Chapter 4: Jailbreak, but an absolutely stunning phoenix
1468 Words
The snow continued to fall.
The heart continued to shiver.
The three poachers tied up by Ywen outside of Nurmengard dared not move. The warming charms on them had almost worn off, and they stood frozen in place, not daring to restore any warmth to themselves.
It wasn’t because they were cowardly; rather, this place was—undoubtedly—the wizarding world’s most terrifying f*******n ground of the century.
No one could be certain whether the dark lord resting within would notice the disturbance caused by these three insignificant interlopers. Neither could anyone be sure how many layers of enchantments the International Magical Court had placed on this dreadful place. If they recklessly used magic, would they trigger alarms, one after another...?
When Ywen finally descended from the tower, she was greeted by three snowmen.
She hesitated, moved closer, and waved at them.
The three snowmen sluggishly blinked, channeling all their energy into their eyelids, struggling to communicate a single message: **Save us...please...**
**“The Three of Us.”**
Ywen leaned back in mock appreciation, clapping her hands with a smile.
“Brilliant. Just a few more hours, and I’d have witnessed the wizarding world’s first case of fully-grown wizards freezing themselves to death.”
With a wave of her wand, a stream of warmth rushed toward the trio, instantly melting the thick snow covering them. A white mist rose as the snow turned to vapor.
Before they could even take a proper breath, a piece of parchment appeared before them.
Ywen shook the parchment lightly and whispered with a devilish smile,
“You wouldn’t want the Auror Office to find out you’ve been smuggling magical creatures, would you?”
“Now then, do something for me.”
On the parchment, a list of names appeared—names that carried enormous weight:
**Ominis Gaunt, Sebastian Sallow...**
Ywen mused aloud, her voice light and casual:
“Ominis probably wouldn’t stay at his family’s manor, and there’s a good chance Sebastian would be with him.”
**Poppy Sweeting, Garreth Weasley, Eleve Malfoy...**
“The Malfoys and Weasleys are relatively easy to track, but Poppy’s always been the tricky one,” Ywen sighed lightly, her expression carrying a bittersweet note. “She’s always been a wanderer.”
**Sirius Black, Catalina Crouch...**
The lead poacher, upon seeing a familiar name, couldn’t help but rub his eyes.
**“Sirius Black?”**
Ywen’s eyes lit up, and she leaned closer eagerly.
“Oh? You know little Sirius?”
Her sapphire-blue eyes sparkled, radiating an innocent joy that matched her youthful appearance.
The poachers exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions tinged with an awkward mixture of disbelief and bemusement.
**“Little Sirius?”** One of them twitched his lips. “You’ve got to be kidding. Ten years ago, that name was infamous!”
**Ten years ago?**
Ywen quickly realized they weren’t talking about the same person.
The poachers earnestly filled her in on the magical history she’d missed—details about the rise of the Dark Lord, the betrayal, the emergence of the Boy Who Lived, and the Voldemort who met his downfall at the hands of a baby.
Ywen fell silent for a moment, holding her forehead.
The Black family, it seemed, had a peculiar fondness for the word **“Sirius.”** Her junior, the sweet and soft boy she once knew, was one. But this Sirius, imprisoned in Azkaban, was another story altogether.
She had thought only the Gaunts could boast such madness in their bloodline. It appeared the Blacks were no less chaotic.
She sighed, missing her sweet little junior—the crystal treasure of Phineas Black’s lineage. That boy once chased her through ancient hidden passages.
No matter. It wasn’t a big issue.
For now, she couldn’t let these poachers go. She was new to this era and lacked manpower. If she wanted to revive the Ancient Accord, she’d have to recruit some talent from Azkaban.
Despite their sour faces, the poachers dared not refuse Ywen’s orders to follow her.
---
Azkaban, situated on a desolate island in the North Sea.
Ywen stopped at a seaside town to rest and gather some potion ingredients. After procuring what she needed, she began her work with practiced efficiency.
She didn’t bother enlisting the poachers for help, dismissing their skills as inadequate. Instead, she expertly prepared potion materials and tossed them into a cauldron.
With a wave of her wand, the cauldron came alive, bubbling with energy and emitting a peculiar fragrance. Within seconds, a special potion was complete.
After repeating the process a few more times, she neatly arranged several vials of potion on the table, packed them into her bag, and glanced at the trio.
“What?”
The poachers, wide-eyed and visibly shaken, watched the seemingly impossible unfold. Their expressions conveyed utter disbelief, as though their years at Hogwarts had been a waste.
“Ma’am, may we ask...what is this for?”
“The true warrior never fears a challenge.” Ywen smiled faintly.
“I must say, Azkaban does have its own charm.”
The trio: **What?!**
Ywen didn’t disclose her full reasoning.
Had she been in her prime, infiltrating Azkaban would have been as effortless as a stroll through the streets. All this preparation was an unfortunate necessity.
She glanced at the potions in her bag, her expression turning resigned.
Oh, the cursed Temporal Displacement Theory of Merlin’s Moldy Socks! Her current body was far too restrictive—a sieve-like vessel incompatible with her soul’s abundant magic.
At least she could rapidly replenish her magic from the atmosphere. For now, she could live with being a human sieve. Better that than being reduced to a Squib.
This time, she wouldn’t be dealing with comical poachers.
Ywen instructed the trio to stay put and promised to return shortly.
As she left the inn, she barely reached the alley’s end before she froze, her gaze flickering to a shadowy corner behind her. A faint pop of Apparition was masked by the street’s bustle, and a black cloak disappeared into the crowd.
There was no malice in the air.
Ywen pretended not to notice and moved on.
---
What was the theme of Azkaban?
Darkness, dampness, and relentless mental torment. A hellscape in every sense.
The black creatures haunting the prison’s air shrieked, their cries piercing souls and shattering defenses. They were the nightmares of all who resided here, and even the ability to sleep was a luxury in this endless cold.
He had long lost track of time. Sometimes, in rare moments of lucidity, he would marvel at his sanity.
Scratched lines marked the walls, attempts to keep track of his imprisonment. Over time, these marks had become erratic, disconnected from reality.
He clung to consciousness, refusing to become one of the lunatics around him. He needed to remind himself he wasn’t like them.
On rare occasions, he thought of the child he had wronged.
That innocent child, stripped of everything too soon... Was he grown now? How old was he? Did he look like his parents? Had he learned valuable things?
As for himself, he had long ceased to care about escape. His anger and helplessness were poisons, amplified by Dementors and etched deep into his soul.
Perhaps this was the punishment he deserved.
“Hmm? So thin...”
Ywen’s gaze turned complex as she stood before the cell.
Using Animagus form to resist the Dementors’ mental corrosion...a clever yet ultimately futile measure. Ten years of torment couldn’t be endured through makeshift means alone.
No wonder the black dog in front of her was little more than skin and bones. At the sight of her, it hunched, growling low in reflexive defense.
“Sirius Black...”
The moment she saw the black dog, Ywen mentally separated it from her soft-spoken junior. Same name, but utterly different souls.
“Can you hear me, little Sirius?”
The black dog remained unresponsive.
Suddenly, icy cold crept up from the ground, and Ywen’s peripheral vision caught a shadow—a Dementor gliding closer, carrying a piercing, soul-freezing chill.
The black dog instinctively curled up, trembling with fear.
But then—
**“Expecto Patronum!”**
Silver light burst forth, pure and beautiful.
A phoenix of dazzling brilliance emerged, wings beating softly as it ascended. Silvery mist trailed behind, dispersing the frigid despair with gentle warmth.
The warmth seeped into the heart, like the merciful grace of a phoenix bringing rain to a parched world.
Ywen turned, her smile radiant under the shimmering starlight.
“Allow me to introduce the most beautiful creature in this world—my Patronus.”
This magical being, elegant and extraordinary, seemed like a fairytale come to life, offering salvation to those lost in agony.
**“The Phoenix.”**
- Writer
