Chapter 428: Chapter 428: Siberian Prison (Edited)
"What does that have to do with you being a wizard?" Tom looked kindly at Lockhart. At that moment, the island's guard personnel also noticed the presence of the two uninvited visitors and quickly approached Tom.
Tom observed the guards and realized they were the armed force under Yuri's command. Although they wore prison guard uniforms, they couldn't hide their military demeanor.
When the leader of the guards opened his mouth to speak, Tom became even more assured. The man spoke with a heavy accent, and though he was speaking in English, there was a touch of Russian in his tone.
"I'm a friend of Mr. Yuri. He should have mentioned my name, Tom Yodel."
Indeed, Yuri had talked to them about Tom. When they heard the name Tom Yodel, everyone present became serious. They lined up and stood in formation, saluting Tom.
"Mr. Yuri instructed us to obey your orders when you came here." The leader of the guards informed Tom that Yuri had left instructions for all prison employees to obey Tom's orders.
"We will follow your orders, no matter what they are," the prison guard said seriously to Tom.
He meant it, as Yuri had a meticulous recruitment process for his followers. He only recruited married fighters, and having children was a plus. He brought these people and their families from the countries of the now-defunct Soviet Union to England, where he accommodated them and provided work and education for their spouses and children. In return, these people with exceptional combat skills worked for him. This method of employment made Yuri's followers highly competent.
Of course, the downside was that it was very costly, but fortunately, the industry Yuri was involved in had surprisingly high profit margins, so he could afford it.
Now it was time for Tom to enjoy the benefits of Yuri.
"Besides the guards, is all the necessary staff on the island complete? By the way, what's your name?" Tom began to inquire about the situation in the prison.
"Peter Bortnikov, call me Peter."
Peter? That name immediately caught Tom's attention. He looked at Peter Bortnikov in front of him and realized he was tall and strong, with thick hair. He was the complete opposite of Peter Pettigrew. Tom couldn't help but feel relieved. After all, it was just a name. Even he called himself Tom and still had a straight nose and abundant hair, right?
Soon, Tom learned from Peter, the captain of the guards, that the White Dolphin prison was already ready. Doctors, nurses, cooks, and other staff members had been recruited and were ready to receive prisoners at any time.
"Excellent!" Yuri's efficiency was amazing, considering he was English. Tom was very satisfied. Although the Dementors weren't pressuring him to fulfill his promise, keeping them waiting wasn't a good thing.
"So, when will the prisoners be transferred here?"
"They will begin transferring on January 1st."
"Very well."
As they walked, Tom chatted with Peter. However, he noticed something strange when he met other prison staff members: they all had a touch of Soviet flavor.
For example, the robust cook who wore a white headscarf and a white apron seemed to have jumped straight from a collective farm. She held a giant spoon and mixed something in a huge cauldron half a person tall, from which an acidic aroma emanated along with steam.
"She's Aunt Sofia. Her borscht and pelmeni will make you wish you could swallow your tongue," Peter enthusiastically introduced Tom to the head chef, or should we say, the chef. Then, he looked at Aunt Sofia and engaged in a brief conversation with her in Russian.
"... Британская еда - ерунда!" ("British food is rubbish!")
Tom didn't understand a word of the conversation between the two. He only heard one phrase at the end: "Vedanskaya, Yelonda!"
Peter didn't bother to translate it.
After their exchange, Peter looked at Tom.
"Today's lunch will be solyanka soup with meat skewers and bread." When he heard the lunch items, Peter seemed very excited. He enthusiastically introduced Tom to the special Russian dish: solyanka soup.
Solyanka soup was a thick dish that could be eaten as a stew, made with various types of meat and vegetables boiled together.
"Beef, sausage, bacon, and ham, letting them meld wonderfully with cabbage, potatoes, green onion, and carrot. The acidic taste comes from the pickles and lemon slices, all made by Aunt Sofia herself."
Sounds quite good. Most Russian dishes have a rustic and hearty touch; they may not look as refined, but they are very hearty and delicious. Perhaps that's the common characteristic of all dishes from cold regions of the world: abundance, robustness, and served piping hot.
As for the roast meat, they weren't those thin skewers but super-sized meat skewers the size of an adult forearm. They could almost skewer a kilo of meat on one stick, with just a bit of salt and cumin for seasoning.
Tom was captivated by the description. Aren't they tastier than turkey sandwiches?
However, this prison always seemed a bit peculiar to Tom. He looked at the Slavic cook in front of him and then at the prison cafeteria's decor style, and suddenly, he realized.
"Is it a bit... too Soviet here?" Tom found something discordant: this prison had too much of a Soviet touch. If it weren't for the sea breeze coming in from outside, he would really feel like he was in the Siberian steppe.
For those who knew, it was a British subcontracted prison; for those who didn't, it was a secret Russian base!
Peter understood suddenly. "It doesn't matter; Mr. Yuri has influence with the Cabinet Secretary; everything here is within reasonable limits."
Tom raised his eyebrows; indeed, everyone involved in Yuri's affairs had followers behind them.
"Alright, if everything is in order, then I'm at ease. Let's taste Aunt Sofia's skills." Tom invited Peter and Lockhart to sit together, and each of them took a bowl of solyanka soup, a lamb skewer, and some slices of whole-grain bread.
The soup was thick and had an acidic flavor that paired perfectly with the bread. The roasted lamb meat, juicy and full of oil, had an excellent texture. It only needed a bit of salt and cumin to enhance its natural flavor.
"Very tasty," Tom said as he finished a large bowl of solyanka soup and a long lamb skewer. "Pack me a portion to go."
He thought of Hermione, who was alone at home writing her essay and nibbling on a turkey sandwich; she deserved some compassion. After all, delicious food is meant to be shared! So he decided to take her a portion to taste.
They finished lunch, and everyone enjoyed the gathering. Lockhart also sat quietly on the side, behaving very well. But his good behavior couldn't free him from his fate.
Chapter 429: Chapter 429: Bald (Edited)
Tom looked at Lockhart, who was sitting silently in a corner, studying the patterns on the dishes, and asked Peter, "Have you resolved the issue of your psychologist and priest? If not, I have a good option here."
Peter looked at Lockhart and replied immediately, "No, we still need someone."
Indeed, they were recruiting a psychologist, and they had also been in contact with a priest, and they already had fairly specific targets. But if the second in command mentioned it, of course, they had to take it seriously. Even if they found someone, they hadn't actually found one.
Lockhart's expression stiffened. "You might actually consider..."
"I've already decided. You will be the priest," Tom said as he stared into Lockhart's eyes, and his right eye showed a tendency to become a snake's pupil. "There is no other option."
These words sounded in Peter's ears as if he were saying that Lockhart was the only option as a priest, but Lockhart clearly understood that Tom was warning him, that he only had the choice to be the prison's priest.
Or stay in the prison and be the priest advising the prisoners in their mental life, or...
Lockhart was desperate, his eyes filled with tears. How could there be such an evil wizard? Was he really a student of Dumbledore? On the outside, he appeared white, but inside, he was all malice.
Lockhart raised his head, looked into Tom's eyes, and saw his expression growing colder and his eyes becoming more snake-like. Lockhart didn't dare to say anything more and quickly nodded in agreement.
"But I don't have professional skills..." he continued to murmur.
"The prisoners here don't need you to pray for them. You just need to help them forget painful memories," Tom said firmly, blocking any escape for Lockhart.
He looked at Peter on the side and said, "Take him to get our priest Lockhart's hair fixed. In the prison, men are not allowed to have long hair. Have them shave it off."
Lockhart: !!!
"Wait! Not this!" He almost jumped out of his chair, "I agree! You can't, you can't touch my hair!"
Tom asked curiously, "Why can't I? I'm the ruler of this prison."
He winked at Peter, and Peter understood, immediately standing up and holding Lockhart firmly.
"Get a new haircut and start a new life." Tom told this to Lockhart and waved his hand, indicating to Peter to take Lockhart down to have his head shaved.
Lockhart struggled and whimpered, but he couldn't free himself from Peter's powerful grip. As he heard Lockhart's voice fading, a smile appeared at the corner of Tom's mouth: a reformer must be a reformer! The forced shaving of Lockhart's pride and joy was a strong enough signal to show him that Tom's will was absolute in this case.
Shaving the head was a good option, a tactic used in almost every prison in the world, and there was no reason why Tom couldn't learn from it.
Peter dragged Lockhart out of the dining hall, then winked at the guards waiting outside, and two men immediately followed, dragging Lockhart into the detention cell.
Inside the isolation cell, there was only one chair, and the guards kept Lockhart firmly strapped to it, with his hands and feet bound.
"Please, I beg you..." Lockhart struggled a couple of times, but the guards were very professional and tied him securely to the chair, with no possibility of movement. "No, don't cut my hair."
Tears welled up in Lockhart's eyes. If he lost his beautiful blond hair, how could he face people? He would look so ugly if they shaved it all off.
But the guards of White Dolphin Prison were hard-hearted people, and they didn't care about prisoners' pleas.
Peter entered the isolation cell, holding a razor and scissors, and handed them to the two guards.
"Cut it well," he ordered them. Upon hearing those words, Lockhart showed a desperate expression. He had grown his hair for a long time and always took great care of it. Every time he had a bit cut off, it hurt for a long time. But today, it was going to be brutally shaved off.
If he lost it, it would be truly regrettable. One of the guards ran his hand through Lockhart's soft hair and thought to himself. But he didn't hesitate, first he took the scissors and snipped a few times, getting rid of the longer parts of the hair. Then he sprayed some water on the remaining hair, applied some soap, and quickly used the razor to cut it off. Hair fell to the floor in clumps.
"No!" Lockhart felt the cold edge of the razor and heard the sound of hair falling to the ground, letting out a groan of pain.
Tom walked past the isolation cell door with a tray of food, while inside, Lockhart's cries for help could be heard: "Please, let me go, I can't bear it, don't shave it all off... leave me some..."
After a few minutes, the door of the isolation cell opened, and two guards emerged from it. Seeing Tom and Peter standing outside, both guards stood at attention and saluted them.
"Take him out," Tom ordered, wanting to see what Lockhart looked like after being shaved.
The two guards carried out the order and brought Lockhart out, who barely seemed to be alive. At that moment, his lips were pale, his face covered in tears, and some remnants of blond hair. He muttered under his breath, "Please, forgive me... I made a mistake..."
Lockhart was conscious, but after having his hair shaved off, he didn't dare to look into anyone else's eyes. It seemed like they had taken something more than just his hair. Now he felt his head cool, and a wave of shame washed over him, as if he were naked in front of others. But... besides shame, was there something else? A strange emotion was spreading inside Lockhart like weeds.
Tom looked over his head and saw that his well-coiffed curls had been shaved, leaving the top of his head so bare that it almost shone.
"There's no doubt you look more energetic this way," Tom said as he took out a mirror and showed it to Lockhart. Upon seeing his reflection in the mirror, Lockhart burst into tears.
"If you behave well, I might consider allowing your hair to grow back. You know what we are capable of," Tom whispered in Lockhart's ear in a low voice.
It was both a punishment and a reward. Tom didn't want to press too hard. One must have hope, and Tom was building hope for Lockhart, giving him a glimmer of hope.
Lockhart raised his head abruptly, his eyes shining with hope.
"But you must behave very, very well to earn that reward," Tom said before leaving the prison. Before he departed, he ordered Peter to keep a close eye on Lockhart.
Would Lockhart escape? Tom wasn't concerned about that. When Lockhart had a wand, he only used the Memory Charm. Now, without a wand, what could he do? A wizard without a wand was like a venomous snake with its fangs removed, with no ability to resist.
Weekly Power Status
200+ Power
Ranking 
0 Power
stone 
Paragraph comment