Kreacher kept his distance, not daring to approach her.
Sirius lay there in decadence.
The table beside him was covered with all kinds of gold and silver tableware and jewelry.
He looked like he had eaten his fill and even taken a short nap.
Elara’s approach woke him up, and he nervously picked up his wand.
Seeing it was Elara, he relaxed, but still signaled for her not to get closer.
Most normal people wouldn’t want to share a room with a Dementor.
“We should go,” Sirius said.
Elara nodded.
“By the way, I still don’t know your name,” Sirius asked.
Elara shook her head, indicating she had no name.
“Then how will I contact you?
I can’t tell which Dementor is you.”
Elara pondered for a moment: “Call me William.”
“Your name?”
“The original owner of that wand in your hand.”
Sirius acknowledged this, having no interest in investigating which poor soul the wand in his hand belonged to.
He casually took less than ten pieces of jewelry.
“They aren’t all magical items.”
“As long as they’re worth the price, that’s enough.”
“It’s even more than enough; the rest is a gift for you.”
“Then, I hope the next time I see you, it won’t be your corpse.” Elara chose to leave.
And Sirius also had to leave.
Come to think of it, Azkaban must have already discovered that Sirius was missing.
1:00 PM.
Indeed, upon discovering that Sirius was gone, the Ministry of Magic officials immediately began arguing with one another.
“How did he disappear?
How could he have disappeared?”
“Whose fault is this?
Who was on patrol yesterday?”
“It was me.
He was still here yesterday, but he’s been a bit abnormal these past few days, you know.”
“Go tell that to Fudge.”
“Should we look for him again?
Maybe the Dementors can find him?”
“Really?”
“We should report it.
Even if he swam, he’d be close to land by now.
We’d better prepare for the worst.”
Regardless, the Dementors were dispatched to search the nearby waters, with orders not to attack humans.
However, Moody had already Apparated here—it was obvious someone had tipped him off.
A magical eye was set in his socket, capable of rotating 360 degrees, constantly spinning.
A wooden prosthetic leg with claws tapped against the stone floor, making a clacking sound.
That was the unique gait belonging to the strongest Auror in Britain.
Not only did the Ministry of Magic officials shut their mouths, but even the restless prisoners in the jail cowered.
Especially those hardened criminals—most of whom had been personally captured by this scarred Auror in his old leather trench coat.
Mad-Eye Alastor Moody had rushed over the moment he received the news.
“What are you doing?
Squabbling like little girls!
Everyone back to your posts, no more mistakes.
Take me to his cell to see.”
The cramped cell was empty, mocking this prison that claimed to be the most secure in the world.
That soul-piercing magical eye kept observing every trace of evidence, scanning the prisoners who spat at him, as well as the Ministry of Magic officials acting as guards, and the Dementors.
His crooked mouth ground its teeth.
“I said it long ago, these Death Eater should have been executed directly.
Why keep them alive?
Now look, the most ferocious traitor has actually escaped.”
“What time do you think he escaped?”
“Probably at night.”
“Give me an exact time.
Every one of you who was here that night, think carefully—unless you want to end up as one of the prisoners inside instead of a guard.” Moody was like an enraged lion.
“Now, send all the Dementors out.”
“Constant vigilance!” he emphasized repeatedly.
He repeatedly examined the scene, guessing how Sirius had escaped.
Then he noticed something.
To the side of the cell, a prisoner seemed to still be in a deep sleep.
“Who is locked in here?”
“Bellatrix Lestrange.”
“Open the door, wake her up!”
The person nearby tried to wake the Death Eater, but there was no response.
Moody signaled to open the cell door directly.
He stepped forward to check—Bellatrix Lestrange looked like she was asleep, but she was an empty shell, without numbness, and without her usual madness.
Moody’s expression instantly turned extremely ugly.
He smashed his fist hard against the wall.
“What’s wrong?” an official hiding in the back, afraid of being caught in the crossfire, asked cautiously.
“The Dementors gave her a Dementors Kiss.
Keep all Dementors here, contact all Aurors to search for Sirius, and seal off the House of Black and other places he might go—we have big trouble.”
What Moody didn’t say out loud was: the Dementors voluntarily giving Bellatrix Lestrange a Dementors Kiss meant either she was escaping at the time, or someone had ordered the Dementors to do it; what was even more worrying was if this was the Dementors’ spontaneous behavior.
Both of the latter two possibilities meant that the Dementors were no longer trustworthy.
And why were the Dementors no longer trustworthy?
Moody thought of Dumbledore’s concern; perhaps Lord Voldemort had not truly died.
6:00 PM, Moody sat alone in Sirius’s cell, continuing his investigation while eating the food he had prepared.
“Moody, you don’t have the authority to issue orders.” A round, stout fat man burst in, rebuking Moody for his audacity.
It was the Minister for Magic—Cornelius Oswald Fudge.
Moody’s sharp gaze stared directly at Fudge’s double chin and ruddy complexion.
Fudge dared not meet his eyes, looking away in a panic, and turned to angrily rebuke the Ministry of Magic official beside him: “What have you done?
How did you let Sirius escape?
How do you expect me to be seen by others?”
“Seal off all news.” This was the first order Fudge gave after arriving.
“I have already notified Dumbledore, Fudge.” Moody told him directly.
“How could you tell a non-governmental person?
Of course, that’s not what I meant…
This is just a small problem, we can solve it ourselves.”
“Do you know that he hasn’t been normal these past few days?
He hasn’t slept all night, muttering ‘He is still alive!’ I think this is the reason for his jailbreak—he wants to kill someone he believes is already dead.
Who do you think it is?”
“Who?” Fudge was even more flustered.
Moody’s look of disdain became more obvious, yet he had to communicate with this person holding the highest power in the British Ministry of Magic.
“Harry Potter—the Boy Who Lived.
He is already twelve years old and will be going to school soon.”
“That’s right, he is the Dark Lord’s man, he must be going to kill Harry Potter.
That does indeed require contacting Headmaster Dumbledore, but there’s no need to make such a big fuss about it, is there?”
“Minister, I have already requested the The Daily Prophet to post a wanted poster for Sirius.” Barty Crouch Sr.
also learned the news and walked in.
The thin, upright figure made Fudge instantly feel like he was facing a great enemy.
He scolded: “Crouch, this is not your duty, this is not something you should meddle in.”
“Is letting an unprecedentedly dangerous fugitive run loose what you, as Minister, should be doing?” The stern-eyed Barty Crouch Sr.
undoubtedly took control of the conversation.
Fudge wiped the sweat from his forehead, trying hard to look like a Minister.
He cleared his throat, but his voice was still weak.
But he had obviously changed his mind: “Of course, we must vigorously pursue such a fugitive.
However, Aurors have their duties.
Increase the number of Dementors, and at the same time, send out a portion of the Dementors to hunt down Sirius.”
Moody directly objected: “No, haven’t you noticed that Bellatrix Lestrange was killed by the Dementors?
I don’t think the Dementors are trustworthy either.
Let the Aurors do the hunting.”
Crouch rebuked: “Moody, this is not the place for you to speak.
If Bellatrix Lestrange is dead, she’s dead.”
“Maybe Bellatrix Lestrange also wanted to escape, so the Dementors executed her—and Bellatrix Lestrange was covering for Sirius.
Yes, that’s it!
That’s why Sirius was able to escape.
Yes, that’s it!”
Ignoring Moody’s objections, Fudge issued the order:
A bounty of ten thousand Galleons for Black’s head.
At the same time, all Aurors were deployed, and all Dementors, after leaving a minimum contingent to guard Azkaban, were dispatched to assist the Aurors in hunting down Sirius Black—the most evil criminal in the history of Azkaban.
He had escaped from Azkaban with the cooperation of the Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange, and Bellatrix Lestrange had been subjected to the Dementors Kiss.
And Elara watched as Sirius disappeared at the end of the street, while she quietly waited for the arrival of her colleagues.