บท 143: 143: Dementors In Fear
Ever since the Dementors were taken over by the Aurors, they had lived in constant fear.
Oz Hild, the Auror in charge, was listening to their eerie howls and couldn't help but feel the veins in her forehead throbbing.
"What are these ghostly things wailing about?"
Her colleague, Lipi Corbell, wore the same frustrated expression. They both wished they could just send all the Dementors back to the nightmare that was Azkaban.
Oz took a deep breath to calm herself down.
She was a veteran Auror, experienced enough to lead a team of enforcers.
With her raspy voice, she said, "These Dementors haven't fed for too long. Sirius Black is nearby, and we can't just send them back to Azkaban."
Hearing the name Sirius, Lipi's face twitched slightly.
The Ministry of Magic's wanted notice for Sirius described him as extremely dangerous, and even Aurors weren't guaranteed to be a match for him.
The thought that someone this dangerous had been hiding at Hogwarts for nearly half a year made even Lipi want to curse out the now-dismissed Fudge for being utterly useless.
At the same time, Lipi's mind was racing. He looked at Oz and asked, "Don't you have any thoughts about this?"
"Thoughts?" Oz glanced at Lipi.
Lipi grinned and took out a cigarette from his pocket, tossing one to Oz, while lighting one up for himself.
Both were heavy smokers. As a thick puff of smoke left his mouth, Lipi said meaningfully, "The Ministry of Magic is going through a power shift right now. Don't you think it's time for you to make a move up?"
Others might not know, but as Oz's long-time partner, Lipi knew her well.
Oz was certainly capable. She had been an Auror for ten years, and in terms of both experience and skill, she was one of the leading figures in the Auror ranks.
However, Oz had made a mistake in the past—she once let a werewolf go, and that incident became a stain on her record.
Couple that with the Ministry's previous efforts to suppress the Auror office, and she had been stuck in her position for years, unable to even earn the title of Elite Auror.
Instead, she was relegated to working with strike teams, doing things like tracking down contraband items.
Lipi shook his head in sympathy. "If Tommy were still around, you will definitely be with him..."
Seeing the sudden dimness in Oz's eyes, Lipi quickly changed the subject. "We can't aim for the head of the Auror office, but at least we can hope to get away from this contraband-hunting work."
Lipi was a sharp guy. He knew that neither he nor Oz, who had no connections, stood a chance for that vacant head position.
All he wanted was to stop being so sidelined and at least get himself into the main Auror office.
Oz, with her red lips curving as she exhaled a puff of smoke, stubbed out her cigarette with a couple of hard stomps. Her voice was flat as she said, "You know as well as I do, we don't stand a chance. Those spots are for the purebloods."
She was a half-blood, and Lipi came from a Muggle family. Although they became Aurors after Voldemort's downfall, the internal pureblood biases still affected them.
The positions in the Auror office weren't for people like them; only purebloods or those with connections were qualified.
Lipi chuckled, a strange look in his eyes as he said, "That's not necessarily true. We all know Tommy landed himself a great position beside the king of Knockturn ally, right? Rumor has it, he's the one who pushed Fudge out..."
Before he could finish, he noticed the murderous glare in Oz's eyes. Quickly raising his hands in surrender, he said, "Alright, alright, I won't mention him."
The two of them continued their idle chat outside.
Meanwhile, things weren't looking good for the Dementors...
...
The Dementors huddled together, retreating like a wave.
A figure walked among them as if picking out livestock.
Suddenly, a slower-moving Dementor became locked in his gaze.
Black threads snaked around it, and the Dementor let out a wretched screech as the tentacle-like threads dragged it away.
The rest of the Dementors were petrified, desperately trying to flee.
The Aurors didn't notice anything, since no one would ever expect someone to voluntarily seek out Dementors.
"Why are you running?"
"I'm not going to kill all of you," John muttered after capturing a Dementor. Seeing how terrified the others were, he rolled his eyes.
"These are the ones supposed to be guarding Azkaban?"
He clicked his tongue twice and left a parting remark, "I'll be back tomorrow," which nearly scared the remaining Dementors out of their ragged cloaks.
Lol:)
With the captured Dementor, John returned to the Slytherin Chamber.
The Dementor was thoroughly stripped apart by the Soul-Devouring Curse. The black threads retracted into the ring, leaving a mass of soul glowing with a pure, silver-white light in John's hand.
He tore the soul into thin strands, tossing them into a cauldron to mix with a potion.
After adding powdered unicorn horn, a potion to fortify souls was ready.
He downed it in one gulp, his body shuddering.
In his mind, the same man he'd seen several times before appeared, and the vision stretched on for a long half-hour.
When it finally ended, John slumped over the table, drenched in sweat.
"Fuu~ My soul's recovered a little."
He closed his eyes to feel it for a moment. His right-hand's soul had restored a bit, and he realized that with each torment he endured, his soul seemed to undergo a kind of refining.
Opening his right hand, dark, malevolent black threads swirled and shifted in his palm.
John's gaze deepened. This power, which he had only ever used on Dementors, made him wonder: what would happen if he used it on other living beings?
A terrifying thought surfaced in his mind, and even John was startled by it.
Forcing the idea away, he looked down at the now darker ring. He knew this object was beginning to affect him.
"To wear the crown, one must bear its weight."
Fully aware of the terrifying power he possessed, John repeatedly warned himself not to cross any moral lines.
When he opened his eyes again, his gaze returned to clarity.
...
In another room within the chamber, waves of heat radiated outward, and just standing near the door made the intense temperature obvious.
A large chunk of mithril was slowly melting in the furnace, though the process was rather slow.
"At this rate, it'll take a while to melt completely."
John moved to another area and started working on a mold.
This mold was different from the ones he'd made before—it wasn't for a sword, but rather for something shaped like a hand.
Using a small knife, he meticulously carved out every groove in the mold, perfecting the details. John was preparing to craft something worthy of the name "Johnny Silverhand."
After all, how could the esteemed Silverhand go without a silver hand?
Once the finer details were in place, all that remained was to pour the molten mithril into the mold.
The hand had six slots left empty, specifically designed to hold gemstones.
Hmm, it looked suspiciously like a certain purple titan's Infinity Gauntlet.
While waiting for the mithril to melt, John finished refining the intricate details of the silver hand.
This object, which John called the "Limited Gauntlet," was no simple creation. It could be said to be the most powerful alchemical item John was capable of making at the time.
As the mithril melted, John poured it into the mold.
At the same time, he stretched out one hand, casting some spells to imbue the creation with magic.
The liquid solidified and cooled, and the mold was cracked open, revealing an exquisite silver arm before him.
John embedded magical crystals and the gemstones from the rings of enchantment into the six slots on the arm.
Grabbing the silver arm with his right hand, the entire thing immediately shattered.
But instead of falling apart, the fragments adhered to John's right arm, piece by piece. By the end, John's entire right hand had transformed into silver.
The intricate patterns on the arm were both delicate and luxurious, with the gemstones emphasizing its regal quality.
He flexed his hand, finding no sense of obstruction.
Clenching and unclenching his fist, he stared at the burning furnace and, without hesitation, plunged his hand into the flames.
The scorching heat was enough to melt steel, but John's brow didn't furrow even a little.
As the flames burned, the silver hand not only failed to melt but also gave John a pleasantly cool sensation.
"Ha.. Hahaha.."
"Flesh is weak, but through machinery, we ascend!" John nodded to himself.
Raising an eyebrow, John pulled his hand out and snapped his fingers. Instantly, the objects around him began to levitate.
"Even though it's just a basic Levitation Charm and Shield Charm, practicality is what matters."
A white ball of light appeared in John's palm, and he aimed it at a nearby table.
The light ball instantly shattered the table into pieces, and John nodded in satisfaction.
Lowering his hand, the silver material on it rapidly flowed toward his fingers, finally condensing into a silver ring on his middle finger.
One silver, one black—two rings on his right hand stood out conspicuously.
John removed the silver ring and slipped it into his pocket.
He imagined that if he could one day create a Philosopher's Stone, this thing would truly become a magical version of the Infinity Gauntlet.
Leaving the chamber, John passed by the Constellation Society's secret room.
Heinrich looked up at John and asked, "Finished?"
"Yup."
John wasn't wearing wizard robes; instead, he was dressed in a vest suit with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Catching sight of Heinrich eyeing the Firebolt in the chamber, John smirked and said, "Like it? You can have it."
Heinrich shifted his gaze away, lowering his head and saying, "No need."
With Edgar's wealth, buying a Firebolt wouldn't be a problem.
John, feeling a bit of a headache, put on his wizard robes and said, "Come with me."
Heinrich didn't ask any questions and followed him.
After arriving at the Room of Requirement, John opened the door that appeared out of nowhere and led Heinrich inside.
Inside was a dueling platform. Heinrich's golden eyes flickered slightly.
John was the first to step onto the platform, and Heinrich followed closely behind.
"You don't need the Firebolt, so let's train to make you stronger instead."
John smiled and bowed like a gentleman.
Heinrich's gaze grew increasingly fervent.
Indeed, only battle could bring an Edgar joy.
John smiled faintly. How convenient, since strength was something he didn't lack.
_________
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