HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

Fear was replaced by the thrill of revenge, and the alchemical arm seemed to gleam with an even colder light in the darkness.

Chapter 187 The Trio Reunited

The next day, the sunlight struggled to penetrate London's perpetual fog, sparingly casting its light on the Leaky Cauldron's grimy windows.

Harry woke up early as usual and had a simple breakfast at the bar.

The oppressive feeling Fudge had left him from last night hadn't completely dissipated, but the upcoming news of Ron and Hermione was like a glimmer of light supporting him.

He slung his backpack over his shoulder, his wand concealed in his sleeve for easy access. Lochteis landed silently on his shoulder, the cold touch reminding him of his mission—the bait.

Stepping back into Knockturn Alley, Harry's senses were even clearer than yesterday.

He forced himself to walk slower, his gaze seemingly casually sweeping over the dark shop signs on both sides and into the depths of the alley.

He could feel countless gazes falling on him, filled with inquiry, greed, and even undisguised malice.

Some gazes lingered on the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead for a moment, then became more complex and dangerous.

Loctis stood on his shoulder, his obsidian eyes scanning the surroundings sharply, occasionally turning his head as if analyzing every suspicious figure.

Harry's heart was pounding, and his palms were sweating profusely as he gripped his wand.

Every cold wind blowing from the dark alleyway made him paranoid, as if he would see that disheveled, crazed figure rush out.

He kept recalling Sagres's words: "Stay vigilant," and "Emotions are distractions."

He tried to control his breathing, attempting to appear like an ordinary teenager simply curious about dark magic items, though his green eyes were filled with tension.

He passed the eerie window of the Borgin-Bock shop, which displayed all sorts of strange antiques; he bypassed several wizards who were trading in hushed tones in the corners and immediately fell silent when they saw him; he even paused for a moment at a stall piled high with rusty cauldrons and strange plant roots, the stall owner being an old witch missing a few teeth, who looked at him with murky eyes as if appraising merchandise and let out a hoarse laugh.

Time passed by, and each second seemed exceptionally long.

The eerie atmosphere of Knockturn Alley and the ever-present sense of being watched were like a cold tide, constantly eroding Harry's nerves.

Loctis remained highly alert, but did not take any special warning actions.

When Harry finally emerged from the suffocating environment of Knockturn Alley and stood once again in front of the relatively "bright" Leaky Cauldron, he felt a wave of exhaustion.

The sunlight shone on him, dispelling some of the chill, but it couldn't dispel the heaviness and disappointment in his heart.

Blake did not appear.

He returned to his room and collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.

The Loctis on the shoulder flew to the top of the wardrobe, continuing its silent vigil.

Harry closed his eyes, the malicious stares and eerie images of Knockturn Alley still lingering in his mind.

Sirius Black, where are you? When will you finally appear?

With this thought in mind, Harry fell into a deep sleep.

……

Days slipped by on a taut string.

Harry strictly adhered to Sagrais's plan, like a clockwork mechanism, appearing precisely at the breakfast table in the Leaky Cauldron, stepping precisely into the sunlit Diagon Alley for a brief respite, and precisely entering the chilling Knockdown Alley in the afternoon.

More than ten days of repetition, more than ten days of futile efforts.

Every time he stepped into Flip-Flop Alley, the feeling of being watched by countless eyes hidden in the shadows sent chills down his spine.

Loctis was his only source of reassurance; his dark eyes silently conveyed a message: the professor was watching.

Harry forced himself to hold his head high and walk as steadily as possible, but his heart pounded like a drum whenever those malicious whispers and cold gazes swept over him.

He dared not linger too long in front of any of the strange shops, much less go inside; he simply wandered like a lost ghost along the narrow cobblestone path.

He exercised extreme restraint in controlling his spending desires.

The mountain of gold coins in Gringotts vault seemed like a distant phantom.

In Diagon Alley, aside from basic food and the cheapest ice cream (which became the only "luxury" he allowed himself each day), he hardly touched any of the tempting items in the shop windows—especially the Firebolt that haunted his dreams.

However, it was precisely this restraint, so out of step with the excitement and shopping desire that a teenager lingering in the most bustling commercial street of a magical world should have, that attracted the attention of some shadowy figures.

A boy who appears on time for more than ten consecutive days, only briefly stays in the sunny area, ignores the dazzling array of goods, and frequently ventures into the upside-down alley... this in itself is strange.

Even stranger, someone once glimpsed him coming out of Gringotts, and saw his bulging money bag... enough to make some greedy thoughts fester in the dark.

That afternoon, the sunlight still lazily shone on Diagon Alley.

As usual, Harry stood in front of Flourish and Blotts, breathing in the scent of ink, his eyes scanning the new school textbooks displayed in the window.

Unlike the previous days, he didn't go to buy ice cream; he was only thinking about starting his afternoon "patrol" as soon as possible.

He didn't even notice that two familiar figures were carrying a large stack of new books as they walked out of the shop next to the bookstore, which smelled sweetly of candy.

"Hey! Is that Harry?" Ron, with his sharp eyes, pointed at the thin figure about to turn and leave at the bookstore entrance.

Hermione looked in the direction Ron pointed, only managing to catch a glimpse of Harry's silhouette quickly disappearing at the edge of the crowd, and the direction he hurried toward—the dark and narrow entrance to Knockturn Alley.

The surprise on Hermione and Ron's faces froze when they saw where Harry had gone.

What was he doing in Flipping Alley?

Hermione's voice tightened as she deftly shoved the book into the bottle enchanted with the Unseen Stretching Charm, her face filled with shock and worry.

"That place is too dangerous!"

“Maybe he was just passing by?” Ron guessed, but his tone was full of uncertainty.

"Impossible! He walked so fast, and his destination was clear!"

Hermione made a quick decision, "Follow him! It's too dangerous for him to be alone!"

Without waiting for Ron's reply, she immediately hurried after the direction Harry had disappeared in.

……

Harry forced himself to step back into the suffocating alleyway of Knockturn Alley.

He took a deep breath and silently told himself: Blake might be watching from some corner, and he had to persevere for his parents' sake.

He deliberately slowed his pace.

After so many days of almost numb observation, the initial fear has indeed subsided considerably. At least he no longer worries that a withered hand will suddenly reach out from the cracks in the doors of those dark shops and drag him inside.

However, the moment I stepped into this place today, a strange feeling, like cold vines, began to entwine my heart.

He always felt like someone was following him.

He turned back several times alertly, his sharp gaze sweeping over the twisted alley and swaying shadows behind him, even subconsciously glancing at the raven Lochtis on his shoulder, seeking confirmation.

But the black bird simply perched quietly, its small eyes scanning its surroundings sharply, offering no particular warning.

Harry had no choice but to suppress the unease surging within him and continue walking through the depths of the alleyway, which reeked of musty smells and strange potion odors.

As you approach a relatively quiet corner, the towering, crooked shops on both sides almost completely block out the sky, making the light exceptionally scarce.

A strong intuition seized Harry.

His heart skipped a beat, and almost instinctively, he drew his wand with lightning speed and turned around abruptly!

But the moment he saw who it was, all color drained from his face, his eyes filled with disbelief, shock, and overwhelming panic: "Hermione? Ron?! You...you're here?! Get out of here! It's too dangerous!"

His voice trembled slightly with nervousness.

"Danger? You know it's dangerous?" Hermione was both anxious and angry, forgetting her fear, and grabbed Harry's arm. "What are you doing, Harry? Why are you running into this awful place? And Mr. Lochteis...you guys..."

“This is not the time to talk about this!” Harry nervously scanned the dark doorway and narrow gaps around them. “You must get out of here immediately…”

Before he could finish speaking, an unfamiliar voice, like a cold, venomous snake, suddenly emerged from the shadows.

"Did you hear that? They want to leave."

Immediately afterwards, several tall and imposing figures seemed to emerge from the shadows of the building, or as if they had solidified from the polluted air.

They silently blocked the way the three had come from, as well as the exit of the narrow side road next to them.

A greasy, dark cloak covered his entire body, with the hood pulled down low, revealing only the lower half of his ferocious face.

Harry, Harry, and his friends saw many things in the lower half of that face—twisted scars, yellowed teeth, and an undisguised, greedy smirk.

Chapter 188 The Thrill of Battle

"Look who's here?" The wizard blocking Harry's path had a hoarse voice, like sandpaper scraping. "The famous Harry Potter? Taking a stroll in Knockturn Alley again? You've got some nerve, you little brat."

"Tsk tsk tsk..." Scarface's hoarse voice was full of mockery, "Our little savior is really generous, he even brought two snacks."

His sinister gaze swept over Hermione and Ron, lingering for a moment on Hermione's hand as she reached for her wand.

"I heard you have quite a bit of gold in your pocket?"

The wizard on the left licked his lips greedily, revealing a set of uneven, yellow teeth. "Your dead parents left you quite a bit of wealth, didn't they? Share some with your uncles?"

Harry's blood seemed to freeze instantly.

Not Blake!

They are a few black wizards who are purely after money and want to kill!

Fear coiled around his limbs like a cold, venomous snake, rendering him immobile.

After all, Professor Greengrass's plan did not include dealing with this kind of street thug-like dark wizard!

“I…we have no money!” Harry’s voice trembled slightly.

"No money?" Scarface sneered, taking a step closer, his strong stench of alcohol and sweat hitting the air. "Who would believe that? Just search them and you'll find out!"

A calloused, filthy hand suddenly reached for Harry's pocket.

"Wait!" Harry took a step back, his mind racing. "My money is all in Gringotts, a huge amount of Galleons. I can give it all to you, just let us go."

“Really? No problem, kid…” Scarface grinned and took two more steps closer. “But your companion will have to stay here as insurance.”

Harry's heart sank to the bottom!

The worst has happened, and it has dragged Hermione and Ron into it as well.