HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

“I don’t think he would write magic he doesn’t know on this,” Nightingale said without looking up. “What do you think?”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

These are all magical artifacts that Sagras collected from all over the world over more than a decade. Some came from stone tablets deep in the Forbidden Forest, some from crystal balls in the goblin black market, and some from the Pensieve of a deceased dark wizard...

However, several of the most dangerous spells were never listed, as those self-created spells were already entangled with Sargeras's soul and could not be taught at all.

……

……

After returning to Hogwarts, Sagres went straight to the forbidden book section, as he needed to look up some information.

The magic siphon—an alchemical technique discovered on parchment manuscripts in an alchemy laboratory—suddenly unlocked his long-dormant ideas.

A crazy idea pounded in his chest—if he could turn this alchemical skill into magic…

"Then I can create a spell that can absorb the magic power of others, thereby forcibly increasing the total amount of magic power within my body!"

If it were really possible, would my cheat system be able to restart?

With this in mind, Sagres became even more frantic in his research, using a sleep-inducing and soothing method whenever he felt tired or sleepy.

He didn't have to leave the library until the afternoon of the next day—not because he had gained anything, but because he had to go to class.

It was another lesson on healing spells, and Sagres was feeling somewhat listless due to the continuous high-intensity combat and study. After all, the last time he had slept was before the start of the semester, which was almost a month ago.

In class, Sagres looked extremely haggard. To stay awake, he mechanically waved his wand, slashing his arm again and again—blood trickled down his pale skin, leaving dark red stains on his black robe.

“Look closely at the pattern of the wound contracting,” his voice was incredibly hoarse, “the magical flow of a high-level healing spell should be spiral-shaped…”

Hermione in the front row suddenly gagged, her face turning deathly pale with fear; she looked quite terrible. Only then did Sagrais notice that the students' fingers gripping their wands were trembling.

After finally getting through get out of class, Sagles felt he needed to take a break.

His vision was filled with black dots, and his ears were filled with auditory hallucinations—sometimes the chanting of magical runes, sometimes the roar of alchemical manuscripts.

“Professor…” a student called out to him, and Sagres couldn’t help but sigh.

"What is it, Potter?" He rubbed his temples, where the veins were throbbing.

"Do you know why sometimes people hear strange noises in castles?"

Sagres thought to himself, "What kind of question is this? I'm hearing all sorts of strange voices in my ears, telling me to go to sleep while simultaneously urging me to keep studying magic, like a bunch of vixens having a party inside my skull."

"Be more specific," he said, forcing back his frustration. "Time? Place? Content?"

"Uh, a friend overheard some strange things in Professor Lockhart's office last night..."

"A ghost? Or Peeves' new trick?" Sagres replied somewhat perfunctorily, but the question was far too vague.

Harry nodded, puzzled, but was clearly not satisfied with the answer.

But he himself knew that he couldn't blame anyone else; his question was already vague, so of course he could only get an even more vague answer.

However, Sagles's guess was not without reason, because that very afternoon, Lockhart was excitedly recounting his "feat of taming Peeves" in class when he was hit squarely by a dung ball falling from the sky.

The entire corridor echoed with Pippi's sharp, mocking laughter:

"Lockhart the fraudster—"

"Bullshit Lockhart—"

"Look at his new hairstyle—"

Then another rotten egg landed precisely on Lockhart's shiny forehead, the yolk slowly sliding down his nose. The entire classroom fell silent instantly, save for the stifling "pffts" of the students trying to suppress their laughter.

"This...this is an attack on the professor!" Lockhart frantically drew his wand. "Watch this—"

Peeves flew forward, snatched the wand from the other person, and then threw it accurately out the window.

Then, as if by magic, it produced a bucket of ink-filled balloons: "Try Master Mischievous Ghost's special ink eggs!"

An ink balloon hit Lockhart in the face, and the exploding ink splattered, turning Lockhart's snow-white robe into an abstract painting.

"My new robe!"

Lockhart screamed and jumped up, only to step on a banana peel on the ground—nobody knew when Peeves had thrown it there—and slid three meters away, finally landing face down on the podium in a perfect breaststroke.

Mischievous Ghost did a somersault in the air: "Full marks!"

A deafening roar of laughter erupted in the classroom. Seamus laughed so hard he rolled off his chair, Ron slammed his fist on the table louder than the Whomping Willow, and even Hermione was covering her mouth and trembling.

"What are you laughing at? Did Lord Mischievous Ghost allow you to laugh?"

As he spoke, Mischievous Ghost pulled out a few ink balloons and threw them into the group of students, and screams immediately filled the entire corridor.

Lockhart struggled to his feet, his wig askew, revealing ink-stained hair underneath. Just as he was about to speak, Peeves launched another ink balloon, hitting the bullseye and silencing him.

Then disaster struck the classroom as Peeves attacked everyone indiscriminately. Although Lockhart was the primary target most of the time, many young wizards also suffered as a result.

"get out of class is over!" After throwing the ink balloon, Pippi whistled and flew away in circles.

The faint echoes of Peeves's song still lingered in the corridor: "Lockhart's a big idiot~ All he does is brag and fool around~"

Lockhart stood there, eggshells on his head and ribbons hanging from his robe, looking like a Christmas tree ravaged by a storm.

He forced a smile: "This, this is a teaching demonstration I arranged... about how to be elegant..."

“Professor,” Neville unusually raised his hand to speak, “your hair is on fire.”

Lockhart then noticed that Peeves had "thoughtfully" lit a small flame on his wig before leaving. And so, the classroom echoed once more with the sound of Peeves screaming and slapping his hair.

But none of that mattered to Sagres. All he wanted to do was get a good night's sleep and find a secluded spot to finish that damned magic siphon spell.

Chapter 68 The Daily Life of the Little Wizards

The lounge was buzzing with activity as students whispered among themselves about Lockhart's attack on Peeves.

Harry and Ron were playing wizard chess, while Hermione was flipping through a book called "The Complete Guide to Healing Spells" on the side.

Harry received the wizard chess set last Christmas, and it doesn't really listen to him; it often contradicts him.

A few students crowded around them, and Harry's set of wizard chess pieces was looking at him with disdain.

“E4,” Harry said hesitantly.

His White King immediately clutched his head: "Here we go again! I've died eight hundred times over this route!"

The White Queen next to him rolled her eyes: "Merlin, can't you learn from that kid over there?"

Ron's pieces stood tall and proud, with the Black Knight even wiping his spear in preparation for a charge.

“Watch me,” Ron grinned. “My knights are on F6.”

The Black Knight immediately spurred his horse into a gallop, landing gracefully in the designated spot, and even kicking Harry's soldier away.

“Your turn, Harry.” Ron took a smug bite of the sausage, which they had smuggled out of the restaurant in a crystal bottle.

Harry wiped his sweat: "Well... my bishop is going to C5."

"What?!" his white bishop screamed. "Are you crazy?! That black knight will cleave me in two!"

The chess piece clung tightly to the chessboard, refusing to let go.

"Please, just this once..." Harry pleaded softly.

"Absolutely not!" Bishop Bai plopped down on the chessboard. "Let him go, it doesn't matter if he dies!"

He pointed at a soldier, who rolled his eyes.

Ron's pieces erupted in laughter. Black Castle laughed so hard he shook stones: "Just admit defeat already!"

Hermione looked up from her book: "How about I—"

"No!" Harry and Ron said in unison.

At that moment, Harry's White Queen suddenly stood up and kicked the bishop to C5: "I've had enough! I'm taking over the game!"

She turned to Harry, "Shut up, kid, watch me show you something."

Ron's eyebrows shot up to his hairline: "Wow, your pieces have quite the character."

For the next ten minutes, Harry's pieces completely ignored his instructions and started making their own decisions and tactics.

The White Knight even fought with the Black Castle because the latter said his horse looked like a mule.

"General!"

With a graceful slide, the White Queen cornered King Ron.

“This is not fair!” protested Ron the Black King. “They cheated!”

Harry spread his hands: "My chess pieces have too many personalities..."

As the onlookers gradually dispersed, Harry and Ron, seeing that it was still early, played another game.

"Come...come here...kill...tear apart..."

Suddenly, the fire crackled and sparked, sending Harry sprawling from the chessboard, his knee knocking over a piece. The White King screamed and slammed into Ron's cup.

"What?" His voice was barely louder than a whisper, and his green eyes widened in disbelief.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a puzzled look. "Are you alright?"

Hermione closed the book on healing spells. "You look terrible."

“You…didn’t you hear that?” Harry’s fingers unconsciously touched the scar on his forehead. “That voice…it’s back…saying it’s going to kill someone…”

His voice grew softer and softer as his two friends' expressions changed from confusion to terror.

Ron's freckles stood out starkly against his pale face: "Dude, it's so quiet here, except for the chess pieces swearing, you can hear the fat lady snoring..."

Harry forced himself to take a deep breath. The chess pieces, soaking wet, crawled out of the cocoa cup and were staring at him menacingly.

The cold, sticky voice had vanished without a trace.

"It's probably... just a prank by Mischief." He forced a smile, but his fingers were still trembling.

Ron's piece secretly moved back to its original position, but Hermione's sharp eyes caught it red-handed.

"Are you really alright?" Hermione whispered. "Should we go to Madam Pomfrey's..."

“No need!” Harry’s voice was louder than expected, startling the two of them. He then added sheepishly, “I’m probably just… too tired.”