HP: Dangerous Professor from Azkaban

Meanwhile, in a cellar adorned with the Flint family crest, Carbott Flint was gently tapping a stack of parchment with his wand.

"We need more… authentic medical records," he said, his pale fingertips brushing over the image of Sagres lecturing in the crystal ball. "Have Mrs. Nott tell everyone that her daughter's injured arm was grazed by a troll during class and was diagnosed with permanent magical damage."

Another tall figure emerged from the shadows. "Will that be enough to get him expelled from Hogwarts?"

"It's just an excuse…" A hint of disdain flashed across Carbott's face, but the other party clearly didn't notice. "The Board of Governors can use this as a reason to pressure Dumbledore, and tomorrow I'll have the Daily Prophet publish calls to 'dismiss this dangerous individual.' Finally, members of the pure-blood families will temporarily withdraw their students from Hogwarts…"

He paused and glanced at the other person. "Cornelius Fudge has already sent a letter to Dumbledore. As long as we continue to expand our influence, getting him expelled from Hogwarts will naturally not be a difficult matter. And once he leaves Hogwarts, without Dumbledore's protection… hah!"

"I hope it's as you say…" The figure stepped fully out of the shadows, his tall body leaning slightly forward as he coldly told Carbott, "Otherwise, you will pay the price for this!"

"Hmph, worry about yourselves instead." Carbott ignored the other's threat. "Although he's a bastard, he's not easy to deal with."

"Ah~ You don't need to worry about that~" Another gray-haired woman emerged from the darkness. She pushed the tall man aside and then softly told Carbott, "You just need to do your part…"

She gently stroked Carbott's collar with her hand, but he subtly took a step back. Seeing this, the gray-haired woman's smile didn't falter, but a cold glint flashed in her eyes.

"So, when are you planning to leave here?" Carbott asked coldly.

"I don't think we'll leave until he leaves Hogwarts."

"You mean you're going to stay in my manor indefinitely?" He sounded somewhat incredulous.

"Ahaha~ Where else would we go?" the gray-haired woman replied with a smile.

Carbott's face was grim, but he suppressed his anger and turned to leave. "Once he's expelled from Hogwarts, you must leave here immediately!"

The man and woman slowly retreated into the shadows without answering.

After leaving the cellar, Carbott immediately stopped concealing the disgust on his face. He picked up his wand and cast a cleaning spell on his collar, but as if that wasn't enough, he had a house-elf change him into a new coat.

"A bunch of filthy creatures…" he kept muttering as he wrote a letter to the editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet.

...

In the Headmaster's office, Sagres calmly held the newspaper.

Professor Dumbledore smiled and handed him a letter sealed with the Ministry of Magic's emblem. "It seems we've run into new trouble."

Sagres didn't take the letter. He looked at the newspaper, silently noting the editor-in-chief's name—Barnabas Guffey.

"The Board of Governors currently demands the suspension of all outdoor practical lessons and…"

"Professor Dumbledore…" he calmly interrupted the Headmaster. "When did you start running errands for Cornelius?"

"Sagres, you cannot be so harsh to an old man…"

Sagres held up the newspaper. "Then don't blame me if your Minister's taken to fetching sticks for inbred aristocrats."

"I'm not blaming you at all," Professor Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Oh? Then what's the point of me sitting here now?"

Without waiting for Professor Dumbledore to answer, Sagres tossed the newspaper onto the desk. "Never mind, I'll handle it myself!"

"No, Sagres…" Professor Dumbledore sat up straight, his expression finally turning quite serious. "As the Headmaster, this is what I should do… and you need to calm down now."

"I am calmer than anyone." Sagres calmly stood up, looking down at Professor Dumbledore. "You might not know, but I cast spells on myself every day just to keep myself calm!"

"Even so, I still hope you can leave this matter to me…" Professor Dumbledore looked into his eyes and said earnestly.

"Professor Dumbledore, you may have your ways, but I have painstakingly pursued the true meaning of magic for so many years, not to play political games with others." Sagres tapped the letter and newspaper on the table with his finger. "You should understand what I mean, but these people clearly don't—so I need to teach them a good lesson."

"Sagres plea—"

After speaking, he ignored the other party's attempt to continue the conversation, Apparated to the door and left the office directly by walking.

Sagres's expression remained calm as he descended the spiral staircase, but inwardly, he was very displeased.

When he was in Azkaban, the other party had promised him that as long as his teaching ensured student safety, he would be free from interference by these messy review committees.

But it had only just begun, and Professor Dumbledore had already thrown the problem to him.

If Professor Dumbledore truly wanted to solve it himself, why would he call him here to discuss the issue?

To test his attitude? Or to ask for his opinion?

Coincidentally, he had some minor opinions about those Ministry of Magic officials who were merely occupying their positions.

So, this time, he was going to teach these people a lesson—one that would make them instinctively run far away whenever they saw or heard his name in the future.

Sagres recalled the exaggerated reports in the Daily Prophet. He softly muttered the editor-in-chief's name, "Barnabas Guffey…"

Snap!

...

The next moment, his figure vanished into thin air.

The moonlight fragmented into silver scales on the surface of the Thames. Sagres stepped onto the marble steps of the Daily Prophet headquarters, and a powerful magical fluctuation instantly swept through.

The mahogany door of Barnabas Guffey's office began to carbonize the moment it met Sagres's gaze.

When his fingertips traced the gilded inscription "Truth Above All" on the door panel, a mocking smile involuntarily appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Good evening, Mr. Guffey," Sagres greeted the editor-in-chief, who was buried in a pile of manuscripts, in a natural tone.

"Hmm?" Barnabas Guffey looked up blankly. He put on his glasses and looked at the newcomer, only then noticing that everything around him had begun to turn to charcoal.

The stack of documents in front of him even burst into flames, yet everyone inside the Daily Prophet at that moment seemed completely oblivious to it.

Everyone seemed to be busy with their own affairs, ignoring this strange scene.

As a wizard, Barnabas particularly wanted to express his feelings with a Muggle saying at this moment: This isn't scientific! Of course, it wasn't magic either—at least, not any kind he had ever heard of. He had never encountered a spell that could do this.

"I can probably skip the self-introduction. After all, the reports about me were personally compiled by you…" Sagres sat down directly in front of him.

"It's just that I heard you seem to have some… opinions about my teaching methods."

Barnabas Guffey shot up from behind his desk. He found that his meticulously arranged protective spells were completely ineffective.

"I suggest that you co-operate." Sagres gave him a chilling smile.

Cold sweat instantly seeped from the back of Barnabas' neck.

He tried to escape immediately, but gave up instantly. Then he started yelling and screaming down the corridor, frantically calling for help.

Next, he tried to appease the ill-intentioned Sagres. Finally, he even tried to pull out his wand to resist, but his trembling hand couldn't even cast an effective spell.

The Daily Prophet employees were busy coming and going outside the glass window, yet not a single person noticed him. Everything seemed to have fallen into an absurd dream.

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