The Old Ones of Hogwarts

Chapter 424, Section 423: The Dementors' Submission

Chapter 424, Section 423: The Dementors' Submission

Ian stood in the empty corridor, like a drop of water merging into the ocean. The African Ministry of Magic at night was deathly still, a stark contrast to its daytime atmosphere. Pale white magical wall lamps, embedded in the walls, cast a cold, eerie glow, barely dispelling the heavy darkness, only adding to the sinister atmosphere.

The air was thick with the musty smell of old parchment, dust, and some kind of magical cleaning agent. He unfolded the animal hide map provided by Babua, his fingertips slowly moving across it, his mental energy acting like invisible tentacles, corroborating the defensive nodes marked on the map.

Thanks to this incredibly detailed intelligence, Ian now had a complete grasp of the magical layout of the area.

"Anti-Phantom Shift Barrier, moderate strength, sparse node distribution."

"The magic warning network has blind spots in its coverage area, and its energy fluctuations are slow..."

"A patrolling puppet? Oh, it's charging and hibernating at the corner of the third corridor, haha. That saves a lot of manpower. The Ministry of Magic also has Commissioner Smith here."

"The spatial confusion barrier is interestingly set up, but unfortunately it's poorly maintained. The energy flow is sluggish, and the flaws are obvious. It's clear that the craftsmanship is inadequate."

Ian strolled leisurely through the intricate corridors, silently assessing his movements. His motions were as light as a ghost, his footsteps landing silently on the smooth marble floor. Occasionally, his figure would blur slightly as if blending into the shadows, only to reappear dozens of meters away in another corner, skillfully avoiding all the still-functioning surveillance magic and physical sentry posts.

He even passed by several rooms that were supposed to be the staff rest rooms, and could hear the even sounds and hazy dreams coming from inside, even through the doors. Clearly, the night shift discipline here was quite "lax," and most of the night watchmen were fast asleep, entrusting their safety to what he saw as a flawed defense system.

perhaps.

Those golems and defensive knots were things that these Ministry of Magic officials were proud of, unaware that many elite wizards had maps that allowed them to avoid them.

Not to mention a legendary wizard like Ian. Of course, it's also possible that these Ministry of Magic officials are very clever, knowing that many wizards come in at night with the key sold by Commissioner Smith, so they prefer to avoid trouble and go to sleep at night, assuming nothing will happen.

"If that's the case, then it's incredibly clever—even more incompetent than the British Ministry of Magic." Ian finally came to this conclusion, with a hint of inexplicable absurdity.

While the British Ministry of Magic is also rife with bureaucracy, it at least maintains a respectable facade, especially after the upheavals of Voldemort's two resurgences, demonstrating a basic level of security awareness. This place, however, seems stuck in the last century, or rather, has never truly prioritized internal defense.

Even the door key can be taken out and sold.

You can imagine how outrageous it is.

However, despite this, Ian did not let his guard down, nor did he wander around aimlessly like a headless fly, trying to find Newt Scamander by chance.

He wasn't one of those three youngsters, like Harry Potter, relying on his protagonist aura and acting on impulse. He was Ian, a legendary wizard with extensive experience and meticulous planning. Blindly searching within such a vast building, protected by perception-interference barriers, was the least efficient course of action.

"Don't panic when you encounter a problem, use your brain more."

Ian's gaze fell on the map again, finally locking onto a node that was specially marked and had a significantly higher defense level than other areas—the "Magic Vein Central Control Room".

Any mature magical organization must have a core control hub for its various barriers, monitoring, teleportation networks, and even energy supply.

This is the "brain" of the entire African Ministry of Magic's magical system. Find it, control it, and you'll gain a "God's-eye view" of the entire Ministry of Magic.

Once he identified his target, Ian moved with even greater speed and stealth. Following the optimal path indicated by the map, he avoided several areas with unusually active energy reactions, approaching the central control room deep within the Ministry of Magic building like a master of stealth.

The control room door was forged from thick, black metal mixed with mithril, intricately engraved with defensive runes, and faintly gleaming with a dark luster. There were no guards on duty at the door—perhaps they were overconfident in the door's defenses, or perhaps the night shift staff had truly become so negligent.

"Could the Minister of Magic have sold the key?" Ian couldn't help but think about it. He didn't attempt to force it open or use a lock-picking charm—that would immediately trigger the alarm. He extended his right hand and gently pressed his palm against the cold metal door.

His magic, like the finest trickle rather than a raging flood, began to seep in very slowly and carefully.

This wasn't brute force, but rather an extremely sophisticated alchemy and magical manipulation technique. His magic simulated the energy frequency of the defensive runes within the door, like a master locksmith gently turning an invisible "key" to examine the complex magical structure inside. He was "understanding" the door's construction.

Rather than "fighting" it.

The process lasted about five minutes. During this time, Ian was highly focused, as it was slightly more complicated than he had anticipated due to the ancient magic involved.

But that's about it.

Finally, with an extremely faint, almost inaudible "click," the complex magical lock on the door was silently released. The heavy metal door slid open a crack just wide enough for one person to pass through, and Ian slipped in. The door then closed silently behind him, as if it had never been opened at all.

The control room was even darker than the outside, with only a few rows of crystal panels embedded in the walls emitting a faint blue light. Countless fine runes and data streams flowed across them, displaying the energy status and basic monitoring information of various areas of the Ministry of Magic.

In the center of the room was a huge, three-dimensional magical projection resembling a sand table, but the projection was dim at the moment, clearly not operating at full capacity; in this respect, the African side was trying to save as much as possible.

The air was filled with the faint smell of ozone produced by the overload of the magic crystals and the faint hum of the machines running.

"There really are no guards."

Ian glanced around to make sure the room was empty. He walked to the main control panel, which was covered with various buttons...

A complex device consisting of a pull rod and a crystal connector.

Instead of touching the physical controllers, he placed his hand on the largest crystal panel in the center of the console, which was used to sense the operator's magical authority.

"It's time to show my true skills," Ian thought to himself, a confident smile playing on his lips.

His powerful mental and magical energy surged into the control panel like a tidal wave, but instead of forcibly seizing control, he used a more sophisticated method—"deception" and "assimilation."

His magical properties began to mimic the fluctuations of the highest authority officially certified by the African Ministry of Magic. At the same time, he applied some alchemical techniques about energy channeling and system intervention that he had learned from Musa's notes.

[Ding, Alchemy Proficiency +11]

[Ding! Magic Circle Proficiency +8]

The system notification sounded again, confirming the complexity and innovation of Ian's current actions. He unfolded the animal hide map that Babua had given him with his other hand.

Magic overflowed from his palm, like living ink, and began to rapidly outline, fill, and cover the map!

The static lines and markings on the map seemed to come alive, merging and reconstructing with the real-time magical network information fed back from the central control room!

This was an extremely ingenious operation, equivalent to creating a more powerful "Marauder's Map" specifically for the African Ministry of Magic on the spot! He used the map from the intelligence merchant as a base and the Ministry of Magic's own surveillance and population information database as a source to carry out a rapid alchemical "compilation" and "upgrade"!

"I really am a genius!"

A few minutes later, Ian withdrew his hand. The animal hide map in his hand had been completely renewed. The map had become three-dimensional and dynamic, clearly displaying the three-dimensional structure of the entire African Ministry of Magic. Countless tiny dots of light were slowly moving, and next to each dot appeared a simple identification mark—that of the personnel still within the Ministry of Magic at this moment!

The Ministry of Magic's registration of wands and collection of identity information for wizards within its jurisdiction now served as the perfect database for this map. Ian could even vaguely sense the approximate magical power level and state of the wizards represented by those dots—awake/sleeping/

The alert is indeed a genuine upgraded version of the Marauder's Map.

"Now, let me see—Newt Scamander, where are you?" Ian said in a low voice, focusing his attention on the "Search for Specific Person" function.

The scene on the map changed rapidly; irrelevant points of light dimmed, and the entire structure of the Ministry of Magic was being quickly flipped through and located as if by an invisible hand. Finally, the image froze on the lowest level of the Ministry of Magic building, a dark area marked "Underground Detention and Severe Penitentiary District."

Above, a slightly brighter spot of light, clearly marked "Newt Scamander (in custody)," was slowly moving within one of the small cells.

It seemed that for some reason, perhaps because he couldn't sleep, he was pacing back and forth inside.

Ian frowned slightly.

"An underground prison area? And it's not even a temporary detention cell... It seems Professor Newt has been framed for something serious this time, and is being treated as a serious offender."

The prison district is located in a special area of ​​the Ministry of Magic, unlike Azkaban, which is a separate island. In Africa, criminals are often imprisoned underground within the Ministry of Magic.

This was worse than he had anticipated. Temporary detention cells usually only restricted freedom and were reasonably comfortable. But throwing him directly into an underground prison meant that the African Ministry of Magic had likely already unilaterally charged Newt with some serious crime, pending either the completion of procedures or a more severe trial.

We can't delay any longer.

Ian memorized the detailed route to the underground prison area. He didn't damage any equipment in the central control room; he simply erased all traces of his actions silently, and then left as quietly as he had entered.

Upon reaching a secluded, shadowy spot in the corridor, Ian's physical form began to change. His body shrank, his black robes transformed into dense, jet-black feathers, his outstretched arms became powerful wings, and his facial features twisted and reshaped. Finally, a raven with sharp eyes, an entirely black coat, and almost blending into the surrounding shadows gently landed on the corridor's wall lamp stand.

Raven Ian flapped his wings and glided silently, following the path he remembered towards the hidden staircase entrance leading underground. He avoided all areas that might still be under surveillance, following the paths unmarked on the map but easily found through experience—ventilation ducts and structural gaps—deeper and deeper.

The deeper one goes, the more damp and chilly the air becomes, and the dimmer the light grows. Mottled water stains and moss begin to appear on the walls, and the stifling smell in the air is gradually replaced by a stench mixed with mold, excrement, and despair. The defenses here become rudimentary—thick doors reinforced with anti-magic metal, and crude magic-banning runes carved directly into the walls, but they too lack careful maintenance.

Finally, he passed through the last invisible energy barrier, which was useless to him, and officially entered the underground prison area of ​​the African Ministry of Magic.

The scene before me could only be described as filthy and chaotic. On either side of the narrow passageway were cells sealed off with thick iron bars; the floors were sticky, covered in years of accumulated grime. Dim oil lamps flickered on the walls, casting distorted, swaying shadows. Occasionally, suppressed coughs and the dragging of chains could be heard emanating from deep within the cells.

Or perhaps the words are ambiguous, adding to the eeriness.

To Ian's surprise, there were hardly any Dementors here. He only sensed two faint, cold Dementors at the entrance to the prison area and in the farthest corner. They seemed to be in a lazy, semi-dormant state, far less "dedicated" and malicious than their counterparts in Azkaban.

"It's truly—it reeks of perfunctoriness and decay from the inside out." Raven Ian stood on a cold, rusty iron pipe, his sharp bird eyes scanning the oppressive prison grounds. His self-glow finally locked onto the direction of Newt Scamander's cell marked on the map.

The next step is to contact this innocent magizoologist without alerting anyone and find out what happened.

For Ian

This is not a difficult task.

Whether or not the Dementors are diligent in their work, they are essentially useless to Ian, and in fact, they are helpful assistants who are of great benefit to him.

"come over."

Ian transformed back into human form.

He beckoned to a Dementor—unlike when he encountered other intruders, the Dementors sensed Ian's aura and immediately came running over.

This was entirely within Ian's expectations; he had simulated the aura of the "real" raven he had seen in the illusionary realm.

The Dementors naturally treated him with such humility, even more so than when they met high-ranking officials of the Ministry of Magic—but what could they do? After all, the Dementors were servants of the ravens in the Enchanted Realm, and they were behaving this way when they met Ian.

It was as if they had seen their owner again after many years.

The humility in that memory was thus awakened.