HP: The Dangerous Azkaban Professor

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After all, Sargeras was someone who considered himself to be reasonable (or so he liked to believe). They had all been working together within the same secret organization for quite some time now. If someone chose to lower their head and show weakness, he couldn't simply kill them without a shred of justification.

This wasn't some game, after all. Killing people here wouldn't earn you experience points.

Snowy Owl drew her wand, the tip pressing firmly against Grolock's adam's apple. Beads of sweat rolled relentlessly down the goblin's forehead, his expression growing even more panicked and uneasy.

"Why did you attack me?" Snowy Owl's face was as cold as ice, her voice sharp and frosty. "And your little stunt flipping the table just now — it was far too deliberate. You were clearly trying to cover something up."

"Lady, I… I was blinded by greed for a moment, that's all. And I've already paid a heavy price for it…" Grolock's voice trembled as he lifted his severed arm, the jagged wound still raw and ghastly. His eyes filled with pitiful desperation as he pleaded, "But I swear, I'm not the informant. Tell me, what kind of goblin would be foolish enough to cozy up to the Aurors, knowing full well it would only bring them misery? Please… believe me… I'm telling the truth…"

At that moment, Nightingale reached into the folds of her wizard robe and produced a small, delicate black vial. Instantly, every gaze in the room snapped toward her.

"A powerful Veritaserum. Just three drops, and the truth will show itself," Nightingale announced, holding the vial aloft between her slender fingers.

Grolock's face instantly drained of all color. But under the silent threat of those watchful eyes surrounding him, he did not dare utter a single word of protest.

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"Hey… why'd his ears turn purple?" Kestrel's eyes widened in surprise as she stared at the goblin who had just swallowed the Veritaserum.

"That's the Veritaserum serum at work," Thunderbird explained calmly to everyone, clearly well-versed in such matters. "Humans react the same way after taking it. Once the color starts to fade, it means the effects are wearing off."

Nightingale nodded in agreement, then wasted no time cutting straight to the interrogation.

"Your true name?"

Grolock lay motionless on the floor, his eyes blank for a moment. Then, a faint shimmer of magic flickered across his skin, and his gaze locked stiffly onto the ceiling above.

"Mauritius Grolock!" he declared.

"Have you ever leaked information to the Ministry of Magic?"

"I have not!"

"Have you ever sold information about the Bronze Feather's gatherings to anyone else?"

"I have not!"

The old goblin's eyes were dull and empty, his voice flat and mechanical as he answered each question without hesitation.

A heavy silence settled over the room as the expressions on everyone's faces darkened once again.

It wasn't him…

Which could only mean the real informant was still among them, hidden in plain sight.

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Sargeras slowly leaned in closer to Grolock, his sharp eyes carefully studying the faint shimmer of magical runes flickering across the goblin's skin.

"Is there something wrong?" Nightingale asked, frowning slightly in confusion.

Sargeras straightened, that same unreadable smile lingering faintly at the corner of his lips.

"Quite the convincing act… You've taken Veritaserum before, haven't you?"

Grolock didn't react in the slightest. Only his large ears twitched ever so slightly, barely noticeable to the naked eye.

Nightingale froze for a moment at those words. Was this old goblin… faking it?

The others all turned their eyes toward Nightingale as well, their gazes sharpening with suspicion. It was clear none of them had any reason to doubt Sargeras's judgment. And so, the person who had brought out the Veritaserum in the first place instantly became the prime target of their doubt.

Nightingale's brows furrowed tightly. She was just about to open her mouth to explain when Sargeras spoke again, cutting her off.

"It has nothing to do with her," he said calmly, pointing at the motionless Grolock. "It's him. He's got Gringotts' anti-interrogation enchantments branded onto his skin."

The newcomer, Wren, understood the moment she heard those words. "The goblins who hold the vault passwords at Gringotts… they all get branded with those enchantments. It's how they make sure no secrets ever leave their lips."

Snowy Owl curled her lip in disdain. "So, you're a Gringotts goblin after all."

Upon hearing this, the others, including Falcon and the rest, finally allowed their tightly strung nerves to relax. They had genuinely feared that Sargeras might seize this opportunity to eliminate dissent and turn on them. But from the looks of it now, finding the real informant was obviously the better outcome for everyone.

"Then why did you leak the Bronze Feather meeting location to the Ministry of Magic?" Albatross spoke up, his white hair gleaming beneath the light as he suddenly rose to his feet. His voice, once always gentle and amiable, now brimmed with nothing but cold fury.

The goblin, however, still lay stiff and motionless on the floor.

"You traitor…" The newcomer, Wren, couldn't hold back her rage any longer. She yanked out her wand and aimed it furiously at the goblin's forehead.

At that, Grolock finally stopped pretending. Struggling, he scrambled up from the floor, his voice cracking with terror as he begged for mercy.

"Please, have mercy… I admit I was faking it, but I swear, I didn't lie…"

"Still trying to wriggle your way out of this?" Wren's fury burned hotter, the tip of her wand glowing brighter and brighter, clearly just moments away from unleashing a string of nasty curses on him.

Watching the scene unfold, Sargeras narrowed his eyes slightly. If he did not step in now, the old goblin would probably be executed right here.

"Everyone…" Sargeras raised a hand, pointing at the terrified goblin. "If we're going to investigate, let's be thorough — I'll check his memories."

The moment the words left his mouth, he raised his wand without hesitation. Regardless of whether Grolock consented, Sargeras forcefully drew silvery strands of memory from the goblin's temple. The shimmering threads coiled and merged into a visible memory that hovered in the air, "displayed clearly" for the entire group to examine one by one.

In the end, the truth was laid bare. The old goblin had indeed not lied. He had nothing to do with this matter.

Sargeras gave a casual flick of his wand, returning the memory strands to the old goblin's mind without the slightest care.

Of course, after going through that, the poor fellow would likely suffer a bit of memory loss. And considering his already advanced age, there was a good chance he'd wake up with full-blown senility.

But honestly, that wasn't such a bad outcome. He'd nearly lost his life just moments ago — at least now he still had a chance to enjoy his twilight years in peace.

"Looks like this isn't over yet…" Sargeras swept his gaze slowly across the room, his voice calm and unhurried. "But we've got plenty of Veritaserum left. Finding the truth is only a matter of time."

With that, he pointed straight at the newcomer, Wren. "You're next."

"What? Me?" Wren's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Yes. You…" Sargeras nodded, his tone leaving no room for argument. Her behavior had been far too aggressive for a newcomer — drawing attention to herself was never wise in situations like this.

Without bothering to ask for her opinion, he simply tilted his chin toward Nightingale, silently signaling for her to proceed.

Nightingale raised her wand and tapped it lightly against the rim of the little black vial, her movements calm and practiced. Clink, clink, clink — three shimmering drops of metallic liquid fell precisely into Wren's mouth, which had been forced open by an unseen spell.

The middle-aged woman's pupils dilated instantly. Her ears began to shift in color, and at the same time, faint silver veins rippled beneath her skin, snaking along her face like the delicate lines of some otherworldly enchantment.

"Your true name," Sargeras asked, his voice calm but impossible to defy.

"Elisa Ferguson." Her voice came out dull and hollow, completely stripped of emotion. A thin strand of drool slipped from the corner of her mouth, hanging there uncontrollably.

"Have you ever leaked information to the Ministry of Magic?"

"…Yes."

The faces of everyone present shifted at once. Their expressions darkened instantly.

"Which organization do you belong to?"

"…The Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Albatross's face turned ashen on the spot, drained of all color.

"Do you have any accomplices?"

"…None."

"Your objective?"

"To infiltrate… observe… assess… and wait for the right moment to capture the wanted criminal — Shrike Kaelphist."

Albatross, who had once seemed so composed and full of vitality, looked as though his beliefs had been shattered in an instant. His knees buckled, and he collapsed weakly to the floor, eyes wide with disbelief, as though he couldn't accept what he had just heard no matter how many times the words echoed in his mind.

A few low chuckles emerged through the crowd, quiet but unmistakably mocking.

"Old man, has life gotten so dull at your age that you're ready to throw it all away?" The information broker, Stork, stepped forward, their voice sharp with sarcasm as they questioned him coolly. "You actually recommended someone from the Ministry?"

"This… this time, my old eyes truly failed me…" Albatross's face was deathly pale, drained of all color. His voice trembled, weak and hollow, as if every shred of strength had been stripped from him. "I… I will make it up to all of you…"

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[Chapter End's]

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