The next day, Ranko went on a trip to Diagon Alley to replenish what he was missing.

When he had bought all his things and returned to Durmstrang through the Ministry of Magic, it was nearly noon.

The snow-shrouded world was untouched, and the warm flames licked the fireplace, and after a moment in the East Tower, Ranko returned to the North Tower.

"Come out with me."

After finding the hapless saint, Ranko carried him back to his room.

"Teach, Professor." Diongo grimaced, not daring to resist.

Returning to school in this way was a nightmare for him, and no matter how gentle the professor was, it was almost a betrayal in the face of him.

Professor Harlenius even planned to throw him out of the top of the North Tower with a spell.

Now, coupled with the voices of the other two saints who often quarreled in his head, he was in a trance every day except for the time that was dominated by that unknown memory, and he didn't look like a normal person at all.

These few days were the most painful time of his life.

It's like a tall tower that has been rotting from the bottom, he doesn't know how long he can hold out, his head is like blowing it off, if it weren't for the existence of a bottle of potion every day, he is afraid ......

And the wizard in front of him......

Diongo stared at the wizard in front of him, and when he saw the other party take out a pure white feather and a stone from his pocket, he couldn't help but widen his eyes:

"That's?"

"A dark magic artifact with a summoning spell fixed."

Ranko took out the roster again, left it on the table, and tucked Oreo's feathers between them to use as a disposable portkey, before he looked at Diongo.

"Mr. Gustafsson, the amount of mental thickener is not enough, and if you can't get enough raw materials to make it, you should know what I mean."

The Psychic Thickener can be used to resist the onrush of other souls and spirits, and without this legendary potion, he would have become mad the moment two souls and a highly mentally tainted memory were stuffed into his head.

So, this potion is tied to his life.

Diongo was silent for a few seconds, then nodded silently, "I see, Professor." ”

Are you going to ask him to find that kind of raw material?

"It's good to understand." Although Ranko hates fools, he still has a certain affection for some guys who know they are tool people.

At least it won't hold him back at a critical moment.

"Then let's go."

Taking out the stone that summoned the living corpse, Ranko waved his wand and let it float from his hand.

And in his eyes, the summoning spell fixed on the stone was gradually changing with the wave of his wand.

If you leave it to an ordinary wizard, let alone rewrite the spell, but understand, cracking is a big problem. But for Ranko, his eyes are the most powerful force.

But there is not enough knowledge and theory, not enough practical practice, even if you can see the color of magic and truly understand the nature of magic, you can't tamper with it at will.

The unique power that has accompanied him since his birth is only the icing on the cake after all, and it is itself that really plays a role in it.

Whether it's wizards or Muggles, everyone is on the same page in some things, and no one is born in Rome.

With the change of the spell, the summoning spell that was originally used to summon a living corpse of Azkaban was reversed into a portkey, which led to the jurisdiction of the country he had just returned from in the morning.

Azkaban.

An icy island in the North Sea.

"Take advantage of the free time in these two days, hurry up and gather all the raw materials for the soul thickener, if the Longbottoms really need the intervention of the dark magic treatment, it will be another potion expenditure."

As the sky swirled, the two disappeared silently in the north tower.

In the room, the closed roster suddenly opened, and the feathers of the eagle slowly floated up, as if they were being held by a hand.

The school's will silently appeared in the room where there were traces of humanity not long ago, sitting on the table, playing with the pure feathers in his hands.

In the corner of the room, in the basin formed by the accumulation of cold and biting ice, the phoenix egg with a mysterious and unique pattern suddenly moved, and then fell silent again.

The school willpower to lay down the feathers, close the roster, and disappear like an eraser as she had been when she came.

——

How cold is the coldest place?

Durmstrang's area is arguably the closest to the North Pole in the world, and a place where wizards can set foot.

But the cold there is from the outside in, and wizards have many ways to keep themselves warm, even if they wear inappropriate short sleeves, they can get chic in a place where winter has come.

But now they are in a place that comes from the heart, and there is no way to get any means to keep it warm and cold.

Azkaban.

This is the land of sin, and all the truth, goodness, and beauty will disappear when you enter this area.

It's one of the safest prisons in the wizarding world, with heinous murderers, nameless thieves, wrongdoers, and madmen who want to tear everything apart.

But here, at the end of the day, there is only one kind of person.

Desperate, numb puppets.

"Azkaban is known as the most secure prison in the world, one of which is because it is inaccessible by conventional means."

In a wasteland full of dry bones and tombstones, the air suddenly distorted, followed by two figures dressed in blood-red wizard robes.

Diongo couldn't help but crouch down and vomit as he appeared above the Azkaban realm.

"The Portkey made with the Summoning Spell Reversal is not very stable." Ranko behaved well, and kindly told Mr. Gustafsson: "Of course, when you have too many illegal portkeys, you will get used to this feeling of vertigo." ”

It's strange that a key to a wizarding prison can be legal.

This kind of door key is good to ensure that you reach the designated place.

Unfortunately, Diongo didn't notice Professor Malfoy's kindness, and as soon as he stopped vomiting, his vegetable-colored face was followed by a burst of blue and red, and he lowered his head.

Looks like I'm going to have to vomit for a while...... Professor Malfoy, who was going to ask the guards here to give Mr. Gustavsson a luxury package, shook his head regretfully.

The sky was overcast, the rain was coming, and there was not the slightest breath of living people on the island where Azkaban was located, and if there was anything about it here, it was naturally death, and the breath of despair that went straight to the marrow.

"The second is because of these things."

Ranko looked at the huge triangular buildings not far away, and the tall figures that could be seen everywhere, floating in the air like living people.

Gray-white monsters covered in unknown slime and gray-brown spots surrounded the island in dense clusters, patrolling the icy prison where no one from the living and no one from the dead.

With breathing and contact, the cold air penetrates into the skin little by little, and all the joy, happiness and beauty are gone.

This is not the place for the living.

Before the Dementors could notice the extra living, Ranko ripped off a piece of skin from his arm and threw it away.

The piece of skin that had left Ranko and began to glow rapidly with yellow-green oil was driven by an invisible force, and floated to the back of Diongo's neck, which was still spitting heavily, and then attached to his neck, perfectly fitting and hiding.

The exit of the portkey is not inside Azkaban, but in a cemetery not far from Azkaban.

Ranko looked at the tombstone where the portkey landed, and there was no description on the tombstone, and there was no record of who was buried here, where it came from, and when it died.

Even the cold tombstone was just a stone that could be seen everywhere, and it was placed here at will.

The wand in Ranko's hand pointed downward, and the silent spell was accompanied by a pitch-black light, instantly sinking into the ground, eroding the living corpses hidden under the tombstone.

How did the saints mark the living corpses of Azkaban? Probably there are saints among the prisoners here.

Ranko has some guesses, but there is no guarantee that this is the truth.

Since he can enter illegally, it cannot be ruled out that other people can also enter here by other means.

There is no such thing as a safe place.

"Like gathers like, people divide into groups, Azkaban is the happy home of the Dementors, and the chance of dark magic creatures here is much higher than in other places."

Patting the blood-red wizard's robes that weren't dusty, Ranko stood up and looked at the sheer number of Dementors floating in the air.

He looked at the pale face again, at the wizard who looked like he was going to die, and thought sympathetically: Oh, if he knew what the raw materials of the thickener were.

I guess I'll vomit blood, hehe.

"Let's go."

Ranko raised his legs, ready to leave the cemetery and head towards the icy prison not far away.

Diongo behind him followed with a bitter face, and along the way, he trembled as he watched those three-meter-tall, eerie monsters float by, and felt a chill in the air in his lungs.

"These are, Dementors?"

Durmstrang also had a prevalence of dark magic creatures in his dark arts education, and Diongo recognized these things, as well as the tall fortress-like presence in front of him......

A place name is about to come up, but he doesn't have the joy of unraveling the mystery at all.

Azkaban, Wizard Prison.

"I'm glad that you didn't give back all of what you learned to the professor who taught you, Mr. Gustafsson."

Ranko chuckled and confirmed his guess.

But there was one thing Diongo didn't understand, he thought so, and he asked, "But why didn't they attack us?" ”

Regardless of the book in which the Dementor is written, it is written about its dislike of the living and their attraction to them.

Like moths to a fire, where there is a living, emotional person, they will flock to it until that person becomes as cold as they are, and they will give up.

But now the situation is different, and the Dementors floating in the air are not attacking them.

It's like, they're just moving corpses?

Ranko smiled meaninglessly, not explaining the question.

Do Dementors notice monsters in human skin? Perhaps, what if the monster's skin was entangled with countless overlaps, with the most vicious curse, waiting for the prey to come to the door with its mouth wide open?

It looks like a sweet and delicious jelly on the outside, but when you bite into it, you will find that this jelly has a bright and beautiful appearance, but the inside has long been rotten.

In some ways, creatures of the dark magic have a unique intuition.

Like death.

Blood-red wizard robes fluttered in the cold wind, and there was no sunlight in Azkaban, where countless Dementors were inhabited, and even if the sky was clear, nothing would bring warmth.

The two walked across the barren land, which was littered with bones, the bones of prisoners who had not been properly settled, discarded by the Dementors on the ground, and which would one day become part of the land as the sea breeze eroded them.

Forever, imprisoned with the soul in this most desperate prison.

Approaching Azkaban, before he actually touched the cold, high fortress, Ranko suddenly asked:

"Mr. Gustavson, do you know how Dementors are created?"

Diongo thought about it cautiously, he subconsciously wrapped the clothes on his body with a chill, and said rationally and honestly: "I don't know, they are entrenched in Azkaban all year round, and there is no accurate explanation to prove the cause of the Dementors. ”

No one would want to study Dementors and set foot in this prison themselves.

Even if they had, they would forget themselves in the torment of day after day, and only think about leaving.

"The British Ministry of Magic has set up Azkaban as a wizard's prison, and has put a lot of prisoners here, including thieves, murderers, madmen, and innocents who have done nothing but been wronged."

"They lost themselves day after day, year after year, all hope and remembrance, and one day they would die in a cold cell, where no one knew and no one cared when or how he died." ”

"The British Ministry of Magic considers this the safest wizarding prison because of its peculiarity and the large number of Dementors entrenched here."

"There is a lot of speculation about how Dementors were born, and the closest thing is that 'they were born from corpses, out of hope, but finally in despair.'"

"Professor, you, you mean—" Diongo's eyes widened.

"Nothing is absolute, the truth is always there, just see if anyone can find it."

Just like that graveyard, not far from them, in the gloomy underworld, new Dementors were born from the cold corpses.

The British Ministry of Magic created Azkaban, and Azkaban created the Dementors.

Dementors, on the other hand, are never left alone.

Walking up to the huge wall, Ranko took out his wand, aimed it at the wall, and waved it at will.

The blackened bricks began to bulge and dent with the swing of the wand, rolling to the sides, eventually revealing a narrow door.

"Welcome to Azkaban."