Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 434, Section 433: The Inactive Ministry of Magic
It was perhaps destined to remain a secret.

It's not just about what happened and the battles that took place underground.

And what the black-robed wizards of the Department of Mysteries will do next.

The black-robed wizard—perhaps he could be called "The Observer" Azman—after successfully calming the unrest in the Ministry of Magic, did not return to his office deep within the Department of Mysteries, filled with forbidden documents and strange artifacts. Instead, like a ghost blending into the background, he silently reappeared before the door leading to the underground area.

now.

The gate leading to the African version of Azkaban was emitting a light that seemed to warn of problems within, while also exuding an ominous aura.

It comes from that fallen god.

However, Azman, the "observer," was unsurprised by this and didn't seem to care at all.

Not only him, but two other wizards, also dressed in pure black robes with their faces hidden in the shadows of their hoods, were already standing in front of the door.

They were like two lifeless statues.

Only the aura emanating from them, the same as that of Azman, the cold and obscure aura unique to the wizards of the Department of Mysteries, indicated that they were also members of the Department of Mysteries.

The group did not exchange any words.

Azman's gaze briefly met one of theirs, an exchange of glances that transcended language, filled with complex information and tacit understanding.

The other party nodded almost imperceptibly, indicating that everything outside was under control.

Azman immediately stopped hesitating and placed his pale, almost bloodless hand on the stone door, which was covered with defensive magic runes but now appeared somewhat dim due to the internal impact.

The stone door slid open silently, just wide enough for one person to pass through. Azman stepped inside, and the door closed rapidly behind him, completely shutting out all light and sound from the outside world.

I saw.

The world behind the door was completely different from the violent tremors felt on the ground. It was filled with a deathly stillness after a storm, and an energy residue so dense it seemed impossible to dissolve.

The air seemed to freeze, carrying the pungent smell of ozone, sulfur, the burnt smell of some kind of spiritual energy burning, and a trace of... indescribable, higher-level pressure fragments.

"So there really was an intruder. I wonder if it's the one from the prophecy." Azman didn't immediately venture deeper. He stood in the shadows at the entrance, his calm eyes scanning the dark, downward spiral staircase. He raised his right hand, fingers spread, palm facing the air in front of him.

Subsequently.

The mysterious wizard chanted ancient and difficult incantations in a low voice. His fingertips emitted a faint, firefly-like silver-gray light, which seemed to have a life of its own, drifting forward and merging into the surrounding air, the stone walls, and even the invisible energy field.

The power of time is brought forth in the baby.

Yes.

He was performing an extremely advanced time-travel magic – “Time Fragment Picking”.

This magic doesn't actually reverse time, but rather captures and interprets fragments of information from the "past" that haven't completely dissipated in the environment, such as energy trajectories, spatial folds, or even a trace of lingering will fluctuations, and then uses these to reconstruct the outline of events that happened not long ago.

Guided by the black-robed wizard's magic, silver-gray specks of light, like tiny detectives, darted through the air, attempting to outline the intruder's form.

Recreate the details of the battle.

The light quickly captured the residual energy of the three ancient spirits, their twisted pain and frenzied attack intentions clearly reflected in Azman's mental perception.

He also clearly "saw" that vast, filthy divine power fluctuation filled with "decay," "annihilation," and "mad desire"—the power belonging to the imprisoned being. However, when the light tried to outline another figure opposing that being, an anomaly occurred.

The information became blurred and fragmented, as if an invisible, absolutely smooth barrier had blocked out all direct information about that figure. The retrospective magic only captured the "results" of the ancient spirit's attack being dismantled and the divine power being neutralized, but it could not reveal the "cause" that led to these results.

How did the intruder manage to do it? What magic did he use? What were the characteristics of his magic? Did he even have a physical appearance—was he fat or thin, tall or short?

Blank.

Azman's brow furrowed slightly for the first time.

He increased his magical output, and the silver-gray light spots became denser, flying and probing within the passage like a swarm of bees, even attempting to deduce from the residual traces of the distorted spatial structure.

Still nothing.

To be able to completely evade his level of time-reversal magic without leaving a trace of magical signature or existence is something that no ordinary wizard, or even those reclusive old monsters, could do.

This requires absolute control over one's own power, a profound understanding of the rules, and... possibly mastery of some high-dimensional technique for interfering with the timeline or presence.

Realize this.

Making a judgment is also a matter of swift action.

“Legendary…” Azman murmured to himself, his tone revealing less surprise and more confirmation. He knew that only wizards who had stepped into that realm could achieve this. Perhaps this was a secret many hadn't devised, but the Department of Mysteries always retained such knowledge.

His gaze deepened, as if he were pondering the impact this unexpected legend would have on him, the Bureau of Mysteries, and the underground "project."

It is worth mentioning that.

The black-robed wizard is quite different from ordinary wizards.

Although he was only slightly stronger than an elite wizard, he did not show the awe or fear that ordinary wizards would feel when they heard the word "legend."

The furrowed brows quickly relaxed, replaced by a more focused expression, even with a hint of... research interest.

The emergence of a legendary wizard doesn't seem so daunting—although it's a variable, it's still within a reasonable or manageable range.

He withdrew the rewind spell, no longer wasting time.

Then, a steady, pale, cold flame appeared at the wizard's fingertips—not for warmth, but a magical candle for detection and exorcism. The candlelight dispelled some of the darkness ahead, illuminating the cracked and charred stone steps and walls.

He continued downwards, his steps steady, as if walking in his own backyard. Soon, he arrived at the area where Ian had previously "communicated" with the Dementors. The Dementors were still huddled in the shadows of the corner, their massive bodies trembling slightly, exuding an aura of fear and bewilderment.

"Some things have happened here too."

Azman stopped and looked at them.

He raised his hand again, and this time, a faint, yet seemingly forced, black thread of energy coiled around his fingertips. This was the Spirit Binding Thread, a secret technique developed by the Department of Mysteries specifically for limited mental communication with Dementors—a unique magical creature.

The magic, which the Department of Mysteries had studied for a long time and had only recently developed for the Dementors, was now in effect. Black threads, like living tentacles, silently extended out and connected to the core consciousness of the Dementors. Azman closed his eyes, trying to read their memories of the intruder from not long ago.

This should have been a foolproof magic trick.

However, what he "saw" was still chaos and emptiness.

It is not a trace of memory being erased or modified, but a more fundamental "loss".

The Dementors' memories, when they involve the intruder, seem to have been directly "overwritten" or "shielded" by some higher-level being.

They instinctively remember to obey, remember that chilling yet irresistibly inviting aura, remember the fear of not being able to go any further... but all the details about what that being did, said, and looked like are vague, as if viewed through a layer of frosted glass.

Azman withdrew the "Spirit Binding Threads," opened his eyes, and looked at the Dementor who was still trembling. For the first time, a distinctly serious expression appeared on his face.

He muttered to himself, his voice unusually clear in the silent passageway.

"No trace of magic...no curse, no confusion spell...but what power could make these monsters, who only act on instinct, go beyond their primal fear of the being below and protect the intruder? Even causing this...essential loss in their memories?"

Clearly, this issue concerned him more than the discovery of a legendary intruder himself. It touched upon the very nature of Dementors and the bizarre power wielded by the intruder. He realized that this incident was likely far more complex than he had initially anticipated.

at the same time.

Deeper underground in the prison area, the aftershocks of Ian's earth-shattering battle with the fallen god tormented the nerves of every prisoner who remained conscious, like a constantly tolling death knell.

"boom--!!!"

Another violent collision, and the entire prison seemed to tremble. The iron bars of the cells emitted a piercing metallic clang, and dust and gravel fell from the walls.

Those mindless zombies, whose joy had long been drained by the Dementors and who had become numb, remained unresponsive. But those prisoners held deeper, stronger, or with more serious crimes showed great unease.

"Damn it! What the hell is going on down there?!"

"This commotion... is the Ministry of Magic testing some new type of dark magic weapon down there?"

"It doesn't feel like... This feeling... It's like something is about to emerge... It's ancient, it's... Evil!"

"Let me out! You bastards! If you're going to die, don't drag me down with you!"

Curses, roars, and screams of terror echoed through the cells, mingling with the roar from outside to create a symphony of despair.

But in the cell of the blind wizard who had once warned Ian, the atmosphere was completely different.

The blind wizard was no longer the detached and serene figure he once was. He sat cross-legged, leaning slightly forward, his empty eye sockets fixedly staring at the ground, as if they could pierce through the thick rock and see the horrific battle below. His short-bearded face was taut, muscles tense, filled with utter shock and… a deeper, more profound fear.

"Impossible...this is impossible..."

He muttered to himself, his voice trembling slightly, "How dare they... how dare they actually release it?! Don't they know what will happen if that thing gets completely out of control?!"

He jerked his head up and, facing the empty passageway, shouted at the top of his lungs, "Hey! Ministry of Magic! Did you hear that?! The seal below is broken! That 'Thirsty One'! It's awakening! It's fighting! Stop it! Reinforce the seal! Otherwise, we'll all die!"

“The entire Ministry of Magic, and even this land, is doomed!” His voice echoed through the empty prison, filled with a desperate plea and warning.

However, there was no response.

There were no hurried footsteps of Aurors, no alarms were sounded, and even the Dementors that occasionally patrolled the area were nowhere to be seen. It was as if the entire Ministry of Magic was oblivious to this earth-shattering crisis that could destroy everything.

The blind wizard called out for a long time, until his voice was hoarse, but received no response. He lowered his head in despair, his hands gripping the robe at his knees tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

“They’re insane…they’ve all gone mad…” he repeated softly, his voice filled with helplessness and a despair born from knowing some terrible truth. “They knew what it was…they knew it only brought destruction and madness…why did they…why…”

The "those people" he referred to clearly didn't mean the panicked ordinary Aurors and staff on the ground. He meant those deeper within, those who knew the inside story, perhaps including members of the Department of Mysteries, and even certain figures in the highest decision-making levels of the Ministry of Magic. It must be said, this blind wizard was indeed quite something.

He seemed to know the origin and horror of that fallen god, and also knew that the Ministry of Magic, or rather a part of its forces, was not entirely passively imprisoning it.

Those guys, those wizards who wanted to uncover some forbidden knowledge and buried secrets, were carrying out some extremely dangerous, risky plan.

Now, however, the plan has clearly encountered a huge, potentially out-of-control, unexpected event—the intrusion of a legendary wizard powerful enough to confront the "Thirsty Ones" head-on.

This should have triggered some of the Ministry of Magic's hidden defenses or contingency plans for handling such situations. However, the Ministry of Magic's response was not to launch a full-scale crackdown or remedy.

Instead... it's about covering it up and letting it go?

This was clearly beyond the blind wizard's original prediction.

Has the Ministry of Magic really degenerated to this extent?

No.

it's not true.

The Ministry of Magic remained the Ministry of Magic, still possessing the most abundant Aurors and all sorts of magical means, yet the incident still occurred and no one took any action.

What exactly is the reason?

Intelligent people dare not think too much about it.

The logic behind this sent chills down the blind wizard's spine. He seemed to see an invisible net, a conspiracy that was perhaps colder and more insane than the fallen god beneath the earth.

“Those people…” He finally slumped onto the cold ground, his empty eye sockets staring blankly at the dark roof, his mouth only unconsciously repeating the words he had said before.

It was a whisper filled with fear.

"...They've all gone mad..."

Meanwhile, in the true heart of the underground battlefield, the battle between Ian and the fallen god, after the initial probing and clashes of rules, had entered a more brutal and perilous phase of intense combat and attrition. Storms of energy swept across everything, turning that area into a complete forbidden zone for life.

(End of this chapter)