bacchusnovels Chapter 267 Life in Azkaban
Chapter 267 Life in Azkaban
Chapter 267 Life in Azkaban
A flicker of doubt crossed Bella's eyes, but she quickly suppressed it and replied in an even sharper voice, "Of course! Bloodline is the source of power, the fundamental difference between us and those lowly wizards. You think you can sway me with such a foolish question? You're just wasting your time."
At this point, Bella's fanaticism for the concept of purebloods was not only her belief, but also a deep-seated unease and fear within her.
Voldemort's crushing defeat made her afraid to admit that perhaps power came not only from bloodline, but from more complex factors such as willpower, wisdom... and even love.
Sean, who knew this, smiled slightly as he watched Bella's reaction.
He likes it when the other person is stubborn.
Since he had completely won her over, he had never seen Bella give such a sharp rebuttal.
This gave him a strange sense of excitement, as if some hidden desire deep within him had been quietly awakened.
He enjoyed peeling back Bella's layers little by little, revealing her seemingly tough but actually riddled-with-holes exterior, and watching her fragile and sensitive heart gradually exposed before his eyes.
This process was incredibly enjoyable for Sean.
It brought him unparalleled satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment.
"Perhaps you are right," Sean's voice remained calm, but there was a hint of deeper meaning in his tone, "bloodline does determine everything, at least in your eyes."
Then, Sean changed the subject, "However, in this place, pure blood doesn't seem to offer much protection, does it?"
Bella's face instantly froze, her fingers gripping the iron bars tightly until her knuckles turned white.
She wanted to argue, but Sean's words undoubtedly touched her deepest wound—in Azkaban, this isolated prison, her bloodline did not bring her any preferential treatment; on the contrary, it made her realize even more painfully that she was imprisoned in the same place as those she despised.
"You're talking nonsense, Mudblood!" she shouted angrily, trying to hide her inner turmoil. "Here, you'll never understand the power of purebloods, nor can you shake my faith!"
"Faith?" Sean repeated softly, as if savoring the word. "Faith is indeed important, especially in a place where there's no one else to rely on. But I'm curious, what would you do if one day you discovered that everything you believed in wasn't actually absolute?"
Bella's pupils contracted slightly; Fang's words struck at the deepest fear in her heart.
But she quickly masked her wavering, glaring at Sean before turning and walking away as if staying even a second longer would pose a greater challenge to her faith.
Sean watched her figure disappear into the shadows in silence.
The cell fell silent once again.
The following morning, the cold stone walls of Azkaban still exuded an unbearable chill, and the damp air was filled with a putrid stench that made it hard to breathe.
In the cramped cell, only the occasional sound of waves crashing and the low groans of prisoners in the distance broke the deathly silence.
Sirius curled up in the tattered blanket, his hazy consciousness slowly awakening with the faint morning light.
He barely slept last night, his mind filled with painful memories that tormented him and prevented him from finding a moment's peace.
The coldness and despair of Azkaban had become the norm for him; he had grown accustomed to the chill and loneliness of the place.
However, when he opened his eyes this morning, he found that things seemed to have changed somewhat.
First, there was a wonderful aroma in the air, not the musty smell of dampness, but the mouthwatering aroma of toasted bread and fried bacon.
This taste was unheard of in Azkaban, making one wonder if they were dreaming.
Sirius's gaze slowly moved, and when he saw the scene before him, he was instantly shocked beyond words.
Sean was comfortably reclining on a leather sofa, his legs elegantly crossed, a newspaper in his hand, reading it slowly and deliberately.
In his other hand, he held a golden-brown toasted bread, thickly coated with butter, which made a slight crunching sound when he took a bite.
On the plate next to it were several slices of perfectly fried bacon, glistening with oil and emitting a wonderful aroma.
All of this was unbelievable to Sirius.
He sat up abruptly, staring intently at Sean, as if trying to figure out if he was still dreaming.
Is this... still the Azkaban he knows?
Sirius Black Star could hardly believe his eyes.
He subconsciously reached out and pinched his arm, trying to confirm whether he was still dreaming.
The pain in his fingertips made him frown slightly, but the scene before him did not disappear.
Sean remained lounging on the sofa, as if it were just another ordinary morning.
After a while, he seemed to notice Sirius standing in the distance, but he did not respond immediately. He simply flipped through the newspaper calmly, as if everything was perfectly normal.
After a while, he slowly raised his head.
"Good morning, Blake." Sean's voice remained calm. "Looks like you didn't sleep well last night. Did you have some unpleasant dreams?"
"What are you doing?" Sirius finally couldn't help but ask.
"As you can see," Sean said, with a hint of sincerity in his voice, "I'm having breakfast."
Sirius was taken aback by his answer.
His eyes darted back and forth between Sean and the lavish breakfast, his unusual gaze filled with doubt and confusion.
"In Azkaban?" he repeated involuntarily in a low voice.
Sean nodded slightly, as if confirming that it all seemed perfectly natural. "Yes,"
As he spoke, he casually picked up a crispy piece of toast and took a small bite.
Sirius's stomach rumbled softly as he smelled that familiar aroma.
The sound was particularly clear in the silent cell, and an embarrassed expression instantly appeared on his face.
Merlin's socks!
Since being imprisoned in Azkaban, Sirius Black couldn't remember the last time he had smelled such an alluring fragrance.
He glanced at Sean's breakfast: golden, crispy toast and perfectly fried bacon—it all looked incredible.
The aroma of the food awakened his long-dormant appetite, and his stomach growled at an inopportune moment.
He felt a wave of helplessness, and his gaze involuntarily lingered on Sean's plate.
Sean noticed his reaction and a slight smile appeared on his lips.
He didn't say anything more, but continued to leisurely enjoy the food on his plate.
Under Sirius's drooling gaze, Sean finished his breakfast in a few bites.
After finishing breakfast, Sean naturally turned around, took out a teapot and cup from the tea set next to him, and elegantly brewed himself a cup of tea.
The aroma of tea filled the air, and warm steam rose into the chilly air, as if even this cold prison was softened by this moment of tranquility.
Then, Sean leaned back comfortably on the sofa, half of his body sinking deep into the soft leather, a relaxed expression on his face.
Sirius's confusion and bewilderment deepened. He could no longer contain his curiosity and pointed to the incongruous sofa beneath Sean, his voice filled with disbelief: "This is—?"
Sean glanced at the sofa beneath him.
"The sofa," he replied calmly, "I have a bad back, so I needed something soft to put under my pillow last night. Is that too much to ask?"
Sirius nodded subconsciously, then pointed to the newspaper in Sean's hand, "And... what's this?"
"The Daily Prophet." Sean's answer was completely flat, as if describing a perfectly natural habit. "I like to read the newspaper while I eat breakfast, is that alright?"
Sirius nodded again. Although his doubts had not diminished, Sean's attitude made everything seem so reasonable.
His gaze shifted to the teacup in Sean's hand, and he wanted to ask another question, but before he could even speak, Sean had already anticipated what he was going to ask and gave him the answer.
"Honey lemon black tea," Sean said casually, a smug smile playing on his lips, as if it were the most wonderful drink in the world. He finished speaking, raising an eyebrow, his gaze inviting, "Want a cup?"
Sean is enthusiastic about promoting honey lemon black tea.
If anything could warm his broad heart more than a witch, it would be a cup of warm honey lemon tea.
He further persuaded, "Honey lemon black tea is my favorite; it's refreshing and invigorating. Don't let the fact that this is Azkaban fool you..."
But sometimes, enjoying life's little pleasures isn't excessive.
For some inexplicable reason, Sirius nodded.
When he came to his senses again, he was already sitting opposite Sean with a cup of honey tea in his hand.
The liquid in the teacup exudes an enticing aroma, and the tea leaves float gently within.
Everything seemed so peaceful and beautiful.
Of course, this assumes that we can ignore the perpetually gloomy weather outside the iron railings.
"How did you do that?" Sirius suddenly asked.
"First do it like this, then do it like that, and then do it like this again, and that's it," Sean said casually, flipping through the newspaper.
Today's Daily Prophet is dated May 10th, which means there are still 22 days until "myself" comes to break him out of prison.
This means he will have to stay in Azkaban for a full twenty-two days.
To be honest, this isn't something that sounds exciting.
However, for his own sake, he had no other choice but to act in this way.
Although he could easily leave at any time if he wanted to, he still had to repay the debt he incurred two years ago.
Thinking of this, Sean couldn't help but let out a deep sigh.
However, Sirius was not as sentimental as Sean.
His gaze was drawn to the strange objects around Sean, and like a curious child, he kept glancing at Sean's left and right.
The ground on both sides was piled with all sorts of Muggle items taken from Sean's briefcase, which only confused Sirius more.
"What's this?" Sirius asked, pointing to something that looked like a small box.
"Nintendo's first handheld game console, released in 1983."
"What is this?"
"A VHS home video camera," Sean glanced up and added, "It's a real gem."
"What is this?"
"Videotapes," Sean explained patiently, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "The videos recorded with the VHS home video camera are all stored on these videotapes."
"Can I see?" Sirius asked tentatively.
Upon hearing this question, Sean's expression suddenly darkened, and he took the videotape back from Sirius's hand. "No."
He doesn't like having his techniques observed.
Sirius clicked his tongue; these Muggle items fascinated him.
Before he went to prison, he had hardly been exposed to these things, although he was not as completely ignorant of the Muggle world as some old-fashioned wizards.
On the contrary, he had some contact with Muggle people, but these items still felt foreign to him.
"What about this?" Little Sirius thought for a moment, and finally pointed to an item.
Sean glanced at the object in the direction he was pointing, then casually replied, "Calendar."
As he spoke, he began folding the newspaper in his hands together.
In the short time it took him to finish reading today's Daily Prophet.
He learned from the Daily Prophet that "he" had returned from Asia—because someone had taken a picture of him visiting a publishing company.
"A calendar?" Sirius frowned slightly, clearly not understanding what use a calendar could be in a place like Azkaban.
“Yes,” Sean said with a hint of relief, “it records when I can leave Azkaban.”
"You actually managed to leave Azkaban?" Sirius asked in surprise, his voice filled with disbelief.
Sean gave him a slightly odd, wary look, as if surprised by his reaction. "Can't you do it too?"
He countered with a question tinged with a sense of self-righteousness.
"What...do you mean?" Sirius's heart sank.
Sean seemed to sense Sirius's nervousness, and a reassuring smile appeared on his lips.
"Don't be nervous, relax," Sean said. He slowly took out a piece of paper and a pen from his briefcase, skillfully wrote a string of words on the paper, then folded it and handed it to Sirius.
"Once you've thought things through, and after you get out of prison, if you have nowhere to go, you can come find me." He paused, then continued, "This is my home address. Maybe I can offer you some assistance then."
Sirius was stunned. He stared at the paper, his hand involuntarily taking the slip of paper, his gaze lingering for a moment on the familiar yet unfamiliar address.
Just as he was about to say something, a familiar female voice from the next cell interrupted their conversation.
"Throw the bread and milk over here, you mudflint!"
Sean and Sirius both turned to look at the source of the sound.
Sure enough, Bella was leaning against the iron bars of her cell, arms crossed, her eyes fixed on Sean's direction.
More precisely, it was on the unopened bags of bread and milk next to Sean.
"Bella," Sirius spoke first, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "this isn't like you at all. Is the food in Azkaban no longer satisfying?"
Bellatrix's face instantly darkened, a flash of anger crossing her eyes. She then retorted in her characteristically sharp tone, "Stop talking nonsense, you traitor."
Sean slowly stood up, gently patted the dust off his sleeves, and then walked unhurriedly to Bella.
His gaze first lingered on her, scrutinizing her carefully.
Then, his gaze fell on Bella's somewhat sunken chest due to malnutrition, and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, revealing a meaningful smile.
"Want bread? Then bring something in exchange."
"After all, there's no such thing as a free lunch, is there?"
Sean repeated what he had said before, as always.