Outside the window, the clouds were overcast, the gray-black sky shrouded the choppy sea, there was no day or night, and the only way to tell the time was to rely on those magic clocks that walked automatically.

Ning An glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, and the hands stopped at a sun symbol, which meant that it was already daytime.

He placed a book on his desk with a pitch-black cover, three inches thicker than an Oxford dictionary, with the words "μα?ρο?μαγικ?? μυστικ?, which means "Secret of Magic", contains many ancient Greek magics.

This was the third book that Ning An had studied in a month, and Sandak seemed to be quite satisfied with his progress, but he himself didn't think so.

The castle was far more obscure than he had imagined, and there were not only magical books written in magical scripts, but also many ancient books compiled in languages from all over the world.

Ning An was indeed able to barely read these books with the help of literacy magic, but most of them were difficult and obscure, and it often took a lot of time to work day and night to construct the magical principles hidden in them.

During this time, Ning An never left this study, every time he woke up, he would sit at the desk, open the thick ancient book, and begin to study line by line, word by word, only when he was so sleepy that he had to rest, he would go to the bed next to him and take a nap.

He finally understood why Scineck's year was a bit short, there was not enough time.

Lifting up the wide cuffs to expose his arms, Ning An was wearing a pure black retro wizard's robe, it was difficult to find other styles of clothes in this dark castle, and Ning An couldn't go a month without changing clothes.

He didn't wear that matching tall horned hat, and it was really inconvenient to walk between the bookshelves with something like that.

Ning An gently brushed away the black hair that covered his ears with his hand, rubbed his temples, and the silver earrings on his earlobes shone with a clean luster and swayed slowly.

He took out a small mirror from his arms and placed it on the table, this mirror has a nose and eyes, and a pair of arms grow on both sides, and it pinched the "waist" to command Ning An

"Behind the ears - behind the ears —" the sound was high-pitched, like some kind of alarm clock or alarm.

Ning An followed the instructions of the mirror, brushed away the hair behind his ears, the white hair flickered, he pinched the strand accurately, and then pinched it off, shook his hand, and let it fall aside.

Putting away the small mirror, Ning An leaned back in his chair and straightened his back, the gray hair on his head was not all due to his study of magic day and night.

Not long ago, he had told Gentak about the problem of traces, hoping that he could help him solve this problem, but Gentak said to him with a low smile:

"I guess you don't have to worry about this, the magic you're talking about will only work for children under the age of eighteen, right?"

Ning An nodded, the Ministry of Magic relied on traces to monitor whether minors were casting spells outside of school, although it was not accurate, but it was also a trouble for Ning An.

"To be exact, the traces of your body should be gone by now—" Sunny didn't reply, and said in a suppressed voice:

"It's life—do you think that coming here with the Resurrection Stone is a free price? - You've already consumed ten years of your life, so don't worry, the magic you mentioned won't affect you. ”

Ning An didn't care how long he had left to live, as long as he had enough life before he finished what he had to do.

But a small annoyance was that a few strands of gray hairs had occasionally grown on his head lately, and if he didn't pull them out, there would be more and more, so he had to squeeze out precious time to dedicate to them.

Ning An, who put away the small mirror, sat in his chair and did not continue to study the thick book of "Secrets of Magic", he had been a practicing wizard since he was a school at Hogwarts, and here, he also arranged time for himself to practice magic.

On the other side of the study, there were no bookshelves, no red carpet ever stretched, and all that could be seen was a blue-gray stone wall covered with scratches, corrosion, and even scorched marks, as if it had been ravaged by magic a thousand times.

Ning An walked over slowly, the back hem of the black robe had been dragging on the ground, he didn't like to stain the robe, so he stood on the red carpet on this half.

With bare hands and no wand, Ning An stretched out his right palm, let it go flat, and his lips squirmed slightly

"Fluorescent flicker—"

A dazzling ball of light rose and hovered above Ning An's palm, like a small sun, emitting a strong light.

After maintaining it for about five minutes, Ning An shook his hand, blurred the light, and ended the spellcast.

He was honing his wandless spell casting abilities, and for wizards, wands were a wonderful tool to aid in spell casting, as they could increase the power of magic and give good control, and wandless spellcasting was an extremely difficult technique.

Immature young wizards often inadvertently cast spells without a wand because they can't control their own mana, but the process and results of this wandless spell casting are usually beyond their control, which is by no means the direction of Ning An's training.

Ning An has to do a technique that only many powerful wizards can master, even without using a wand, he can still cast many powerful spells and control them with unmistakable precision.

This can ensure that they can retain a certain amount of strength even after losing their wand, but the importance of wands is absolutely irreplaceable, and no wizard wants to lose their wand, which is their second life.

Ning An was also just in case, he guessed that after he escaped from Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic would definitely intervene in the investigation, and some of the things he did might be found out, so the situation he would face would be very dangerous.

So he had to desperately build up his strength, even though he was actually quite tired after studying the obscure magic.

The training of wandless magic is not as easy as reading, and Ning An has continued to practice from the most basic "Fluorescent Spell" to the slightly more advanced "Imprisonment Spell", until he feels that his strength is about to be exhausted and his energy can no longer keep up.

At the moment, he was a little nostalgic for the "Wisdom Potion" he had made, which he had taken to keep himself energized when training in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts.

But the conditions of Hades Castle were limited, and he couldn't get the materials to make potions, so he had to yawn, tuck the cuffs of his robe, go to the simple bed prepared for him by the desk, lay down, close his eyes, and fell asleep in a short time.

In his dreams he would go back in time, back to Hogwarts, back to the days when Calidora, Daphne and even Hermione, Harry, and Ron were all on good terms; Back in the Potions classroom, listen to Snape roar at Neville; Return to the Slytherin table and join Samantha and Walter to discuss the evening's dueling training.

Whenever this happens, the corners of Ning An's mouth will raise a pleasant smile, which may be the best reward for people who are tired for a day.

Ning An in her sleep didn't know what was happening on the other side of the veil, and the living world was always much more interesting than the monotonous Stygian Sea.

The icy waters of the North Sea swirl into whirlpools, and July is the warmest time for the region, when the temperature can reach more than 10 degrees Celsius, but there are always places where the weather is like winter, and even in the most pleasant season, the water can still be stormy and cold.

Azkaban, built on an isolated island in the middle of the North Sea, is a prison dedicated to witches, and the members of the prison are generally made up of those who are extremely evil and dangerous.

Connelly? Fudge's tips tapped lightly on the dirty, wet stone floor, and he frowned, his breathing becoming heavy, as if just stepping on the ground would make him feel unpleasant.

Reaching out and straightening the round black top hat on top of his head to cover his curly gray hair, which he had always felt made him look very unmotivated, as Minister of Magic, he couldn't do without energy.

The dark striped suit fits snugly over his short, stout body, and his gem-encrusted palm in his left hand contrasts with his crisp suit, looking like a gentleman.

In his right hand was a copy of the Daily Prophet's Newspaper, which Minister Fudge had tried to soothe his disgust with before coming here, but he was in no mood to open it again when he arrived in Azkaban, he just wanted to get things done and get out of this damn place.

"Alright, let's hurry—" He waved his staff, motioning for the two Aurors behind him to follow, followed by four tall figures.

They were in pairs, wearing tattered cloaks, and their bodies smelled of decay as if they had been soaked in water.

A pair of scabbed palms firmly grasped the small figure in the middle, one left and one right, as if afraid to let go of a good meal.

"Annoying guy."

Fudge felt uncomfortable every time he stood with these Dementors, and even though they didn't dare to absorb the Happy Memories of the Minister of Magic, Fudge felt like they were peeking at him from through the cloak.

It's creepy.

To divert his attention, Fudge swept his gaze to the cells on either side, where the prisoners had been held for so many years had survived in Azkaban.

Most of them were unfazed by Fudge's arrival, and many of them sat on the ground in a daze, muttering something to themselves, their eyes blank as if they were not long to live, and the Dementors would soon take them up; Others were about to go crazy, banging their heads against walls and letting out incomprehensible hysterical shouts.

Fudge had a headache to look at, and instead of distracting his attention from the Dementors who were upsetting him, he felt even more disgusted.

At that moment, Fudge's eyes swept over the corner of his eye, catching a glimpse of an acquaintance, who was considered "normal" in the prison.

Although he was skinny, the cheekbones of his cheeks were clearly visible, and he hid in the corner of the cell as if he was going to die at any moment, but his eyes still retained the light of sanity, and he did not fall into madness.

Fudge stopped, turned his head to look at the wizard, and spun his left cane, and then the wizard in the cell saw him.

"Good morning, Minister—"

Surprisingly, it was the dying wizard who spoke first, and he spoke in a coherent voice, much to Fudge's annoyance.

"You're still alive, Blake." Fudge said coldly, hiding his surprise, he had never seen anyone so awake after so long in Azkaban

"Why didn't these damn Dementors torture this guy to madness?"

Fudge roared inwardly, if it weren't for his disgust with the Dementors, he would have wanted to talk to the Azkaban guards.

"Newcomer?"

Sirius? Blake rolled his grey eyes and caught a glimpse of the Dementors behind Fudge holding two fifteen or sixteen-year-old wizards each.

One of the wizards, who had a bulging Adam's apple but looked like a girl, was staring at Fudge in front of him with wide eyes, and the sneer on his face made his heart chill to watch.

Noticing that Sirius was looking at him, he turned his head and screamed with a maniacal smile on his face:

"Samantha – nice to meet you! ——”

But soon he was silent, and the Dementors who were holding the boy were very unhappy with his outrageous behavior, and Fudge jumped to his feet and turned to look at the little wizard angrily

"Damn, evil seeds—the Dementors can't shut you up, huh? You'll be here for a while! ”

Then Fudge turned around again and looked at Sirius? Blake's calm appearance made him feel uncomfortable for a while, and he didn't want to stay any longer, so he stepped forward.

"Wait, Minister—"

Blake looked away from the wizard who called himself Samantha and the dwarf, ugly wizard behind him, staring gloomily around him, and fixed his eyes on the Daily Prophet in Fudge's hand.

"Huh?"

Fudge turned his head and looked at Black anxiously.

"Have you finished reading it? - I mean, the newspaper. Blake slowly lifted his skinny hand and pointed out.

"I'd like to do the crossword puzzle above—"

"Here you go—"

Fudge could no longer stand Blake's calm, clear, and organized conversations with him, and he threw the newspaper into the cell in frustration, scolding softly, "If you want to play so much, play crossword right here until you die." ”

After saying that, he snorted heavily, and walked forward without looking back, and the Aurors, Dementors, and the two wizards who were escorted behind him slowly followed.

"Thanks—Minister."

Blake's gaze followed the group to the end, and he could no longer see, filled with endless worry, this was the first time he had seen such a young wizard imprisoned in Azkaban.

"What's going on out there? These two men should have been in a wizarding school — Hogwarts — Harry — Harry—"

Sirius thought helplessly, he was anxious, and seeing that people had already passed, he hurried forward to pick up the newspaper that Fudge had thrown in, and read it intently.