HP: The Dangerous Azkaban Professor

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Sargeras 'expression softened slightly. Just before their departure, he asked a final round of questions, "Kestrel, why were those two dark witches targeting you?"

"They saw me using the crystal ball," she murmured, I'm guessing… that's probably why…"

Sargeras' face immediately darkened. Seeing this, Nightingale immediately warned her, voice sharp and urgent, "How many times have we told you—never reveal your gift for divination or use your tools in front of other witches and wizards. Especially not to the Gypsy witches!"

The girl lowered her head. Clearly, she was a bit scared of Sargeras when he got serious like this.

Seeing the tension, Thunderbird hurriedly jumped in to change the subject, steering the conversation toward some intel he'd gotten from Gregorovitch. "I managed to get my hands on some research notes about the Elder Wand. Some of the techniques in there… honestly, I'd never even considered them before. I mean, compared to the traditional methods of the Wolf family… it's like a completely different world."

Kestrel couldn't help but raise the question that had been weighing on her mind. "So... what, I'm just supposed to sit here in the safe house with Thunderbird and wait?"

Sargeras gave a brief nod. "Nightingale and I will head out first. We'll retrieve the kraken heart from old Erios. After that, we'll travel to the place mentioned in your prophecy and collect the materials needed for the wand. Once we have everything, we'll return and hand them over to Thunderbird so he can begin the crafting."

Nightingale spoke up as well, her tone softer now, almost reassuring. "Don't worry. If your prophecy is accurate, we'll definitely find what we need there."

Thunderbird gave a quiet chuckle and added, "Honestly, if I went along with you, I'd just end up getting in the way. So staying here is probably the best help I can offer."

Just before leaving, Sargeras turned to the red-haired witch and delivered a final warning. His tone was sharp and unyielding. "While we're gone, you are not to use the crystal ball for divination. Not even once. Unless you've suddenly decided you want this lifetime to be your last."

"Okay… I get it," Kestrel mumbled, her head lowered. Her voice was small and uncertain.

Sargeras said nothing more to her. Instead, he turned to Thunderbird. "Do you have a spare wand? I'll need to borrow one for now. The last one I used was already destroyed."

Without missing a beat, Thunderbird reached into his handbag and pulled out several wands for Sargeras to choose from. As a descendant of the Wolfe family—a lineage known for its traditional North American wandcraft—every wand he offered was a textbook example of that particular school of design. But as Sargeras tested them one by one, it became clear that none of them felt quite right in his hand. Still, they were better than nothing.

He tucked the chosen wand into the inner pocket of his cloak, then turned to Nightingale and asked, "Do we still have any Felix Felicis left? Give each of them two drops. And make sure they've got some standard-use potions packed too, just in case."

Nightingale nodded. She reached into the folds of her robes and pulled out a small collection of crystal vials, each one shimmering with a different color. She handed them out, one by one, to Thunderbird and Kestrel.

"Even if you're not coming with us to the place shown in the prophecy," she said softly, "you still need to be careful. Too many things have already gone sideways on this mission. I don't want to hear about anyone else getting hurt."

Both Kestrel and Thunderbird nodded earnestly.

Sargeras added, "The prophecy says every step we take will be met with resistance. So if you ever find yourselves in real danger, crush this."

He handed Thunderbird a cloudy eyeball taken from a kraken. "It's a Portkey. An illegal one. But it'll get you out if things go south."

With everything now in place, Sargeras pulled out his own Norwegian kraken heart, muttered a spell under his breath, and turned it into a temporary Portkey.

This particular Portkey was designed to take them straight to another kraken heart—and when they got there, well… old Erios was in for a surprise he'd never forget.

Sargeras reached out and took Nightingale's hand. He gave a single nod to the two still standing inside the cabin, then grasped the Portkey and vanished from the safe house.

With a flash of spelllight, their figures disappeared.

The sensation of traveling through a Portkey was strange and deeply unpleasant, like being forcefully squeezed into a narrow bottle and then shoved out again through the neck.

By the time the discomfort faded, they were standing in the heart of a dust-covered magical ruin.

But there was no time to take in their surroundings. The moment their feet touched the ground, a wave of pitch-black energy came rushing toward them at breakneck speed.

Sargeras reacted instantly. He whipped out his wand and cast a powerful Shield Charm that intercepted the incoming strike. At the same time, Nightingale flicked her wand and sent a precise Levitation Charm sweeping across the room, lifting tables and chairs into the air to block their enemy's line of sight.

"Confringo (Blasting Curse)!"

A sharp cry rang out as a bolt of yellow light shot from the shadows. It slammed into the makeshift barrier with a thunderous bang, blasting the hovering furniture into shards with a series of crackling explosions.

From behind the swirling debris came a strange, hoarse laugh… it sounded like a duck being strangled, "Ha? You again, you greedy woman!"

Erios's voice echoed uncertainly through the ruins, shifting from place to place as he darted between hiding spots.

"I am not greedy," Nightingale replied calmly, still maintaining control over the floating shards. "I've only come to reclaim what's rightfully mine."

"Oh… is that so?"

"There's no reason for me to lie to you."

"Avada Kedavra!"

Her answer was met with a sudden flash of sickly green light.

Nightingale reacted in an instant, using the shattered furniture to block the Killing Curse. The moment it struck, she swept her arm upward and projected the airborne splinters straight toward the source of the green light.

"Protego!"

Erios countered with a Shield Charm, deflecting the flurry of wooden shrapnel, then quickly spun around and cast a Stunning Spell.

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to!" he shouted furiously. "You're all after my craft… every last one of you! You want to steal my research!"

Before he even finished shouting, a razor-sharp Severing Curse whistled past his head, narrowly grazing his scalp. His eyes went wide as his hand shot up to touch the top of his bald crown. It was smooth. Perfectly smooth.

A surge of unspeakable shame boiled up in his chest.

"You greedy little thieves!" the old man howled. "I'll show you what Erios can really do!"

With a sweeping motion of his wand, the dust-caked ground rippled like water. From beneath the floor, creatures began to erupt—dozens of them—charging forward in a relentless tide.

Some looked human. Others resembled magical beasts. But they all shared one thing in common: their slick, naked bodies were covered in twisted, pulsing black veins.

"Haha! Almost forgot…" the old man chuckled, a gleam of delight returning to his eyes. "You were hit by my curse, weren't you?"

The memory seemed to bring him pure joy. That meant the woman too was about to become one of his puppets—cursed, warped, and completely under his control, just like the rest of these monsters.

"Honestly, you've surprised me," Erios muttered, twisting his wand as black smoke began to coil from its tip. "To think you could still use magic after taking my curse… You've got remarkable resistance, I'll give you that."

"In the ninety-plus years I've spent mastering this particular spell, only a handful have ever lasted this long…"

"Venomous Plague!"

He thrust his wand forward, and the black smoke instantly morphed into three long, serpent-like strands. They shot through the air in an instant and sank their fangs deep into Sargeras's palm.

"Ha! So someone took the curse for you…"

Erios's expression twisted into gleeful malice.

"So it was you, wasn't it? You're the one who cut my hair!"

Sargeras didn't respond. He couldn't. A wave of indescribable pain was spreading from his cursed right hand… so intense, so raw, that it swallowed every thought in his mind.

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[Chapter End's]

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