Chapter 655: Azkaban Prisoners, Father and Son

Silver Hand Manor.

A special guest had arrived.

A wand spun between John’s fingers, his gaze scrutinising the person before him.

The man remained silent. Only his tightly clenched fists betrayed the turmoil in his heart.

"You want to see your father?"

A faint smile tugged at John’s lips as he looked at him casually.

"Is that a request, or an exchange?"

"Theodore."

The wand in his hand stopped spinning. The nicks along its surface were enough to suggest that its owner had been through quite a lot.

Hearing John’s question, Theodore fell into an inner struggle.

He clenched his fists so tightly that his fingernails pierced his palms, yet he did not even notice.

The Nott family was declining. Everyone could see it.

Within the Ancient Alliance, the name Nott had been removed.

This once-sacred member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight had failed to adapt to the arrival of the new king and had become an abandoned piece.

Theodore had also begun to understand the burden he carried as a Nott.

His grandfather could no longer hold on.

Of that ancient pure-blood line, only one person remained.

He struggled inwardly as the glory of Slytherin echoed through his mind.

Slowly, he knelt and lowered the proud head he had once held high.

"I beg you, my great king."

With his head bowed, he said, "Please allow me to see my father one last time."

He understood that he had to sever that bond of family.

"Considering that you retrieved something for me," John said, raising his wand slightly, "I told you before that you would lose everything."

Theodore replied in a deep voice, "I don’t regret it."

John lowered his wand and nodded.

"Go to Knockturn Alley tomorrow. Someone will take you there."

He stood and looked down at the former Slytherin before him.

Theodore had proven his loyalty through his actions, but he had never been firm.

He had wavered repeatedly between loyalty and his father.

Now, at last, he had made his decision.

The wand had been in John’s possession for some time.

A ring had been hidden inside Lippi’s wand.

That ring was now in Barty Crouch Sr.’s pocket.

During this election, the ring would become the weapon that killed the hero.

John glanced casually at Theodore.

"You may leave."

"Thank you, my great king."

Theodore stood and backed away.

Just as he turned around, John suddenly said, "You’re not a good man, Theodore."

Theodore stopped.

John did not look at him as he continued, "But you’re not a bad man either. That will make your life painful. Don’t let Pansy down. That foolish girl has been waiting for you all this time."

Pansy had spent no small amount of effort searching for news of Theodore during this period.

Ever since John had sent Theodore to Poland, using his identity as a student to retrieve the item, he had never returned.

Pansy Parkinson had not given up.

She had begged her father, Mr Parkinson, to use the power of the Ancient Alliance to search for him.

Perhaps she was hopelessly lovestruck, and not particularly clever either.

But there was nothing unpleasant about her love.

John placed the wand on the desk.

"The old Nott has already been eliminated. The future of the Nott family depends on your choice."

As long as Theodore remained, the Nott bloodline had not died out.

He understood what John meant.

If the Nott family was ever to return to its former position, the only path forward was through him.

Theodore stepped out of the study.

"It’s time to make a decision, Father," he murmured.

He wanted to see his father one last time and tell him of his choice.

The next day, Theodore went to Knockturn Alley.

A Ministry employee was waiting for him and smiled.

"Mr Nott, please follow me."

They boarded a Thestral-drawn carriage, and the employee flicked the reins.

The carriage rose into the air as the scenery rapidly receded around them.

Theodore sat inside in silence.

He did not say a single word until they landed again.

The employee led Theodore into the new Azkaban.

"Please don’t stray too far from me."

The Ministry employee was one of Azkaban’s guards.

If Theodore moved more than two metres away from him, the prison’s defences would lock onto him and attack.

The new Azkaban looked even more magical than the old one.

The Death Eaters and Dark wizards imprisoned inside turned towards the newcomers, pairs of hollow eyes fixing on Theodore.

Members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight were among them as well, though some were treated differently.

Among the prisoners, two stood out in particular.

"Norman."

Old Goyle, who had not only failed to lose weight in prison but had actually grown considerably fatter, greeted the employee.

His eyes then landed on Theodore, and his face lit up.

"Theodore? It’s me, Uncle Goyle."

"Uncle Goyle?" Theodore froze.

He struggled to connect the much rounder man in front of him with the big, simple fellow he remembered.

His gaze shifted towards Goyle’s cell.

At first glance, it did not look much different from the others, but on closer inspection, the food was clearly far better.

There were even Gobstones, wizard chess, and other forms of entertainment.

"You came to see your father?" Old Goyle asked with a simple smile, rubbing his belly. "You really need to talk some sense into him. He’s still dreaming about the days of Voldemort."

"All right, Old Goyle." Norman shook his head helplessly. "You’ll be getting out soon enough. You should worry about losing some weight first."

Old Goyle looked unconvinced.

"Have you seen Crabbe? He’s the fat one."

Norman was speechless.

What was there to compare?

To be fair, he was somewhat envious of those two fools.

Most people who entered Azkaban came out half-dead at best.

But those two had not only avoided losing weight, they had actually gained it.

Even their original life sentences had been reduced to two years.

Once the two fools understood how things were going to end, they decisively abandoned Voldemort.

They had not wasted the opportunity that both the older and younger generations of their families had fought to secure for them.

Their two-year sentences were almost over, and somehow they had managed not to cause a single problem.

When Death Eaters were first imprisoned here, most of them screamed and shouted.

Those two, however, had behaved as though they had returned home.

As time passed, they naturally grew more relaxed and fatter.

The others imprisoned alongside them would either remain here until death or had already died.

Those two would be walking free after only two years.

Of course they were happy.

Theodore’s heart sank at the sight.

If he had gone directly to John back then, perhaps his father would not have ended up in a place he could never leave.

After saying goodbye to Old Goyle, they continued deeper into the prison.

Azkaban was divided into nine upper levels and nine lower levels.

The farther down they went, the more serious the crimes became, and the worse the conditions grew.

A bone-chilling cold seeped from the lowest level.

Theodore exhaled a breath of white mist.

Then he saw his father.

Old Nott was emaciated, almost like a living mummy.

His hair hung loose around his face, and he muttered endlessly to himself.

"I’ll wait for you outside."

Norman saw the shock in Theodore’s eyes and turned to leave.

He was not worried that Theodore might suddenly try to break his father out.

There was not even a window here.

The only light came from a single oil lamp.

Norman had brought that in himself.

Normally, there was not even the slightest trace of light in this place.

The deathly silence and anguished moans constantly tormented the prisoners confined here.

Their fears were magnified endlessly in the darkness.

Most of them eventually went mad.

"Father."

Theodore approached Old Nott.

But when Old Nott saw the light in his hand, he shrank into the corner as though terrified that the flame might burn him.

"Put out the light! Let there be darkness!! The Master will lead the pure-bloods to rule this world! We will kill all the Muggles!" Old Nott screamed madly. "The Dark Lord will return! The darkness will erupt! Everyone will die!"

"Hahaha..."

He burst into deranged laughter.

Theodore looked at his father and murmured, "Even after losing your mind, you’re still thinking about him. You never once thought about your own child."

"Child? That’s right, my child!"

Old Nott suddenly seemed to recognise who stood before him.

He scrambled out of the corner on all fours.

His skeletal hands gripped the bars as he stared fixedly at Theodore.

"My son, you must find the Master. He is immortal. He will return!"

"When that happens, we will rule the world, and everyone will become our slaves!"

Theodore looked at him quietly and said, "Voldemort is dead."

"No!" Old Nott roared savagely. "You’re lying to me!"

"He is the most powerful wizard! He can do anything!"

Old Nott slammed his head against the unbreakable bars, roaring like a wild beast. "He will return! And when he does, everyone who was disloyal will die!"

"I came here to tell you something." Theodore took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, then opened them again. The last trace of attachment to his father was gone from them. "My king will conquer this world, and everything old will be swallowed up."

Theodore gave his father one final look and set down the lamp in his hand.

"I will restore the Nott family to the position it deserves, in my own way."

He turned and walked away.

This would be the last time he ever saw his father.

Beneath the faint glow of the lamp, Old Nott let out a chilling roar.

After leaving the lowest level, Theodore found Norman checking his watch.

"I thought you’d stay longer." Norman casually lowered his hand and asked, "That’s enough for you?"

Theodore nodded, then asked, "How long will he remain in there?"

"Until he dies," Norman replied with a smile. "Maybe a year, maybe ten years, perhaps even a hundred."

"If it were me, I’d choose a quicker death. Imprisonment without end is worse than death."

Sometimes, death itself was a mercy.

The longer one lived in a place like this, the more one suffered.

Theodore looked at the smile on Norman’s face.

This man was no good person either.

"I hope he dies within a year." Theodore placed a bag of Galleons into Norman’s hand. "Please."

"You shouldn’t be asking me for that. But..."

Norman pushed the money back.

He placed his right hand over his heart, bowed slightly, and smiled.

"My king instructed me to grant you this request."

____

o(*￣▽￣*)ブSupport and Read 12 Chapters ahead: Patreon/Dragonel