HP: Dangerous Professor from Azkaban

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After Sagres left the Chamber of Secrets, he first returned to his office and carefully placed the hourglass away.

Then he uncorked the bottle, releasing Peeves, who had been imprisoned for a long time.

The mischievous ghost only muttered a few words and, for once, caused no trouble, instead transforming into a blurry gray shadow and fleeing in a panic.

After a short rest, Sagres slowly made his way to the safe house in the Forbidden Forest.

"There's everything in the Forbidden Forest!"

Hagrid had said this to Sagres when he was still a student.

At the time, he thought it somewhat exaggerated, but ever since stumbling upon a dilapidated car on his way to the safe house, he had started to doubt.

If he hadn't had something pressing to deal with, he truly would have wanted to stop and investigate further.

Arriving at the clearing before the safe house, Sagres quickly waved his wand, and a blood-red magic circle immediately appeared on the ground.

The space in the center of the circle twisted and expanded, accompanied by a grating sound of squirming flesh, and the massive flesh monster suddenly appeared above it.

Grrr...

At the same time, a painful roar burst out from deep within the monster's churning body:

"What… have you… done to me?!"

The sound wasn't a single voice, but a cacophony of many overlapping tones.

"Me?"

Sagres smiled lightly, his tone almost casual. "Of course, I saved you!"

He took a step forward, casually pointing his wand at the flesh monster.

"After all, you just killed a reporter from The Daily Prophet in broad daylight, devoured a noble Hogwarts school board member, and even caused the Minister of Magic to lose an arm because of you. If it weren't for me, Dumbledore and those Aurors would have torn you apart until nothing was left."

In truth, offensive spells would only nourish the opponent's flesh, making it stronger and stronger, so dealing with it might actually be troublesome. But if he didn't say it, who would know? Especially for a monster that had just been "formatted."

Sagres generally didn't lie to people, but fortunately, the other party wasn't a person at all, so he carried no burden in lying.

"But that was you! It was your will that controlled me to commit those crimes!"

Sure enough, countless eyes on the monster's surface spun wildly, flickering with malevolence and struggle.

"Yes," Sagres calmly admitted, "but they have no evidence. Or rather, they don't dare to look for any evidence."

At this, he fixed his gaze on the monster.

"And you, my dear 'Tom'—didn't you also fail to come forward and accuse me?"

"Didn't you use that damned shackle to lock my throat and deprive me of my right to speak?!"

"But..."

The monster's roar was filled with humiliation and powerlessness, its massive body trembling violently with rage.

"Yes. It's good that you understand."

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

His sharp gaze swept over the constantly growing, squirming giant shell, as though scrutinizing a piece of work he found unsatisfactory.

"Then you should also understand—what I want you to do, you must do. What I don't want you to do, you shouldn't even allow a single thought of it."

His gaze finally settled on the monster's flickering, inhuman eyes, his tone calm and indifferent:

"After all, if I wanted to, I could easily create a dozen beings like you. So, know your place, fool."

As he spoke, he casually pointed his wand behind him. The withered, decaying tree stump on the ground instantly twisted and reshaped, wood chips flying and reassembling into a high-backed black wooden chair with sharp, imposing lines.

He sat down with a relaxed posture, leaning back slightly, as if what stood before him was not a terrifying flesh creation, but a mischievous child in need of discipline.

"Heh~ Think carefully. Use that brain of yours—stuffed with flesh—to weigh it properly. What kind of attitude should you adopt when facing your current 'landlord,' oh, the self-proclaimed 'Great' Dark Lord?"

Sagres did not immediately eliminate this creation because it might still prove useful—a powerful, controllable pawn.

In the future, it might even clear obstacles for other members of the Bronze Feather, and if it proved sufficiently 'docile,' absorbing it into the organization would not be out of the question.

But he would never rely on this power.

"Flesh Forging," as a forbidden Transfiguration spell completely banned by the International Confederation of Wizards—and one so terrifying that ninety-nine percent of Wizards had never even heard of it—was, in the end, nothing more than a purely destructive curse.

He might be the only person alive who possessed both its complete mysteries and its countermeasures.

And precisely for that reason, he understood better than anyone how catastrophic a flesh calamity such a puppet would become if it ever lost control.

"฿ⱠØØĐ VØⱤ₮ɆӾ ₮ØⱤⱤɆ₦₮" was one of the few forbidden curses capable of effectively suppressing or even decomposing it, though it too was a forbidden spell long buried beneath the dust of history.

In the present day, Wizards who could recognize or understand its operating principles were almost extinct.

So, he never lacked power—but many powers had to be wielded cautiously. A single misstep could bring self-destruction and irreversible consequences.

Sagres sat on the cold black wooden chair, his fingers tapping the armrest intermittently, producing a dull thump-thump sound.

He looked at the colossal creature, restless like a trapped beast, illuminated by the blood-red magic circle. His eyes held no ripple of emotion, only a gaze of detached scrutiny.

"I can give you a chance," he said, as though bestowing something insignificant. "If you submit your entire will to me, then you may exchange it for a limited amount of freedom."

Then his tone shifted, and the tapping of his fingers abruptly stopped.

"Or you can refuse. And here, you will face your complete… eternal… annihilation."

At his cold threat of "annihilation," the flesh monster felt an absolute suppression at the level of a creator. Its massive body convulsed violently, and the malevolence in its countless eyes was replaced by pure terror.

Finally, it let out a cry of humiliation and unwillingness:

"...Submit. I submit."

Sagres's face showed no surprise or joy—only the calm certainty of expectation.

He lightly waved his wand, and the Bronze Feather emblem flew out from his robes, hovering in the air. It released countless fine energy chains, which instantly pierced into the monster's body.

Arrgh~!!

The monster let out painful hisses, its massive body rapidly shrinking and twisting under the restraint of the runic chains, until it was forcibly compressed and sealed into the hovering emblem.

Immediately after, Sagres sent a message to all members, and soon, several dull explosions broke the silence. Amidst the distorted air, the members of the Bronze Feather appeared one after another in the Forbidden Forest.

This time, Sagres did not conceal his appearance, and the others, seeing this, also removed their hoods.

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

"A new tool."

He concisely explained the core function of the emblem—it sealed a powerful "biological weapon" that could be summoned and controlled by anyone through the emblem.

Sagres's calm gaze swept over the group. "Its power can be used to clear obstacles and deter enemies. But remember, using it requires restraint and wisdom."

At this, he deliberately paused, his slender finger lightly tapping the edge of the emblem. "Abuse it, or let it get out of control… you wouldn't want to see the consequences, because it itself is a lesson in losing control."

A dark red light suddenly flared, accompanied by the grating sounds of flesh being squeezed and bones dislocating.

A twisted, squirming flesh creation appeared out of thin air above the long table.

The members present subconsciously tensed, their fingers tightening around their wands. Several faint gasps echoed in the silent room.

Sagres waved his hand to dispel the nauseating flesh projection, then calmly revealed the opponent's identity as the Dark Lord.