A magical journey that begins in Azkaban.

Chapter 538 Sky Gambling
At this moment, a wizard standing on the highest spire raised his wand to the sky, releasing a brilliant firework display. The brilliant colors bloomed in the sky, like a farewell salute and also like a signal of showing off.

Dawlish stared at the figure thoughtfully for a while, and said to himself: "It seems to be Buck. He didn't do it on purpose."

His thoughts could not help but drift to the luxurious Travis Manor. Compared to the magnificent buildings at his feet, Roger's manor lost the pure beauty of the Victorian style.

What's more, this manor was built using the entire Rhodes Island, and the area was completely overwhelming. Even if a hundred Quidditch games were held at the same time, it would be more than enough.

"The life of a Death Eater..." Dawlish took a deep breath, trying to calm his complex emotions. He felt shocked, and also had a hint of inexplicable envy and disgust.

Roger noticed Dalish's abnormality and whispered, "Don't be fooled by appearances. Behind this kind of luxury, there are often more dangers hidden."

Dawlish nodded and forced himself to concentrate: "You are right, we have more important tasks to complete."

"Baldwin's laboratory is in Maryland, but we need to fly north now and meet up with Bellingrum in Maine." He raised his voice slightly and explained to the Aurors behind him, "We need to use the goblin's means of transportation. On the one hand, it can save our energy, and on the other hand, it can reduce the possibility of being discovered."

As they approached the agreed location, a familiar voice came from the clouds: "Oh, my dear Roger."

Bellinrum saw the silver wings shining behind him and couldn't help but shout, "Why are you the only one here? Where are the others?"

Roger slowly hovered in the air, warily looking at the several magical hot air balloons hidden in the clouds. He looked around cautiously and asked in a low voice, "Did Gnarlak and the other Death Eaters notice it?"

"How is that possible!" Bellinrum was full of confidence. He spread out his goblin's thick fingers and motioned for Rogge to pay first before getting on the bus. "100 Galleons per person."

"half."

The fairy immediately protested: "We agreed..."

"Are you going to sell us out?" Rogge shook his head, not quite believing the other party.

"For the sake of the wand, I can't possibly..."

"Oh, who knows. If we arrive safely, the reward will be doubled." Rogge said as he took out a bag of gold coins from his robe and poured them into Bellinrum's hand.

Then he took out a gift box and handed it to Bellinrum.

"This is?"

"It's your Christmas present. Open it and take a look." Roger shrugged and couldn't help but complain: "Living underground all day, my owl can't get in at all."

"Hehe, it's all for business." He quickly opened the package and took out the golden crown inside.

The pure gold shone with an alluring light, which instantly lit up the fairy's eyes. He couldn't let it go and stroked it lovingly, holding it on his head to examine it back and forth, "Does it look good?"

"That's about right." Roger replied calmly, his eyes drifting away. He shook his wand calmly, sending the agreed safety signal to Dawlish.

Soon, Aurors arrived in batches and jumped lightly from their brooms into the basket under the balloon.

"This thing is so rare that it can actually fly." An Auror exclaimed.

"Ride it for the first time. It works on the same principle as a balloon. Once you let go, it flies away."

"You said it as if it wasn't your first time. But now that you mention it, no wonder it feels so familiar to me."

"A balloon and a basket. I can try it when I get back."

Bellingrum listened to the Aurors' discussion and stared at Roger with a suspicious look: "It sounds like a magic hot air balloon is easy to build."

"Hehe, do you believe me or them? We are friends, friend!" He skillfully pulled the rope above his head and flew the hot air balloon to the south.

"Gentlemen, the balloon will show the Dark Lord's mark, so don't get excited."

The Aurors had different expressions when they heard this. Some clenched their wands nervously, while others showed confused expressions.

"Necessary disguise." He lowered his voice. "Bellingrum built these vehicles for the Death Eaters for this mission. If there is no Dark Mark, it will easily arouse suspicion."

As soon as the words fell, the inflated balloon suddenly changed shape and turned into a thick black mist. The mist quickly condensed into a huge skull.

Then, a snake coiled between the holes in the skull. The triangular snake head went around the eye sockets and finally stretched out from the skull's mouth. It spit out a long snake core, and its eyes emitted a dark green light, as if it could see through people's hearts.

Although it was not the first time they had seen the Dark Mark, the Aurors in the hanging basket still felt uneasy. The mark was right above their heads, with the snake core still outside bouncing in the wind, and they could reach it with just a hand.

This close encounter with the Dark Mark gave everyone a chill.

Roger noticed the Aurors' reaction, but he didn't say anything to comfort them. These Aurors were all experienced old wizards. If they couldn't even adapt to Voldemort's symbols, they couldn't expect to fight the Death Eaters in the near future.

"George, do you want to touch it?" a wizard with a gloomy temperament suggested.

"Touch?" The wizard named George swallowed his saliva. Fortunately, his nervous expression was concealed by the crow mask and was not laughed at by his friends.

"George is a coward, he definitely wouldn't dare. I'll bet 1 Galleon on who will come." The people around him immediately started to make a noise.

"I come."

Soon, a gamble about courage quietly took shape in the hanging basket.

Two-thirds of the wizards bet that he wouldn't dare, but a quarter believed that he could do it. The remaining Aurors chose to watch coldly, scanning the sky around them vigilantly, guarding against possible accidents.

Dalish leaned against the edge of the hanging basket, his right leg casually resting on his left knee, his toes swinging leisurely.

While touring the spectacular scenery around him, he casually introduced: "George graduated from Gryffindor, but he must be scared now."

Roger was carefully checking his equipment and responded without even looking up: "Cowardly lion?"

"He's not really a coward." Dawlish thought for a while and said, "He's afraid of heights. In order to join the Aurors, he tied himself to a flying broom and hung at an altitude of 2 feet for a whole day."

Hearing this, Roger looked back at George and was surprised to find that he didn't look afraid of heights from his hesitant expression. "I can't tell, he's such a ruthless person."

"He definitely dares to touch it." Roger asserted.

"I think so too." Before Dawlish finished speaking, George walked out bravely.

Everyone's eyes were focused on George. He took a deep breath, clenched his teeth, held the edge of the hanging basket tightly with one hand, and then leaned half of his body out.

The cold wind from the sky cut his cheeks like a knife, but his hot blood rushed through his body under the violent pumping of his heart, as if it was about to burst through his skin. Amid the exclamations and breath-holding sounds behind him, his other hand trembled and reached three inches behind the snake's head.

There are two most fatal places for snakes. The first is the three-inch part connecting the nerve center and the body, which is extremely fragile, about the same size as a Lay's potato chip. If a cat raises its paw and hits the snake's head hard a few times, it may break this neck-like part.

The second place is the so-called seven-inch point. It is the heart of the snake and is also measured from the back of the snake's head. Attacking this point can kill it.

George swallowed hard, his Adam's apple rolling up and down. His eyes were fixed on the Dark Mark in front of his fingertips, as if it was the only thing in the world.

"I'm not a Ravenclaw who got stupid from studying too much." Although he had graduated from Hogwarts for many years, he still couldn't help but complain, "They might think that the weaknesses and distances between snakes are the same for all snakes. Can pythons and cobras be the same?"

When he was about to catch it, the wizard who had just encouraged him smiled slyly, and waved his wand lightly, the movement was so small that it was almost invisible.

Instantly, the black snake head turned like lightning. Its dark green eyes glowed with a chilling cold light, staring straight at George, as if to freeze his soul. "I'm afraid of heights, not the Dark Lord!" George shouted, stretched out his hand, and passed directly through the snake body condensed from smoke, as if passing through a phantom of nothingness.

"We win, we win!" The wizards who had bet on him to touch the ball cheered deafeningly, and the hanging basket shook slightly because of their excitement.

George spat out, with a smug smile on his face. "Hey, you cunning Slytherin. See? This is the courage and wisdom of the lion. I knew it was fake from the beginning."

"George, just pretend. Your legs are shaking."

"That's because I'm afraid of heights."

"Why is your face pale?"

"Refreshing," George rolled his eyes, causing some laughter.

The Aurors chatted with each other, joking and talking about recent interesting things, and the atmosphere was relaxed and happy.

Many people even went under the black snake head and poked it gently with their wands, as if they were provoking an arrogant tyrant. They couldn't beat Voldemort, but that didn't mean they were so scared that they didn't even dare to play with his symbol.

The black snake on the top of the head is thick, long, and can turn. It is so fun to play with it.

"How about it? These Aurors are pretty good, aren't they?" Dawlish showed a somewhat proud expression on his face, with a proud light flashing in his eyes. "Every year, nearly a hundred people graduate from Hogwarts, but only the best few can become Aurors. These people are the elite among the elites in our wizarding world."

"I've heard of it." Roger nodded, and he admired the group of middle-aged Aurors who were making dirty jokes in front of him. "The basic requirements are already very demanding: five NEWT certificates, and proficiency in Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Charms."

"This is not a level that ordinary wizards can achieve, but it is only possible to apply for training. After three years of rigorous training, only the most outstanding wizards can pass the assessment and become true Aurors."

"Hehe, that's true." Dawlish took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, his eyes drifting towards Maryland which was getting closer and closer. "But there are other things to consider as well. Some people can become Aurors even if they don't meet the hard requirements."

"After all, Aurors are different from other employees of the Ministry of Magic. Everyone can start as an ordinary Auror and eventually compete for the position of Minister." He lit the cigarette with his wand skillfully and took a light puff, as if savoring something. "These Aurors may have passed or failed the exam, and were eventually sent to overseas branches."

He turned to face the bottom of the balloon and took another deep puff of the cigarette, this time burning half of it. Then he slowly exhaled the smoke through his nostrils, forming a hazy smoke ring.

"Last year," Dawlish's voice became low, with a hint of disappointment in his tone, "we only selected one suitable Auror. Coincidentally, the others were eliminated because of problems with Defense Against the Dark Arts."

He paused, flicked the ash from his cigarette, and a sharp light suddenly flashed in his eyes. "Four years ago, the situation was not so bad. I doubt it, Dumbledore..."

He raised his wrist again, smoking slowly and steadily. After taking a deep puff, he flicked the cigarette butt toward the shrinking mountain on the ground. The cigarette butt was blown back by the strong wind, hitting the hanging basket and falling down in a spiral.

After half a minute, Dawlish finally exhaled the white smoke that had filled his lungs. The smoke hovered in the air, as if condensing his worries. "I'm afraid there's something wrong with your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," he said.

"How many packs do you smoke in a day?" Rogge frowned and waved his hand gently to fan away the smoke lingering around his nose.

Wizards are different from Muggles. They have St. Mungo's Hospital and magic potions. Even if their lungs are blackened, they can be cured. Roger snorted a few times and came up with the idea of ​​transforming tobacco to make money.

Just as his thoughts ran away with the smoke, Roger pulled them back. "Four years ago, it should have been when Lockhart was teaching. The writer who was good at the forgetfulness spell."

Dalish nodded with an expression that said "as expected", "Hopefully this year will be better." There was a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

The two glanced at the middle-aged Aurors in the hanging basket, then looked at each other, and instantly understood each other's hidden thoughts: the decline in the ability of Hogwarts graduates has nothing to do with the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Roger knew that before he intervened, the so-called curse forced the school to find a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor every year.

But this change did not affect the quality of teaching, at least during the First Magic War.

But fifteen years ago, after Voldemort disappeared, the quality of graduates began to decline significantly. Fewer and fewer people were able to apply for Auror and pass the selection.

This could certainly be partly attributed to the return of peace to the wizarding world, which had reduced people's enthusiasm for becoming Aurors, but they knew in their hearts that this was not the fundamental reason.

The two men's eyes met again, revealing a trace of suspicion in their eyes. The old wizard who controlled Hogwarts might be consciously reducing the number of Aurors.

Rogge's thoughts drifted to the crisis not long ago. If Amelia had not acted decisively and directly transferred back all Aurors from branches around the world, the situation in the British wizarding world would probably have deteriorated to an irreversible point.

He took out two bottles of soda from his bag, handed one to Dawlish, and said softly, "We should thank Mr. Dumbledore."

Dalish took the soda with questions in his eyes, but he noticed someone next to him and cautiously did not ask directly.

"The great white wizard, our headmaster, His Excellency Albus Dumbledore, is in charge of the British wizarding world. His magic is as strong as Merlin's and his vitality is abundant. He provides the most solid and reliable help for us to resist the dark wizards." Roger glanced at the man and couldn't recognize who he was through the mask.

There was no sarcasm in his tone, only sincerity and affirmation. "If it weren't for him, former Minister Fudge would have been like the Muggle Prime Minister in Number 10 and would have lost our overseas branch. The British Isles alone cannot support a large team of Aurors."

Dalish thought for a moment and nodded slowly. He threw the soda bottle casually, and the bottle drew a beautiful parabola in the air, and who knows which "lucky person" would hit his head.

As a strong contender for the next minister, he has also dealt with Muggles in 10 Downing Street since Voldemort's return. Therefore, he also has a certain understanding of Muggle politics.

His eyes became deep, as if he had traveled through time and space, back to the war decades ago that almost exhausted the wealth of the Muggle government. The British Muggle government became the victor, and thought that after the new peace treaty was signed, it could return to its peak by plundering colonies as before.

However, the world has changed, yet it seems to have not changed.

London was split up by the other two Muggle countries into all its colonies, and the once British Empire became Little Britain, and Northern Ireland was almost unable to form a united kingdom.

"The so-called wave of national liberation is nothing more than a byproduct of the other two Muggle countries curbing the old boss." Dawlish secretly mocked in his heart.

Imagine what would happen if Dumbledore was gone?
The American magical community and the wizards on the European continent will definitely try every possible means to launch a "liberation movement" for wizards.

At that time, the overseas branches of the British wizarding world would be in danger, and the powerful Law Enforcement Department would be reduced to a pitiful state of a few kittens.

"You're right." Dawlish turned to Roger and raised a knowing smile. This time, he said in a sincere tone: "We should indeed thank Mr. Dumbledore."

The two looked at each other again and reached a kind of consensus silently. They both understood that in this rapidly changing world, protecting the interests of the British wizarding community would be a long and difficult battle.

Especially after Dumbledore's death, the hyenas and vultures will come to the rescue.

Rogar pulled the rope, and the magic balloon began to slowly descend. He looked over the edge of the basket and looked at the ground that was just a stone's throw away. The splashing snow brushed his cheeks, as if whispering an ancient truth: "Power hates a vacuum. Like the Elder Wand, it accompanies the strong."

In the dense forest outside Fort Detrick, Dawes immediately went into action. While distributing maps prepared in advance, he made the final deployment in a concise and powerful tone: "Remember, we have only one mission: to save people!"

"Get in and out quickly, don't get entangled by the Death Eaters stationed there. Each person is responsible for the tunnel at the location marked on the map..."

After the Aurors had carefully studied the mission information, Rogge raised his wrist and checked the time with everyone: "3:42 p.m., 23, 24, 25..."

Every second was like the sound of a war drum, beating on the hearts of the Aurors.

"I'm responsible for the possible Dementors and dealing with the Snakeman virus." He said in a flat tone, "At 4:15, I will use Fiendfyre to destroy the entire underground laboratory. Everyone, don't linger, the hot air balloon won't wait for anyone. Today is Christmas, and there's a turkey dinner waiting for us."

As soon as he finished speaking, Roger snapped his fingers.

It was as if an invisible force swept through in an instant. Without any command or agreement, all the Aurors shook their wands at the same moment and used the Disillusionment Charm to eliminate their figures. The whole process was silent, like a carefully choreographed silent dance.

Bellingrum stared at the scene in front of him in amazement. The Aurors disappeared in an instant, as if they had never existed.

He broke out in a cold sweat and muttered to himself: "Is this the Auror? I didn't even notice them casting any spells." Awe and fear flashed in the goblin's eyes.

(End of this chapter)