HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

In the suffocating silence of the committee office, a sharp, distorted voice rang out like a broken gong:

"Afraid...afraid of what?!"

It's Umbridge!

She abruptly dropped her hand from her mouth, her toad-like eyes bulging as she stared intently at the gap where Sagres had disappeared.

"Look at you all! A bunch of useless trash!"

She screamed and cursed, her voice cracking with rage, trying to dispel her fear and incite the others. "No matter how powerful he is, he's just one person! One person! How many Aurors are there here? How many people?! Let's attack together! Overwhelm him with spells! Can he withstand a barrage of dozens, even hundreds, of spells?! Take him down! Avenge Mr. McNeil! Uphold the dignity of the Ministry of Magic!"

She waved her intact hand hysterically at the gap, as if Sagres were still standing there, at the mercy of others.

"He trespassed into the Ministry of Magic! Attacked officials! Brutally murdered Mr. McNeil! The evidence is irrefutable! This is a blatant violation of the law! This is rebellion!"

Umbridge's voice grew louder and louder, trying to sway the crowd with high-sounding righteousness, "Catch him! Minister Fudge! Catch this murderer! He just left! He can't have gone far!"

Fudge was startled by her frantic shouting.

Looking at McNeil's gruesome corpse and recalling the terrifying power that Sagrais had displayed several times, he felt a chill run from the soles of his feet to the top of his head!

Give an order?

What order was given? What was it given with?

Are we supposed to let these Aurors at the door, who can barely hold their wands properly, fill in the gaps?

He opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.

The other Aurors and staff, instead of being spurred on by Umbridge's taunts, took a step back in fear.

The way they looked at Umbridge was as if they were looking at a madman who had lost his mind.

Let's work together?

McNeil's fate serves as a stark example.

Fear gripped everyone's heart, rendering them immobile.

"Useless! All of you are useless!"

Seeing no one respond, and no one even daring to look her in the eye, Umbridge trembled with rage and burst into a tirade, "What use are you all to the Ministry of Magic! Not even one..."

"Shut up!" Fudge roared.

His fat face was bulging with veins, and his eyes were filled with rage at Umbridge's foolish actions and despair at his own situation.

The cold, alchemical prosthetic limb suddenly shot out, gripping Umbridge's pink wool sweater collar like an iron clamp, the immense force nearly lifting the short, stout woman off the ground.

"Minister...I..."

"You brainless idiot!"

Fudge spat in Umbridge's face. "Shut up with your bureaucratic talk! Now! Right now! Shut your stinking mouth!"

Fudge's sudden outburst was like a bucket of cold water, instantly stunning the hysterical Umbridge.

Looking into Fudge's bloodshot eyes and feeling his hand, which felt like an iron clamp, she swallowed the words that were on the tip of her tongue.

Fudge released Umbridge, glanced around at the group of terrified men at the door, and said in a hoarse, weak voice, "What are you all standing there for?! Clean up the scene! Cover up the news! Everything that happened here today..."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over McNeil's decapitated body and the blood-stained giant axe, finally settling on the distraught Umbridge. His tone was chilling, "...Anyone who dares to utter a single word..."

He didn't finish his threatening words, but everyone understood the consequences.

Meanwhile, deep in Albania's Black Forest.

The winter sunlight was fragmented by the dense, ancient tree canopy, sparingly casting down a few pale spots of light.

The air was cold and damp, filled with a heavy, putrid stench—the smell of centuries of accumulated fallen leaves, decaying wood, and the bones of nameless creatures fermenting together.

The gnarled roots of the ancient trees, like giant pythons, are exposed on the ground, twisting and tangling to form a natural maze.

Deathly silence is the dominant theme here. The occasional cries of strange birds or the rustling of unidentified creatures do not dispel the silence, but instead add to the eeriness and oppression.

Sagres appeared without warning in a moss-covered forest clearing.

His dark gray robe blended almost seamlessly with the surrounding tree trunks in the dim light, with only his deep eyes shining like cold stars.

"Summon the Wolf Soul!"

A pack of glowing giant wolves materialized in the open space as the incantation was chanted, and then immediately scattered.

Without pausing, his figure blurred again and disappeared from the spot.

The next second, he appeared on the top branch of a giant oak tree, looking down at the boundless dark forest below.

A cold wind swept through the treetops, ruffling his clothes, but he remained motionless.

"The human form appears!"

The powerful magic, like an invisible spider web, suddenly spread outwards from him, rapidly expanding in all directions.

The terrain of the forest, the aura of magical creatures, and even the faint flow of the earth's veins all sketched a three-dimensional picture in his mind.

No exception.

At least, there was no obvious trace of dark magic.

He frowned slightly, then disappeared again, reappearing at the edge of a deeper canyon in the forest.

The atmosphere here was even more sinister, with a faint smell of sulfur and decay permeating the air.

"Summon the Wolf Soul!"

Sagres waved his wand again, and a pack of transparent, glowing wolves reappeared not far in front of him. He then tapped his wand lightly, and the pack of transparent wolves immediately scattered and silently disappeared into the forest.

Time passed slowly in a suffocating silence and waiting. The entire afternoon, Sagres received fragmented and incomplete information.

Traces of various magical creatures remain in the forest: the faint fluctuations of the Bowtruckle, the shadowy aura of the hidden Boggarts, and even remnants of werewolf and vampire activity...

However, there were no suspicious traces of magic that pointed to any particular direction.

Sagres did not give up. His figure flashed through the dense primeval forest time and time again, each time appearing in a location where his magical perception might be more advantageous: beside the gnarled heartwood of an ancient oak tree, beside a dark stream flowing with faint magical fluorescence, at the edge of a black swamp exuding an ominous aura and unknown threats...

Trace reveal, soul tracing, magical echo... several different types of detection magic were used in turn, but without exception, they all disappeared without a trace.

He examined places where there might be magical caves or ruins, and sensed nodes where magical energy was unusually concentrated, but found nothing except a few nests of low-level dark creatures and some long-abandoned ancient magical traps.

Sagrais stopped at the roots of a huge, withered tree, the words Trelawney uttered at the Hogwarts Christmas party echoing clearly in his mind.

He was certain that Trelawney's prophecy referred to the journey Peter Pettigrew took when he brought Nagini to Voldemort.

The prophecy has already come true, or perhaps it is quietly unfolding in some unknown corner of this forest.

But this forest is too big.

Moreover, Voldemort's methods of concealing himself are likely extraordinary. He may be parasitizing a creature, hiding deep within an ancient ruin shielded by powerful magic, or even lurking underground in some special form...

A sense of irritation rose in Sagres' heart.

He glanced at the silent, oppressively dark green forest before him, and an extremely efficient idea flashed through his mind in an instant—a raging fire!

With the purest destructive magic, burn this evil-breeding forest and everything hidden within it to ashes.

However, just as his murderous intent surged, his keen senses caught a glimpse of a holy white light flashing in the distant dense forest—it was a small group of unicorns quietly drinking water in a forest clearing.

Further away, a hunchback peeks its curious little head out of a tree hole, while a group of silly flower fairies shimmer around a few rare winter blossoms...

The forest itself is innocent; it merely silently witnesses the struggle between light and darkness.

While devastating magic can certainly destroy hidden enemies, it will also inevitably devour these innocent creatures and this ancient forest.

Sagress eventually abandoned that crazy idea and slowly loosened his grip on the wand.

The dormant shadows are greedily drawing nourishment from the darkness beneath Albania's ancient roots, patiently weaving a web of revival.

This near miss may just be a brief respite granted by fate.

Sagres's figure disappeared into the shadows of the forest one last time.

Chapter 238 The Gathering and Dobby's Request

The unsuccessful attempt in the Albanian Black Forest did not leave any trace of defeat on Sagres's face. He continued to handle Hogwarts affairs calmly, as if he had only taken a walk in the forest.

A few days later, as the cold stars of winter began to adorn the Hogwarts night sky, he quietly left the castle.

Passing through layers of ancient vines and thorns that seemed to automatically part the path as if they were alive, Sagres arrived at the safe house in the Forbidden Forest.

The room was warm and comfortable, and insulated from the cold outside.

A magical flame burned in the fireplace, making a soft crackling sound as the resin burned, emitting warmth and a faint fragrance.

Several large, comfortable armchairs surrounded the fireplace, and on one of them, a falcon wrapped in a thick blanket was nestled, holding a steaming cup of chocolate.

Although her face was still a little pale, her spirits were noticeably better.

The hummingbird was sitting next to her, talking in hushed tones.

On the other side of the fireplace, several silent figures sat in the shadows.

Sagres was the last to arrive.

He sat down in the empty armchair, his gaze sweeping over everyone before finally settling on Lumina, and cut to the chase:

"Red Falcon, how is your recovery? Could you try a divination to pinpoint the exact location of a specific target?"

Lumina put down the hot chocolate, her playful expression fading slightly as she looked serious: "Location divination? Wasn't it supposed to be interpreting prophecies?"

Sagrass shook his head: "I already have a general understanding of the prophecy."

Who is the person you want to have your fortune told?

"Voldemort."

Sagres's voice was calm, yet it seemed to instantly lower the temperature in the room by several degrees.

Lumina frowned, a hint of seriousness and helplessness flashing in her gray eyes: "It's difficult, extremely difficult. Accurately locating a specific individual, especially a powerful dark wizard like him, requires extremely demanding conditions and mediums."

She explained, “The most effective medium is blood ties. The connection of direct blood ties is the clearest and most difficult to completely block out ‘signposts.’ For example, parents position their children, or children position their parents. This bond originating from the source of life is the most powerful anchor point in prophetic magic.”

Sagres listened quietly, without disappointment in his eyes.

"understood."