The Dementors shivered as they watched Charle, who had just declared them livestock, their eyes filled with fear and despair.
In the wizarding world, it had always been the wizards who feared them.
Even the most heinous Death Eaters would tremble at the thought of facing Dementors in Azkaban.
But Charle, who appeared today, looked at the Dementors as if they were food.
That indescribable platinum-white figure ate Dementors as if they were small bread rolls!
This fear, more than the orders of the Ministry of Magic or Voldemort, made the Dementors, who had no loyalty, submit.
Feeling the Dementors' gaze upon him, Charle's expression remained completely calm.
He looked at the fortress named Azkaban and stepped inside.
"Come on, let's see what good stuff is in here."
The Dementors clustered around Charle as if he were their king, escorting him inside.
As Charle's footsteps echoed within Azkaban, the numb and despairing prisoners in their cells turned their heads, a glimmer of light appearing in their cloudy eyes.
Human footsteps were not common in Azkaban.
Generally, the Dementors handled the task of delivering food, and Ministry of Magic employees rarely entered Azkaban.
It was quite normal for no one to enter for several months or even a whole year.
But when someone did enter, it was usually under special circumstances.
For example, some high-ranking Ministry of Magic officials coming to visit family or relatives, or a very small number of prisoners being granted a pardon.
Whether it was the former or the latter, for the prisoners who were already numb and despairing, it was a ray of hope.
Therefore, as Charle walked past the cells, the prisoners clung to the bars, pleading with him.
"Are you here to release me?"
"I have money, I have money, I know where a treasure is buried, I'm willing to give it all up!"
"I have a distant relative who is a Ministry of Magic official, sir, perhaps you are even colleagues. For that sake, say a few words for me and pardon me!"
Charle watched the prisoners' reactions calmly, frowning slightly.
Of course, it wasn't out of sympathy or pity.
After all, ninety-nine percent of those brought to Azkaban had committed serious crimes, and more than half were dark wizards. Being imprisoned here was well-deserved.
Even if there were innocent people, like Sirius Black...
What did that have to do with Charle?
What made Charle frown was the state of these prisoners.
"How much happy emotion can this state of numbness and despair produce?"
"The Dementors of Azkaban truly don't understand the principle of sustainable development; they're just draining the pond to catch the fish."
He turned to the Dementor leader he had temporarily appointed.
"Your attitude and methods towards the prisoners will have to change from now on."
"If you keep them so despairing, how will you ever be full?"
"If you're not full, won't the output of our Dementor breeding base be greatly affected?"
The Dementor leader looked thoughtful upon hearing Charle's words.
It seems that's right.
If the prisoners are always so despairing, they really can't produce much happy emotion.
But how should we change?
As if seeing its confusion, Charle said faintly.
"Just like human farms raise dairy cows, you have to feed them well, give them good water, let them sleep well, and keep them in a good mood."
"That way, you can milk enough milk every so often."
"You can also try not to squeeze them dry every day. You can stay a bit further away from this fortress to let their tense nerves rest."
"Or ask them if there's anything they can't let go of, inquire about these things. This way, their desire to live will be stimulated, they won't be numb and despairing anymore, and the happiness and hope they can produce will naturally increase."
"Also, to maintain their mental strength, competition is necessary. You can introduce competition and a last-place elimination mechanism among them."
"Just find some activities for them. The prisoners who rank higher can get good food and drink, can get news from the outside world, and can even have their wishes fulfilled to a certain extent."
"Those prisoners who rank last several times in a row will receive a Dementor's Kiss."
"This way, scheming and competition will be born in Azkaban. There is motivation only with competition."
"The ecstasy of the prisoners escaping death each time, the satisfaction of receiving rewards, will all become your food..."
"Using this method, won't you get much more nourishment than simply keeping them locked up like this?"
Instantly, a series of cackling sounds came from under the Dementors' cloaks, and they looked at Charle with a feeling of immense worship and admiration.
Indeed, if they did as Charle said, the happiness and hope these prisoners in Azkaban could provide would be immeasurably more than before!
However, the prisoners who heard this were chilled to the bone, looking at Charle with hateful eyes.
"Demon!"
"Are you going to use us as playthings for the Dementors?"
"Feeding us to the Dementors? What is your purpose?!"
Several dark wizards couldn't contain their violent emotions and started cursing, spewing out all sorts of foul language.
But the next moment, the cells fell silent.
Because as Charle waved his wand, a series of thorns grew from the ground, piercing the dark wizards who had been cursing so horribly.
Charle casually flicked his hand, and these bloody dark wizards were thrown among the Dementors.
"They are yours."
At Charle's command, the Dementors were overjoyed.
Being able to devour several souls at once was something they couldn't have imagined before!
It seemed that having a lawless and ruthless master wasn't necessarily a bad thing!
When these dark wizards were greedily "kissed" by the Dementors, all that remained were their soulless, walking corpses.
Charle waved his wand again, and a point of light fell, burning these husks to ash.
At this moment, Charle looked at the dark wizards, who were now as silent as cicadas in winter, and the Azkaban cells, which had finally quieted down, and let out a long breath.
"Very good, it's finally quiet."
"Then from now on, we will follow this rule. Any objections?"
The ordinary dark wizards trembled.
Like the group of dark wizards in Knockturn Alley, they were always very pragmatic.
Seeing that Charle was not to be trifled with, no one dared to speak out against him.
Moreover, they thought about it for a moment. According to Charle's method, although those who were eliminated at the bottom would be miserable, the remaining people would have a much better life than before.
If they could even rank high in the competition, their lives could even be said to be quite comfortable!
Anyway, they probably wouldn't live for many years in Azkaban, so it was better this way!
However, while the ordinary dark wizards were silent, there were still a few troublemakers deep within the cells who didn't seem to approve of Charle.
A tall, thin, handsome man with black hair and gray eyes, carrying an air of unshakeable arrogance, let out a sneer.
"What is this?"
"Threats, intimidation?"
"Little demon, the slaughter and death I've seen are beyond your imagination."
"Voldemort couldn't scare me, and you certainly won't."
The Dementors stirred, as if they wanted to give this man a deep kiss to make him shut up forever.
But Charle waved his hand, stopping the Dementors' actions.
He looked at the man with interest for a few moments.
With such an appearance, and being held deep within the cells, this was where the veteran Death Eaters were imprisoned.
"Sirius Black?"
Charle asked curiously.
The man showed a hint of surprise, as if he hadn't expected Charle to know his name.
"Who are you?"
"You know me?"
Without answering the man's question, Charle raised an eyebrow.
He remembered Sirius Black, a quite popular character in the original story.
After being imprisoned in Azkaban for over ten years, upon seeing news of Harry Potter and Peter Pettigrew, he was still able to escape and go to protect Harry and punish the murderer without hesitation.
This character and persistence were truly precious.
"Then he should be able to produce a lot of happiness and hope, right? High-quality food for the Dementors."
Charle showed a smile and said faintly.
"Not only do I know you, I also know the truth of what happened back then."
"The Fidelius Charm was broken, the Secret-Keeper betrayed the secret. In fact, the Secret-Keeper wasn't you, it was Peter Pettigrew..."
"Isn't that right?"
Sirius Black's eyes widened, as if he hadn't expected Charle to reveal the truth of what happened back then in one go.
Not only that, Charle looked at him and continued.
"Do you want to know how Harry Potter is doing now? Tsk tsk, how miserable his past eleven years have been, living under someone else's roof, sleeping in a cupboard, wearing other people's old clothes. Do you want to know all this?"
"Also..."
"Don't you want to know what Peter Pettigrew has been up to for the past eleven years?"
Sirius Black lunged at the railing, letting out a furious roar.
"What did you say?!"
"Harry Potter is being abused?"
"Peter Pettigrew is still alive?"
"Tell me everything!"
Charle sneered.
"Want to know? Then work hard to survive, contribute more happiness and hope, and when you've accumulated enough for a wish, I'll grant it."
"But for now, you must first be punished for your recent transgression."
The next moment, Charle waved his hand casually, and Sirius Black flew out of the cell. The Dementors surrounded him, greedily sucking in the hope and anger that had suddenly intensified on him.
Only when Sirius Black's expression was dull, almost idiotic, but with a trace of stubborn resilience remaining on his face, did Charle stop. He then threw Sirius back into the cell.
"Take good care of him. His resilience will be a great help in raising Dementors."
"There aren't many wizards of this level who are also so tenacious."
Witnessing Charle's actions in dealing with Sirius, even the veteran Death Eaters deep within the cells fell silent, their eyes showing fear as they looked at Charle.
They found it hard to imagine how a young wizard could possess such powerful strength and such a heart of stone.
It was as if beneath the appearance of a young wizard, there was a mercenary adult hidden?
But while the other veteran Death Eaters had shut up, only one deranged woman was still staring at Charle with her eyes like bulging light bulbs, letting out bursts of strange laughter.
"I won't play your bullshit games, your tricks don't scare me."
"You can't deal with me, and you wouldn't dare to deal with me!"
"No one in the wizarding world dares to touch me, not even those Aurors from the Ministry of Magic. They caught me and put me in Azkaban, but look, who dares to touch me?!"
The crazy woman excitedly pulled down her sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark on her arm, her eyes filled with pathological obsession and madness.
"Everyone knows I belong to the Master."
"The Master will return one day, and I will bask in the Master's glory. Who among you dares to touch me?!"
"The Master will not spare anyone who harms me!"
Charle looked at the crazy woman and called out her name.
"Bellatrix Lestrange?"
"Voldemort's most fanatical loyalist, rumored to be Voldemort's woman?"
Bellatrix Lestrange first giggled, as if happy that Charle had called her Voldemort's woman.
Immediately after, she angrily rebuked Charle.
"What are you, daring to speak the Master's name directly?"
"Don't you know, the Master is..."
Before she could finish her sentence, Charle waved his wand, and Bellatrix Lestrange floated up.
She was still laughing at this point, as if certain that Charle would be like those angry Aurors before, not daring to touch a single hair on her head.
After all, who wouldn't be afraid of the Dark Lord who could return at any time?
"You won't kill me, you can't kill me, and you wouldn't dare to kill me!"
Facing her certain and deranged words, Charle sighed helplessly.
Yes, Bellatrix Lestrange, a core force of the Death Eaters, and also related to many subsequent plotlines. If he killed her, the future plot would be in chaos...
"But so what?"
Charle murmured.
"No one is unkillable. The world will keep turning without anyone."
"Plot? Fate? If it's messed up, it's messed up."
"I've already got a cheat, and I still have to rely on the plot? That's too embarrassing."
Charle's low murmur made Bellatrix Lestrange look confused.
"What are you saying?"
"Hurry up and put me down!"
The next moment, Charle smiled.
"You didn't hear clearly, so I'll tell you again."
"What I just said was, you're going to die, and Voldemort won't be able to save you even if he comes."
Immediately, Charle waved his wand decisively.
Bellatrix Lestrange, the infamous Death Eater and a cornerstone of Voldemort's future resurgence, had her neck snap with a crisp crack.
Her madness was permanently cured, a prescription personally written by Charle.
Next, Charle's gaze swept over the faces of the remaining senior Death Eaters, who were filled with terror.
"Now, I presume no one is eager to step forward and say anything?"
At this moment, even the most fanatical senior Death Eaters lowered their heads in submission and obedience.
Charle raised his wand once more.
"Since you acknowledge yourselves as members of the Azkaban Dementor Breeding Base, your previous identification numbers are no longer valid."
"Everything of the past is illusory; from now on, your sole focus will be on raising Dementors."
As he waved his wand, under the horrified gazes of both the Azkaban prisoners and the Dementors, the Dark Marks on the Death Eaters' wrists actually faded into nothingness!
The Dark Mark, which the entire wizarding world was helpless against and found impossible to remove, was this simple to erase for Charle, who had reached the pinnacle of marking magic!
And replacing the Dark Mark, one by one, unique marks belonging to Charle were branded onto all the prisoners.
After completing this, Charle finally walked out of the Azkaban cells.
Behind Charle, the prisoners, who had just processed what happened, collectively gasped.
The Death Eaters, even more so, looked as if they had seen a ghost, staring at the vanished Dark Marks on their bodies and the new marks that had replaced them.
"He, what did he do?"
"He erased the mark of the Master, ah no, the Dark Lord, the mysterious person?"
"Who exactly is he?!"
A senior Death Eater swallowed hard, a look of awe in his eyes.
"I don't know who he is, I only know that to be able to do something like this at the age of a young wizard..."
"Perhaps, what we witnessed today is the birth of the most powerful Dark Lord in history!"
I updated twelve thousand words today, fulfilling both the chapter owed from yesterday and today's ten thousand word update. I'm not feeling well, so I really can't add more chapters. Thank you all for your support.
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