Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 425, Section 424: Everyone Has a Reverse Scale
When Ian stepped into the first floor.

A chilling aura swept over us.

Above them hung eerie green magic lamps, and the walls were made of obsidian, engraved with magic-suppressing runes. Along the corridor were rows of iron cages, the prisoners inside looking vacant, their eyes empty, as if their souls had been ripped away.

In this deathly silence, the Dementors floated slowly.

They were draped in tattered black robes, their bodies hunched over, their faces devoid of features, only bottomless black holes. They should have been terrifying beings, devourers of souls, and destroyers of happiness.

But the moment Ian appeared, their movements came to an abrupt halt.

They did not launch an attack immediately.

This was also within Ian's expectations.

Yes.

Ian is the Dementor Lord who has the highest authority over Dementors.

Dementors, beings that originally escaped from the dreamlike realm and were "reassigned" to guard by humans in various ways, were once just a group of laborers serving the ravens.

Ian had an innate sense of oppression towards these beings, whether they were diligently patrolling or lazily hovering in a corner like they were now, it was all meaningless to him. Moreover, as a superior ruler, they could even be considered his "helpers" who were of great benefit to him at this moment.

I saw.

With a thought, Ian deactivated his raven form and transformed back into human form, standing in the dark and damp prison corridor.

"Come here." Without the slightest hesitation, he casually beckoned to the nearest Dementor, which was curled up in the shadows as if dozing.

Ian's voice was calm and not loud, yet it carried an indescribable pressure that seemed to originate from the soul. More precisely, an extremely subtle yet incredibly pure aura spread out from him like ripples on water—it was the aura he had once possessed on the edge of a dreamlike illusion.

The glimpse of the essence of the "true" raven, which symbolizes the origin of death and reincarnation, resonated as if directly within the Dementor's "consciousness."

What Ian was simulating at this moment was that ancient majesty that stood above all living beings and held sway over the destiny of souls.

The effect is immediate.

In an instant, the Dementors that had been floating indifferently suddenly trembled, as if drawn by invisible threads, and all turned toward Ian.

They didn't attack, didn't hesitate, and didn't even waver for a moment—instead, they trotted over, their posture somewhat like hunting dogs summoned by their master.

These Dementors moved with astonishing speed, no longer with their elusive and eerie movements, but with an almost... frightened and urgent demeanor, like puppets pulled by invisible threads, swiftly "floating" in front of Ian. Then, their massive bodies, exuding an aura of cold despair, actually... curled up slightly, their hoods lowered, as if subjects had met their king, or servants had met their master.

This was entirely within Ian's expectations. Dementors, creatures considered symbols of terror by most wizards, have a true origin inextricably linked to the illusionary realm and the "real" raven. In some ancient definition, they could even be considered servants or derivatives of the raven in the material world.

They sensed the aura emanating from Ian, a power originating from the "source".

The submissive instinct etched deep within his soul over countless years was instantly awakened, and his attitude naturally became incredibly humble, showing even more reverence than when meeting the highest officials of the Ministry of Magic.

Those conditioned reflexes, buried by the dust of time, were instantly awakened.

Their owners.

came back.

This is not awe of power, but a genetic imprint—they are born destined to obey the incarnation of the raven.

"Take me to the cell where Newt Scamander is being held."

Ian looked down at these creatures that had once struck fear into the hearts of many.

He issued the order directly.

Although he wasn't even sure if Dementors could fully understand human language, he believed that the connection at the soul level was enough to convey his intentions.

And that is indeed the case. Dementors have no language, but they can understand. They can sense emotions, memories, and intentions—and Ian's commands are crystal clear.

The Dementor's massive body trembled slightly again, and the darkness beneath its hood seemed to turn toward Ian, as if to confirm or express surprise—this being with the aura of a "master" could communicate with them so clearly? But this surprise was fleeting.

The irresistible instinct for obedience deep within the soul is like the activation of the most basic genetic code.

It cannot muster even the slightest will to resist.

Suddenly, a Dementor turned around and floated forward silently. It obediently, even with a hint of ingratiation, changed direction and began to lead the way.

The other Dementors, which had been lingering or dormant in the distance, seemed to sense the presence and movement here as well, and gathered around. However, they dared not get too close, but followed silently from a distance, like the most loyal honor guard, or like moths afraid of approaching a flame.

“Palu is really easy to manage.” Ian followed behind the leading Dementor, navigating the intricate underground prison that resembled a giant beehive.

He had initially been curious as to why the Dementors here seemed so "laid-back," lacking the aggression and hunger of their Azkaban counterparts.

Logically, Dementors should be ravenous and tyrannical, constantly draining the prisoners' pleasure and filling the prison with despair. But the Dementors here... seem unusually "Zen-like"?
They floated in the air, moving slowly, even somewhat languidly. Filled with this curiosity, Ian continued deeper into the passageway, where he saw the scenes inside the cells on either side.

And so, I gradually came to understand the reason.

The Dementors here are too full. Yes, too full, so they're in a zen-like state, imprisoning all sorts of wizards in cell after cell.

A significant portion of them, especially those near the upper levels, had vacant eyes and expressionless faces, sitting or lying down like zombies, unresponsive to their surroundings.

"No wonder they are so obedient."

Ian sighed, "Once they're full, they naturally won't bother to rebel."

These people no longer exhibit any signs of happiness.

All that remained was a numb emptiness and a faint breath of life. Clearly, their joy and their positive emotions had long been "consumed" by the Dementors.

The Dementors here are too full.

The African continent has a large population, and conflicts and chaos have never ceased. The Ministry of Magic here is clearly not as "human rights conscious" as its European counterparts when it comes to dealing with criminals.

There are no constraints such as the Anti-Dementor Excessive Exposure Act, nor are there regulations for regularly rotating Dementors to prevent them from causing irreversible harm to prisoners.

For the Dementors here, this underground prison is practically a never-closing, all-you-can-eat buffet! They're so well-fed that they lose the motivation to hunt and create terror, becoming quite "laid-back," just like lions and tigers do when they're stuffed.

"It really is... a simple and crude management style."

Ian didn't know how to evaluate this prison management, which was almost like raising parasites, so he could only shake his head and continue following the Dementors down. He had seen the cruelty of Azkaban in Europe, but at least the Dementors there were restrained by the Ministry of Magic. But here... it was as if they were treating souls as unlimited "cleaners."

rescue?

reform?

no way.

This is not Ian's country, nor is it his home. How can he judge the other side's laws? Africa is vast and populous, and the Ministry of Magic's definition of "criminal" is extremely broad—as long as you offend the powerful or are falsely accused of carrying prohibited creatures, you can be imprisoned here.

Once imprisoned, there are no more "human rights" to speak of.

Just as Ministry of Magic officials themselves sell keyholes that allow infiltration, the Ministry of Magic never restricts the behavior of Dementors. The fact that they can freely consume the happiness of prisoners, and even directly extract soul fragments as "food," is, upon closer examination, not entirely unreasonable.

after all.

Once an institution like the Ministry of Magic becomes corrupt, it won't just be a little bit corrupt, but a comprehensive corruption. How can you expect a corrupt institution to be strictly managed?

"Respect the destiny of each country."

The Dementors led Ian downwards. They traversed layer upon layer of circular corridors, the air growing heavier and the magical fluctuations more chaotic with each level they descended. Silently escorted by several Dementors, Ian continued deeper into the spiraling, rough stone steps. The further down he went, the more complex the prison's structure became.

Like an upside-down anthill.

Africa's "Azkaban" is not built on an isolated island at sea, but buried deep underground in Ghost Valley. The entire prison is like an inverted beehive, consisting of nine circular cells, each extending downwards by hundreds of meters. The deeper you go, the more oppressive the magic becomes, and the more stagnant the air becomes.

The density of the cells seemed to have decreased, but the prisoners themselves gave off a completely different feeling.

The second floor held ordinary smugglers and black market wizards. When they saw Ian, some cursed under their breath, while others trembled with fear.

On the third level, wizards accused of "blaspheming ancestral spirits" begin to appear. They are bound by runic chains and chant ancient incantations, attempting to communicate with the ley lines.

The fourth level houses "serious criminals"—some accused of attempting to resurrect ancient evil gods, others found to be possessing "ancestral spirit bones," and still others accused of being able to control the centaur army.

On the fifth floor, Ian finally spotted several wizards of considerable skill. They weren't chained, but were trapped within a "static magic field," unable to cast spells. One of them sneered at Ian: "Outsider, don't think you can run rampant here. Once the higher-ups at the Ministry of Magic find out you've trespassed, you'll be stuck here forever, just like us!"

Ian merely glanced at him, and the man felt a chill run down his spine and to the top of his head, daring not to utter another word.

Most of the prisoners on the upper level have been "drained" by the Dementors, like withered plants.

Here, Ian could clearly sense that many of the cells still emitted strong magical fluctuations, as well as various intense negative emotions—anger, hatred, madness, cunning… Clearly, those who could be imprisoned in deeper cells were either stronger wizards who could resist the influence of Dementors to some extent.

Or they are dangerous individuals who have committed even more serious crimes.

These dangerous criminals are quite lucrative; they haven't been fully exploited yet, so naturally they won't be handed over to the Dementors. There are many criminals in the lower classes, whether they are powerful or wealthy.

Unlike the upper-class prisoners who were completely numb, they were exceptionally sensitive to any external noise, and everyone would turn their attention to Ian as he entered.

no way.

Ian's group of "people" was far too bizarre—an extraordinary-looking wizard, seemingly ordinary, was being silently escorted by several Dementors, who were usually fearsome, as if they were surrounded by stars. This sight immediately attracted the attention of the prisoners along the way.

Most of the prisoners merely stared at Ian with wary, scrutinizing, or apprehensive eyes, not daring to make a move. Few who had risen to this level were truly fools; the situation before them was far too unusual. Dementors—those weren't creatures that Aurors could command, not even the Minister of Magic.

This is common sense.

Many wizards with common sense know this.

of course.

There are always exceptions.

There are people with common sense and people without common sense. This statement seems like a truism, but upon closer examination, while it may seem like a truism, it also has its own logic.

As we passed through an exceptionally dark cell, a withered, filthy hand suddenly reached out from between the iron bars, accompanied by a hoarse, frantic voice.

"Hey! You! Let me out! Did you hear me! Let me out now! Do you know who I am? I am the son of the chief of the 'Bloodclaw' tribe! If you dare to lock me up, my family will tear you to pieces! We'll pull your soul out and burn it like a sky lantern!" The prisoner was a male witch with dirty hair and sunken eyes.

His eyes were filled with violence and an abnormal excitement.

He clearly mistook Ian for a high-ranking official from the Ministry of Magic who had come to inspect the country.

Trying to intimidate the other party through threats.

"Tsk tsk~"

The Muggle world has rich kids and children of officials, and the wizarding world obviously has them too, although Ian doesn't know what kind of influence the chieftain's son of the Bloodclaw tribe holds.

However, he also understood that this loud and boisterous person was a spoiled and arrogant second-generation wizard, unlike the little snakes in Slytherin.

Most of the little snakes are just stupid, engage in inbreeding, and have poor family upbringing, which makes them seem rather bad, but they are far from being so bad as to be utterly wicked.

But this person who was imprisoned was different.

The criminals who can be imprisoned in such deep underground places are the worst kind of people, the kind of bad people that even the village chief's bully son would say, "How could there be such a bad person?" Although the Ministry of Magic in Africa does some extortion and blackmail, it doesn't mean they don't do their proper business.

To be locked up here.

They must have really done a lot of bad things. How can I describe it? Although Ian didn't try to read their memories, afraid of corrupting his mind and thoughts.

However, he still used his mental perception to sense the other party's state. How to describe the result of this perception? He could sense that the other party was similar to Voldemort.

Not only was its soul fragmented and it was bloodthirsty, but it also exuded a strong aura of dark magic. Ian generally didn't want to come into contact with such filthy things.

Ian didn't even pause, his gaze sweeping over the other person indifferently, as if looking at a roadside stone. However, his indifference only angered the other person.

"You little dwarf! Stop right there!"

This is a scathing remark.

Isn't that just provoking Ian?

(End of this chapter)