Hogwarts: My Yorozuya has no taboos!

Chapter 1: Yorozuya , dedicated to serving you!

"Trial on August 1st, defendant: Ares Delfino?"

"I am Director Burns."

"You are accused of selling Buffet, a brain-stimulating drug, to seven new Hogwarts students and their Muggle parents in Diagon Alley on the 27th of last month. In reality, it was just expired and watered-down sleeping pills?"

"This is a complete misunderstanding, Director. I do sell mind-stimulating drugs—"

Of course, I didn't notice they might be past their expiration date, and expired stimulants can cause temporary drowsiness in those who take them... The department can check with Vizeek; he runs a magical supplies shop in Diagon Alley that also sells ready-made potions, and he's an expert in the field.

A murmur of discussion arose in the dock.

"We will verify."

A cold, authoritative voice came from the judge's bench.

"But before that, you need to go to--"

"Could it be Azkaban?"

"Exactly."

boom!

The gavel fell.

………………

In the height of summer in August, the British Isles enjoy a rare clear night, but Azkaban is still mired in winter.

A gray mist swirled around this hellish place that was a nightmare for British wizards.

In the eerie darkness, a deafening roar continued as raging waves, mixed with shards of ice crystals, surged twenty feet into the air before crashing heavily against the island's shore and the lighthouse that stood across the sea from Azkaban.

The flashing white light startled the officer on duty, who was curled up and dozing by the fireplace. He grumbled and got up from his deckchair, looking at the two men who had suddenly appeared in the iron cage in the center of the room—mainly at Ares Delfino, who had been forcibly put to a trance.

"The last one today? What did he do wrong?"

The officers on duty, panting heavily, opened the cage and allowed the detained Auror to use his wand to control Ares to float out.

"Hard to say...did they use expired potions to fool a few Hogwarts freshmen?"

"Tsk tsk!"

The officer on duty admired Ares' handsome face a few times. In the dim firelight, he waved a willow wand, dressed Ares in a blue and white striped prison uniform, and then began to search for the wizard's robes that had been taken off.

"For the sake of King Galleon, I can arrange a sheltered cell for you."

The officers on duty took twenty Galleons from Ares's purse, brazenly pocketing half of it and tossing the other half to the Aurors escorting him.

He locked the remaining odds and ends into a cabinet, and just as he was about to sign the handover documents, he suddenly realized something.

"What happened? Where's his wand? I can't see it!"

"It is said that he was expelled from school in fifth grade, and his wand was broken at that time."

Auror shrugged and said casually.

Gee!

The officer on duty clicked his tongue in amazement again, but did not press Ares for further explanation of his dismissal.

Without orders, the Soul Reaper could not have left Azkaban Island for even a moment.

The officer waved his wand and put Ares onto an Axminsk woolen flying carpet. As the two crossed the sea, the raging sea wind shoved through the layers of leaden clouds, and a ray of moonlight peeked out from a gap.

Ares's "new home" was on the top floor of the Azkaban Tower, where there was a "wide view," and the guards kept their promise and found him a cell sheltered from the wind.

A chill lingered like a leech, and in the darkness, something even more terrifying was silently approaching.

Good luck, darling.

The officer on duty shivered, muttered something under his breath, then locked the cell door and hurriedly left through the exit at the top of the tower.

Ares was still fast asleep on the cold stone bed. The pale moonlight that broke through the clouds shone through the small ventilation window embedded high up and fell on Ares, as if draping him in a delicate silver veil.

Two Dementors glided out from the despairing gray fog.

They lay on the iron bars, their heads, covered by wide hoods, squeezed and deformed, reaching into the cells to try and suck blood from Ares.

What puzzled them was that the prisoner lying on the stone bed seemed to be dead, or perhaps... a human-shaped stone block devoid of emotion.

In short, their efforts yielded no results other than causing the moon veil draped over Ares to sway slightly as if in a gentle breeze.

Dementors, lacking even the intelligence of wild beasts, were incapable of handling complex problems. They assumed that the person on the stone bed had already had their emotions absorbed by their kind, and so they drifted away in disappointment.

The gaps in the clouds closed, blocking the moonlight.

"They're in!"

Excited whispers broke the silence.

Ares suddenly opened his eyes. He nimbly jumped off the stone bed, looked around, and his black eyes sparkled with a lively light.

Azkaban is much like the legend, shrouded in despair and death, with a devastating darkness accompanied by an abyssal silence, but occasionally punctuated by shrill howls and screams, like a true hell.

If time permits, Ares would be happy to linger a little longer to admire the legendary Azkaban.

But he didn't infiltrate Azkaban for tourism; he didn't have time to waste.

Ares withdrew his intrigued gaze from the rough, frost-covered stone walls of the cell on three sides and stepped toward the iron bars.

The gaps between the rusty iron bars were so small that even an adult goblin couldn't squeeze through, but when Ares approached, the gaps suddenly seemed to be magnified by a high-powered magnifying glass, and even space itself appeared distorted.

"First, there's... oh, Klein, who's imprisoned on the thirty-second floor—"

Ares muttered something to himself in front of the cell, then took a step forward and vanished into the void.

The howling wind and the spatial distortion in the darkness did not attract the attention of the Azkaban prisoners and guards. Ares quickly entered the only cell on the thirty-second floor where prisoners were held.

Like floating snowflakes, Ares used his bare hands to shower a milky-white fluorescent light on a gaunt man on the stone bed, whose pale golden hair was mostly gray and who was trembling incessantly in a nightmare, thus waking him up.

"Patton Klein, jailed for casting a Confusion Charm on a Muggle driver, causing a bus carrying a load of Muggles to overturn into a river?"

"It's me, but...but you are--"

"Oh, never mind that. I'm short on time and have a lot of work to do, I don't have time to chat with you... Your mother paid for me to come in and bring you two ferret sandwiches, she said they're your favorite."

"Oh, you raging Gorgon, how could—how could someone—you're really fierce… I mean, brave!"

"Of course, I'm a Gryffindor... Enough talk, eat!"

wolfing down their food—

"By the way, how much did my mother pay you?"

"Five hundred gallons for a sandwich... Oh, and don't you dare spit it out, or I won't give you a refund!"

"Waaah... My poor mother, is she alright?"

"I think it's pretty good... By the way, your wife gave birth to a daughter for you last month, congratulations."

"But—but I've been in Azkaban for at least two years!"

"Oh, that's really a shame... Here, I have a contract here. I need you to sign it and put your fingerprint on it."

"What do you do?"

"Prove to your mother that I did indeed complete the mission, and make sure you never tell anyone that you saw me, even as you die."

Out of humanitarian concern, Ares also gifted Klein an extra piece of rye bread.

"Can you get me out of here?"

As they parted, Klein clutched Ares's prison uniform, his eyes brimming with tears.

"Sorry, your mother didn't pay that much... Let go!"

One minute later, Ares appeared on the nineteenth floor of Azkaban.

"Hain Fick, imprisoned for illegally selling aphrodisiacs and apprehending Veena smugglers?"

"Yes, sir. I—I've served my full sentence, right?"

"Don't be silly, darling, here's a letter for you, from your ex-fiancée."

"Oh, my dear Viktoria, she still thinks of me!"

"Fix your hair, Hein, I need to take a picture of you to take out, quick!"

"Waaah... I'm not worth her doing this, I'm not worth it... What a foolish girl, spending a fortune to hire someone to break into Azkaban just to get a picture of me!"

"To be precise, it was her current husband. He paid me to take the photos, saying he wanted to put your picture on his bedside table, saying it would be more exciting... Anyway, I don't really understand, but your ex-fiancée obviously understood and was very supportive."

Hein Fick fainted, so Ares had to take his hand and press it onto the confidentiality agreement, then stuff the farewell letter into his stomach.

Before he knew it, more than an hour had passed. Ares had been running up and down the spiral staircase in Azkaban and finally arrived at the tenth floor and below.

According to rumors, the more serious the crime, the lower the floor where the prisoner is held, and prisoners below the tenth floor all have some people in their hands.

"The second to last... well, yes, that's right, Mr. Donald Musk--"

Ares arrived at a new floor, where the gray fog, a symbol of despair, was as thick as the morning mist in the forest, dampening his face and chilling the ground so much that a thin layer of ice formed.

Two prisoners were held on this floor. Ares did not disturb the black dog, the size of a bear, which was huddled in the shadows in the cell on the left. Instead, he used the radiance of the guardian deity to awaken the prisoner in the cell on the right.

"Is this Xavier? Did that boy send you? Has he forgiven me for killing his mother?"

After Ares revealed his identity and purpose, the man knelt down and sobbed loudly.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Musk, I don't know that. But your daughter paid for me to visit you and brought you a roast chicken."

"Thank you—thank you so much... Oh, roast chicken, it's been so long since I've had it... Wait, what?

The tearful man suddenly stopped eating and looked at Ares with a puzzled blink.

"Something must be wrong... Xavier, I mean—I only have one son!"

"Oh, now she's a lovely girl."

Boom!

"Tsk, another one fainted."

Ares shook his head and sighed. After he took the man's hand and pressed it onto the contract with a meticulous fingerprint, his gaze flickered and he saw the roast chicken on the ground that hadn't been eaten much.

"That's such a waste!"

Ares said. He thought for a moment, picked up the roast chicken from the ground, and then turned to look at the cell opposite.

The big black dog that used to be kept in that cell was gone, replaced by a gaunt man with brighter eyes than most of the prisoners I'd seen that night.

The man was staring blankly at Ares... and the roast chicken in his hand.

"Eat up, you dog."

Ares said in a friendly tone and tossed the chicken over.

In the blink of an eye, the man devoured the roast chicken in a whirlwind, leaving not even a bone behind!

"The last one...yes, a big deal, an absolutely big deal."

Bellatrix Lestrange—but I have no information about her. Where is she being held?

Ares muttered thoughtfully. In the cell on the left, the man who would turn into a dog, quite cleverly picking up the contract Ares had tossed to him, and pressing his fingerprint on the ground, paused again upon hearing this, his voice hoarse.

"She's in the basement... Who sent you to bring her food—Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Thank you, and -- it's none of your business."

Ares retrieved the contract and disappeared from the man's sight.

Seawater and seeping groundwater have created a pool of water in the lower reaches of Azkaban. The still water is ice-blue and exudes a chill.

Using the faint light shimmering on the water's surface, Ares surveyed his surroundings.

This place houses serious criminals, and Ares recognized some of the notorious lice-eaters.

Perhaps because they had already been drained dry, there were no Dementors wandering around here. Of the dozen or so prisoners, only a small number were slumped on the stone beds, while most sat listlessly in the darkness, their expressions ferocious and distorted, but their eyes vacant.

However, just to be on the safe side--

In the deathly silence, Ares extended a finger, with a dozen or so streaks of bright red light trailing behind it, like a comet orbiting a galaxy.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

The hardened criminals, stunned by the coma curse, collapsed, bewildered but not mentally damaged.

"Get up, Ms. Lestrange—"

Ares entered a cell, a strange smile playing on his lips, and gently called to the woman lying on the stone bed, who, even in her sleep, couldn't help but emit a ghostly, shrill laugh.

"Time to go home."

........................