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"I escaped from this place."
Sirius stood before the towering fortress, his face pale.
His gaze lingered on the black stone walls, and for a moment, he seemed lost in the past.
Returning to Azkaban stirred memories he wished he could forget—the harrowing years of wrongful imprisonment, the cold, soul-crushing despair that had nearly consumed him.
The fortress loomed ahead, its structure imposing and unyielding.
Built from jagged black stone, it rose in a sharp triangular formation, standing like an unshakable sentinel upon the island.
Ethan knew many prisoners were still held in Azkaban. A structure this size alone couldn't possibly contain them all.
"Over here," Dumbledore said, stepping forward toward a raised reef.
With a flick of his wand, he tapped the stone three times.
At once, the sea trembled.
A bridge of the same black stone emerged from beneath the waves, rising smoothly to form a path before them.
The surface was slick with seawater, glistening under the dim sky.
Carefully, the group crossed, their steps cautious as they neared the foreboding tower.
The entrance was sealed by a massive iron gate, bound tightly with layers of thick chains.
Magic seals, glowing faintly, were etched across the surface—a clear warning that brute force or ordinary spells would not be enough to break through.
Ethan was still wondering how they would enter Azkaban when Moody suddenly stepped forward.
He rapped his knuckles hard against the iron gate.
"Larry, it's me! Open up!" Moody barked.
Silence.
Then, a creaking sound echoed from the other side. A small square panel slid open, revealing a pair of sharp brown eyes peering out warily.
The eyes darted from one face to another before settling on Moody.
"Mr. Moody! It's really you!" The voice carried a mix of relief and excitement.
"Of course it's me! Now hurry up and open the damn door!" Moody snapped, impatience evident in his tone.
The eyes quickly vanished. Chains rattled as they unlatched, clinking one by one until, at last, the heavy iron gate groaned open.
A young wizard struggled to push the massive door aside, his face slightly flushed with exertion.
But instead of gratitude, Moody's expression darkened.
His scarred face twisted with fury.
"I've told you time and time again!" Moody thundered.
"Always check the password! Verify the wand! What if a Death Eater had used Polyjuice Potion to impersonate me? Would you have let them stroll right in like this?!"
The poor young guard, clearly overwhelmed, stammered out apologies, bowing his head repeatedly.
Dumbledore finally stepped in. "Enough, Moody. We have more pressing matters."
Moody grumbled but relented, stepping aside.
Only then did the young wizard, Larry, notice the group behind Moody. His eyes widened in recognition.
These weren't just any wizards—these were some of the most famous figures in the magical world.
His heart sank. He had just made a fool of himself in front of them.
But there was no time to dwell on embarrassment. Moody shoved past him, leading the group inside the looming triangular tower.
The interior of the leaning tower was far more spacious than it appeared from the outside—almost impossibly so.
Ethan immediately recognized the effect of an Extension Charm.
The fortress's true scale was hidden behind layers of enchantments, stretching far beyond its physical boundaries.
A long, dimly lit corridor stretched before them, lined with black wooden doors.
The group walked in silence, their footsteps muffled against the cold stone floor.
Muffled laughter and occasional chatter drifted from behind the doors—signs of life in an otherwise bleak place.
"This must be the new resting quarters for the Ministry's Hit Wizards," Ethan thought as he cautiously observed his surroundings.
Despite the grim reputation of Azkaban, it seemed the enforcers stationed here weren't entirely deprived of comfort.
Sirius, however, was growing paler by the second. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"Laughter, one after another…" he muttered bitterly.
"If the Dementors were still here, even the smallest sound would draw them in like moths to a flame."
Moody strode ahead, his pace brisk and determined, until he reached what appeared to be a small counter.
In truth, it was nothing more than a simple wooden table affixed to the stone wall, with a narrow slit carved into the surface.
Without hesitation, Moody shoved a stack of documents into the gap and waited.
A tense silence followed. Then, after a few moments, a single sheet of parchment slid back out.
The paper was stamped with numerous seals in different colors, each sigil confirming its authenticity.
Ethan scanned it briefly—it was their authorization to proceed further.
Moody gave the document a quick shake and pressed forward.
As they advanced, the corridor grew livelier, bustling with Hit Wizards moving in and out of their quarters.
Many stopped to acknowledge Dumbledore and Moody with nods or greetings, to which the two responded in kind.
Eventually, they reached a tall wooden door reinforced with intricate chains and heavy latches. Beside it, two towering stone statues stood motionless.
Ethan could feel the pulse of powerful enchantments woven into them.
Golems.
These were not mere statues but magical constructs, animated guardians crafted by master wizards.
Creating such a being required an elaborate magic circle and a vast reserve of magical energy.
Most were built from resilient materials like stone or metal, making them formidable in both defense and attack.
It was clear these two were here for one purpose—to guard the entrance to Azkaban's prison sector.
Moody scowled as he rummaged through his pockets, eventually producing a small, round metal sphere.
Stepping forward, he held the sphere aloft and advanced cautiously toward the golems.
The statues, previously still as sculptures, suddenly stirred.
With a grinding shift of stone, they moved, stepping forward in unison to block the doorway.
"Proof," one of them rasped, its voice devoid of emotion, more akin to a recording than a living being.
Without hesitation, Moody tossed the sphere toward the golem's outstretched hand.
The construct caught it effortlessly, then lifted it to eye level as if analyzing its contents.
A beat passed. Then, with a slow, mechanical motion, the golem opened its mouth and dropped the sphere inside.
A deep, rattling sound echoed from within, gears and mechanisms whirring to life as the magical sentinel processed the verification.
Then, at last, the golem moved again.