HP: Dangerous Professor from Azkaban

After the incident with the monster, Sagres decided to explore the chamber.

Once created by Salazar as a secret chamber... A thousand years had passed.

"Hmm.."

Sagres's fingertips ignited a pale, cold flame, and he advanced slowly by its faint light, his boots echoing hollowly on the damp stone steps.

After a millennium, what would he see here?

Perhaps hidden within were long-lost forbidden magics, or invaluable, mysterious treasures, or perhaps even the tomb of Salazar Slytherin himself…

But reality was always disappointingly plain.

What appeared before his eyes was only a crude, almost shabby laboratory: a rough stone bed, a massive research table, and a few decayed vessels scattered around.

The crucible was corroded, and the glass containers were covered in a thick layer of dust, as though they might crumble into powder at a single touch.

Sagres surveyed the scene expressionlessly, and soon noticed a recessed space beside the laboratory—the floor marked smooth by the Basilisk's long years of coiling.

"This is truly…"

He sighed softly and turned to leave.

Just then, a faint glint caught his eye.

In the most inconspicuous corner of the research table, a dust-buried hourglass reflected the pale flame.

Sagres's pupils narrowed, and his fingertips trembled slightly.

"Purgari de novo."

The dust was completely cleared, revealing the crystal-clear outline of the hourglass.

A Time-Turner—he had only seen it a few months ago, yet it had waited a thousand years to meet him again.

Sagres carefully picked up the hourglass, feeling a momentary daze.

Salazar Slytherin was gone; not only him, but the other three founders had also turned to dust, and everything that had happened seemed like a dream.

If not for that familiar flesh-and-blood monster and the perfectly intact hourglass in his hand, he might have found it hard to believe he had once traveled back a thousand years and dealt with a group of "old fogeys."

He meticulously examined the hourglass when, suddenly, a soft glow emanated from it, followed by a wisp of silver magical thread that floated out, slowly transforming into a yellowed parchment.

Sagres frowned as he opened it, seeing the neat yet ancient handwriting.

---~~~~~~~~~---

To Sagres:

I asked Rowena, and she confidently told me you would see this letter. I hope her prophecy is as accurate as ever, and I hope she has not deceived me.

If this parchment can truly penetrate the heavy curtain of time and reach your hands, then my last hope has not been in vain.

I am Salazar Slytherin. As the ink slowly flows on this final letter, I am already very old.

You once ignited the flame of my youth with wisdom beyond the stars, and inadvertently handed me a lamp from the future—a window through which my soul once glimpsed infinite possibilities.

Now, this window slowly closes before my eyes, leaving only cold stone walls.

These years, what has sustained me through this long passage of time is an ultimate mystery about magic.

You once jokingly mentioned the exploration of the laws of life. At that time, I did not understand its profound meaning, but now it has become my only remaining obsession:

After a thousand years of time's erosion, have you—the Wizards of the future—truly touched that realm forbidden by the gods? Do you possess the mighty power to reverse the river of death?

I yearn for an answer—no, I beg for a definitive yes.

For the sake of my rose, who has long since turned to dust—her name still burns on my tongue, yet I can no longer utter it in this world.

Her passing drew the last light from my world, and it also made me see the unbridgeable, cold chasm beneath the four cornerstones of Hogwarts Castle.

This Castle carried our ideals, yet it ultimately failed to grant me the key to reclaim what was lost.

Therefore, I choose to leave—to step out of this fortress we built with our own hands one last time, when the great fog dissipates.

As for you, my friend—the traveler who once gazed upon ancient times with the eyes of the future—a faint echo remains in my heart: Will you return? To the land where the Castle's foundations first took shape, to this chaotic, barren era, even if only to give me an answer?

I know the perils of the River of Time, but if your journey allows for a small detour… then please return before I bury that rose. Let me see once more the future stars, reflected in your eyes, that I cannot comprehend.

Of course, if you cannot… then.. it is alright.

It just never occurred to me that Salazar Slytherin, proud for his entire life, at the end of his journey would so deeply… look up to the time and space where you reside.

Today, I will step into a deeper darkness, to seek the answer that perhaps only exists on the fringes of legend and taboo. If your era has found it, then let this knowledge cross time and space, becoming the light at the end of my long journey!

May time be merciful to you, and may magic ultimately be the servant of Wizards, not a cage.

—Salazar Slytherin

[This letter will be sealed deep within the Chamber of Secrets, and my servant will guard it for me.]

---~~~~~~~~~---

Sargeras looked at the letter in his hand, falling into a long silence.

In the eyes of the world, Salazar Slytherin, cold and ruthless, advocated absolute rationality, and even conducted uninhibited bloodline experiments—his terrifying reputation had long been deeply ingrained.

Yet at this moment, this yellowed parchment silently revealed a truth buried by time: beneath that aloof and unyielding exterior, there beat such a soft heart.

The words in the letter pointed to a heartbreaking fact—his beloved, perhaps a Wizard who once taught at Hogwarts, had fallen.

And his lifelong dedication to those horrifying flesh-and-blood magics and soul magics, the source of his mad obsession, was merely to reclaim the deceased from the cold grasp of Death.

"Haah.."

Sargeras's gaze fell back to the hourglass in his hand. He carefully recalled the knowledge entrusted by Rowena Ravenclaw and verified it against the hourglass's structure one by one.

The result was undeniable: the time-turner had been preset, its destination precisely that era a millennium ago.

However, a cold truth also emerged—he was a transmigrator; in this world, he was a person "without fate."

According to the knowledge of time that Rowena Ravenclaw had taught him, everyone's fate and time correspond one-to-one, which is also the principle on which the time-turner operates.

But for him, every journey into the long river of time would be a drift full of unknowns.

He couldn't go back—or rather, it would be very difficult for him to go back. Even with a set time-turner, he would inevitably end up in another point in time upon using it.

This process was like groping for a specific star in endless darkness; aside from relying on slim luck, it meant countless near-desperate attempts.

And what made him even more bewildered was this: even if he could go back, what should he do?

He had no answer.

A bitter thought quietly emerged: a millennium had passed, yet the progress of the magical world was so disappointing.

This wasn't his fault alone, but if he were truly to embark on the return journey, how could he return empty-handed?

So if he were to go back, he would need to carry the answer to that question—and then go back.

___________

12+ chapters in advance—P@treon/DarkDevil1