Cassian Drayke's immunity to the Cruciatus and Imperius Curses had always been a mystery whispered among the darker corners of the wizarding world. But naturally, the dark wizards who discovered this terrifying truth never dared to reveal it to the Ministry of Magic.
After all, if the Ministry ever caught wind of it, they would undoubtedly detain Cassian and extract the secret by any means necessary. And if they learned how he resisted the Unforgivable Curses, it would be the end for every dark wizard who relied on those spells for dominance.
In truth, some among them had even considered breaking Cassian out of Azkaban themselves—if not for the nearly impossible nature of such a heist. Most dark wizards hadn't mastered the Patronus Charm, and even those who had only managed weak, wavering wisps. Azkaban, swarming with ravenous Dementors, was too much for them.
And yet, the boy had walked free—after just two months. Two months, despite having murdered Muggles in broad daylight.
It sent shivers down Lucius Malfoy's spine.
Could Cassian have struck a deal with the Ministry? Could he have betrayed them—revealed how to resist the Unforgivable Curses? If so, the Ministry might have shortened his sentence in exchange for such knowledge. That possibility alone was enough to make Lucius feel physically ill.
No. He had to find out the truth.
With a heavy sigh, Lucius placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. With a crack, the two were swallowed by the swirling shadows of Apparition.
When they reappeared in Malfoy Manor, Draco collapsed to the floor and retched, pale as parchment. Lucius, however, didn't spare his son a glance. He was already halfway to the family vault, retrieving a bag of Galleons. He had used the last of his coin to smooth things over with Cassian—this next visit would require a different kind of diplomacy.
And so, with gold in hand, Lucius Apparated again—this time to Azkaban.
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In the bleak, damp office of the warden, Ludmis sat back in his chair, reading the Daily Prophet with a contented sigh. The headlines celebrated the recent quiet at the prison, and for good reason—since Cassian Drayke's departure, the Dementors had returned to their usual, gliding indifference. No longer distracted, no longer unnerved.
Yes, life had gone back to normal.
Then came the knock at the door.
"Warden Ludmis, Lucius Malfoy has arrived to see you," a guard called from the hallway.
Ludmis's eyes lit up. "Ah, Lucius! Show him in."
He smiled. While Cassian had been a nightmare to manage, Lucius was a delight. Wealthy, influential—and best of all—generous.
Moments later, the tall figure of Lucius Malfoy swept into the room. His expression was cool, but beneath it was a simmering urgency.
"Warden Ludmis," he said in greeting, wasting no time. "Let's not mince words. Cassian Drayke murdered two Muggles in broad daylight. How does someone like him walk free after only two months? Don't tell me he found redemption under the Dementors' mercy."
Ludmis chuckled dryly and leaned back in his chair. "Ah, well. You see… it's not so simple. Our Dementors are not known for leniency, that's true. But you must understand, subjecting a child to them every day is… uncomfortable, even for someone in my position."
Lucius wordlessly drew his wand and cast a silent Muffliato spell to seal the room, then placed a single golden Galleon on the desk.
Ludmis didn't miss a beat, sliding the coin into his pocket with practiced ease.
"So?" Lucius pressed. "What's the real reason?"
The warden sighed and steepled his fingers. "That boy… he's unnatural. When he first arrived, the Dementors took turns tormenting him day and night—but he never screamed, never even flinched. His expression never changed. Cold. Flat. Emotionless. It gave even the guards nightmares."
Lucius's brow furrowed.
"And after the first fortnight," Ludmis continued, "they stopped trying altogether. My Aurors reported the Dementors simply ignored him—floated right past his cell as if he wasn't there."
He paused meaningfully. "You know as well as I do, Lucius—Azkaban exists only because of the Dementors. If they won't guard someone, we've got no real way of keeping them inside. The last thing I needed was an escape—imagine the scandal. So… we released him quietly. Said it was a commutation."
Lucius exhaled, unsure whether to be relieved or horrified. The implications were staggering. "You're telling me… he resisted the Dementors completely?"
"Not resisted," Ludmis said, shaking his head. "More like… nullified. Like he was invisible to them. I've never seen anything like it."
"Did he use the Patronus Charm?" Lucius asked suddenly, trying to make sense of it. Cassian had never cast one during their encounters in Knockturn Alley, so it seemed unlikely—but still, it was the only spell known to repel Dementors.
Ludmis barked a laugh. "Please. He's a child. You think a boy that age can cast a fully-formed Patronus without a wand? Ridiculous."
Lucius narrowed his eyes. "There are other ways to resist them…"
The warden leaned in, lowering his voice despite the silencing charm. "Lucius, listen carefully. I've been Warden for twenty-three years. I've seen horrors beyond imagination. But that boy? There's something fundamentally wrong with him. The Dementors couldn't feed on him because… because there was nothing to take."
"What do you mean?" Lucius asked, his voice tight.
"No joy. No warmth. No memories worth stealing. Just darkness. Hate. It's like he was born in shadow and never left. That kind of emptiness… it makes the Dementors lose interest. They can't drain what isn't there."
Lucius sat back, chilled by the words. Of course. Cassian had been raised by Death Eaters, isolated and weaponized from an early age. Happiness would have been a foreign concept. If he had no light in his heart, there was nothing for the Dementors to feed on. Nothing but cold.
So that's how he did it.
Lucius had assumed the worst—that Cassian had begun taming the Dementors—but now he saw the truth might be even worse. He didn't need to tame them. They simply had no power over him.
"I remember now," Lucius muttered. "He was raised by Carrow. Of course he has no good memories."
"A child like that," Ludmis said, shaking his head, "he's dangerous. I don't think he's even human anymore. Just… a vessel for dark magic."
Lucius didn't answer immediately. His mind raced, trying to fit the pieces together. Cassian's immunity to curses, his disregard for fear, his resistance to Dementors—it all pointed to a boy who had transcended the normal boundaries of magic.
And he hadn't even set foot in Hogwarts.
What would he become with training?
He had once thought Cassian a useful pawn. Now, he feared he was witnessing the rise of something far more powerful than Voldemort had ever been at that age.
But he couldn't show that fear.
"Well," Lucius said at last, rising to his feet. "It's good to know the boy didn't sell us out. I suppose we'll just have to keep an eye on him."
"More than that, I'd say," Ludmis murmured. "Pray he never turns his eyes on you."
Lucius didn't respond.
As he Apparated away, he found himself gripping his wand tighter than he realized, knuckles white. Cassian Drayke was no ordinary child.
He was a storm waiting to be unleashed.
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