HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

HP: A Zha'kaban's Outstanding Graduate Author: You have health insurance, so you go first!

Summary:

[HP fanfiction] [No female lead] [Has followers]

Sargeres Greengrass is a time traveler, a member of a pure-blood family in the wizarding world. His first experience with magic came from his mother's Cruciatus Curse, but when he sought his father's help, he discovered that his father was a Death Eater.

Five years after being expelled from Hogwarts, Sargeras returned to the ancient castle as a professor, wading through the salty mist of the North Sea.

Azkaban's imprisonment did not leave him with madness and decay, but rather with a kind of chilling elegance.

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Chapter 1 Visitors to Azkaban

The chilling Azkaban prison stands atop a cliff on a remote island in the North Sea. Waves crash against the rocks, and Dementors swarm and circle above the prison.

At this moment, Sagres Greengrass was sitting on the stone bed in his cell, holding a slender wand in his hand, the tip of which shimmered with a faint silver light.

His gaze was focused and indifferent; neither the prisoners' howls nor the Dementors' roars could move him in the slightest.

An old, tattered magic book floated in the air, its pages turning rapidly, the dense runes and formulas being rearranged by an unseen force.

Suddenly, the cell door was pushed open.

Sagrass did not stop wielding his wand.

"That's really surprising."

Without looking up, he said, "When did Azkaban start allowing visitors?"

"For an old man like me, there are always some privileges."

Dumbledore entered the cell with a smile, his blue eyes peering at Sacramento through his half-moon spectacles. His robes gleamed softly in the dim light, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere around him.

“It seems they didn’t assign you a roommate.” Dumbledore placed a bag of lemonade on the stone table.

With a slight twitch of his fingers, the spellbook in the air turned to ashes and fell to the ground.

He looked up at the old man, his gaze calm: "There are plenty of empty rooms in Azkaban, Headmaster."

"But they didn't even take your wand away?" The old man winked playfully.

“I understand your confusion, after all, you personally applied the tracer to my wand, but now…” He waved the wand in his hand, his calm tone revealing a hint of pride: “Even Dementors can’t smell my wand.”

Dumbledore didn't speak, but looked around and finally fixed his gaze on the anti-magic bricks on the cell wall—they were covered with magical formulas.

“It seems you haven’t stopped your research even here.” He leaned closer to look and read it aloud: ‘The energy conversion of emotion magic and the symbiotic relationship with Dementors’—it seems your prison life isn’t too bad. Maybe this place can’t hold you at all? The old man smiled and took out a honey candy from his pocket and put it in his mouth.

“Just killing time.” Sagres waved his wand, obscuring the writing on the wall.

“I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting old, but lately I’ve often thought that expelling you from Hogwarts five years ago was probably the biggest mistake I ever made in my life,” Dumbledore said with emotion.

Sargeras frowned upon hearing this: "Professor Dumbledore, if you've come to mock my situation, then you may leave. Studying stupid Dementors is already enough to bore me; I don't need another self-important visitor."

Dumbledore sighed, a hint of helplessness in his voice. "Sagles, I never intended to mock you. You were expelled because your research had reached a dangerous point. I had to consider the students of Hogwarts."

“Danger?” Sagres shook his head. “Magic itself is dangerous.” He tapped the stone bed with his wand, conjuring an oak chair. “Of course, I understand what you did back then, and I have never held a grudge against you because of it.”

Upon hearing this, the old man smiled again, pulled over a chair, and sat down, the oak chair creaking slightly.

“I’m glad to hear you say this, after all, you haven’t corresponded with me even once in the five years since you left Hogwarts.”

Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles reflected a faint light: "I heard about you from Philius. I know that you have never given up on pursuing the true meaning of magic all these years, and now you have made remarkable progress. To be honest, I am very pleased."

“As for the purpose of your visit, I think you might as well speak plainly,” he interrupted Dumbledore, gesturing to stop him. “You’ve laid enough groundwork.”

“Ah, of course, what I mean is, judging from your past achievements, you deserve a better research environment.” As he spoke, the old man took out a wax-sealed letter from his robe: “At the same time, Hogwarts needs a Charms consultant to guide the theoretical research projects and Charms practice of senior students, and to teach all students who have passed the O·WoLS.”

Sagrais accepted the letter of appointment but did not open it. His fingertips traced the Hogwarts emblem on the seal, and he murmured softly, "Back to Hogwarts?"

His thoughts flashed back to his time studying at Hogwarts, a time that, to be honest, was a "peaceful" and "wonderful" period.

Dumbledore didn't urge him. After a while, Sagres came to his senses and said, "I think I can accept it, but Professor, this requires you to use your position as a Wizengamor Inquisitor to let me leave here legitimately."

“Of course, I will handle these matters.” Dumbledore stood up. “The Ministry of Magic will send you your pardon first thing tomorrow morning. Besides that, Sacramento…”

“Come to the principal’s office for tea every Thursday afternoon, and…” He paused for a moment, “protect the castle in your own way when it needs to.”

A brief silence fell over the cell, broken only by the sound of the North Sea waves seeping through the iron bars. Sagrais walked to the stone table, tapped Lemon Olaf's candy bag with his wand, and the candies automatically arranged themselves into a miniature model of Hogwarts Castle.

“I can grant your request, Professor Dumbledore.” The sugar-coated tower shimmered in the moonlight, “but I have two conditions.”

"please say."

“First, my research is not subject to interference from any ethics review committee.” With a flick of the wand, the Sugar Castle collapsed and reformed into complex three-dimensional runes.

"Second, I have the right to reform teaching when I believe that certain 'traditional wisdom' is hindering the truth."

Dumbledore stared at the suspended sugar runes—some kind of ancient Norse runic magic.

He remained silent for a long time before calmly extending his hand: "Then Hogwarts welcomes you, Professor Greengrass."

Sagres smiled and extended his right hand: "This time, browsing the restricted section of the library won't be considered a violation of school rules."

“Yes, but please don’t replace the index page for ‘Toxic Magic’ anymore.” Dumbledore blinked. “Mrs. Pince still thinks she made a mistake in categorizing it…”

As he watched Dumbledore depart via the Phoenix Transformation, memories from other worlds occasionally flashed through Sargeras's mind: glasswares in a laboratory in another world, blackboards covered with formulas, and endless experiments.

But those images are always quickly replaced by reality—the disgusted expressions of family members when I was young, my mother's screams as she was tormented by the Cruciatus Curse, and my father's indifferent back...

As a time traveler, Sagres was initially pleased with his character's attributes, since most people who received time travel scripts were orphans who had lost both parents, while he not only had both parents alive but also belonged to the Greengrass family, one of the 28 pure-blooded families.

In his initial vision, as a nobleman in the magical world, he was destined to live a life of ease and comfort, simply enjoying the beauty of magic while living a life of leisure and perhaps setting up a hedge fund to short Gringotts.

Let these old fogies of the magical world experience what "Muggle wisdom" is all about, and let them realize their self-worth.

But reality soon dealt him a heavy blow.

From the moment he transmigrated until he enrolled at Hogwarts, the British wizarding world was under Voldemort's rule.

Yes, he knew Voldemort would eventually fail, but at that time Voldemort hadn't fallen yet, and the boy who had survived was still in his mother's womb.

Most importantly, all he knew was that Harry Potter was the savior, Voldemort was the villain, and Harry would eventually defeat Voldemort.

But he had no idea when or how he was defeated.

The Greengrass family, as Voldemort's staunch supporters, consisted almost entirely of Death Eaters.

His father was a mutist in the Ministry of Magic, and his mother was a Muggle-born wizard.

Yes, Sagres is of mixed race.

His beautiful mother, though a Muggle wizard, deeply resented Sargeras's mixed-race heritage.

She made no attempt to hide her malice towards him, as if doing so would make others forget that she herself was not a pureblood.

If it were merely the hatred and abuse from family members, that would be one thing, but later, in order to conform to Voldemort's pure-blood ideology, the Death Eaters of the Greengrass family actually used Sargeras' mother as a pledge of loyalty.

This pitiful woman was driven mad by the Cruciatus Curse, which she herself had been tormented by the Death Eaters she admired and supported, and then her life ended abruptly when she was struck by a Killing Curse.

When Sagres learned of this news, he didn't know whether to be happy or sad, because his nominal mother had given him life, but all she had done was endless abuse and torment.

At the time, 5-year-old Sagres had just experienced his first magical upheaval. He didn't even have his own wand yet, and he had to start to face his situation.

Back then, the sentence he muttered most often in private was: "This is even worse than being an orphan!"

With no other option, the threat of death forced him to seek the help of magic. Thus, at the tender age of five, Sagres was compelled to create the first spell of his life.

Yes, after the first magical outburst, he discovered his own cheat code—when the magical power in his body accumulates to a certain level, he can forcibly improve or even create spells out of thin air.

"Powerful Confusion Charm," this modified spell has no offensive power, but it can make people automatically ignore his existence, especially since he is already invisible in the family.

He used this spell to hide himself and lived in fear at home for six years, which is nothing short of a miracle.

Later, he received a letter from Hogwarts, and on the eve of his departure, he personally sent the two Death Eater elders who had cast the Cruciatus Curse on him to Azkaban.

As for his father, he had already been imprisoned when Voldemort fell from power, and he's probably dead by the Dementors' kiss by now...

A raven landing on the window interrupted his reverie.

Sagres caught the fragment of the Dementor's Cloak from between the raven's beaks, tapped it lightly with his wand, and the fragment turned to ash, a wisp of eerie blue energy flowing into his body.

The flame-shaped rune scar on his wrist gleamed in the moonlight—a souvenir of a dark magic experiment, and the source of his confidence to walk calmly through Azkaban.

"It's time to leave."

Forget everything

Chapter 2 Settling in Diagon Alley

The number 93 Diagon Alley was nailed to a moldy brick wall, and passing wizards all thought it was an abandoned warehouse.

Sagres tapped his wand three times, and the bricks rose and fell like piano keys, revealing a spiral staircase leading to the basement—his temporary residence rented for two Galleons a week, which had originally belonged to the confectionery shop's candy cellar.

“Cleaned up completely.” He waved his wand at the oak barrel covered in frosting.

Amidst the aroma of aged cream, twelve wine barrels automatically assembled into a desk, while toffee syrup stuck to the wall transformed into an amber-colored table lamp.

When the Daily Prophet slid in through the window, the front page prominently featured the headline "Merlin Medal Recipient Cleared of Crimes, to Teach Hogwarts," accompanied by a picture of his back as he walked out of Azkaban, the hem of his black robe billowing in the sea breeze.

A copy of the Ministry of Magic's pardon is placed directly below the title.

Sagres folded the newspaper into a paper crane and threw it into the fireplace. The flames licked the words "Dangerous Genius" in the headline and burned to ashes in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly, a lump of warm bird droppings landed on the amnesty decree.

"You're two minutes and fifty-seven seconds late," he said without looking up.

Coal ash fell softly as the raven Lochtis folded its metallic wings, a letter with its seal intact held between its beaks.

This beast was a cursed creation he found in the ruins of Durmstrang; the modifier had embedded a piece of obsidian in its left eye that could refract magic. Now it relied on the magic of Sargeras to sustain its life, and in return, this raven named Lochtis had to act as Sargeras' messenger.

Sagres took out the letter and glanced at it, and a quill pen and parchment flew out of the dragon-skin trunk on their own.

He pulled out a handful of mithril shavings, and Lochtis immediately flew onto his arm, tilting its head and letting out a piercing cry.

"Quiet."

The raven, silenced, turned and began pecking at the mithril dust, while at the same time, the quill brush rustled across the parchment.