“Abolish the use of Dementors—and establish an entirely new wizarding prison elsewhere?!”

Amelia’s voice rose sharply on the final words. She stared at Bryan in utter bewilderment, her eyes searching his grave face for any hint of humor, any trace that this was some joke designed to test her reaction. But his expression remained perfectly serious, utterly sincere, showing not the slightest trace of cheerfulness.

There was absolutely no question that Azkaban, that fortress of despair sitting like a cancer in the North Sea, guarded by its soul-sucking Dementors was notorious throughout the entire wizarding world.

Its very name was spoken in whispers, used to frighten misbehaving children, invoked as the ultimate deterrent against criminal behavior.

The stories that emerged from that place—the few that filtered out through released prisoners or visiting officials showed images of absolute horror.

Inmates driven to madness within months. Strong-willed wizards reduced to gibbering shells.

The constant, crushing weight of every happy memory being slowly drained away, leaving nothing but despair and darkness and the endless howling of the wind across cold stone.

But for all its dreadful reputation, for all the nightmares it spawned and the lives it destroyed, no one in their right mind doubted that the Dementors and Azkaban together represented the Ministry’s sharpest blade—a vital pillar upholding its power and authority, perhaps the most important tool in maintaining order throughout magical Britain.

Even a wizard as proudly defiant and unruly as Sirius who had laughed in the face of death and spat at authority his entire life couldn’t help but feel an instinctive chill at the mere mention of Azkaban’s name. The twelve years he’d spent there had nearly destroyed him—would have destroyed any weaker man completely.

And now, in this moment of profound political instability, Bryan Watson was calmly proposing that the Ministry dismantle its most feared institution.

At this critical juncture in history, with Voldemort returned and forces of darkness gathering on all sides, it was no different from the Ministry deliberately severing its own right arm and casting it aside.

The sheer audacity of it left Amelia momentarily speechless.

“I never expected a suggestion like this from you, Bryan—”

The proposal had caught Dumbledore completely off guard as well. But as he collected himself, shaking off the initial shock and processing the full implications of what Bryan had just proposed, his face gradually settled into a deeply contented expression like someone whose faith has been rewarded.

“In all honesty, I find myself profoundly gladdened by this proposal. The use of Dementors has always troubled my conscience, even when I acknowledged its practical necessity.”

He leaned forward slightly, his voice was warming with approval.

“I have no doubt that this decision would have large portions of the wizarding population jumping for joy if they knew what you’re suggesting, Bryan.”

“Perhaps—”

Amelia’s expression remained grave despite Dumbledore’s enthusiasm, her brow furrowed with deep concern. She gave a small, troubled shake of her head.

“But I must be practical here. Without Azkaban, without that ultimate threat hanging over every potential criminal’s head—how are we to effectively deter those who would do evil?”

She spread her hands helplessly.

“I would argue that what you’ve just described is precisely the problem, Amelia—except for those guilty of truly unforgivable crimes, the essential purpose of punishment is to guide people back toward the right path.”

The words coming from Bryan’s mouth astonished both Amelia and Dumbledore, causing them both to lean forward unconsciously. Neither had expected such philosophical considerations from a man of Bryan’s ruthless reputation.

“And the Dementors of Azkaban do precisely the opposite. They break people, crushing their spirits and their minds until nothing human remains. They take wizards who might have found their way back to society toward even greater extremes of desperation and darkness.”

He paused giving Amelia a meaningful look.

“Setting aside the question of whether the use of Dementors is even remotely humane—Amelia, do you truly, honestly believe that the Dementors still obey the Ministry’s commands?”

Snap—

That single question delivered in a flat even tone drained every drop of color from Amelia’s face in an instant. Her hands, resting on the table, clenched into fists.

Dumbledore also fell briefly silent.

“I have, as a matter of fact, also been considering that possibility for some time now…”

His voice emerged as soft and troubled.

“After the mass breakout at Azkaban—and after we learned that the contract binding the Dementors held by the Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries was lost—”

He drew a slow breath. “I began to fear something like this might happen.”

“But…”

Amelia’s mind was racing now. She was no fool—she hadn’t risen to head the Department of Magical Law Enforcement through political connections alone. Her brow furrowed deeply as understanding settled over.

“At the trial, you—”

“My ability to command the Dementors is based on a very particular form of magic I possess—magic that cannot be taught, cannot be replicated, cannot be passed on to anyone else,” Bryan interrupted gently.

“But as you saw, I could barely command them even then. I believe that whoever currently holds the contract can exert true, forceful, absolute control over the Dementors. And by their very nature, the Dementors would far rather carry out the orders of Death Eaters and dark wizards than serve the Ministry of Magic.”

Seeing that Amelia still hesitated, Bryan leaned back and spoke with grave solemnity.

“I’ll say it plainly: the Dementors can no longer be trusted.”

His eyes bored into hers.

“For now—they may merely be pretending to follow the Ministry’s commands. If I were Voldemort, that is exactly what I would do. I would have the Dementors feign compliance, maintain the fiction of Ministry control, pull us into false confidence—and then turn on us at the crucial moment, when we’re most vulnerable and least expecting betrayal.”

Amelia pressed her lips together.

It was true. Bryan was not manufacturing fears. It was an entirely plausible scenario—perhaps even a likely one.

Sensing that Bryan had more left to say, Dumbledore’s blue eyes flickered with interest. He adjusted his half-moon spectacles and asked, his tone gentle and encouraging:

“Since you’ve raised this rather momentous proposal, Bryan, I imagine you’ve already given considerable thought to the practical details. Where precisely should the new prison be built? What form of security would it require to replace what the Dementors provided? How do we ensure the safety of both guards and the surrounding population?”

Amelia immediately set aside her internal ponderings and stared unblinkingly at Bryan, her attention turned toward him.

“The new prison will be built deep within the Forbidden Forest, in a location that is currently unknown to the general wizarding public.”

Everyone’s time was pressing—the demands on all of them were persistent and Bryan had no patience for dancing around the point. He stated his plan directly.

“I had already been considering this possibility for some time, laying groundwork. Headmaster Dumbledore, you may recall—I drove the colony of Acromantulas that had been living in the more accessible regions of the Forbidden Forest deeper into its heart.”

Dumbledore’s eyelids gave the faintest twitch.

He did remember that incident. It had happened not long ago—Bryan had stirred up quite an extraordinary commotion deep in the forest in the middle of the night.

He had never suspected it was all careful preparation leading to this much larger plan.

“Using Acromantulas to guard the prisoners…”

Amelia’s mind raced through the effects.

The Dementors hungered eternally for a wizard’s soul, feeding on hope and happiness and every positive emotion until nothing remained but hollow despair.

The Acromantulas, by contrast, hungered for a wizard’s body—wanted nothing more than fresh meat to wrap in silk and consume at their leisure.

Naturally, Amelia told herself, Bryan could hardly be planning to feed prisoners to the spiders like livestock. Bryan simply wished to exploit the Acromantulas’ fearsome reputation as a deterrent, a threat that would keep prisoners from attempting escape.

No one in their right mind would try to flee through a forest full of giant, intelligent, hungry spiders.

“The Acromantulas represent only one layer of the new prison’s defenses—the outermost ring, as it were.”

Bryan continued speaking.

“The prison itself will be constructed deep within the Forbidden Forest, inside a hidden sanctuary that is currently unknown to the outside world and has remained concealed for many years.

It is an exceptionally well-concealed place, inhabited by a small community of people who are not technically part of the British magical community at present but who very much wish to become integrated into it. They are, on the whole, upright and fundamentally peace-loving people.

I’ve spoken with them. In exchange for official recognition and integration into the British wizarding world—they are willing to guard the new prison on our behalf. They will also take responsibility for the rehabilitation and moral education of the inmates.”

“They agreed?”

Dumbledore’s silver eyebrows and beard practically vibrated with unconcealed astonishment.

“I persuaded them,” Bryan replied simply, and simply was enough. Then he turned his attention to the bewildered Amelia whose expression showed she was struggling to keep up with the rapid revelations.

“I’ll explain who they are later. For the moment, the Ministry can sign a hundred-year contract with them:

They guard our prisoners with diligence and care. In return, the British wizarding world offers them official sanctuary, legal recognition, full integration into our society and, of course, fair wages for their labor.

These people would form the second line of defense for the new prison.”

Amelia’s breath came faster and faster as she processed each new piece of information. She found herself falling further and further behind the pace of Bryan’s thinking.

“Which means—there is a third?”

Dumbledore asked at once, sharp as ever despite his age. His eyes gleamed with curiosity.

“Ah—”

A faint smile appeared on Bryan’s lips; his expression was perfectly serene. He raised one finger and pointed it at Dumbledore, then turned it toward his own chest.

“The third and final line of defense is us.”

‘This…’

Dumbledore’s mouth twitched, caught between amusement and exasperation. He gave a small, slow shake of his head it.

The proposal was sound, he had to admit. With Bryan stationed at Hogwarts—the new prison would remain absolutely secure for at least the next century.

No force in Britain, possibly no force in all of Europe, would dare attack a prison defended by two of the most powerful wizards alive.

Unless, of course, they simply lost the coming war—lost outright to Voldemort and his growing forces of darkness, in which case the security of prisons would be the least of their concerns.

“I cannot act unilaterally in a matter of this magnitude, Bryan. Even with your support—”

Amelia’s voice came tense with the weight of what she was being asked to approve.

Abolishing Azkaban and establishing an entirely new wizarding prison to replace it was a matter of enormous historical and political consequence.

Even Amelia, as Acting Minister with broad emergency powers, could not and would not give an definitive answer on the spot without proper consultation.

“I’ll need to convene an emergency meeting with the heads of every major department and several senior Deputy Ministers. Gather their views, address their concerns and build consensus for such a change—”

She drew a deep breath.

“But I believe—they will ultimately support it when they hear the full reasoning. After all, you are absolutely right about the fundamental problem: the Dementors can no longer be trusted. It’s best we act now, while we still have some control over the situation, and let those creatures sit quietly in Azkaban doing no further harm while we transition to a better system.”

“If this resolution passes through the consultation process and gains approval, Amelia—”

Dumbledore’s voice turned solemn.

“When the time comes to transfer the prisoners out of Azkaban, Bryan and I should both be present at the removal.”

This was a sensible precaution against the unexpected during the vulnerable transition. It was what Bryan had intended as well; he gave a firm nod of agreement.

“Publicly announcing You-Know-Who’s return to the entire wizarding world, and simultaneously abolishing Azkaban prison…”

Amelia murmured to herself, thinking aloud.

“Yes, these announcements would indeed calm some of the surging public sentiment—”

Then she suddenly looked up at Bryan.

“But Bryan, while I see how this helps with public perception and shifts the story, it doesn’t seem directly connected to what you mentioned earlier—about recapturing the escaped convicts?”

“That brings me to my third proposal.”

Bryan’s smile deepened becoming something mysterious. His voice remained easy and casual, but his eyes had taken on a gleam that was utterly incomprehensible.

“Amelia, at the next press conference, I’d like you to announce to the wizarding world that the fugitives from Azkaban should abandon any hope they might harbor of escaping justice. And then—”

His smile grew sharper.

“—invite them to turn themselves in voluntarily.”

‘Voluntarily turn themselves in?!’

“And what precisely is your countermeasure?”

Dumbledore asked, his eyes were narrowing thoughtfully as he observed Bryan’s face.

A faint smile rested on Bryan’s face. His gaze was deep and unreadable as a moonless night as he slowly began to lay out the scheme he had long been crafting.

Dumbledore listened with absolute, unwavering attention.

As Bryan spoke, his expression moved—from puzzlement to astonishment, from astonishment to sudden comprehension, and from comprehension, almost against his will, to something unmistakably close to admiration.

All told, Dumbledore’s face had made an absolute spectacle of itself.

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