HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

"But that was you! It was you who manipulated my will to commit this crime!" Sure enough, the countless eyes on the monster's body spun wildly, flashing with resentment and struggle.

“Yes,” Sagrestan readily admitted, “but they have no evidence. Or rather, they dare not look for any evidence.”

He then looked at the monster, "And you, my dear 'Tom,' didn't you step forward to testify against me either?"

"Wasn't it you who used that damned shackle to lock my throat and deprive me of my right to speak?!"

The monster's roar was filled with the humiliation and helplessness of being toyed with, and its massive body trembled violently with rage.

"Yes, that's good, you understand!"

Sagles's smile vanished instantly, leaving only pure, condescending indifference.

His sharp gaze swept over the other's ever-growing, writhing giant body, as if he were examining a less-than-satisfactory work of art.

"Then you should understand—you must do whatever I want you to do. You shouldn't even have a thought about what I don't want you to do."

His gaze finally settled on the monster's row of flickering, inhuman eyes, and his tone was calm and indifferent: "Know your place. After all, if I wanted, I could create a dozen beings like you at will."

As he spoke, he casually pointed his wand behind him, and the withered and rotten tree stump on the ground instantly twisted and deformed, the wood chips flew and reformed, and in the blink of an eye, it transformed into a sturdy black wooden high-backed chair.

He sat down with an air of composure, leaning back slightly, as if the figure standing before him was not a terrifying creature of flesh and blood, but a naughty child who needed to be disciplined.

"So, think it over carefully! Use your brain, which is stuffed with flesh and blood, to weigh it carefully—how exactly should you treat your current 'landlord,' the self-proclaimed 'great' Dark Lord?"

Sargeras did not immediately erase this creation, simply because it might still have some remaining value—a powerful, controllable cannon fodder.

In the future, it may be able to clear obstacles for other members of the "Bronze Feather," and if it is "docile" enough, it is not impossible to recruit it into the organization.

But he would never rely on that power.

"Flesh and Blood Fusion," a forbidden transmutation spell that has long been completely banned by the International Wizarding Federation and is a terrifying magic that 99% of wizards have never even heard of, is essentially nothing more than a purely destructive spell.

He may be the only person in the world who has mastered its complete secrets and countermeasures. That is why he understands better than anyone how terrifying a flesh puppet would become if it got out of control.

"Blood Vortex Frenzy" is one of the few forbidden spells that can effectively suppress or even decompose it, although it is itself a forbidden magic buried by the dust of history, and nowadays there are almost no people who can recognize and understand its working principle.

Therefore, he never lacks power, but he needs to use much of it with caution, otherwise he might get burned and suffer irreparable consequences.

Sagres sat on the cold, dark wooden chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest, producing a dull "tap-tap" sound.

He looked at the enormous creature, which was restless and agitated like a trapped beast under the light of the crimson magic circle, his eyes showing no emotion, only an almost indifferent scrutiny.

“I can give you a chance…” he said, as if offering something insignificant. “If you submit to me with all your will, you can gain a sliver of limited freedom.”

He then abruptly changed the subject, and the fingertips that had been tapping the armrest suddenly stopped.

"Or you can refuse, and then face your own... complete, eternal... annihilation here."

Faced with Sargeras's chilling threat of "annihilation," the flesh-and-blood monster felt an absolute suppression emanating from the level of the creator. Its massive body convulsed violently, and the resentment in its countless eyes was replaced by pure fear.

Finally, it let out a mournful cry filled with humiliation and resentment: "...I submit."

There was no surprise or joy on Sagles's face, only a calm "it should be this way" attitude.

He waved his wand lightly, and the Bronze Feather Badge flew out of his arms, hovering in the air and releasing countless fine energy chains that instantly pierced into the monster's body.

The monster let out painful howls, its massive body rapidly shrinking and twisting under the restraint of the runic chains, before being forcibly compressed and sealed into the floating badge.

Immediately afterward, Sagres relayed the message to all members, and a few moments later, several muffled explosions broke the silence. Amidst the turbulent air currents, the members of the Bronze Feather appeared one after another in the Forbidden Forest.

This time, Sagres made no attempt to conceal his appearance, and the others, seeing this, also removed the hoods covering their heads.

"Let's go inside and talk!" He led everyone into the safe house, and without any further pleasantries, placed the badge directly in the center of the long table.

“A new 'tool'.”

He succinctly explained the core function of the badge—to seal a powerful "biological weapon" that can be summoned and controlled by anyone through the badge.

Sagrass's calm gaze swept over the crowd: "Its power can be used by you to clear obstacles and intimidate enemies. But remember, its use requires restraint and wisdom."

He paused deliberately, his long fingers lightly tapping the edge of the badge. “Abuse it, or let it get out of control…you won’t want to see the consequences, because it is itself a lesson in what it means to get out of control.”

A dark red light suddenly shone, accompanied by a sickeningly loud squeaking of flesh and bones, and a twisted, writhing mass of flesh appeared out of thin air above the long table.

The members present instinctively tensed up, their fingers gripping their wands tightly. At the same time, several soft gasps filled the deathly silent room.

Sagres waved his hand to dispel the nauseating projection of flesh and blood, then calmly revealed the other party's identity as the Dark Lord.

Chapter 100 The Unreliable Red Falcon

The air around the long table froze instantly.

"You mean... this thing... is Voldemort?" Swift couldn't help but ask.

“Strictly speaking, only a part of it is,” Sagres explained. “A fragment of the soul from one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes ended up in this flesh puppet by some twist of fate. Then, Gilderoy Lockhart’s powerful Obliteration Curse completely erased all of Tom Riddle’s memories and personality.”

A faint smile curved his lips. "Under the catalysis of a series of ironic events, that fragment of the soul and the out-of-control flesh magic completely merged, and in the end... it became what you just saw."

"Hornets? And this flesh and blood monster... what exactly are they?" Red Falcon asked, somewhat puzzled.

"Hornets are an extremely evil form of dark magic; users can achieve immortality by splitting their souls," Thunderbird commented dismissively. "Extremely evil, and the price is incredibly high..."

Sagres nodded, agreeing with Thunderbird's words.

"Later I will imprint a mark on your badges, so that you can summon them into battle when necessary."

Sagres then looked at everyone and asked, "Also, how is your progress in your magic studies?"

"I can fly now!" the kestrel answered almost eagerly, her voice filled with barely suppressed joy. She even unconsciously straightened her back. "Hehe, it's so much faster than riding a broom! It's so convenient, I've already used it to travel to several places..."

She shook her head smugly.

"travel?"

A few cryptic coughs came from around the long table, and the members exchanged strange glances.

Traveling with a flight spell? That idea sounds a bit bold and... a bit reckless.

Sagras frowned almost imperceptibly, gently rubbing his temples with his fingers: “Be careful, Red Falcon. Don’t fly too conspicuously and end up being overwhelmed by Muggle ‘UFO’ reports, or worse—being brought to trial by the International Pursuit Team for violating the International Wizarding Secrets Act.”

His tone carried a hint of warning.

"No way!"

Red Falcon immediately retorted, still wearing that smug look on his face, "I only go to some remote little places where magical surveillance is weak. Some places don't even have a proper Ministry of Magic, so they can't control me!"

She clearly believed she had considered things quite thoroughly.

"Where exactly did you go?" Nightingale couldn't help but ask, her voice filled with curiosity and a hint of barely perceptible worry.

"Just wandering around over the European continent," the kestrel said vaguely, waving its hand.

“Uh… Red Falcon,” the intelligence expert “Stork” cleared his throat and said with a serious expression, “It’s best to be careful. The winds blowing through the European magical world lately… are not peaceful.”

He paused, his gaze drifting almost imperceptibly towards the head of the table, "Especially in England, there's some undercurrent within the Ministry of Magic, and Hogwarts seems to have suffered a major incident; I heard dozens of students have been..."

The stork didn't finish speaking, but Sagles already understood. He calmly took over the conversation: "A petrification incident did indeed occur, involving dozens of students."

He said calmly, "However, the root of the problem has been eliminated, and you will see the news in the newspapers in a few days."

Then he turned his gaze to the slender hummingbird, "How is your 'soul patching' progressing?"

Hummingbird seemed startled by being called on suddenly, her body tensing slightly, her voice tinged with nervousness: "I...I have mastered the theoretical principles and basic operations, Professor. But I haven't actually practiced them on humans yet."

She nervously twisted her fingers. "I think... I might need more practice and simulations to make sure everything goes perfectly..."

Sagras nodded slightly, understanding her caution. He inquired about the progress of the other members one by one, and to his satisfaction, almost everyone had successfully mastered the magic they were studying.

This remarkable efficiency is partly due to the members' own exceptional talents; they are all outstanding individuals selected from among the wizards, and their learning abilities naturally far surpass those of ordinary people.

On the other hand, it also benefits from Sagres' unique teaching method—using "memory diversion" technology to accurately teach the core of knowledge, combined with the "mechanical mind" state to eliminate distractions and improve focus, which greatly optimizes the learning path.

However, Sagles did not rush to assign new tasks.

There is a gap between "initial acquisition" and "proficient mastery" that requires time and practice to bridge, and even the greatest talent cannot instantly cross this process.

He needs to ensure that these powerful spells truly become part of their physical memory, rather than just being theoretical concepts.

“Let’s talk about something interesting next!” Sagres leaned back casually in his chair, his tone gentle. “Hummingbird, if I remember correctly, you work at St. Mungo’s Hospital?”

The other party nodded frankly.

“One of our professors may be going to your clinic for treatment soon. There’s something I need you to pay special attention to…”

Upon hearing this, everyone's expressions turned somewhat strange—Sagres's words sounded as if he were saying he was going to send someone to the hospital.

Sagrass clearly noticed their expressions and smiled nonchalantly: "Don't misunderstand..."

As he spoke, he gently tapped the table, and a drink instantly appeared in front of everyone.

"Professor Lockhart, whom I mentioned earlier, had most of his life force drained by Voldemort's Horcrux, and he's probably on his way to St. Mungo's right now."

The image of the sneak attack and the powerful Oblivion Curse flashed through his mind, and he couldn't help but frown. "I think his sneak attack technique and Oblivion Curse level are abnormally high, but in other aspects he is extremely mediocre. Combined with the books he has written, I have reason to suspect that he is a guy who steals other people's experiences and memories to gain fame."

"This..." The group looked at each other in bewilderment.

"Really? I even bought his books!" Robin couldn't help but exclaim.

"You mean... to expose him?" Ms. Xuexiao asked tentatively. "I mean, does he have a grudge against you? Or... can we gain something from this?"

"Hummingbird is an excellent therapist."

Sagres's gaze swept over the crowd. "Soon after, when she has mastered the Soul Mending and successfully heals those patients driven mad by the Cruciatus Curse, I believe she is fully deserving of a Merlin Medal for it."

Everyone nodded in agreement upon hearing this, so he continued, "Then, with her revealing the true face of the 'great writer' Lockhart, and with some of our covert assistance... she has a great chance of becoming the youngest dean in the history of St. Mungo's."

He paused, looking at everyone meaningfully: "I think it's necessary to put our people in some key positions. This will greatly benefit any future actions we take. And this is just the beginning."

Chapter 101 Shocking Remarks

“And Thunderbird,” Sagles continued, “Last Christmas, Principal Gilbert Fontaine mentioned in a letter that he was getting old and was planning to retire. I think you are an excellent candidate to be the next principal.”

“I’m not young anymore, and I’m afraid my energy is waning…” Thunderbird slowly shook his head.

"Please—" Red Falcon interjected, seizing the opportunity, "Being over a hundred years old is the perfect age to work hard! Don't forget, we have the Philosopher's Stone as a safety net!"

"The kestrel is right!" everyone laughed and agreed.

Then Sagres gathered his thoughts and continued to make arrangements for the others.