HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

The marks looked as if they had been scorched into shape by some force, and the surface of the wounds shimmered with a glass-like luster.

When the last main circuit converged at the sternum, the entire magic circle suddenly began to breathe on its own—as if mimicking the expansion and contraction of an organ.

Then, without hesitation, Sagres immersed his right hand into the alchemical solution.

Then the dark blue liquid suddenly came to life.

They emitted a sticky sound similar to a baby crying, frantically burrowing into the grooves. Wherever the liquid flowed, the blue light beneath his skin immediately surged, illuminating his bones as if they were transparent crystal.

A sharp pain suddenly struck.

Unlike the Crucifixion's soul-tearing torment, this is a more primal pain, originating from the flesh—as if someone is using a red-hot iron comb to repeatedly comb through his nerve endings.

But Sagles didn't even flinch.

Several hours passed slowly, and the alchemical array finally began to take shape.

Dark blue lines, like veins, meandered across his skin, shimmering with an eerie glow.

The next step is to inscribe the alchemical runes, which is another long process.

The alchemical manuscript, suspended in mid-air, automatically turned its pages, revealing dense ancient runes. Each rune seemed alive, twisting and whispering.

This time, with each rune he inscribed, blue marks would seep out from under his skin.

More than two thousand runes meant more than two thousand tears and healings. He didn't know who the author of this manuscript was, but he had cursed the author in his heart more than once.

……

The morning sun shines on the ancient castle of Hogwarts, casting a warm glow on the towers.

Students strolled across the grass in twos and threes, their cheerful laughter echoing in the cool air.

Even the usually eccentric Ravenclaw freshmen—Luna Lovegood, who always wore strange glasses, and the quiet and introverted Astoria Greengrass—were unusually seen today following the crowd toward the Quidditch pitch.

Luna's eyes sparkled with curiosity, while Astoria clung carefully to her friend's sleeve, afraid of getting separated in the excited crowd.

Chapter 77 The Farce on the Football Field

“I have a bad feeling about this!” Ron said in a low voice, his fingers tapping nervously on the railing of the stands.

Hermione looked up from "Quidditch Origins," her brow furrowing slightly. "Not again? Last year it was Quirrell's doing, but this year there's no one—"

Her words were interrupted by a sudden burst of noise.

As the players from both teams lined up to enter the field, a cacophony of boos erupted from the Slytherin phalanx, while the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students responded with even louder cheers—clearly, everyone wanted to see Slytherin suffer a defeat.

"The two captains shake hands!"

Flint and Wood gripped each other's hands tightly, their knuckles turning white, and as Ms. Hodge's whistle blew, fourteen brooms simultaneously took to the air.

Harry dove gracefully past Malfoy, his green eyes behind his glasses scanning the arena. Surprisingly, the usually talkative Malfoy was unusually focused; the two brushed past each other several times, but neither uttered a word of provocation.

“This is bad,” Ron said, gripping his binoculars tightly. “Their Nimbus 2001 is too fast!”

As if confirming his fears, the Slytherin Chaser made a feint to break through the defense, and the Quaffle rang out in the ring.

Before the cheers had subsided, screams suddenly erupted from the stands—a jet-black ball was hurtling toward Harry's back at an eerie angle.

Just at the critical moment, Harry suddenly flipped to the side, and the ball whistled past Harry's hair.

Just as people breathed a sigh of relief, the wandering ball suddenly spun rapidly in mid-air and returned with a menacing air.

In the distance, the Weasley twins were circling Harry rapidly, their lips moving as they clearly engaged in a heated discussion, but the howling wind swallowed their conversation, and nothing could be heard from the stands.

The out-of-control ball seemed to be under a curse, relentlessly pursuing Harry. It traced dangerous trajectories in the air, lunging at Harry like a mad snake, forcing him to make all sorts of risky dodges.

"This is absolutely not normal!" Hermione jumped to her feet, not even noticing the book slipping from her lap. "How can a traveling ball only lock onto one player!"

"It's definitely Malfoy!" Ron said through gritted teeth, slamming his fist on the railing. "They must have tampered with the ball!"

On the field, Fred and George were like two moving walls, desperately trying to intercept the frantic ball, but the opponent always managed to bypass them and continue chasing Harry.

Finally, the twins had to get Wood to stop the match, and the Gryffindor players landed on the muddy field and huddled together for an emergency discussion.

The cold rain poured down, and the students in the stands opened their umbrellas.

Ron and Hermione watched anxiously as the group of bright red figures took to the field, only to see them shake their heads and take flight again—clearly, they hadn't found a solution.

The game resumed, and the ball's attacks became increasingly fierce, even tearing Harry's robes several times.

At a dangerous sharp turn, Harry unexpectedly caught a glimpse of a confused expression on Malfoy's face.

Then, just as the two passed each other, a ray of golden light flashed past Malfoy's ear.

The Golden Snitch!

Harry made his decision almost instantly, flying straight toward Malfoy, who was clearly startled by his action, thinking Harry was trying to knock him off his broom.

What are you doing—

Malfoy dodged Harry's impact with a quick movement, but Harry wasn't so lucky; the crazy ball hit him directly from the side.

However, at the very moment of impact, Harry stretched out his other hand with all his might and managed to catch the Golden Snitch safely in his hand.

His tense nerves suddenly relaxed, and only then did Harry feel the sharp pain in his arm. Then everything went black, and he fell off the broom.

……

When Harry woke up, he found himself still lying in the mud, surrounded by the Gryffindor team. He was clutching the Golden Snitch tightly in one hand, while his other hand was hanging limply.

"We won!" Harry said, holding up the Snitch and laughing at the Gryffindor team. "But I think my arm is broken..." he said, grimacing.

Oliver Wood bent down and patted Harry's arm. "Beautiful, Harry, you did it!" He smiled warmly. "But don't move yet, your arm is broken, just by chance..."

He smiled and took out his wand. "We've been practicing healing spells lately, so I can handle injuries like this!"

He then waved his wand at Harry's arm, "Help me heal!"

After a flash of crystalline green light, Harry found that his arm had immediately returned to normal.

"Haha, well done, you're really good, Wood!"

Even the twins patted Oliver on the shoulder, "We didn't know you could do that!"

"I learned it in the practical course..." Wood smiled as he put away his wand.

Just as Harry was about to get up, he vaguely saw a row of gleaming teeth come into view.

"Don't move! Harry, your arm is broken!"

Lockhart darted forward, his jeweled boots stepping on the hem of Harry's robe, and pressed down on the boy's newly healed arm without a word.

"I'm all better, Professor Lockhart! I'm completely better!" Harry waved his arms in alarm, indicating that he was now completely fine.

“Lie down, Harry!” Lockhart grabbed Harry’s flailing arm and said in a comforting tone, “It’s just your imagination. Your arm is broken, but it’s okay. I’ll heal it. It just takes a simple spell…”

As he spoke, he pulled out his magic wand.

"No need to trouble yourself, Professor, I'll just go to the school hospital. Let it be!" Harry felt that even the bouncing ball hadn't been this hard to dodge. At this moment, he even wanted to ride his flying broomstick and leave.

Clohart didn't care what he said at all. He rolled up his sleeves and shouted, "Step back!"

The crowd remained motionless, but Lockhart didn't seem to care; only Harry's expression darkened further.

"Why can't I go to the school clinic?" he desperately asked.

"Relax, Harry, it'll be over soon. I've used it countless times!" Lockhart flashed his signature smile and turned to pose for a photo of freshman Colin.

Then he began to twirl his wand dramatically. "Watch closely, everyone..." he shouted to the crowd, "I'm going to demonstrate what silent spellcasting is—"

"I really want to go to the school hospital!" Harry was still trying to rouse the crazed Lockhart.

"Almost there, Harry, be patient..." Lockhart said, quickly pointing his wand at Harry's arm.

The room fell silent. Harry felt a strange sensation run through his arm, and then the Golden Snitch slipped from his hand and fell to the ground uncontrollably.

"It seems you've treated the wrong arm, Professor!" George pointed out from the side.

Harry's worst fears came true: his hand, which had been fine before, was now numb, hanging limply at his side like a lifeless rope, and he couldn't even lift it.

“Ha, that’s right! Gilderoy Lockhart never disappoints the wounded…” Lockhart chuckled and patted Harry on the shoulder, “You’ve been healed by me…”

He stood up, flashing his gleaming teeth. "You've been wanting to go to the school hospital, haven't you? Potter, now you can stroll over. I've done most of the work, but I can't leave Ms. Pomfrey with nothing to do..."

He turned to Hermione and Ron, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather, "Take him to the hospital. Ms. Pomfrey will handle the cleanup!"

Chapter 78 The Second Attack

Ms. Pomfrey was quite unhappy.

"Why didn't you come to me directly?" she said angrily. "Now you expect me to clean up his mess!"

“It had already been cured,” Hermione explained from the side, “but Professor Lockhart insisted on…”

"How dare you still call him Professor!" Ron was also very angry. "Harry's injured arm had already been healed by Wood, but Lockhart made Harry's previously fine hand even worse!"

Mrs. Pomfrey examined Harry's arm, the flexible arm that was like a rubber tube and could bend back and forth several times.

The bones were gone; Lockhart's Silent Curse had made them disappear.

“Making bones disappear only requires waving a wand,” Mrs. Pomfrey muttered irritably, “but making them grow back…”

"You can do it too, right?" Harry asked eagerly and hopefully.

“Of course!” Ms. Pomfrey took out a brown medicine bottle and poured out some brown liquid. “But it will take time, and it will be very uncomfortable!”

She handed the liquid in the glass to Harry, gesturing for him to drink it. "You'll stay here tonight. I'll let your headmaster know!"

Ron and Hermione were also kicked out by Madam Pomfrey, and Harry lay alone on the hospital bed, the unpleasant smell of Bone Spirit still lingering in his mouth, slowly falling into a deep sleep.

……

……

Sagres looked at his arms and upper body covered in blue markings and nodded in satisfaction.

With the alchemical array perfectly drawn, he was now eager to find a foolish dark wizard to test the effects of the new spell.

But reason quickly prevailed. He glanced at the deepening twilight outside the window and decided to go back to the Hogwarts library to look up some information.