The sound of waves crashing against the rocks was still deafening.
But the chill that could freeze the marrow and leave souls to rot in despair had abruptly vanished a few seconds earlier.
It was like a century-long freezing rain had suddenly stopped.
In the Maximum-Security Prisoner Wing, located on the Castle's top floor and under the tightest guard, the air froze for a moment, then instantly boiled over.
"They're gone... they're gone!"
A hoarse scream, brimming with wild joy, pierced the darkness. It was Bellatrix Lestrange.
She gripped the perpetually rusted iron bars with both hands, her entire face almost squeezed through the gaps, her straw-like hair whipping wildly in the wind.
"I felt it... that nauseating stench of rot is gone! Happiness... I can even remember the beautiful sound of that Mudblood screaming under the Cruciatus Curse! This is happiness!"
Bellatrix shook the bars furiously, producing a teeth-grating metallic clatter.
"It's him! It must be him! Who but the Dark Lord could order those greedy monsters to get out? Who else possesses such magnificent power?"
"Master! The master has come to fetch us!"
In the neighboring cell, Antonin Dolohov let out a laugh like a broken bellows.
He paced back and forth in his cramped cell, his chains clanking as they dragged across the floor.
"I knew it! I knew he wouldn't abandon us! I knew there was a point to keeping myself breathing on this damned island!"
"We are the most loyal! Even after rotting here for over a decade, we never betrayed him!"
Rodolphus Lestrange's voice was deeper, carrying a morbid devotion.
"Quick! Everyone, stand up! Straighten your robes-even if they've become rags, we must look our most presentable for the master's inspection!"
"That's right! Dignity! Glory!"
The entire top-floor wing descended into a religious fervor.