HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

He nodded to the tree and chanted an ancient and obscure incantation. Immediately, the trunk of the tree caved in, forming a two-foot-high hole.

The cave was very spacious, clearly enchanted by a scaling spell. Sagres raised his chin, and soft lights immediately illuminated the cave.

A branch hung down from the cave ceiling, quickly growing and weaving into a wooden deck chair. Sagres put down the nightingale he was holding in his arms, and then walked to the cave entrance to cast several powerful protective spells.

Turning around, he looked at the unconscious Nightingale and couldn't help but sigh. After all, dealing with a woman like her was quite a headache.

Veela are highly enigmatic and dangerous magical creatures commonly found in Eastern Europe.

They usually appear as extremely beautiful women with long, silvery-white hair, smooth skin, and captivating looks. Their bodies may even glow slightly when they are unconscious.

Of course, Veela also has another form—a bird-like monster with a sharp beak, burning wings, and ferocious claws.

They can intermarry with humans, and their offspring can inherit some of the Veela traits.

Nightingale—more precisely, *Velise Nixia*—is a half-human descendant of the Veela. Her mother has Veela blood, and her father has Froslass blood, which has caused her to exhibit some atavistic and mutated traits.

Before Sagres met her, the nightingale chose to live a solitary life in the primeval forests of Moldova to prevent people from becoming obsessed with her appearance and causing riots.

Helping up the still unconscious Nightingale, Sagres plunged the tip of his wand directly into the wound on Nightingale's back. The writhing black lines beneath her skin suddenly let out a shriek, and were then slowly and resolutely peeled off her body.

Black magic slowly flowed from the wound to the wand. Sagres felt a slight burning sensation in his palm. When he completely peeled the magic away from Nightingale, he discovered that some black curses had seeped from the wand into his hand.

This was somewhat unexpected, but he wasn't too worried. However, when he picked up the wand, he discovered that the old yew wand had been corrupted by a curse and appeared completely unusable.

Sagres was a little emotional. He had found this wand in the attic of the Greengrass family when he was a child, and it had been with him since he was six years old. Although it was not very comfortable to use, he had never replaced it over the years.

Sagres placed the decaying wand on the table and gently stroked Nightingale's back with his other hand, instantly erasing the gruesome wound.

Two silent spells were cast in succession, and the torn clothes were restored to their original state.

He carefully laid her down on the recliner, and when he looked at her instinctively, he realized that she had already opened her eyes.

Sagrass casually withdrew his hand and nodded calmly at her: "The curse has been removed without leaving a scar."

Nightingale stared blankly at his right hand, which had been corrupted by the curse during his treatment, and said nothing.

Sagres frowned, conjured a teapot, poured out a steaming cup of beverage, and handed it to the other person. "How come those dark wizards couldn't unleash such a powerful curse?"

Nightingale slowly took it, her voice low and hoarse, "Erios ambushed me... He stole the Kraken heart you gave me..."

Sagles neither comforted her nor blamed her.

He calmly offered his suggestion: "So now we have to find two people, Kestrel and Elios... My suggestion is to find Kestrel first."

As he spoke, he pulled a thumb-sized, deep blue gem from his cloak: "The Kraken has two hearts. As long as Helios still carries yours, finding him won't be difficult."

Nightingale nodded, put down her teacup, pulled over Sagres's right hand covered in dark veins, and then fell into a long silence.

Can it be cured?

“Of course!” Sagres removed his hand from Nightingale’s and casually broke the rotten wand on the table in two. “If there are no other questions, I suggest we set off immediately.”

After saying that, he handed her three crystal bottles, one containing her silver hair, the other her blood, and the other her tears. "Keep your things safe. You have to share half of the potion you brew with me."

Nightingale paused for a moment, then smiled elegantly: "Do you have any leads on her?"

"No, but I know someone who does!"

Sagres extended his left hand, and Nightingale, understanding, extended her fair right hand to join his.

The moment their hands touched, their figures vanished instantly.

In another short-range teleportation, Sagres and Nightingale crossed the border of Moldova and arrived in the Balkans.

The two walked to a remote village and, guided by the villagers, found a Gypsy divination tent.

As soon as Sagrais pointed at the tent, a vicious curse immediately came from inside: "Which damned bastard dared to cast a spell on Seraph Somberlin's tent..."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a hunched old woman leaning on a cane lifted the tent flap and came out.

"I will make pages from your skin and ink from your blood..."

The cursing abruptly stopped. The wrinkled old witch paused when she saw the nightingale, then her vacant gaze slowly radiated a greedy light. "Ah, what perfect casting material... Your hair could surely be brewed into the world's best love potion!"

She slowly extended her dirty, black hand, wanting to gently stroke the nightingale's silvery-white hair.

"Stay still!"

Sargeras immediately froze the old witch in place with a staff-free freezing spell.

Then a pile of stones rose from the ground, and a silent transformation spell turned all the stones into spikes that surrounded her.

"Now I'll ask, and you'll answer."

Sagrass looked at the other person calmly, ignoring the fear and malice in their eyes.

“A month ago, two shamans dressed as Gypsies set up a tent outside the Herbalist’s Shop in Hof, Bulgaria.”

He stared into the other man's malevolent eyes and asked expressionlessly, "Tell me where they are now!"

The witch suddenly found herself able to speak again. She tried to take out her wand, but her body was clearly still not under her control.

"Don't make me search for the answer in your own head. Trust me, you won't like that approach..."

Sagres noticed that the other party wasn't very cooperative, so he calmly offered a "reminder."

Whether his threats worked or the old witch who called herself Seraph Somberlin realized the situation, she immediately became quite cooperative.

"Let me think, let me think, ah... I need a crystal ball..."

Sagres stretched out his palm, and three crystal balls of different sizes immediately flew out of the tent and hovered in his hand.

"The smallest one, I want the smallest one..."

The deep purple crystal ball responded to her choice and slowly floated in front of Seraphin, at which point she realized that her arms could move freely again.

She placed her withered palm on the crystal ball, and the purple smoke inside the crystal ball immediately began to change shape, filling her eyes with the whites of her eyes.

"The mist will tell me where the children are. If the wheel of fate will continue to turn, then I will bury silver coins when ravens perch on laurel branches; otherwise, let my name vanish forever from the pages of books..."

The images inside the crystal ball kept changing, finally settling on a scene of two Gypsies guarding a dilapidated wooden hut.

Sagres immediately had the answer in his heart. He reached out to Nightingale, their hands met, and the exploding sound of teleportation rang out again.

Chapter 14 An Unbreakable Vow

Sagrass and Nightingale appeared directly in front of the cabin in the scene, where they saw the two dark wizards who had just appeared in the crystal ball.

Both of the Gypsy witches were women, wearing necklaces made of finger bones and magical artifacts made of skulls, with the rotting corpses of infants hanging from their waists emitting a foul stench.

The two women were pacing back and forth outside the cabin with their wands, their blatant behavior attracting frequent glances from Muggles in the nearby villages.

Yes, they didn't even cast a Muggle expulsion spell!

The secrecy laws were practically ineffective against these Gypsy witches, who roamed freely across Europe. Because they had no nationality or fixed abode, even the International Federation of Wizards was unwilling to expend a large number of personnel to capture and bring them to justice.

After all, these Gypsy wizards wouldn't surrender easily when captured. They possessed a large number of curses and dark magic artifacts, and attacking Muggles and wizards was commonplace for them.

Of course, they couldn't enter the wooden house at this time, because it was a safe house belonging to the Bronze Feathers, and they couldn't force their way in without an invitation.

Before Sagres could even make a move, Nightingale raised her wand directly at the two of them.

A burst of magical power suddenly surged and condensed in the air.

Just as the two dark wizards realized someone was casting a spell, a cluster of sharp, dense ice spikes exploded from the ground, instantly piercing the two men like hedgehogs.

Sagres raised an eyebrow, walked around the frozen corpse, and came to the door of the cabin.

"dong dong dong~"

"Squeak~", the dilapidated wooden door was suddenly pulled open, and a small witch with wine-red hair poked her head out of the door frame. She immediately showed a surprised smile when she saw Nightingale and Sagrais.

"You've finally arrived! I've been here for almost a month!"

The little witch rushed toward Sargeras, but was stopped in her tracks by an obstacle spell.

She was a little stunned. The kestrel, who had originally wanted to give a hug, immediately gave up the idea after seeing the indifferent Sagres. So she changed her target and ran towards the nightingale.

This time, she was met with a freezing spell.

"Haha, what trouble has this little rascal gotten into now?" With the sound of Apparition exploding, an elderly voice came from behind them.

Without even looking, the group knew that the newcomer was Thunderbird, one of the deans of the American magic school, Ilfamoni.

"Who are you calling a troublemaker?"

"I wasn't talking about you..."

"Who are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about—the troublemaker..."

"So you're talking about me!"

……

Sagles and Nightingale were used to this; the old man and the young girl would usually fight whenever they met, otherwise it would be strange.

The four people temporarily gathered in the cabin, and the reason they were there was quite simple.

About a year ago, Sargeras, who had just joined the Bronze Feathers, wanted to find a suitable wand, and Red Falcon jokingly performed a divination on the matter, which unexpectedly resulted in a "real prophecy".

According to the prophecy, Sagres and Nightingale will obtain the materials for four wands from a magical ruin, and Thunderbird will complete the wands for them.

The four of them had devoted a lot of energy to this project over the past year, and now that they were about to reap the rewards, Sagres had to ensure that everything went perfectly.

“Before we begin, I think everyone needs to understand the purpose of our mission,” he said calmly, glancing at the kestrels and thunderbirds.

"You all want to have a powerful wand, but you've all heard the story of the Elder Wand—Antioch Peverell, the Elder Wand's first owner, was murdered for showing off the wand's power."

After that, the Elder Wand seemed to be cursed, with each of its owners surviving for an average of no more than five years.

Sagres glanced at the three of them and told them seriously and coldly, "So, to prevent us from getting into endless trouble in the future, regardless of whether this operation succeeds or not, everyone must swear an 'unbreakable oath' to ensure that the secret of each other's wands is not revealed."

The kestrel opened its beak, but ultimately didn't dare to speak.

Sagrass glanced at her and emphasized, "Not even the other members of the Bronze Feather!"

She shrank back and asked cautiously, "What if I accidentally let it slip?"

"The spell will remind you at crucial moments, but if you are still worried, you can choose to entrust this memory to me for safekeeping."

The kestrel nodded and said nothing more. Seeing that no one had any objections, Sagres simply cut his palm open.