Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 326 Escape

The cast-iron chains were engraved with runes, seemingly leaving gaps, but in reality, not even a rat could pass through. Iron-clad wheels rolled over the stone-paved corridor, and the prisoner's cage was slowly pushed into the depths of the earth, heading towards the dark room at the end, where the key to Azkaban was kept.

Three groups of Aurors guarded the prison, drawing the attention of every wizard after the trial. Staff from all departments were present, but their focus wasn't on the Aurors or the prison wagon; they wanted to see if Peter Pettigrew, who had deceived the entire wizarding world, would attempt to escape during the transfer.

Every now and then, Aurors would move around and take turns. A retired Auror with a ferocious and terrifying face would take a swig of strong liquor, his demonic eye darting around, staring intently at the short, fat wizard in the cage.

Even illegal Animagus have no chance of escaping from him.

"Peter Pettigrew, you damned bastard! James and Lily have been so good to you, and nobody knows you're the Secret Agent, but you just won't keep the secret. You'd rather betray your friends to gain the favor of Mysterio!"

Frank and Alice from the Longbottom family stood by the hallway, spitting viciously:

"Now that's settled, the truth is finally out. You damned Death Eater are going to that deserted island! Let me tell you, Dementors love new high-profile criminals like you. If they want to give you a kiss, nobody's going to stop them!"

Peter Pettigrew, sitting in his cage, was pale and had his head bowed. He dared not speak or look up, because the old woman from Peter's family was still standing in the crowd.

The old witch cried until her tears ran dry: "Little Stump, my child, I will come to visit you, I will bring you your favorite pie..."

After a few curses accompanied by spittle, the prison cart slowly disappeared into the dark room, which was only illuminated by the faint light of the fireplace. The wizards who had been watching the show gradually dispersed, and the Aurors of the Execution Division checked the handover plan with Azkaban, confirming that the conversion of the prison cells deep inside the fortress was complete, and the flames in the fireplace were emerald green.

The door creaked shut, and Scrinker, the Auror office director, entered the center of the room. His brown hair and thick eyebrows were streaked with gray, and although he had a slight limp, he walked with a confident stride.

Beside the fireplace lay a tattered vest. Scrimgeour grasped one corner, glancing sharply at Peter in the cage, his eyes gleaming behind his gold-rimmed glasses.

“Peter Pettigrew, the trial is over, and I don’t want to repeat any more warnings or threats.”

Having said that, he gripped his wand in his right hand, aimed it at Peter, and reached his left hand, which was holding the tattered vest, into the cage, offering the other corner to Peter. He adopted a sharp and wary stance and said in a deep voice:
“We have fully grasped your Animagus form. The reason we didn’t use a carriage for transport this time is to prevent you from having any unwarranted fantasies. We hope you will cooperate with the Portkey teleportation. I think you don’t want to experience what a Dementor’s kiss tastes like.”

The tone of his words was flat, yet they inexplicably evoked a chilling aura. Frus Scrimgeour, a staunch hardliner within the Ministry of Magic, stood silently beside the Aurors, who had no doubt about the truth of his words.

In the Minister's office at the top of the Ministry of Magic, Ms. Burns and several directors were organizing Fudge's documents. They didn't need to be present for the prisoner escort, and they trusted their subordinates. The entire escort plan was devised by Mad-Eye Han, who had been retired and rehired, and they also consulted with Dumbledore and Professor Levent.

Every detail of the plan was clear and precise, confirming that Peter had no chance of escaping.

Tonks sighed as he thought about the young professor's Azkaban research paper published in the journal:
“Melvin thinks we raise Dementors and abuse prisoners, but for a Death Eater like Peter Pettigrew, even a thousand Dementor kisses wouldn’t be enough to punish his sins.”

Mentioning the young professor, Ms. Burns, sitting at her desk, recalled Dumbledore's advice and wording in a letter before the impeachment resolution began, her eyes filled with complex emotions.

What kind of magic did Levent use to make Dumbledore, that cautious and restrained... or rather, fearful of power old wizard, touch power and be willing to propose a plan to remove him from office?

Ms. Burns sorted and stacked the documents on the table, then shook her head:
"In any case, Hogwarts is Hogwarts, and the Ministry of Magic is the Ministry of Magic. We will not easily change a system that has been in place for hundreds of years because of the opinions of a few professors and scholars."

……

The Portkey activated on time, and when they were back on solid ground, they had been moved from the dark room at the bottom of the Ministry of Magic to a deserted island in the North Sea. Compared to London and the Scottish Highlands, which were trapped in the spring chill, Azkaban, surrounded by ocean currents, was even colder and more gloomy.

An endless gray fog shrouded the world, and monsters born from pain and despair constantly exuded an evil magic that devoured life. On the water-filled island, there was no sign of life, the vegetation was withered, the seabirds had disappeared, and only endless waves crashed on the shore.

A black cloak flitted through the clouds and waves, the cold, trapped moisture condensing into frost on the rocks and mud. The prison cells, covered with straw and rags, were drafty, and the prisoners huddled behind the walls, staring blankly ahead.

Perhaps it was the cold wind that had frozen his muscles, making his posture appear somewhat stiff, and his eyes held fear and regret.

Aurors kept emerging from the fireplace, while Mad-Eye Moody paced back and forth outside the gates of the island's heart fortress, muttering incoherently about various prison regulations, as if he believed there were loopholes everywhere.

After handing over the duties to his superiors in Azkaban, Scrimgeour turned and whispered a few words to Moody. Then, his slightly furrowed brows gradually relaxed as he explained the measures against Animagus, allaying any unnecessary doubts Moody might have.

"Azkaban modified the deepest cells in the fortress, embedding spyglasses in the walls to target Animagus. Any related magical fluctuations will simultaneously alert the Ministry of Magic and Azkaban's office. The Dementors will seal off several miles of sea within five minutes, and the Aurors will immediately seal off the coastline..."

“This is the North Sea, and he is just a rat. His physical strength is no match for the black dog. There will never be a chance for Blake’s prison break to happen again.”

The cold wind billowed his robes, revealing a scarred gash running across his nose and a throbbing pain in his crippled leg. The Mad-Eyed Man squinted at the sorcerer in the prison cart, his expression grim.

"If I were you, I wouldn't speak so absolutely!"

The Death Eater who had escaped trial twelve years ago remained silent in the prison wagon parked at the fortress gate. Judging from his dejected appearance, he seemed to have accepted the verdict, but as an old Auror who had spent his life fighting against dark wizards, he knew this kind of guy's character very well.

He appears timid and hesitant, but he could turn into a madman at any moment.

Rats can also have red eyes, and they can bite, and it hurts a lot.

Moody's unpleasant expression wasn't solely due to this; he also noticed some seemingly insignificant details.

Peter lowered his head, staring at the chain on his wrist, the other end of which was connected to the prison van. His hands were clasped in front of him, his fingers resting on his arms, gently groping the inside of his arms. He hadn't said a word since leaving the courtroom, and his pale, bloated face was expressionless.

But old Auror's intuition told him that the rat was waiting for something.

A few minutes later, the handover procedures between the Ministry of Magic and Azkaban were completed. As planned, the Auror stepped forward and used a Stunning Charm and a Binding Charm to subdue Peter, unlocking the shackles on his wrists and ankles. The next step was to escort him to his cell deep inside the fortress.

This was the only part of the transfer plan that involved manpower to guard the transfer. Several groups of Aurors remained vigilant at the front and back, watching for any movement in any direction. Peter lay peacefully on the wooden plank with his eyes closed, and the Floating Spell carried him into the fortress.

Just then, the group passed a cell near the corridor. Inside, the dark wizard lunged at the door, letting out frantic and incoherent screams. Mad-Eye Moody's magical eyes locked onto the dark wizard before he even turned his head. He raised his hand and unleashed a knockback spell, which struck the dark wizard heavily. The wizard's body flew backward and crashed into the wall, bloody saliva spilling from his mouth and nose.

Moody stared at the dark wizard for a moment, then glanced at the cell ahead and realized that they were only halfway there. He immediately raised his hand to signal the group to stop: "Take a group of Aurors and knock out all the prisoners along the way!"

This is Azkaban, where prisoners are driven mad by Dementors. It seems a bit neurotic to expect that the insane actions of one prisoner would knock out all the prisoners along the way, but Scrimgeour did not object to his orders.

From the beginning to the end of the century, over several decades, Mad-Eye Moody encountered more dark wizards than these young Aurors had ever heard of. Whether it was combat experience, case-solving reasoning, search patrols, or escorting prisoners, he was the most authoritative expert.

He became somewhat neurotic after retiring in his old age, but he did not question his authority.

"Always stay vigilant!"

As Mad-Eye Moody said, this statement is never wrong when facing a dark wizard.

In the corridors of the island's heart fortress, the Aurors silently walked by casting spells, the faint glow of the incantations constantly illuminating those lying under the stun spell—each one a notorious Death Eater.

Bellatrix, the Lestrange brothers, Lukwood, the Caro siblings...

Scrimgeour and Moody led the escort team on their way again. As they watched the special cell draw closer, their anxious hearts and tense nerves eased slightly.

As it turns out, Voldemort had already fallen twelve years ago, and the Death Eaters' power had collapsed. Even those hypocrites who escaped trial wouldn't bother to collude with criminals to escape from prison; they were too cowardly to do so.

“Alastor, this really is your last job. The Ministry of Magic shouldn’t bother you in your retirement anymore.” Scrimgeour was in the mood to make a joke, because the Auror had already opened the cell door.

"hope so."

Mad-Eye Moody grinned an ugly smile, ready to make a few sarcastic remarks, when suddenly his magic eye twitched, the smile on his face vanished, replaced by a ferocious glare, and almost instantly he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the prisoner on the wooden board.

Deep within the island's fortress, in a stone-built corridor, Peter lay peacefully asleep under the light of a kerosene lamp, his eyes closed and his face expressionless. But at that moment, his arm suddenly twitched for a moment.

A stream of flowing water enveloped his body, like a reversed shot of a tree growing. His head and limbs shrank into his torso, and his body suddenly shrank. A black rat replaced the short, fat wizard.

Before Mad-Eyes could unleash his seven spells, Black Rat darted out. Under the kerosene lamp, only a dark shadow flashed by. When he came to his senses, the rat had already disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.

A rustling sound came from the wind in the closed cell, and the peephole embedded in the wall trembled and then emitted a piercing sound.

Mad-Eye Moody's demonic eyes spun around in their sockets, almost popping out, as he roared in a hoarse voice, "Peter escapes! Seal off Azkaban!"

The heavy stone door slammed into the ground, trapping the Aurors inside the fortress along with the escorting Aurors; from the office on the northwest side of the island, the Aurors filed out, searching every inch of the island, while the black cloaks that had been gathered together received the hunting order and quickly dispersed across the entire sea.

In faraway London, the fireplaces of the Ministry of Magic glowed with emerald green flames. Not only the Aurors of the Department of Law Enforcement, but almost all the staff poured out, their figures, holding spyglasses, covering almost the entire coastline, sealing off several seaside cities, including Newcastle.

……

"puff……"

After a muffled sound.

The heavy stone door slammed down on the mouse's tail, like a rolling pin crushing cranberries into jam. Multiple vertebrae and muscles were ground into a paste, but it did nothing to hinder the mouse's movement. The insect's tail lost its own tail, leaving a long trail of blood in the damp, cold soil of the deserted island before disappearing into the gaps between the rocks.

The moment Mad-Eye shouted for an escape, Wormtail, who had returned to Azkaban for the second time, darted away. Using his memories of hiding there for dozens of days, he quickly slipped through gap after gap and escaped the prison before the fortress was sealed.

This was not part of his pre-planned strategy, and he didn't know he would regain consciousness at the last moment.

He only felt a cool magical energy seeping from the ouroboros mark on the inside of his arm. The power of the Stun and Binding Curses was instantly swallowed up, and the remaining actions were nothing more than the instinct to survive.

The bet on the insect's tail was right, but the price was losing a tail.

"Whoosh..."

"Whoosh..."

His heavy breathing was mixed with cries of pain, but they were the cries of a mouse; he couldn't transform back into a wizard to treat his injuries.

Countless Dementors filled the sky above the island, and Aurors were searching in groups. The piercing warning sound of the spyglasses seemed to follow closely behind, creating an atmosphere of extreme urgency.

After the wound on its tail stopped bleeding, the insect tail weaved through the pile of rocks and ran quickly toward the coast.

The Dementors, searching solely by their emotional senses, cannot identify the rats floating on the sea. As long as they disappear into the waves, they can escape the pursuit of the Aurors and the Spyglass. This is not the first time Wormtail has done this, and he is confident.

There was no time to search for planks or other floating objects; it crashed straight into the oncoming waves. The salty seawater rushed into its mouth and nose, almost choking its lungs. The seawater seeped into the wound at the severed tail, and the pain drilled into its brain through the bones.

"Squeak..."

The black rat let out two mournful cries and disappeared into the returning waves.

(End of this chapter)