Chapter 1 : There will be no silly wand waving in this fic pt.2 [Commission] (Patreon)

Commissioned by [... Nicolae ...]

Technomancer in HP: Chapter 1 

Disclaimer - I don’t own the characters that might appear in this fic, aside from any original characters. All Intellectual Property belongs to their respective owners.

Azkaban (or where it used to be anyway), London [1991]

–Albus Dumbledore–

He stood atop a boat, one of the three that had been authorised to brave the storms to reach the resting place of Azkaban. Unspeakables, multiple of them, accompanied him for the trip, as Aurors, Ministry employees, and a few trustworthy Curse breakers made up the bulk of the team that had been gathered for this.

Honestly, judging by what he had seen and read in the reports, he knew that there wasn’t much benefit in doing this, but there was a method to the whole process. He had to be on site to conduct his resear–

His thoughts halted as he realised what had happened. He had slipped back into a version of himself he had thought he would never feel again. The version of Albus Dumbledore that could get excited only to learn new things. New magical phenomena, new mundane phenomena, new rituals, new magical creatures, new ways to use magic, new ways of how the magical creatures functioned, how the magical ecosystems formed naturally could be replicated, and more.

All of that fueled a younger version of Dumbledore, creating the current version of himself. Powerful, yes, but also tired. Exhausted in a way his younger self would never have been. His younger self would have scoffed at his exhaustion and thrown multiple new magical things to be researched in his face.

He couldn’t remember the last time something made him this excited. Yes, it came with something that was sure to be a tragic event for people, and loss of lives, especially on such a scale, was always a tragic thing, but the thrill of the unknown. The thrill of not knowing a single lick of the magic that was being used in front of him, was something that brought an involuntary smile to his face.

He was just glad that no one saw that smile, else he might have had to fend off rumours of Dumbledore finally going senile. He exhaled, looking forward to reaching the place. Based on the reports from the Unspeakables, there was very little to none magical residue from the attack, something that ignited that curiosity within him once more.

It was still dark out, and the natural weather of the place was hostile to normal shipping activities, hence the absolute absence of any mundane shipping vessel for their entire trip, as they finally cleared the storm and reached an area that was not draped over by intense fog and rain.

“Halt!” He heard the captain order the ships to halt, as the members who had spent their time inside the spatially expanded cabins started coming out, all the while he looked into the distance, trying to reconcile his memories of being here to seeing the flat surface of the sea.

He had been here before, unfortunately. His responsibilities eventually led to an inspection of the facility after mounting international pressure had the ICW finally sending a squad to make sure that the Wizard Rights treaty of 1889 was being followed or not, to which magical Britain was a signatory of.

He had been the one to lead the inspection, and to his resigned annoyance, he had discovered less than savory things happening inside the prison that led to the complete reshuffling of the staff and an agreement for the ICW to do annual visits as the Ministry of Magic refused to shut down a prison that was thought to be unbreachable.  He could see the utility of it, and the advantages of a remote, unplottable prison were undeniable, but the way the prison worked.

The reason why it worked. That reason irked him.

The Dementors..

No one knew where they came from, how they came about. Who created them or were they naturally occurring? Why no one had ever found more Dementors than recorded, or why couldn't they reproduce or even die? Information of them was incredibly sparse.

Worse, their nature made conducting any research on them a taxing endeavour, hence the boogeyman stature that they had gathered over the years. Ever since he first read of them, he had been repulsed by their nature and when he encountered them for the first time, he had spent an inordinate amount of time researching on ways to kill them or trap them for good, such was his distaste for the creatures, something that had never happened before or after that meeting, leading him to believe that the Dementors were a unique phenomena.

Unfortunately, smarter men than he had tried the same and had come to the same conclusion as he did. It just could not be done. He had theorised that just a vast amount of energy, something that could destabilise the very space around them, could do the trick, but the amount of magic required for that made it an impossibility to even test.

Which is why while he was disappointed that even something that could destroy an entire island in a singular attack, could not destroy the Dementors. If the attack’s nature was as he suspected it to be, which was a mass of energy shaped into a beam that disintegrated everything it came into touch with, could not destroy the vile creatures, then he suspected nothing could.

He heard someone behind him ask the captain in disbelief, "Are you sure we are at the right location?”

Sighing, he took out his wand and began firing multiple diagnostic spells as a floating Quill began recording his findings. The Unsepakables that came with him began doing the same, casting spells, some he recognised and some that were entirely foreign to him, something that did not surprise him as it had been years since he learnt a new spell.

It was just not the same. Not anymore, though. Now, he felt like getting to the bottom of this, for both obvious reasons as well as to satisfy his personal curiosity.

Just who or what could do all of this in such a short period of time?