The Ministry of Magic officials stationed here generally went to sleep on time, but even so, their wands were basically never far from their side.
Just as people cannot forget their clothes, a wand is that important to a wizard.
This was normal; after all, this was the highest-security prison in the British wizarding world, housing a large number of Death Eater.
But in reality?
With the Dementors present, unless the Dark Lord were alive, the Dementors could basically deal with any fool trying to break in or out.
So sometimes, resting easy, they would even forget to feed the prisoners.
This only left the prisoners in Azkaban cursing and swearing, which ironically made them feel more energetic.
Apart from being so attentive to their own wands, they were quite casual about everything else.
Thus, after wandering around the vicinity for a few days, she discovered that the biggest problem hindering her great cause was this: she would be detected the moment she got close.
The depression aura that came with Dementors was simply the best alarm system.
Even though she was different from other Dementors and knew how to restrain the negative energy field on her body.
But that feeling was like holding one’s breath constantly; it was extremely uncomfortable.
And she would still be discovered.
A lost wand would also lead to an investigation, which would inevitably attract the scrutiny of some truly formidable figures.
She certainly didn’t want to explore how a Dementor might die—although, in the original lore, there didn’t seem to be a way to kill a Dementor.
But who knew?
Otherwise, why would Dementors docilely eat leftovers in Azkaban?
So, was the only option the wands at the security desk?
Of course, just grabbing them wouldn’t work.
Those were just prisoners temporarily detained here; their wands were the safest targets.
The moment they were released, their wands would be returned.
As long as she could make them dizzy enough, they wouldn’t have the energy to care if their wands were on them.
By the time they left Azkaban, they probably wouldn’t have the energy to investigate when their wands had gone missing.
Furthermore, having lost it at Azkaban—a place all wizards feared—they wouldn’t dare make a fuss for fear of being locked back up.
She believed that British civil servants possessed a virtue passed down through generations that would smooth everything over for her.
That subtle time difference was the best opportunity for her to strike.
And she also needed the full cooperation of her colleagues.
Using half-baked telepathic communication and gesturing, she finally made the Dementor leader in front of her understand her meaning.
She exchanged longer patrol shifts in the high-security prisoner area for extra patrol time in the low-security prisoner area.
And for her, there was probably no difference between being three-tenths full or five-tenths full during extra high-security prisoner patrols.
The leader didn’t ask what she wanted to do; it just hesitated for a few seconds, probably deciding it was a good deal, and agreed.
However, even though Dementors don’t have eyes, she still saw a look of caring concern for an idiot from the leader.
It must have been an illusion; Dementors don’t have eyes, after all.
But she had to reiterate: her colleagues were the ones who were a bunch of idiots.
She began to scout for a target.
The low-security prisoner area was a mixed bag, with people of varying quality, and she needed someone who wouldn’t dare make a fuss if their wand was lost, had no ability to investigate after being released, and ideally had such poor relationships with others that no one would stand up for him.
Soon, she locked onto a young man named William.
A Ravenclaw graduate, arrested for illegally forging and selling magical artifacts.
He had been locked up for a few weeks and was about to be released.
This guy had a foul mouth in prison.
Even the Auror who brought him to prison had been insulted to his face by him, let alone his cellmates.
He naturally fell to the bottom of the hierarchy, scrubbing toilets, his food stolen, and no one came to visit him.
So she took special care of him for a few days; even though he ate on time every day, she controlled how much he ate each time, sucking away an extra mouthful or two to keep him in a half-dead state.
It wouldn’t attract the attention of the Ministry of Magic officials stationed there, who would just assume this William was in poor health.
Of course, to prevent this Ravenclaw from actually dying here, she also took care of his cellmates, also to prevent William’s cellmates from committing a major mistake that would double their sentences.
She was truly too kind.
This made the exceptionally foul-mouthed Ravenclaw feel a bit better and saved him from being shoved into the toilet and beaten a few times.
This Ravenclaw naturally grew visibly thinner, and after a few days of “loving education,” his foul-mouthed habit had improved, and he had become much more reserved.
His roommates also liked to call him “Ravenclaw,” mocking this self-important smart aleck.
Regarding this, although William was full of deep resentment toward his cellmates, he had no choice but to endure it.
She also guessed that William’s wand hadn’t been destroyed—perhaps because the forged items hadn’t been sold yet, and he had been arrested purely for his foul mouth.
One could only say that if he corrected his biggest flaw, he would surely be able to make something of himself after getting out.
And for such a talent, she naturally had to “labor his heart and mind, and toughen his sinews and bones,” adding some insignificant hardships for him.
Perfect.
Stealing his wand would have the minimal consequences.
Hopefully, he had truly learned patience.
The day finally arrived for William to be released.
While high-security prisoners were locked up until death, low-security prisoners had the opportunity to be let out in turns for air.
This Ravenclaw named William counted the days until his release on his fingers every day.
The day finally arrived, and the time of his release was at a subtle moment when other prisoners were not around.
He had long since secretly packed his things in the cell, and now he took the opportunity to swipe the chocolate and candy that others had hidden in the cracks of the stones, as well as something unimportant in prison—money: a few Knuts, a large amount of Sickles, and one Gold Galleon.
William excitedly tore up his cellmates’ newspapers and threw them into the toilet, and he even planned to throw the others’ blankets in as well.
Suddenly, he froze.