Hogwarts: Oh no, I've become Voldemort!

In fact, that person had been arrested for almost half a month, but all the court procedures were only completed today.

A man named Tom Riddle.

Fudge found this somewhat absurd, because according to Dumbledore's explanation, this Tom Riddle seemed to be someone from fifty years ago. And he had just seen that vicious criminal this morning before he was taken to Azkaban.

Surprisingly, the person didn't look fierce at all. In fact, Fudge thought the man was quite handsome and was clearly a student. How could he be someone from fifty years ago?

However, after searching through Hogwarts' graduating class roster for so many years, he did find a person named "Tom Riddle" from fifty years ago, but there is currently no evidence to suggest that the arrested boy was "Tom Riddle".

The other party neither protested their innocence nor admitted to anything they had done.

In reality, the boy refused to say another word besides insisting that his name was "Sylph." Furthermore, he maintained a smiling expression towards Dumbledore throughout the trial.

Even Dumbledore himself was a little confused.

But regardless, the boy was already on his way to Azkaban. Whether he was the successor or not was no longer important. The people only wanted a result, regardless of whether it was right or wrong.

Even if he was wrong, Dumbledore had his backing, so what did it have to do with Cornelius Fudge?

He returned to his office and had barely sat down when Umbridge knocked on the door and said in a sugary voice, "Minister, you have a new appointment."

"An appointment?" Fudge was already annoyed; he couldn't recall having any important meetings today.

“It’s Lucius Malfoy.” Umbridge gripped the doorknob with one hand and pressed the other against the doorframe, her voice sharper than before, her words dripping with monetary implications.

Fudge immediately knew that his good fortune was about to arrive.

"Let him in."

Umbridge chuckled as if his throat had been choked, closed the door, and then a man with long white hair, carrying a noble silver cane and looking somewhat pretentious, strode in.

"Long time no see, Mr. Malfoy. I suppose you're here about that curse that threatened the other board members? To be honest, it's not an easy matter to handle. They all want to make you suffer."

As soon as Fudge saw Malfoy, he immediately put on a troubled look, just like a shrewd businessman.

“There are concerns about that, sir.” Malfoy walked straight to Fudge’s table and slammed a full bag down in front of him. “But I’m more interested in knowing about that—‘Tom Riddle’—he seemed to have mustered a lot of courage to say the name, paused for a few seconds, and then continued, “was he really caught and sent to Azkaban?”

Fudge practically pounced on the huge bag of Galleons, beaming with joy.

“Dumbledore arrested him himself, how could that be fake? Mr. Malfoy, we all believe that the so-called intimidation was just a little joke, and it’s absurd for anyone to try to convict you on that basis. However, I have no say in the decision made by the Hogwarts Board of Governors.” Fudge quickly put away the large bag of Galleons, as if afraid that Malfoy might change his mind.

"Thank you very much, then I'll take my leave..." Malfoy's expression was uncertain, and he tapped his cane on the ground with a loud thud. He walked to the door, placed his hand on the handle, and suddenly stopped, turning halfway to the side.

"I wonder if I have the right to visit Mr. Tom Riddle?"

“In principle, it’s not possible, Mr. Malfoy. Dumbledore actually suspects you have some connection with that Riddle,” Fudge said somewhat awkwardly.

Upon hearing this, Malfoy did not hesitate and immediately threw out another large sum of Galleons.

Fudge took a deep breath, his two fat hands rubbing together involuntarily. "I heard that Mrs. Malfoy has two relatives in Azkaban? Why don't you go and visit them? I don't think anyone has the right to disagree."

"Thank you for your guidance, Minister." Malfoy slammed the door shut.

As Narcissa walked out of the Ministry of Magic, she found him waiting anxiously outside. Seeing Malfoy emerge, she rushed to him, took his arm, and whispered in his ear, "Is the news true? Was that person really...?"

"It's true, but nobody knows if he's really in jail or if it's intentional. I heard he was smiling the whole time during the trial. Maybe he was planning to rescue those Death Eaters?" This was the point that Lucius Malfoy couldn't figure out.

“Go back and write a visitation request. We’re going to see Sirius Black. We’ll tell everyone it’s because we’re after the Black family’s fortune.”

Narcissa nodded stiffly.

-

Cyrus faced the floor, his hands were magically bound behind his back, his legs were bent, and his once meticulous black hair fell down, blocking his view.

The prison van continued moving forward, and after an unknown amount of time, he heard thunder outside, and at the same time, the temperature in the air began to drop.

Cyrus immediately realized that he was now close to Azkaban.

Azkaban is located in the North Sea, where the temperature is indeed lower than in other places, but it's only June, so it's not cold yet. The only explanation is that a large number of Soul Eaters have gathered here.

Soul Eaters have the ability to alter the climate; one or two Soul Eaters can lower the temperature of an area, and a large number of Soul Eaters gathered together will create a dark world where there is no daylight.

However, if the plan goes smoothly, he won't care about these Azkaban guards.

His hair swayed on his forehead, and suddenly, a hair fell down, turning into a tender green leaf before his eyes. Cyrus quickly raised his chin, caught the leaf, and put it in his mouth.

These are leaves of mandrake. Cyrus picked a few just thinking they might be useful, but they never expected them to become his lifeline.

Two weeks ago, on the very night he was captured by Dumbledore, he had already figured out how to escape from Azkaban.

Becoming an Animagus is the best way.

It's not easy to do, but this is his last resort, and today is a full moon.

To complete the Animagus transformation, several other materials were needed. He was gambling that Lucius Malfoy would come to visit him in Azkaban after he learned he was in prison.

He won the bet.

Chapter 85 Hogwarts Fifth House

"Your journey has come to an end, Tom Riddle."

The prison wagon pulled by the Thestrals suddenly stopped. The wind outside the wagon roared like a huge machine, forcing the Auror driving the wagon to shout at the top of his lungs.

However, without the other party's reminder, Cyrus could clearly perceive the difference here. The temperature in the air had reached freezing point, and the cold felt like steel needles piercing his skin, bone marrow, and even soul.

Once the curtain in front of the prison cart was lifted, the biting chill became even more unrestrained.

Cyrus's binding magic was partially released, but his hands remained tightly bound, and he slammed heavily onto the prison cart floor. The Auror reached out, grabbed his shoulder, and lifted him up.

This was a very strong Auror, with white hair and a completely expressionless face. But in a place like this, even the most optimistic person would find it hard to smile. Cyrus learned the man's name as he was being led onto the prison cart: John Dexter.

"Get down!" Delis ruthlessly dragged Cyrus out of the prison cart.

Cyrus suddenly felt even colder.

A strong wind howled in, almost making it hard to stand, as if hundreds of Snapes were simultaneously unleashing their "Eye of the Beholder," cutting like knives. But Cyrus almost ignored the temperature, instead being captivated by the terrifying sight before him—even Voldemort's memories rarely showed Azkaban.

Cyrus's impression of Azkaban came only from snippets of information in a novel from his previous life.

But this feeling is even more pronounced when you're actually there.

What came into view was a huge black vortex. The strong wind seemed to have swept in all the dark clouds of the world, making the sky very heavy and low, as if it were connected to the gray square tower.

Cyrus's pupils contracted slightly.

Azkaban has almost no day or night, let alone moonlight.

He suddenly felt utterly hopeless, realizing that mastering Animagus required moonlight. First, he needed to hold a mandrake leaf in his mouth for a full month, specifically from one full moon to the next.

Cyrus deliberately remained silent during the trial in order to delay the proceedings and wait for the full moon.

The first step was merely a matter of timing, but the second step required the magic of moonlight. He would place the leaf, soaked in his saliva, into a small, transparent bottle during the second full moon, allowing it to receive the pure moonlight.

But there was no moonlight in Azkaban.

In that case, even if he is highly skilled in magic and can use his fingers instead of a wand, what use is it for Lucius to secretly deliver dew and the pupa of the hawk moth?

A sense of powerlessness began to sprout in his heart and grew rapidly, turning into despair that spread quickly.

He felt like a pitiful, faint candle flame flickering in an endless storm, its tiny glimmer of hope so fragile that it could be extinguished in an instant…

My body was shivering with cold, as if I had fallen into an icy sea.

"Hurry up and get inside!"

Delilah's cold and powerful roar instantly pulled Cyrus back from despair.

He suddenly realized something was wrong. It was just that there was no moonlight in Azkaban. There was a solution, although it would be a bit troublesome, but it wasn't to the point that he would immediately fall into despair.

As Delilah pointed his wand at him toward the gray tower, he looked up—

The Soul Eaters hovered in the air like sharks lurking around their prey, greedily savoring the few positive emotions Cyrus had left. It was this very thing that had just drained Cyrus's hope, turning him into a pessimistic figure, unwilling to think of anything.

Now that he's regained his senses, he's gotten used to these monsters harassing him from a distance.

Delis seemed to loathe and fear these monsters as well. He didn't want to stay here a moment longer and wanted to get Cyrus into the prison before leaving this terrifying place.

There are no Aurors stationed in Azkaban now; the Aurors are only responsible for escorting prisoners. To be honest, this is a good thing for Cyrus.

The black seawater crashed against the even darker reefs. The only pristine white feature on the island was the cluster of lonely, messy graves.

"As expected of the fifth house of Hogwarts, it's truly magnificent." Cyrus and Dexter passed through the tomb, Dexter showing no interest whatsoever in Cyrus's little bit of humor.

If Cyrus made the other prisoners in the jail laugh, that would be news!

Stepping into the gray tower, one is immediately struck by an unbearable stench. Clearly, it has never been maintained by anyone; the stench is worse than a hundred Snapes's greasy hair piled together.

Stepping through the tower's gates, the prisoners, dressed in black and white striped uniforms, lay disheveled and unkempt on the ground, looking as if they were dead. There was no welcoming ceremony for Cyrus, the "newcomer," and in fact, they had no interest in anything.

“I must say, they’re really cold, aren’t they?” Cyrus turned to Delilah and said, “I’ve heard that the people of Azkaban are very good at talking, and they’re all talented. I thought there should at least be a welcome party, with a chair and a hat placed at the door, and then a shout of ‘Cyrus, Azkaban!’ followed by some applause.”

He didn't expect Delilah to answer him, but in fact, the big man's lips curled into a rare, cruel smile:

"Speak so nicely? I didn't expect you to have gone crazy before even going to jail!"

"When you meet those prisoners who have been sentenced to life imprisonment like you, you'll know how nice they are to talk."

These distraught prisoners were actually those who had only been in Azkaban for a short time, and their sentences were probably only a few months long. Like that big guy who left not long ago; he was in that state back then.

But what about those who have been here for decades?

It's hard to imagine their mental state.

Cyrus quickly understood what he meant.