A magical journey that begins in Azkaban

At this moment, a wizard standing on the highest spire raised his wand toward the sky, releasing a brilliant display of fireworks. The bright colors bloomed in the sky, both like a farewell salute and a signal to show off.

Delis stared at the figure thoughtfully for a while and said to himself: "It seems that it is really Buck. He couldn't have done it on purpose."

His thoughts couldn't help but drift to the luxurious Travis Manor. Compared to the magnificent building complex at its feet, Roger's manor has lost the pure beauty of the Victorian style.

What's more, this is a manor built using the entire Rhode Island, and the area is completely overwhelmed. Even if a hundred Quidditch matches were held at the same time, it would still be more than enough.

"The life of a Death Eater..." Delis took a deep breath, trying to calm down the complicated emotions in his heart. He felt shocked, but also felt a trace of indescribable envy and disgust.

Rogge noticed the anomaly of Delis and reminded in a low voice: "Don't be fooled by the appearance. Behind this kind of luxury, there are often more dangers hidden."

Delis nodded and forced himself to concentrate: "You are right, we have more important tasks to complete."

"Baldwin's laboratory is located in Maryland, but we now need to fly north to meet Bellingrum in Maine." He raised his voice slightly and explained to the Aurors behind him: "We need to use goblin transportation. Tools, on the one hand, can save physical strength, and on the other hand, they can reduce the possibility of being discovered.”

As they approached the agreed place, a familiar voice came from the cloud: "Oh, my dear Roger."

Belinrum saw the silver wings shining behind him and couldn't help shouting: "Why are you the only one, where are the others?"

Rogge slowly hovered in the air, warily looking at the several magic hot air balloons hidden in the clouds. He looked around cautiously and asked in a low voice: "Hasn't Narlak and the other Death Eaters noticed it?"

"How is that possible!" Belinrum was full of confidence. He opened the goblin's thick fingers and motioned for Rogge to pay before getting on the bus, "100 Galleons per person."

"half."

The goblin immediately protested: "We agreed..."

"You want to sell us?" Rogge shook his head, not quite believing the other party.

"For the wand, I can't possibly..."

"Ha, who knows. If we arrive successfully, it will be doubled." Rogge said, taking out a bag of gold coins from his robe and pouring it into Bellinrum's hand.

Immediately afterwards, he took out another gift box and handed it to Bellinrum.

"This is?"

"Open your Christmas gift and take a look." Rogge shrugged and couldn't help complaining: "I live underground all day long, and my owl can't get in at all."

"Hey, it's all for business." He quickly opened the package and took out the golden crown inside.

The pure gold shone seductively, making the goblin's eyes instantly light up. He caressed it lovingly, held it on his head and looked back and forth, "Does it look good?"

"Absolutely." Rogge responded lightly, but his eyes drifted into the distance. He calmly shook his wand and sent the agreed safety signal to Delis.

Soon, the Aurors arrived in batches and jumped lightly from their brooms into the basket under the balloon.

"This thing is so rare, it can actually fly." One Auror exclaimed.

"The first time you sit on it, it works like a balloon. Once you let go, it flies away."

"It sounds like it's not your first time. But when you say it, no wonder it feels familiar to me."

"A balloon and a basket, I can try it when I get back."

Bellinrum listened to the discussion among the Aurors and stared at Rogge with suspicion: "Why does it sound like the magic hot air balloon is easy to build?"

"Oh, you believe me or they believe me. We are friends, friends!" He skillfully pulled the rope above his head and piloted the hot air balloon to fly south.

"Gentlemen, the balloon will bear the mark of the Dark Lord, please do not get excited."

The Aurors had different expressions when they heard this. Some people tightened their wands nervously, while others showed confused expressions.

"Necessary disguise." He lowered his voice, "Bellinrum built these vehicles for the Death Eaters for this mission. Without the Dark Mark, it would easily arouse suspicion."

As soon as he finished speaking, the inflated balloon suddenly changed its shape and turned into a thick black mist. The mist quickly condensed, forming a huge skull.

Then, a sinuous snake body coiled between the holes in the skull. The triangular snake head snakes around the eye socket and finally protrudes from the skull's mouth. It spits out a long snake core, and its eyes exude a green light, which seems to be able to penetrate people's hearts.

Although this was not the first time they saw the Dark Mark, the Aurors in the hanging basket still felt sad. The mark was right above their heads, and the snake core was still outside bouncing back in the wind, so you could reach it by stretching out your hand.

This experience of close contact with the Dark Mark gave everyone a chill.

Rogge noticed the Aurors' reactions, but he made no words of comfort. This group of Aurors are all experienced old wizards. If they can't adapt to Voldemort's symbol, don't expect to be able to fight Death Eaters in a while.

"George, do you want to touch me?" a wizard with a cold temperament suggested.

"Touch?" The wizard named George swallowed. Fortunately, his nervous expression was covered by the crow mask and he was not laughed at by his bad friends.

"You're a coward like George, you won't dare. I'll bet 1 Galleons on who will come." The people next to him immediately shouted.

"I come."

Soon, a bet about courage quietly took shape in the hanging basket.

Two-thirds of the wizards bet that he would not dare, but a quarter believed that he could do it. The remaining Aurors chose to watch indifferently. They scanned the surrounding sky vigilantly, guarding against possible accidents.

Delis was leaning against the edge of the hanging basket, his right leg casually resting on the knee of his left leg, and his toes were swinging leisurely.

While touring the spectacular scenery around him, he casually introduced: "George is a Gryffindor graduate, but he must be scared right now."

Rogge was carefully checking his equipment and responded without raising his head: "Cowardly Lion?"

"Actually, he's not too timid." Delis thought for a while and said, "He's afraid of heights. In order to join the Aurors, he tied himself to a flying broomstick and hung himself at an altitude of 2,000 feet for a full day."

After hearing this, Rogge looked back at George and was surprised to find that his hesitant expression did not show that he was a person who was afraid of heights. "You can't tell, he's still a cruel person."

"He must dare to touch it." Rogge asserted.

"I think so." Before Delis finished speaking, George walked out bravely.

All eyes were on George. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, firmly grasped the edge of the hanging basket with one hand, and then leaned out half of his body.

The cold wind from high altitude blew across his cheek like a knife, but his hot blood rushed through his body under the violent pumping of his heart, as if it was about to break through his skin. Amid the exclamations and gasps coming one after another behind him, his other hand tremblingly stretched out three inches behind the snake's head.

For snakes, there are two places that are most deadly. The first one is the three inches that connects the nerve center and the body. It is extremely fragile, about the same as Lay's potato chips. The cat lifts its paw and slaps the snake's head hard a few times, which may break the neck-like area.

The second place is what is often called the seven inches. There is the heart of the snake, also counting from behind the snake's head. Attacking here can kill it.

George swallowed hard, his Adam's apple rolling up and down. His eyes were fixed on the Dark Mark in front of his fingertips, as if it was the only thing that existed in the world.

"I'm not a Ravenclaw who studies stupidly." Even though he graduated from Hogwarts many years ago, he still couldn't help complaining, "They might think that the weaknesses of all snakes and the distance between their heads are the same. Are pythons and cobras the same?"

When he saw that he was about to catch him, the wizard who had just encouraged him showed a sly smile. He waved his wand briskly, his movements almost too small to be seen.

In an instant, the black snake head turned around like lightning. The green eyes bloomed with a chilling cold light, staring directly at George, as if to freeze his soul.

"I'm afraid of heights, but not the Dark Lord!" George shouted, grabbing his hand forward, and passed directly through the snake body made of smoke, as if passing through a phantom of nothingness.

"Win, win!" The wizards who dared to touch him just now let out deafening cheers, and the hanging basket shook slightly because of their excitement.

George spat out, with a proud smile on his lips: "Hey, you cunning Slytherin. Did you see it? This is the courage and wisdom of a lion. I knew it was fake from the beginning."

"George, just pretend, your legs are shaking."

"That's because I'm afraid of heights."

"Why is your face so pale?"

"Refreshing." George rolled his eyes, eliciting a burst of laughter.

The Aurors talked to each other, joking with each other, and chatting about recent interesting things. The atmosphere was relaxed and happy.

Many people even got under the black snake's head and poked it gently with their wands, as if provoking an arrogant tyrant. They couldn't defeat Voldemort, but that didn't mean they were too fearful to even play with his symbol.

The black snake on top of the head is thick, long, and can turn. It is very lively when everyone plays with it.

"How about it, these Aurors are pretty good, aren't they." Delis had a somewhat proud expression on his face, his eyes shining with pride, "Nearly a hundred people graduate from Hogwarts every year, but only the best ones can become Aurors. These people are the elites of our magical world."

"I've heard of it." Rogge nodded, admiring the group of middle-aged Aurors in front of him who were speaking in pornographic voices: "The basic requirements are already very demanding: five NEWT certificates, and proficiency in Potions and Dark Arts. Defense Against Magic, Transfiguration, Charms."

"This is not a level that ordinary wizards can achieve, but they can only apply for training. After three years of rigorous training, only the best wizards can pass the assessment and become true Aurors."

"Hey, it's true." Delis took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and looked towards Maryland, which was getting closer and closer. "But we also have to pay attention to other things. Some people can become proud even if they don't meet the hard conditions. Luo.”

"After all, Aurors are different from other employees of the Ministry of Magic. Everyone can start as an ordinary Auror and eventually compete for the minister's throne." He skillfully lit the cigarette with his wand and took a puff, as if he was savoring something. " These Aurors could pass or fail, and were eventually sent to overseas branches.”

He turned to face the bottom of the hot air balloon and took another deep drag on his cigarette, this time burning half of it. Then he slowly exhaled the smoke through his nostrils, forming a hazy smoke ring.

"Last year," Dawlish's voice became low, with a hint of disappointment in his tone, "we only selected one suitable Auror. Coincidentally, the other eliminated candidates all had problems with Defense Against the Dark Arts."

He paused, flicked the ash, and a sharp light suddenly flashed in his eyes, "Four years ago, the situation was not so bad. I suspect, Dumbledore..."

He raised his wrist again, smoking slowly and steadily. After taking a deep breath, he flicked the cigarette butt towards the shrinking mountain on the ground. The cigarette butt was blown back by the strong wind, hit the hanging basket, and fell down in a spiral.

It took Dawlish half a minute to spit out the white smoke that had passed through his lungs. The smoke hovered in the air, as if condensing his worries. "I'm afraid there is something wrong with your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." He said.

"How many packs of cigarettes do you have in a day?" Roger frowned and gently waved his hand to fan away the smoke lingering at the tip of his nose.

Wizards are different from Muggles. They have St. Mungo's Hospital and potions. Even if their lungs are blackened, they can be cured. Roger snorted a few times and thought of the idea of ​​transforming tobacco to make money.

As soon as his thoughts ran away with the smoke, Roger pulled them back, "Four years ago, it should be when Lockhart was teaching. The writer who is good at forgetfulness."

Dawlish nodded, showing an expression of "as expected": "I hope it will be better this year." There was a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

The two glanced at the middle-aged Aurors in the hanging basket, then looked at each other, and instantly understood each other's hidden thoughts: the decline in the ability of Hogwarts graduates has nothing to do with the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Roger knew that before he intervened, the so-called curse forced the school to find a new professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts every year.

But this change did not affect the quality of teaching, at least during the first magical war.

But starting from fifteen years ago, when Voldemort disappeared, the quality of graduates has declined significantly. Fewer and fewer people can sign up for Aurors and pass the selection.

This can certainly be partly attributed to the return of peace in the wizarding world, and people's enthusiasm for becoming Aurors has decreased. But they know in their hearts that this is not the fundamental reason.

The two people's eyes met again, and a trace of suspicion was revealed in their eyes. The old wizard who controls Hogwarts may be consciously reducing the number of Aurors.

Rogge's thoughts drifted to the crisis not long ago. If Amelia had not acted decisively and directly transferred all Aurors from branches around the world, the current situation in the British wizarding world might have been irreversibly corrupted.

He took out two bottles of soda from his bag, handed one to Dawlish, and whispered: "We should thank Mr. Dumbledore."

Dawlish took the soda, his eyes full of questions. But he noticed that there was someone next to him, and cautiously did not ask directly.

"The great white wizard, our headmaster, Mr. Albus Dumbledore, is in charge of the British wizarding world. His magic is as strong as Merlin and his vitality is abundant. He provides the most solid and reliable help for us to resist the dark wizards." Roger glanced at the man and could not recognize him through the mask.

His tone was not sarcastic at all, only sincere and affirmative: "If it were not for him, the former Minister Fudge would be like the Muggle Prime Minister in No. 10, and would lose our overseas branch. The British Isles alone cannot support a large-scale Auror team."

Dawlish thought for a moment after hearing this, and nodded slowly. He threw the soda bottle casually, and the bottle drew a beautiful parabola in the air. I don't know which "lucky guy" will hit his head.

As a strong contender for the next minister, he has also dealt with Muggles in No. 10 Downing Street since Voldemort returned. Therefore, he also has a certain degree of understanding of Muggle politics.

His eyes became deep, as if he had traveled through time and space and returned to the war decades ago that almost exhausted the wealth of the Muggle government. The British Muggle government became the victor and thought that after the new peace treaty was signed, it could return to its peak by plundering colonies as before.

However, the world has changed, but it seems to have not changed.

London was split up by the other two Muggle countries, and the former British Empire became a kingdom that could not even unite with Northern Ireland.

"The so-called national liberation wave is nothing more than a byproduct of the other two Muggle countries curbing the old boss." Dawlish secretly mocked in his heart.

Imagine what would happen if Dumbledore was gone?

The American magic world and the European wizards would definitely try every means to launch a "liberation movement" for wizards.

At that time, the overseas branches of the British magic world would be in danger. The powerful Law Enforcement Department would also be reduced to a pathetic appearance of a few kittens.

"You are right." Dawlish turned to Roger and raised a knowing smile at the corner of his mouth. This time, he said sincerely, "We should really thank Mr. Dumbledore."

The two looked at each other again and reached a certain consensus silently. They both understood that in this ever-changing world, protecting the interests of the British wizarding community would be a long and difficult battle.

Especially after Dumbledore's death, the hyenas and vultures would come after hearing the news.

Roger pulled the rope, and the magic hot air balloon began to slowly descend. He looked over the edge of the basket and looked at the ground at hand. The splashing snow brushed his cheek, as if whispering an ancient truth: "Power hates a vacuum. Like the old wand, it follows the strong."

In the dense forest outside Fort Detrick, Dawlish immediately went into action. While distributing the maps prepared in advance, he made the final deployment in a concise and powerful tone: "Remember, we have only one mission: to save people!"

"Get in and out quickly, don't be entangled by the Death Eaters stationed. Each person is responsible for the tunnel at the location marked on the map..."

After the Aurors carefully studied the mission information, Rogge raised his wrist and checked the time with everyone: "3:42 pm, 23, 24, 25..."

Every second was like the sound of a war drum, beating on the hearts of the Aurors. .

"I am responsible for the possible Dementors and dealing with the snake virus." He said in a flat tone, "At 4:15, I will use Fiendfyre to destroy the entire underground laboratory. Everyone, don't linger, the hot air balloon won't wait for anyone. Today is Christmas, and there is a turkey dinner waiting for us."

As soon as the voice fell, Rogge snapped his fingers.

It seemed that an invisible force swept through in an instant. Without any command or agreement, all the Aurors shook their wands at the same moment and used the Disillusion Charm to eliminate their figures. The whole process was silent, like a carefully choreographed silent dance.

Bellingrum stared at the scene in front of him in amazement. The Aurors' figures disappeared in an instant, as if they had never existed.

He broke out in a cold sweat and muttered to himself: "Is this the Auror? I didn't even notice them casting a spell." Awe and fear flashed in the goblin's eyes.