Chapter 1: Wrongfully Imprisoned, Unlocking the Dark Lord System

The weather was bitterly cold, with thick clouds stretching across the sky.

Out on the vast ocean, a strange ship cut through the waves with unwavering purpose, sailing straight toward its destination.

On the wide deck, a young boy sat motionless on a bench, clad in a dull gray prison uniform. His vacant eyes stared ahead, surrounded by other prisoners dressed just like him.

In front of them, an Auror in a long black coat held his wand high, delivering a stern lecture about reforming themselves and becoming better people.

Many prisoners scoffed at his words, sneering in disdain.

After all, they weren't being sent to an ordinary prison. Their destination was the most feared place in the entire British wizarding world—Azkaban.

The prison wasn't guarded by wizards like the Aurors. Instead, it was controlled by terrifying creatures known as Dementors.

These creatures fed on human happiness, draining away all joy until their victims were left as hollow shells, trapped in endless despair, waiting to die.

As the Auror continued his speech, several prisoners started whispering among themselves. Their eyes were drawn to the boy sitting among them—Lester Byrne.

Unlike the rest of the prisoners, who were all adult wizards, Lester looked no older than ten.

Despite his youth, his sharp features and upright posture set him apart. Even in his dreary prison uniform, he carried an air of quiet strength, a stark contrast to the defeated expressions of the other inmates.

Soon, the Auror himself took notice of Lester.

A flicker of pity flashed in his eyes, along with a hint of frustration toward the Ministry of Magic.

As an Auror, he knew the truth behind Lester's imprisonment.

The boy wasn't here because of any crime he committed—he was simply a scapegoat, thrown into prison to take the blame for the wrongdoing of a powerful family's heir.

The Auror sighed softly, his gaze filled with regret.

He wished he could do something to help. But he was just an ordinary Auror—what could he possibly do against the corruption of the Ministry?

Lester, meanwhile, noticed the Auror's sympathetic look but paid it no mind.

He was still trying to process what had happened.

Just a moment ago, he had been asleep in his dorm room. Now, he was on a prison ship, surrounded by criminals, with a strange man in a black coat lecturing him.

Before he could react, a sudden pain shot through his head.

Then, an overwhelming flood of memories surged into his mind.

A vision played before his eyes, like a black-and-white film, revealing the tragic story of his new identity.

Lester Byrne—a boy born into the wizarding world, orphaned at a young age, abandoned in a Muggle orphanage, and then, without warning, thrown into this nightmare just yesterday.

"Bloody hell…"

As he finished absorbing the memories, Lester couldn't help but curse.

His past was downright miserable—bad enough to be the plot of a tragic documentary.

His parents had been Aurors, heroes who died fighting against Voldemort's forces.

As the son of war heroes, Lester should have been entitled to special protection and benefits from the Ministry.

But he had been too young to claim those rights himself. And before he knew it, a powerful pure-blood family had stolen everything that belonged to him.

When he tried to fight back, he was crushed like an insect.

The corrupt pure-blood wizards framed him for a crime and had him thrown into Azkaban.

Since he was just a child, they only sentenced him to one year—long enough to keep him out of the way until Hogwarts enrollment.

Of course, in their eyes, no one left Azkaban alive.

By the time he was supposed to be released, he would either be dead or driven insane.

As the last of his predecessor's memories settled, Lester clenched his fists, grinding his teeth in rage.

The so-called "righteous" Ministry was nothing but a nest of corruption.

He wasn't just abandoned—he was sacrificed.

Wrongfully convicted, thrown into hell, and with no one to plead his case.

At this moment, he truly understood what it meant to be powerless.

Clang!

The ship lurched to a stop.

A chill wind howled across the deck as they arrived at their destination—Azkaban.

As Lester stepped off the boat, a bone-chilling gust hit him in the face.

Looking up at the sky, he saw nothing but darkness—no trace of summer warmth, only an oppressive gloom.

The ground was covered in jagged black rock, the island barren and lifeless. The occasional howling wind only made it more desolate.

Lester immediately wanted to turn back.

But with heavily armed Aurors surrounding him, escape wasn't an option.

Step by step, he followed the lead Auror toward the towering fortress ahead.

Dementors hovered in the distance, their hollow eyes gleaming with hunger.

Only the Aurors' Patronus charms kept them at bay, preventing them from feasting on the prisoners.

Soon, Lester found himself at the prison gates.

Crossing the threshold, he officially entered Azkaban.

Unlike the prisons from his past life's movies, this place was eerily silent.

None of the inmates jeered or taunted the newcomers.

Instead, they huddled in their cells, barely breathing, terrified of drawing the Dementors' attention.

The moment Lester stepped inside, a crisp mechanical voice echoed in his mind—

[Ding! Dark Lord System activated!]