Lucius frowned at Karmit. "So, Karmit… why exactly are you here?"
Karmit shrugged.
"Nothing serious. I was just worried something might go wrong, so I stopped by. Harry Potter's relatives are… problematic."
"You're overthinking it," Lucius said confidently. "I can handle it."
Karmit rolled his eyes hard enough to sprain a muscle.
Sure, "you can handle it."
If he hadn't shown up when he did, Harry would have been short one family member— before even making his first friend.
Even if Harry didn't like his uncle, family was still family.
And one day, Harry would grow up and understand gratitude. Otherwise he wouldn't have spared the Dursleys during the final war.
Karmit didn't bother arguing. "Perhaps I meddled too much. Well then, Uncle, I'll be off. And you…?"
"I'm leaving too," Lucius said. "Didn't you arrange someone to bring Draco home? Let him enjoy himself."
Karmit nodded, and with a twist of magic, Lucius vanished.
Pure-blood families… so wonderfully arrogant.
Fortunately, Karmit was the same.
Karmit and Belinda apparated away together. When they reappeared, they stood on a rocky coast.
Far across the water, cloaked in heavy fog, a dark tower rose from a lonely island.
Azkaban.
Britain's wizarding prison, guarded by Ministry Aurors—and the soulless Dementors.
A small boat glided from the mist and stopped at the shore.
Bilair dropped to one knee. "Master."
Karmit stepped forward and was standing in the boat in the next instant.
Belinda joined him, and once both were steady, Bilair began rowing toward the island.
They docked at a narrow landing.
Before they could disembark, Aurors surrounded the boat, wands raised.
"Halt! No one is permitted near Azkaban!"
Karmit didn't even glance at them.
His eyes were fixed on the looming shape of the prison.
A pity, really. This enormous, expensive structure… would soon be gone.
Bilair leapt onto the stone platform and tossed a rolled parchment to the lead Auror.
"The Ministry's authorization," he said.
The Auror grabbed it, still keeping his wand trained on the group as he unrolled the document.
After scanning it carefully, he sighed and motioned the others to lower their wands.
"I don't know how you convinced the Ministry to issue this," he muttered. "There has never been permission to visit Azkaban. Ever.
But once inside, we have no control. The Dementors won't follow orders and have no humanity.
Are you sure you want to enter?"
"Yes," Bilair replied. "That is exactly why we're here."
"Very well," the Auror said. "Go where you will. Just be careful."
With the formalities done, Karmit stepped off the boat and headed deeper into the fortress.
The Aurors watched them disappear into the fog.
"Boss… we're seriously letting them go in?" one whispered. "Dementors won't obey Ministry directives."
"Our orders were simple," the leader replied. "Do not interfere."
The others nodded. The lead Auror stared at the three silhouettes fading into the mist, wondering who they really were.
.....
The deeper they walked, the colder the air became. Fog thickened around them, carrying a chill that prickled their skin.
Bilair and Belinda raised their wands.
With a flick, two silver-white clouds burst into life.
One condensed into a rabbit beside Belinda. The other rose like a ghostly vulture above Bilair.
Their Patronuses.
Karmit scowled.
How could these two lunatics produce Patronuses, yet he—no matter how hard he tried—could not?
Even when he recalled his fondest memories in this world… nothing. Even the joy he felt while slaughtering Knockturn Alley's gangs did nothing.
It was honestly embarrassing.
The Patronuses' light pushed back much of the creeping cold.
Dark shapes flickered in the fog—Dementors, circling warily. They didn't dare come closer with the Patronuses guarding Karmit's group.
Which suited Karmit fine.
He could deal with them another way, but why waste the effort?
They passed row after row of iron-barred cells.
Inside, prisoners sat slumped—filthy, hollow-eyed, utterly drained. Years of Dementor exposure had robbed them of everything: hope, will, and thought.
A few newly imprisoned witches and wizards still had enough strength to reach through the bars, begging for help.
Bilair drove them back with harsh commands. Karmit ignored all of them and continued upward.
The highest cells held the most dangerous ones.
The Death Eaters.
One cell after another passed, until finally— He stopped. Inside, a wild-haired woman crouched in the shadows.
Her tangled hair hid much of her face, but when she lifted her head, her eyes gleamed with madness and bloodlust.
Bellatrix Black— fifth-generation Black family, and Karmit's other aunt.
Karmit clicked his tongue.
"Well, well. Aren't you a sight?"
Bellatrix snarled and threw herself at the bars.
"Blood," she hissed. "I can smell Black blood in you. You're one of us.
You're the bastard of that traitor, Regulus! I remember you!"
Karmit nodded. "Yes. You tried to kill me once. But unfortunately for you… they caught you before you had the chance."
__________
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