HP: The Dangerous Azkaban Professor

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A glimmer of emotion finally surfaced in the woman's eyes — just the faintest hint of disdainful amusement touched the edges of her mouth. She tilted her head ever so slightly, and that cascade of black-hair tumbled down like a silken waterfall, shimmering under the moonlight with a sheen as cold and sharp as polished metal.

Sargeras smiled as well… but there was nothing gentle in it. His smile carried the ruthless edge of a predator eyeing its prey.

"Looks like you need a little lesson."

The words had barely left his lips when Sargeras abruptly raised his wand.

A dense, crushing surge of magic burst forth from him like a crashing wave, radiating outward in all directions. In an instant, the air was filled with the sharp, brittle sound of glass shattering — those countless invisible threads of magic that had crept toward him moments ago were all snapped apart at once.

The woman staggered back a step. Her complexion, already unnaturally pale, drained of what little color remained, and her icy blue eyes glinted strangely under the pale moonlight, like twin shards of glass catching the faintest light.

But Sargeras had no intention of giving her time to breathe.

A blinding arc of lightning flared from the tip of his wand as he swept it through the air, the tip aimed straight toward the night sky.

"Thunderbolt Blast!"

In that split second, a bolt of lightning as thick as a tree trunk tore through the dark heavens, crashing down with a deafening roar.

The blinding flash of white lit up the entire forest as if it were broad daylight. The moment the lightning struck the ground, an earth-shaking shockwave erupted with terrifying force.

Ancient trees nearby blackened and charred in the searing heat. The earth itself split open, leaving behind a gaping crater nearly three meters wide. At the bottom of that smouldering pit, molten rock churned and bubbled, filling the air with the acrid stench of ozone and scorched earth.

Sargeras stood tall upon a massive boulder, his black robes whipping violently in the rising waves of heat.

But his instincts whispered to him… the other party wasn't dead.

Though her figure had vanished without a trace in the aftermath of the explosion, Sargeras's magical senses locked onto her presence with pinpoint clarity — like a venomous serpent slithering through the shadows, biding its time for a deadly strike.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

A crimson beam of spellfire shot toward him from the shadows, coming in fast from his rear left. The raw magical energy packed into that single curse was so overwhelming that even the surrounding air trembled in its wake.

Without even turning his head, Sargeras swept his left hand gracefully behind him, tracing a perfect arc through the air.

"Protego!"

A silver-blue shield of shimmering magic bloomed into place, flawlessly intercepting the oncoming Full Body-Bind Curse. The red glow struck the surface of the barrier and ripples of light rippled outward like waves spreading across a still pond.

At the exact same moment, Sargeras's wand, held firmly in his right hand, was already pointed straight toward the direction from which the spell had come from.

"Frenzied Explosion!"

An explosion of violent magical fluctuations exploded through the air. The shockwave erupted outward, shredding every tree within a twenty-meter radius into splinters and sawdust. Amid the blinding rain of wood fragments, the woman used Apparition once again, vanishing just in time to evade the blast.

"Crimson Rend!"

Sargeras gave her no time to recover. A sharp beam of blood-red light shot straight toward the woman's throat with lethal precision.

The woman hastily raised her wand and cast a Shield Charm to block it. A transparent, dome-like barrier shimmered into existence before her, but the instant the red spelllight struck the shield, it melted into the translucent surface without resistance.

A flicker of shock crossed her face as she realized, to her horror, that her protective barrier was undergoing a terrifying transformation. Crimson lines, as thin as spiderwebs, began to spread across the transparent surface, etching into a deadly pattern. Then in the blink of an eye, the entire shield fragmented into countless razor-sharp blood-colored blades, charging toward her like an unstoppable tide of slaughter.

Forced to react, the woman tried to Apparate again. But the moment her figure began to reform—

"Spatial Anchor!"

Sargeras thrust his wand forward with brutal force, and in an instant, the space within a hundred meters around them solidified, turning as rigid and unyielding as iron.

The woman's Apparition was forcibly interrupted, her form flickering violently mid-teleport. At the last possible second, she had no choice but to flip her wand in her grip, pointing it toward herself.

"Flipendo!"

A streak of grey spellfire shot from her wand and struck her own body. In an instant, her slender figure was flung backward like a kite with its string cut, narrowly evading the storm of blood blades that sliced through the space she had just occupied.

Still, the lower hem of her silver-blue robes wasn't so fortunate. A portion of the fabric was cleanly severed, leaving her looking visibly disheveled for the first time.

"Ashwinder Plague!"

The woman finally abandoned her earlier arrogance. With a graceful sweep of her wand, she conjured a dense cloud of murky, greenish-grey smoke.

Within that swirling fog, the faint shapes of countless serpents slithered and twisted. Each snake's eyes gleamed with a sickly, poisonous green light, their silhouettes coiling like living shadows in the mist.

Sargeras attempted to dispel the smoke with a "Windy Spell," sending a fierce magical gale howling through the forest. Yet to his surprise, this strange smoke clung to the air like a living thing, curling and twisting as if it had a mind of its own, stubbornly refusing to disperse. A flicker of curiosity crossed his eyes before his expression returned to calm. With a light tap of his wand, he uttered coldly:

"Evanesco!"

A soft silver glow, gentle as moonlight, rippled out from the wand's tip and fell over the fog like falling starlight. Almost immediately, the magical smoke began to dissipate at an alarming speed.

But just as the smoke had nearly faded, Sargeras suddenly felt a sharp, stinging pain. He lowered his gaze, only to see a translucent grey serpent coiled tightly around his left arm. Its fangs had already sunk deep into his flesh.

"How amusing…" Sargeras let out a low, mocking laugh. Without hesitation, he pressed the tip of his wand against his own arm.

With a swift, Severing Charm, the grey serpent let out a sharp, ear-piercing hiss. Along with a chunk of bloody flesh falling to the ground, the grey serpent was forcibly yanked from his body, dissipating into a wisp of green smoke that vanished in the wind.

However, the place where its fangs had bitten was deteriorating rapidly. The surrounding muscle tissue rotted and decayed at a pace visible to the naked eye, the flesh darkening and sagging like withering fruit.

Sargeras's expression, however, didn't waver in the slightest. He simply pressed his wand lightly to the festering wound. A soft glow, like molten green, pulsed over the injury as he muttered, "Vulnera Sanentur."

New, healthy flesh sprouted forth, pushing the decayed tissue out in dark, oily clumps. Thin tendrils of black smoke curled up from the freshly closed wound, vanishing into the air.

"You're proving to be far more troublesome than I imagined…" came the woman's voice, echoing from every direction at once, as if dozens of her were speaking simultaneously, their tones dripping with unsettling amusement. "But the real game has only just begun."

Sargeras tightened his grip on his wand. A cruel, predatory smile slowly curved across his lips.

"Just the way I like it."

"Rain of Sorrow!"

The woman's wand traced an elegant arc through the air, and the sky overhead darkened in an instant. The clouds boiled like molten lead, tumbling and twisting as thick, heavy raindrops pelted down in a sudden downpour.

But this was no ordinary rain. Every drop carried the weight of despair, infused with haunting fragments of hopeless memories. Wherever the rain struck exposed skin, faint black scorch marks bloomed like tiny burns, and worse still, the cursed rain gnawed directly at one's mind.

Sargeras narrowed his eyes, standing still as the rain slid down his face.

He could feel those insidious, intrusive emotions trying to penetrate his mind — cruelty, humiliation, injustice, the biting whispers of self-doubt… It was clear this spell had been woven with the very essence of a Dementor's despair, fused with the advanced whether manipulation magic.

The corners of the woman's lips lifted in a smug, satisfied smile, but her smile froze just as quickly.

"Mechanical Mind!"

Sargeras's voice was so cold it barely sounded human. All trace of emotion within him was forcibly suppressed, his entire being settling into an eerie, unnatural stillness, calm as a glassy lake untouched by wind.

"Meteolojinx recanto!"

A blinding jet of dark spelllight shot straight into the sky. The surging power condensed above them, forming the enormous silhouette of a raven's head etched into the clouds. In the blink of an eye, the storm clouds scattered, the wind stilled, the rain ceased, and sunlight once again poured down onto the battlefield.

The woman's expression finally changed. For the first time, a guarded, cautious light appeared in her eyes.

Sargeras, too, felt a faint chill in his heart. This mysterious woman's magical strength ran unfathomably deep, perhaps even surpassing Dumbledore himself.

"Nether Fiendfyre!"

With a deafening screech, hundreds of pale, Fiendfyre crows burst into the sky, swirling like a living storm as they wove a tight, inescapable net around their prey. The wings of every crow burned with cold, ghostly flames capable of devouring not only flesh but the very soul itself. The battlefield's temperature plummeted. Frost spread across the ground in strange, jagged patterns like veins of ice creeping toward the woman.

"I'd advise you to give up resistance…"

Sargeras's voice was terrifyingly calm, devoid of triumph or malice, just an icy certainty.

"Of course, you're welcome to choose becoming ashes instead."

The flock of Fiendfyre crows shrieked as their formation tightened, drawing the net closer and closer. The oppressive scent of death filled the air like a dense fog.

Truthfully, Sargeras had planned to ask her some questions — things like what year it was right now.

The woman glanced at the dense swarm of fire crows surrounding her, feeling the suffocating magical pressure radiating from their ghostly forms. Her fingers loosened, and at last, she lowered her wand.

"I admit… I underestimated you, but…"

Yet the moment those words left her lips, the woman, who had seemed ready to surrender, suddenly lifted her chin, her eyes flashing with cold determination.

"Chains of Fate!"

A glowing chain, etched with ancient runes, shot out from the center of her chest. The blue light streaked forward at a speed so fast it left thought itself trailing behind.

Sargeras reacted with pure instinct, conjuring a blazing shield of fire around himself with "Protego Diabolica."

But the rune-engraved chain ignored the wall of flames entirely, phasing straight through the burning barrier and plunging into his chest like a serpent striking its prey.

"It's no use…"

The woman's voice took on a strange, melodic quality, as if she were singing.

"Our fates are now bound. Any harm you inflict on me… will be reflected upon your own body."

Her voice remained calm and composed, but Sargeras could hear the faint tremor of exhaustion beneath her words.

Clearly, this woman had nearly exhausted her arsenal — otherwise, she wouldn't have resorted to such a desperate, underhanded tactic.

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[Chapter End's]

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