HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

Sagres did not approach, for this unstable energy would dissipate completely with the slightest disturbance.

The red crystal on the stone platform shimmered with an eerie light under the fluorescent glow. Sagres used a levitation spell to pick it up, and astonishing magical fluctuations flowed within the crystal.

"This is—the Philosopher's Stone?" he muttered to himself in disbelief.

The parchment manuscript on the edge of the stone platform was covered in dust.

A cleansing spell swept across, revealing scribbles that were almost manic:

Plague Magic: On the Magical Enhancement of Transmissible Vectors

The Magic Siphon: A New Interpretation of the Essence of Life

Several Advanced Applications of Flesh and Blood Forging

Notes on the Study of Fragments of the Book of Abraham

In the corner, several bird-beak masks covered in mold lay quietly.

Sagles' pupils contracted slightly—he was all too familiar with these devices. Fourteenth-century Black Death doctors and eighteenth-century plague spreaders had all worn such masks as they roamed the earth.

"It seems this is the mad laboratory of an alchemist..." Sagrais speculated, "Using the Book of Abraham for forbidden experiments, using the venomous leopard as a living venom factory, and attempting to create something using Obscurus and dark magic..."

His gaze swept over a suspicious pile of ashes in the corner. "An immortality potion?"

Chapter 66 The Philosopher's Stone

When Sagres returned to the safe house, the heated discussion inside abruptly ceased.

The members of Bronze Feather sat around the table, the flickering candlelight casting varying shadows on their faces.

"You're back?" Nightingale looked up from the pile of potions, a hint of doubt flashing in her eyes beneath her wide cloak. "Did you find anything else?"

Sagres gave a meaningful smile and casually tossed a stack of yellowed parchment onto the table.

Everyone immediately reached out to read it, and the only sound in the stone house was the rustling of the paper turning.

As they read on, everyone's expressions grew serious—some people's fingertips trembled slightly, some people's brows furrowed, and some people's breathing became more rapid.

"The Book of Abraham?" Stork's voice tightened. "The forbidden book that Nicolas Flamel consulted when creating the Philosopher's Stone?"

Sagrass did not answer immediately. He slowly took out something else from the inner pocket of his wizard's robe—a blood-red stone that shimmered with an eerie glow in the candlelight.

"This is……?"

“The Philosopher’s Stone.” Sagres’ voice was calm and serious.

The only sound inside the stone house was the crackling of sparks. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the legendary alchemical artifact.

"So that ruin is..." Swift swallowed hard, "...an alchemical laboratory for making Philosopher's Stones?"

“But the manuscript is full of evil black magic!” Thunderbird slammed the parchment back onto the table, the silver cup clattering. “Using infant bone powder as a catalyst, and the blood of virgins…”

"Are you sure this is really the Philosopher's Stone?" Lady Snowowl interrupted, her fingers gripping the quill tightly. "Where is its owner?"

Sagrass stared at the red stone in his palm, feeling the familiar magical pulse within it—it was exactly the same as the one he had seen at Hogwarts.

“The structure and magical characteristics match perfectly.” He raised his eyes. “As for the master…”

He remembered the pile of ashes covered by a black robe in the corner of the laboratory. "I guess he drank something he shouldn't have, and he's dead..."

“This doesn’t make sense.” Lady Snowflake frowned. “If it really is a Philosopher’s Stone, how could the holder die? The longevity potion you gave me was indeed effective.”

“Perhaps…” Nightingale gently stroked the charred edges of the parchment, “he misunderstood the method of refining?”

"But the raven says this is the Philosopher's Stone..."

"Wait a minute," the stork suddenly reached out to touch the red stone, then withdrew its finger halfway, "Can it really turn stone into gold? Or is it a fake?"

Sagles did not answer.

He flicked his finger, and a copper nat flew from his sleeve, turning into pure gold the instant it touched the redstone surface. It clattered onto the stone table, the crisp sound echoing in the silent room for a long time.

Sagress's fingertips gently caressed the smooth surface of the Philosopher's Stone, its eerie red light dancing in his grey eyes.

A terrifying hypothesis was gradually taking shape in his mind—if this stone forged with dark magic was real, then Nicolas Flamel's...

“Thunderbird,” he suddenly asked, “how old are you this year?”

Thunderbird, who was about to check the parchment again, was clearly taken aback, and his silvery-white eyebrows furrowed: "One hundred and three years old, he'll be one hundred and four by the end of November."

His wrinkled hand unconsciously touched his nose. "Why are you suddenly asking this?"

Instead of answering directly, Sagres pressed on, "Given your level of magic, how long do you estimate you can live?"

The air inside the stone house suddenly became thick and sticky. Everyone stopped what they were doing, their gazes shifting back and forth between the two.

“Ten years… at most fifteen years.” Thunderbird’s voice was hoarse. “I can feel that my body and magic are beginning to decline.”

He raised his right hand, the sparks flying from his fingertips much dimmer than when he was young.

Sagrass suddenly stood up, his black robes casting a huge shadow in the candlelight: "This is unreasonable."

His wand traced a series of glowing names in the air:

Nicolas Flamel - 665 years old

Barry Willie Winkel - 422 years old

Amando Dipet - 355 years old

“You mean…” Ms. Snowy suddenly leaned forward, her silver hair trembling slightly with excitement, “You’re implying… that these long-lived people are all…”

"Using this to prolong life?" Sagres finished her sentence, his brow furrowing slightly. "Why not? Look at how this stone was forged—plague, flesh, black magic..."

The stone house fell into a long silence, broken only by the occasional crackling of the candlelight.

Eight pairs of eyes were fixed on the stone on the table that emitted an eerie red light, as if it were some ferocious beast that might awaken at any moment.

"Alright, everyone—" Sagrais suddenly clapped his hands, the crisp sound startling the kestrels.

He casually placed the magic stone on the table, the stone hitting the wooden surface with a dull thud. "Instead of getting bogged down in ethical issues, let's think about the practical benefits."

With a flick of the wand, an irregularly shaped rock the size of a fist floated in from the corner of the wall.

The moment it touched the Philosopher's Stone, a dazzling golden light burst forth—in the blink of an eye, a pure gold nugget the size of a pumpkin landed heavily on the table, shaking the candlesticks until they tilted precariously.

The expressions on the eight people's faces immediately became quite varied: Ms. Snowy Owl gasped; Swift unconsciously rubbed her empty purse with her fingers; even the usually composed Thunderbird involuntarily bobbed his Adam's apple.

“Of course, don’t even think about counterfeiting Galon.” Sagrais chuckled, casually tossing the gold nugget into a corner like trash. “The goblins’ anti-counterfeiting spells aren’t just for show. But…”

He looked around at everyone meaningfully, “Being a billionaire in the Muggle world is more than enough.”

“Perhaps…” Red Falcon tentatively began, “should we recruit an alchemist? Perhaps we can investigate whether this stone has any other uses?”

“That suits me perfectly,” Sagres agreed.

“If you have any recommendations, that would be great. After all, these days…” He couldn’t help but shake his head, “a proper alchemist is harder to find than an invisible beast.”

He then put the Philosopher's Stone away. "I'll keep it for now!" he said. "Some of you may know that I'm a professor at Hogwarts, and just recently, Voldemort was looking for this."

"Voldemort?" The group had clearly heard of him before, and were somewhat stunned. "Wasn't he... already dead? More than ten years ago?"

“I once thought he was dead too…” Sagres shook his head, “but now I’m certain he’s still alive, in a rather twisted way.”

"Could you elaborate?" Swift asked.

“I don’t know the specifics,” Sagles told him, “but the other person no longer has a body and can only survive by relying on someone else’s body!”

"Does that mean there's no threat?" Nightingale asked.

“Don’t underestimate him…” Thunderbird warned. “He is a very powerful wizard. I’ve met him. He was very young then, polite, and incredibly talented.”

……

Chapter 67 New Spell

Sagrass stood up, his wand flashing through the air, and a huge parchment covered with ancient spells slowly unfolded before everyone.

“The situation is deteriorating,” he said calmly. “The wizarding world is in turmoil, so you must master some new magic to arm yourselves.”

Unconsciously, everyone's fingers traced the glowing red spells on the parchment: "These are all...dark magic?"

“Correction,” Sagres said calmly, “It is highly effective survival magic that is banned by the Ministry of Magic.”

He snapped his fingers, and the text on the parchment suddenly rearranged into three columns:

[Supportive and Protective Spells]

[Escape Spell for Mobile Movement]

[Manipulating offensive spells]

Sagrass's gaze was deep, and his voice was low: "I hope that everyone in the Bronze Feathers can live a long and peaceful life."

Thunderbird paused, a look of surprise flashing across his wrinkled face. Sagres immediately understood, a rare smile playing on his lips: "Of course, Mr. Thunderbird is an exception."

"What price do we need to pay?" The robin's sharp gaze pierced through the mask, his fingers unconsciously stroking the edge of the parchment.

“No need!” Sagrais said firmly. “You have already proven your character through your actions; each of you is a fairly upright wizard… Of course, if I ever need help, I hope you will step forward and do what you can.”

Silence filled the stone chamber. Sagres didn't urge them, but simply waited quietly.

“If no one objects, I’ll take that as your agreement,” he said, tapping the table with his finger. The parchment instantly tore into eight pieces in the air, landing precisely in front of each person. “We will hold a gathering on the night of the full moon in the middle of each month, and I will share everything I know. As for how much you can learn, that depends on your own abilities.”

After saying that, Sagres waved to everyone, "Well then, see you in a week..."

As soon as he finished speaking, Sagres vanished from the spot, leaving everyone staring at each other in disbelief, until the Red Falcon suddenly burst into cheers.

"Look at this!" Her finger almost pierced the parchment as she pointed to the small print below the [Raven Shadow Instantaneous Movement Technique]: "Can transform into a shadow, ignoring anti-phantom teleportation barriers for rapid flight!"

"If I learn this, I won't need my flying broom anymore!" Red Falcon said excitedly. "You might not know, but I've never been very good at using my flying broom..."

The group exchanged glances, and then a murmur of discussion arose inside the stone house.

The densely packed spells on the parchment shimmered with different colors in the candlelight—scarlet black magic, eerie blue ancient magic, gilded runic magic…

To think that one could learn all of these spells would be a pipe dream, but mastering just a few would be enough to make one stand out from the wizarding community.

"Does he know all these magic spells?" Ms. Snowow asked incredulously.