Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 448-447: A Horrific Massacre!

to be frank.

Since the start of the journey through time.

This was the first time Ian had ever been so panicked. In fact, he had never been this panicked, whether he was facing the Titans in the ancient times or the evil gods in ancient Egypt.

I'm really panicking now.

Who would have thought?

This is not some ancient ruin discovered by the African Ministry of Magic at all; this is clearly... a forbidden realm that should not be set foot in by any living being, a realm that even gods might go mad for!
And at this moment, he stood before the gates of this legendary city...

"R'lyeh..."

The name seemed to carry some kind of cold magic, squeezed out of Ian's lips with difficulty, the sound appearing unusually weak in the deathly silent square.

But it was as if he had disturbed an ancient slumber. An unprecedented chill instantly swept over his entire body, colder than when he faced any powerful enemy or was trapped in any desperate situation.

This wasn't a difference in power, but a subversion and terror of cognition. He, Ian, a wizard seeking the truth of magic, had actually stood in a forbidden place that existed only in the most insane and unspeakable myths—the slumbering city of the Great Old One, Cthulhu!
Damn it!
J.K. Rowling never said that there was a Cthulhu universe in the Harry Potter world!

Ian felt like he'd just fallen asleep. This wasn't just an adventure; it was touching a festering sore in the universe, waking up from a nightmare that could even devour the gods!

Even with Ian's iron will and exceptional emotional control, he couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine.

“I don’t want to become Cthulhu.” Ian almost instinctively wanted to get away from the gate, away from the city, away from this damned land of ashes!

He turned abruptly, intending to retreat along the path he had come from. However, the instant he turned, his movements froze, and his pupils suddenly contracted.

Behind me... where is that endless black rocky plain anymore?

Where is the great stone road he walked on when he came?
As far as the eye could see, there was only an endless, churning, thick, grayish-yellow mist! The mist writhed slowly like a living thing, blocking all sight. Even his powerful spiritual perception, when probed into it, was like a stone sinking into the sea; he could only sense chaos and nothingness and could not discern any direction.

We can't even find the way we came!
He was trapped.

His escape route was completely cut off the moment the name "R'lyeh" was deciphered, or rather, the moment he stepped into the square and approached the gate!

Ian felt as if his heart had been gripped by an icy hand, and his breath caught in his throat for a moment. He forced himself to calm down, his mind racing at an unprecedented pace.

An illusion? Spatial teleportation? Or the inherent rules of this city?
He tried casting a magical mark into the mist, but the light disappeared instantly, severing all connection. He attempted spatial magic, but just like in the dark area, all spatial movement was forbidden here. He even tried flying in a straight line in one direction, but no matter how far he flew, the surrounding scenery remained the same swirling gray-yellow mist, as if the city and the square had become the only isolated island in a sea of ​​mist.

All attempts pointed to a hopeless conclusion—he could not leave this area. The only "path" seemed to be the deep, dark entrance beneath the magnificent stone gate before him, a path that seemed to lead deeper into the city, or rather… to the place where that being rested.

Ian stood at the boundary between the mist and the stone gate, his expression shifting constantly.

Entering the stone gate means facing a terror beyond imagination; staying put could mean eternal imprisonment.

Then, in this desolate place, they are slowly worn down to madness or death.

There was no choice.

This is the biggest crisis Ian has ever faced in his life.

"Damn it! This is a disaster!"

Ian couldn't help but grumble.

He took a deep breath of the cold, dry air, forcibly suppressing the tremor that ran deep in his soul. Adjusting one's mindset is also crucial for a mature wizard.

So, as a mature wizard, Ian also began to adjust his mindset. Before long, he had adjusted himself and his eyes became sharp and firm again.

Since there is no way to retreat, we can only move forward.

We must continue to uphold our invincible spirit.

Otherwise, we're really doomed.

Even if it's a dragon's den or a tiger's lair, even if it's a god's palace, he's determined to venture in! At this moment, his thirst for knowledge and his will to survive overwhelmed his fear of the unknown terrors.

He took one last look at the despairing wall of mist behind him, then resolutely turned around, faced the massive stone gate, and took a firm step.

I stepped into that deep, dark entrance.

"I'm just joining the Ministry of Magic, how come I'm being dragged into the Cthulhu Mythos? This is real Cthulhu, not the kind of evil god with a Cthulhu flavor from ancient Egypt."

Ian was still complaining.

Simultaneously.

He couldn't help but ponder a question—if the secret hidden by the African Ministry of Magic wasn't the raising of evil gods, but rather this sealed-off space.

What exactly is the African Ministry of Magic like?
……

Just as Ian resolutely stepped into the deep darkness of R'lyeh, another uninvited guest arrived at the deep underground prison of the African Ministry of Magic.

The terrifying tremor and energy shock that originated deep underground and shook the entire Ministry of Magic was forcibly suppressed by the black-robed men of the Department of Mysteries, who claimed it was "normal maintenance." However, the resulting panic and doubts have not been completely quelled, especially in the depths of the prison that was directly impacted.

When the black-robed figure who had appeared before reappeared silently in the upper prison corridor like a ghost, it immediately caused a commotion among the prisoners.

"Hey! Ministry of Magic! What just happened?!"

"Did some evil experiment you were conducting go wrong and get out of control?!"

"Let me out! I can't stand this awful place anymore! I'm going to sue you! You can't even guarantee my basic personal safety!"

"Help! That noise was terrifying! I felt like my soul was about to be shattered!"

A cacophony of sounds—terrified, angry, desperate, cursing—came from the cells on either side, the iron bars banging loudly. The earlier roar, seemingly emanating from the depths of hell, and the chilling pressure had clearly left a deep psychological scar on these prisoners.

The man in black robes remained deaf to all the shouts, questions, and curses. His gaze, hidden in the shadow of his hood, swept slowly across each cell like a cold scanner. His steps were steady and even, and only the soft rustling of his black robe could be heard as he walked through the empty corridor.

Then he stopped in front of a cell. Inside was a dark wizard, arrested for illegally conducting large-scale soul fusion experiments, who was now clinging to the iron bars, cursing the Ministry of Magic with spittle flying.

The man in black robes raised his hand, without a magic wand, and simply made a light grasp on the prison cell from a distance.

"Uh……!"

The curses in the cell abruptly ceased. The black wizard's eyes bulged out, his body twisted and compressed as if gripped by an invisible giant hand. Before he could even utter a scream, he was reduced to a blurry pool of blood and flesh with a "poof," splattering across the cell walls. Even the fluctuations of his soul were completely annihilated in that instant.

Clean, efficient, and ruthless.

The shouts and curses from the nearby cells abruptly ceased, replaced by gasps of shock and suppressed whimpers of fear. The man in black turned to another cell next door, where a witch recoiled in terror, screaming, "No! Don't kill me! I didn't see anything! I don't know anything!"

The black-robed man's voice came through the hood, cold and devoid of any human emotion: "Did you notice the 'commotion' just now?"

The witch was startled, then, as if grasping at a straw, frantically shook her head: "No! I didn't notice anything! I was sleeping the whole time! I swear!"

However, the man in black robes raised his hand again and clenched it in mid-air.

"puff--"

Another pool of blood and flesh. Whether to answer or not is meaningless.

He was like a ruthless elimination machine, walking down the corridor and repeating the same process in every cell he passed.

Raise your hand to ask a question.

Then, they shook hands across the distance.

Whether the prisoner begs for mercy with tears streaming down his face, threatens with bluster, denies it in ignorance, or tries to hide, the result is the same—instantly turning into another stain in the cell.

"Devil! You are the devil!"

"The Ministry of Magic will not let you get away with this!"

"I'm related to the Auror's office director! You dare touch me?!"

Desperate screams and curses echoed through the passageway, then quickly faded into silence. The man in black robes continued his steps without pause, as if he were merely clearing away a pile of insignificant trash.

His logic was simple and cruel—anyone who might have been aware of the previous "anomaly," or even just someone within its sphere of influence.

These are all potential risks that must be eliminated. Better to kill the innocent than let the guilty go free.

Initially, the prisoners on the upper levels were mostly weak, or had become numb from the long-term corruption of the Dementors, and were almost powerless to resist this overwhelming force. But as the black-robed figure descended the spiraling stone steps deeper into the lower level, where serious offenders and dangerous individuals were held, the situation began to change.

The black-robed men's cleanup efforts spread like a plague throughout the prison. At first, the upper-level prisoners held onto a sliver of hope, but as they heard the increasingly abrupt, fading screams and the grating "plop" sounds growing closer, panic spread like a virus through the narrow passageways.

"No, don't come any closer!" A young wizard frantically retreated until his back slammed against the cold wall. "I don't know anything! I swear! I was just sleeping!"

The man in black didn't even ask a question; he simply raised his hand and shook it.

"puff--"

The young wizard's body exploded like a crushed berry, his blood splattering onto the iron bars of the adjacent cell.

In the next cell sat an old witch. Looking at the bloodstains splattered on the iron bars, she suddenly burst into hysterical laughter: "Hahaha, retribution! All retribution! You lackeys of the Ministry of Magic, you've finally shown your true colors!"

Her laughter abruptly stopped when the man in black turned to her, replaced by a beast-like roar: "Come! Kill me! But I curse you! I curse all of you! Your souls will suffer eternal torment—"

"puff."

Another patch of blood and flesh covered the wall.

As the men in black robes ventured deeper, the prisoners' reactions became increasingly intense.

A burly man with a thick beard shook the iron bars violently, roaring, "I've paid enough Galleons! My uncle is a member of the Wizengamot! You can't treat me like this!"

The man in black didn't even glance at him. With a casual wave of his hand, the burly man was instantly reduced to a blurry mass of flesh and blood, as if struck by an invisible giant hammer.

When the men in black robes cleared the floors near the area where Ian and the Ancient Spirit had fought, some prisoners sensed a deadly danger and began a fierce resistance.

"Fight him!" A muscular prisoner, who was said to have torn apart a fire dragon with his bare hands, roared and charged out the moment the black-robed man opened his cell door. His fist, accompanied by a shrill sound as it tore through the air, slammed into the black-robed man's hood! The force of that punch was enough to collapse a small building.

The man in black robes neither dodged nor avoided the blow, allowing the fist to strike his head.

"Boom!"

A dull thud, like striking solid steel, rang out. The prisoner's savage grin froze instantly, replaced by extreme pain and disbelief—his finger bones shattered inch by inch, his entire arm twisted at an unnatural angle. The man in black, however, didn't even flinch.

In another cell, an old sorcerer skilled in ancient curses took advantage of the opening of the door to scratch his own arm with his fingernails, using the blood as a medium to cast a spell.

He hissed out an extremely vicious curse of aging, and the gray-black curse energy coiled towards the black-robed man like a venomous snake. However, the black-robed man merely glanced at the curse energy, and when it approached within a certain range of him, it seemed to have met its nemesis, quickly dissolving and disintegrating, without even touching the hem of his robe.

more than this.

The prisoners in several adjacent cells seemed to have reached a tacit agreement, and simultaneously erupted when the man in black opened one of the doors! Some manipulated secretly collected metal fragments into a storm of sharp blades that swept in; others spewed out highly corrosive magical breath; still others attempted to disrupt the man in black's actions with mental attacks…

In an instant, magical light flashed wildly, energy surged, and the narrow passageway was filled with deadly attacks.

However, all magic—physical impact, elemental energy, malevolent curses, and mental attacks—was rendered useless upon contact with the invisible domain surrounding the black-robed man. It was either easily deflected or directly annihilated, having no effect whatsoever. His black robe didn't even ripple.

The man in black robes maintained his steady pace, raised his hand, and clenched his fist.

"Pfft!" "Pfft!" "Pfft!"...

The fate of those who resisted was no different from that of the prisoners who did not resist.

In an instant, it turned into a bloody graffiti in the prison cell.

Those who tried to break out of their cells in the chaos actually ran only a few steps before they were hit by an invisible wall and followed in their companions' footsteps.

The absolute disparity in strength is despair-inducing.

The cleanup proceeded silently and efficiently. The man in black robes, like the embodiment of death, erased all the "witnesses" and "potential perceivers" in this underground prison step by step—the stench of blood began to permeate the air, mixing with the original musty smell and atmosphere of despair, making it nauseating.

"To prevent future troubles."

It's unclear what kind of future trouble the man in black wanted to eliminate.

seal?

Afraid of being exposed?
It's also possible that they're afraid these people have already been contaminated.

No one knows why he started the massacre.

The black-robed man's gaze, hidden beneath his hood, swept over the empty cells and broken walls.

Seems to be confirming something.

(End of this chapter)