change in the slightest.
He looked toward the fortress known as Azkaban and stepped inside.
"Come on. Let me see what good things are in here."
Like subjects surrounding their king, the Dementors escorted Charle inside.
As Charle's footsteps echoed through Azkaban, the numb and despairing prisoners in their cells turned their heads, a glimmer of light appearing in their murky eyes.
The sound of human footsteps was not common in Azkaban.
Generally speaking, Dementors handled things like delivering food. Ministry of Magic employees rarely entered Azkaban.
It was perfectly normal for months, or even an entire year, to pass without a single person coming in.
But once someone did enter, it usually meant there was a special circumstance.
For example, some high-ranking Ministry of Magic official might come to visit a family member or relative, or a very small number of prisoners might be declared pardoned.
Whether it was the former or the latter, it represented a sliver of hope to prisoners already numb with despair.
Thus, as Charle walked past the cells, one prisoner after another pressed themselves against the bars and begged him.
"Are you