HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

“Um…” Thunderbird hesitated for a moment before speaking, recalling the moment Swift opened the bottle, “When Swift opened the cap, I was close by, and I think… I vaguely inhaled a trace of… a dusty smell…”

Everyone's attention immediately turned to the hummingbird and the nightingale.

The hummingbird's expression changed slightly, and it admitted in a low voice, "Uh... I think... I also smelled a little bit of a stench..."

Nightingale breathed a sigh of relief, saying thankfully, "I was quite far away, and I cast a Bubble Head Charm on myself the moment the bottle was opened. So, I didn't smell anything."

“So…” Sagres looked around and concluded, “Besides the nightingale, the five of us—the kestrel, the swift, the ptarmigan, the hummingbird, and me—have all ‘won the lottery’?”

"Won't the duration of effect vary depending on the dosage?" Swift asked, clinging to a sliver of hope.

“Perhaps,” Sagres said, looking at the lifeless falcon on the hospital bed, “but I think it will take at least 48 hours.”

Nightingale looked at her companions, who were about to be plagued by bad luck, and said with a tone of both sympathy and warning: "You'll probably have to... well... keep a low profile for the next few days."

A few sighs of despair, tinged with resignation, echoed in the ward.

They knew that Nightingale's use of "keeping a low profile" probably meant that for the next period of time, they would have to be extremely careful, even when walking or drinking water.

Chapter 170 The Goddess of Misfortune Smiles

With the chaos at St. Mungo's subsided, Nightingale rushed to Beauxbatons with the unknown potion, leaving Sagres and the other five looking at each other in the hospital room.

The air seemed to still carry their respective "most hated smells," as well as an invisible sense of heaviness—misfortune had clung to them like a leech.

“I must return to Hogwarts,” Sagrais broke the silence, his voice calm yet undeniable. “The final exams cannot be delayed; the exam papers are not yet finalized, and the proctoring arrangements need to be confirmed.”

He looked at the listless falcon on the hospital bed, "You get some rest. Nightingale will figure out how to break the curse. As for the others..."

His gaze swept over the swifts, ptarmigans, and hummingbirds. "Stay in a safe place, minimize activity, and wait for news from the nightingale."

Swift looked at her hand, which had just held the medicine, with a pained expression: "Professor, are you sure it's okay for you to go back now...?"

The Thunderbird and the Hummingbird also cast worried glances.

Sagrass took a deep breath, suppressing the irritation brought on by the potion of bad luck: "It's my duty. Besides, Hogwarts is relatively safe. I'll stay in my office and not go anywhere else."

He tried his best to appear calm and composed, as if the invisible curse was just a trivial trouble.

Then he sketched in his mind a secluded and spacious place to stay outside Hogwarts Castle—a meadow on the edge of the Black Lake, far from the Willow of the Beating Man.

The invisible incantation was clearly uttered from his mouth, and the surrounding space immediately began to distort and compress...

However, just as his feet were about to step onto the grounds of Hogwarts, the long-dormant "bad luck" finally kicked in.

"Pfft-"

A very faint yet chilling tearing sound suddenly rang out.

Sagres staggered onto the grass, a hint of surprise flashing across his usually serious face.

A sharp pain came from my left hand.

He looked down and saw that his left little finger had disappeared from the second joint, the cut was unusually smooth, and the blood hadn't even had a chance to flow out yet.

Split?

This was a basic mistake he had never made in his more than ten years of magical career!

Sagres frowned, immediately crouched down, and searched for the severed finger in the dense grass.

Fortunately, the dissection appears to be limited to this small area, and the severed finger is nearby.

A few seconds later, he saw it—the pale little finger was lying quietly among a few clover leaves.

He carefully picked up the severed finger, precisely placing it back into the wound, and then swiftly pointed his wand at the severed finger:

"Flesh and blood are closely connected!"

A soft, milky-white light emanated from the tip of the wand, enveloping the severed finger and the wound.

Sagres could clearly feel the wounds slowly healing under the influence of magic.

After a short while, his finger finally recovered completely.

"Hoo..." He slowly exhaled, feeling as if he had just gone through a battle.

Apparition?

He probably won't use it again until the curse is completely gone.

He pulled out the Bronze Feather badge and gave the group a brief message: try to avoid using Apparition; instead, use Portkeys, FlooNet, or Knight Bus.

……

Sagres believed that with his strength, there would be absolutely no problem with this commonly used magic!

But he was careless in the end.

It seems Dumbledore was right; his inherent arrogance is indeed difficult to detect and correct.

Knowing that he was doomed, he shouldn't have used any risky magic!

Exhausted, Sagres returned to Hogwarts Castle.

He declined all greetings along the way, went straight to his office, and locked the wooden door firmly from the inside.

"I'm not going anywhere..."

He repeated his decision in a low voice, his gaze falling on the thick pile of parchment on the table, which was the unfinished draft of the final exam.

This became his only task going forward.

……

Time slipped by with difficulty amidst a series of misfortunes.

After two instances of quill pens betraying us and parchment spontaneously combusting, exam week finally arrived as scheduled.

Two days have passed since they were first tainted by the curse. Swift and Thunderbird have mostly recovered, but the misfortune on Sagres is slow to fade.

Proctoring exams would probably be a nightmare for him at this point, so he decisively adopted the safest solution: let Lochteus proctor the exams, and set aside only written exams for all exams.

Sure enough, the exams went quite smoothly without his participation. When the bell rang to signal the end of the last exam, the students handed in their papers and left with a sigh of relief.

Sagres looked through the raven's eyes at the thick stack of exam papers that had been collected, and his nerves, which had been tense for several days, finally showed a slight sign of relaxation.

"Go and fetch Dobby."

Sagles gave Loktis instructions.

The raven's dark eyes reflected his expressionless face, then it silently spread its wings and suddenly flew into the depths of the dark forbidden forest.

He decided that, for absolute safety, or rather, to minimize the potential disaster caused by misfortune, he would remain absolutely still unless absolutely necessary.

After all, any unnecessary action could become the lever that triggers misfortune.

A short while later, with a soft pop, the house-elf Dobby appeared out of thin air at his feet, his tennis ball-sized eyes filled with excitement and fear: "Your great master is summoning Dobby? Dobby is willing to do anything for you! Anything!"

"Quiet, Dobby." Sagres's voice was steady, his calm eyes sweeping over the elf. "See that pile of test papers?"

Dobby followed his gaze and saw a thick stack of parchment scrolls piled up there, with a quill pen dipped in ink next to it.

"Yes, yes, Master! Dobby saw it! Dobby can..."

“Very good,” Sagres interrupted him, clearly issuing the instruction, “I need you to correct them. Listen, the grading criteria are as follows: three points for correctly answering the key spell steps, and a complete description of the spell's evolution…”

Just as he was dictating the scoring details, that damned bad luck struck again with pinpoint accuracy.

His tongue seemed to have its own thoughts, and unexpectedly collided with his teeth.

"..."

A sharp, stabbing pain came.

He frowned slightly, but his expression was perfectly controlled. He quickly touched the spot where he had been bitten with the tip of his tongue and tasted a barely perceptible metallic flavor.

He remained expressionless, without pausing for more than half a second, as if it were merely the popping of a tiny, insignificant bubble in his throat, and continued, "...Two points. The theoretical explanation is clear, but it lacks supporting examples..."

As if feeling that his previous attack hadn't been strong enough, he had barely uttered two sentences when his tongue once again inexplicably slipped towards his teeth.

"……hiss!"

This time the pain was more distinct.

Sagres' jawline tightened for a moment, and a very subtle hint of helplessness flashed in the depths of his eyes.

He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the discomfort, and gently pressed his tongue against the inside of his mouth to make sure he hadn't actually bitten it and bled. Then he continued very naturally, without even slowing down his speech: "...hold on, deduct one point. Answers that completely deviate from the topic or cause dangerous consequences get zero points."

Sagres pursed his lips, his tongue briefly curling inside his mouth.

He paused, not because of the pain, but to make sure it wouldn't happen a third time.

The probability seemed exceptionally high today. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, his expression had returned to normal.

He then looked at Dobby, his gaze calm: "Have you all remembered? Follow this standard strictly. Don't improvise."

Dobby's big eyes widened even more. The slight pause and almost inaudible gasp from Sagres had made its ears tremble with tension, but it didn't dare to ask and just nodded vigorously.

"Dobby understands! Dobby will follow your instructions exactly! Not a single word will be wrong! Dobby guarantees it!"

It solemnly walked towards the pile of exam papers, then carefully picked up the quill pen, and finally began to work with an almost tragic air.

It was as if they weren't grading exam papers, but rather the Book of Life and Death of the King of Hell.

Chapter 171 Luna's Lost and Found Notice

Sagres watched Dobby's thin back as he hunched over his desk writing furiously, and then slightly moved his tongue inside his mouth again.

The stinging sensation is slowly fading, leaving a lingering numbness.

He let out a soft breath.

Fortunately, the fangs of misfortune only grazed the tongue lightly this time, stopping at just a few bites.

No ink spills, no exam papers spontaneously combusting, no quill malfunctioning. In his two days of bad luck, this was a lucky "peaceful" day.

Sagres straightened his back again, his gaze fixed on the blurry outline of the Forbidden Forest outside the window. The only background noise was the scratching of Dobby's quill pen across parchment.

……