HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

Below the professors' stands, Hermione stared in astonishment at her wand, the fire she had lit on Snape's robes suddenly going out.

At the same time, a gasp came from the audience. Hermione looked through the gap and saw that Harry had regained control of the flying broom and had once again spotted the Golden Snitch.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. The reason she was there was because she had observed Snape casting a spell on Harry through her binoculars when Harry's broom went out of control.

She had read in books that this kind of sustained dark magic required keeping one's eyes fixed on the person being cursed while chanting incantations, and Snape's performance just now perfectly matched that. She had seen it clearly through the telescope, and even if Dumbledore came, he couldn't change that.

After Hermione found out why Harry was in danger, she immediately displayed her bravery as a little lion. After giving a brief explanation, she shoved the brass telescope into Ron's arms and then immediately set off to create chaos in the stands where the professor was.

Honestly, if it weren't for Sagras's stopping spell, she would have succeeded by now.

As soon as a bewildered Hermione returned to her seat, an excited Ron grabbed her and began to vividly describe what he had seen through the telescope.

She then realized that before Harry's broom returned to normal, just as she had set Snape's robes on fire, Professor Greengrass had pulled out his wand and made a sweeping motion in the air towards the out-of-control Harry, and then everything returned to normal.

No wonder she vaguely heard someone chanting incantations when she was below the stands; now that she thinks about it, it was indeed Professor Greengrass's voice.

"All curses will end," she remembered that was the incantation, it sounded somewhat similar to "curse will stop," she'd have to look it up at the library after the competition...

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Unbeknownst to Sagles, their confrontation in the stands was witnessed by someone from beginning to end.

Quirrell hurriedly left the stands after his spell was interrupted, with Snape following behind him.

Seeing that Harry Potter had finally escaped his predicament and caught the Snitch, Sagles stood up, dusted off his robes, and left the Quidditch pitch amidst the cheers of Gryffindor's victory.

Chapter 11 The Nightingale's Letter

Dumbledore forgot to give him the password...

Sagres stood before the griffin statue in the headmaster's office on the eighth floor of the castle, his fingers tapping his wand impatiently.

"Sizzle, honey sugar—" The carved patterns on the stone statue shimmered faintly before fading away.

"Lemon Olaf—" The statue did not react.

“A pile of cockroaches—” Sparks flew from the tip of his cane as he prepared to try one last time.

"Toffee—" The statue's amber eyes finally turned, slowly parting the passage with the creaking of gears turning.

Sagres climbed the spiral staircase, the rhythm of her boot heels striking the ground growing faster and faster.

Good afternoon, Sagres.

The old headmaster's cheerful voice came from the fireplace, but Sagres wasn't in the mood for conversation. He replied listlessly, "Good afternoon, Professor Dumbledore!"

"Just came from the stadium? How was the game?"

“That was absolutely brilliant, Professor!” He pulled up an oak chair, sat down, and praised the professor with a blank expression.

"Come on, Sacramento, all the professors know you've never liked Quidditch!" Dumbledore took off his half-moon spectacles and wiped them.

“I think you’ve misunderstood me…” Sagres leaned forward: “What I mean is, the match between Voldemort’s henchman Quirrell and your henchman Snape was very exciting!”

Dumbledore looked up and said seriously, "This is not funny, Sargeras!"

"I'm not joking, Headmaster!"

The old headmaster's hands gradually stopped moving, and the portraits of past dynasties on the wall seemed to hold their breath: "It seems you know more than I thought!"

Sagres disliked this kind of riddle-solving behavior. He said with a hint of sarcasm, "Compared to you—the wizard who knows the most secrets in the magical world—I am really ignorant in this regard."

"Stop teasing me, Sagrais. At least in some ways, I'm no match for you."

Sagres remained noncommittal: "So, can we stop this mutual flattery now?"

Dumbledore nodded and asked gently, "So, how much do you actually know about this?"

“These are all just my guesses; at least in this matter, I truly know nothing,” Sagrais replied slowly.

"Alright, you're still as perceptive as ever. Your guess is almost the truth, but there's one thing you're wrong about..."

Dumbledore said to him seriously, "Severus has never been my henchman, although I did have him secretly investigating Quirinus."

Sagles raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

The old man fell into reminiscence, muttering as if sighing, "Yes, Voldemort... I never thought he was dead. More than ten years ago, I thought so too..."

However, at that time, the entire British magical community was immersed in the joy of victory, and I simply couldn't bear to stand up and tell everyone this cruel truth.

Dumbledore snapped out of his reverie, his eyes returning to their deep focus: "I've been searching for clues about him all these years... Perhaps he was indeed seriously injured back then, otherwise he wouldn't have remained dormant for so many years."

“As for Quirinas…” The old man shook his head.

"I don't know if he's still the same Quirrell. He was very sensitive during his school days, always wanting to stand out and craving everyone's approval..."

His voice gradually turned serious: "He went astray in his pursuit of magic. He was bewitched. Voldemort sent him to Hogwarts to obtain something, something that could also heal his injuries!"

"What is it?" Sagres blurted out instinctively.

“I cannot say, Sagres, that this thing does not belong to me; I am merely holding it in trust.”

“I understand,” Sagras chuckled softly. “Another secret!”

He didn't care about Dumbledore's concealment, but instead raised another question: "Have you ever considered that Professor Quirrell might have been coerced? After all, his actions don't seem like those of a qualified infiltrator."

“Perhaps…” Dumbledore stood up. “But Sacramento, I’ve been searching for him for ten whole years before I could find any news about him. So I can’t let this opportunity slip by, after all, I don’t even know if I can wait another ten years.”

“But I can assure you, if the opportunity arises, I will guide Quirinas back to the right path…”

Sagles waved his hand: "You don't need to make any promises to me. After all, I don't know Professor Quirrell at all. Don't worry, I won't alert him or interfere with your plans."

"Thank you, Sagres." The old man finally smiled. "Would you like a piece of candy?"

“No need, thank you.” Sagres took a half step back. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving now.”

"Wait, Zagreb..."

"What?" Sagles asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“You did a great job on Halloween night, including today at the Quidditch pitch…and of course, your teaching was excellent. It seems I finally made the right decision.” The old man said calmly and earnestly, “You are indeed very well-suited to be a professor.”

“You flatter me!” Sagres shook his head. “As for teaching, I always have to live up to the payment you give me. As for the trolls of Halloween… those were just because I promised you I would help if the castle was in danger.”

Dumbledore picked up a wriggling candy from the amber syrup and put it in his mouth. "Well, there's one more thing..." The old man wiped his hands and mumbled, "Please try not to Apparate at Hogwarts."

"Of course, I wouldn't do that unless it was absolutely necessary."

Sagres nodded in agreement, turned and walked down the stairs, leaving the principal's office.

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"Cuckoo~"

A plump owl landed at his window, and upon seeing this familiar messenger, Sagres smiled—a rare occurrence.

After handing the other person a bag of owl food, he carefully removed the letter from its beak. On the sealing wax of the envelope, a nightingale emblem holding a violet was gleaming.

Taking out a piece of parchment with a faint fragrance, Sagrais raised his hand and cast an anti-peeping spell before carefully opening the letter.

The paper was completely blank.

He took out his wand, and magic suddenly surged in the room.

"Hidden manifestation!"

After the incantation, neat handwriting slowly appeared on the parchment.

Dear Raven:

May this letter reach you before the snowflakes fall at Hogwarts.

I met the "wicked wand maker" the bard had spoken of in Oak Market, thirty miles southwest of Blackswamp—old Ellios was indeed as strange as the legends said, but he was too wary, and I was unable to get any useful information out of him.

The only certainty is that he, like Myron Waters Gregorwich, possessed and studied the Elder Wand. Thunderbird also sent a letter today saying he found some research manuscripts about the Elder Wand in Gregorwich's workshop, bearing their joint signatures.

This is good news; at least it points us in the right direction. Unfortunately, I still haven't been able to contact the Red Falcon, so perhaps this operation will have to be carried out by the three of us.

Enclosed in the letter is a crystal bottle containing a few drops of Felix Felicis. If you decide to try to find her, be sure to take it before you take any action, because the Red Falcon told me in a letter that when she parted ways with us at the safe house in Bulgaria, she saw two black sorcerers disguised as Gypsies.

—I suspect her disappearance is related to the black wizard she mentioned.

The nightingale hopes to receive your reply before the crescent moon rises.

In the Dark Swamp

The second night of the frost moon

The back of the letter was scrawled in invisible ink.

Beware of the camping tents east of the market; there are at least nine wizards and two werewolves there, and they cast the "Viper of Venom" curse three times on my tent this morning.

Sagres frowned as he read the letter, and after a moment's thought, he immediately determined the next steps of the trip.

"Let's meet up with the nightingale first, then we'll search for the kestrels together!"

As for the dark wizard and werewolf mentioned at the end of the letter, his eyes narrowed slightly, a dangerous glint in them.

"Hopefully they won't make any foolish decisions."

Before leaving, he poured out the crystal glass bottle from the envelope, and a flame rose from his fingertips, burning the remaining parchment and envelope to ashes.

Chapter 12 Smugglers and Werewolves

"Swift as a shadow, invisible as a shadow"

Sagres's figure vanished from the spot in an instant.

Inside the principal's office, the old principal suddenly looked up towards Sagres's office, his aged face filled with helplessness...

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The putrid mud gurgled under his shoes as Sagras followed the scent of blood, cutting through the man-eating vines that blocked his path, and arrived at the town mentioned in the Nightingale's letter.

Black demonic flames burned in the town. He bent down and picked up a piece of ice crystal wrapped around a werewolf's fang from the soft, wet mud.

This is Nightingale's technique, a signature spell he tailored for her before she entered Azkaban.

The chaotic scene only illustrates one point.