HP: The Dangerous Azkaban Professor

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That day, as the bell rang to signal the end of class, Sargeras was packing up his textbooks, ready to leave the classroom, when he happened to overhear a group of young witches and wizards gleefully discussing something, their voices laced with obvious malice.

He looked up, only to see Harry and his two friends walking past the Slytherins, books in hand. That group, as always, was clapping and whistling, some of them even cheering loudly, their voices dripping with mockery.

"Thank you, Potter, you really are our best friend, our great benefactor… Honestly, I was still wondering just yesterday how we were going to catch up to your House's points. And look at that, today my dream came true!"

"Exactly! If you ask me, Malfoy's absolutely brilliant—"

"No kidding. After all, not everyone has the guts to pull off something like that."

"I reckon we've got the great Potter to thank for that one too…"

Their jeers and sarcasm filled the air as they shoved Harry, Ron, and Hermione aside, sauntering off in a group with smug looks on their faces.

The students from the other three Houses didn't exactly look at Harry and the others with warm smiles either. Their expressions were just as cold, their eyes full of blame. After all, none of them wanted to see Slytherin win the House Cup, and this year, Gryffindor had been their best shot at stopping that from happening.

And yet, what was the result?

Malfoy had pulled off a stunning one-for-three trade, flipping the whole situation on its head. Now, no matter where the three of them went, they were met with glares, disdain, and outright contempt.

Even during Quidditch practice, no one bothered calling Harry by his name anymore. To them, he was just "that Seeker."

Thinking about all that, Harry's gaze drifted toward Wood, who was standing among the crowd. Looking thoroughly dejected, Harry called out to him and shared what had clearly been weighing on his mind — that he wanted to quit the team.

Sargeras had seen this coming from a mile away, but that didn't mean he was going to just let it happen. Sure, he wasn't exactly a fan of Quidditch himself, but Professor McGonagall never failed to drag him along to every match, so he couldn't exactly avoid it either.

And truth be told, Harry was talented. If he could keep finishing games quickly, wasn't that basically saving Sargeras his own precious time?

With that thought in mind, Sargeras stepped forward, cutting through the noisy crowd and pulling Harry, Ron, and Hermione out from the encirclement of students gathered from the other three Houses.

"Ravenclaws…" His eyes landed on the Ravenclaw students in particular, his expression utterly unreadable as he spoke flatly, "I'm really curious… what exactly does any of this have to do with you?"

The moment his words fell, the crowd fell silent, and without the slightest hesitation, his voice continued, cold and direct.

"Pinning all your hopes on someone else, then turning on them in frustration the moment those hopes are shattered? Honestly, even if you lot inherited only a shred of Ravenclaw's wisdom, you wouldn't be foolish enough to behave like this."

His eyes swept over the group as he reminded them, his tone cool and deliberate. "After all, whether or not Gryffindor loses points, it's not like Ravenclaw managed to take first place, did you?"

As he spoke, his gaze drifted — seemingly casually, yet with unmistakable intent — over the Ravenclaw students. Those who met his eyes instinctively lowered their heads, looking embarrassed.

"And as for you lot…" He tilted his chin slightly, motioning toward another group, his expression still unreadable.

"The Sorting Hat always says Hufflepuffs are supposed to be loyal and true to their friends… but regrettably, I'm not seeing much of that here."

His voice was steady, each word striking with quiet precision.

"I wonder… is it that only people who never make mistakes are worthy of being your friends? Or does making one mistake strip someone of that right completely?"

No one answered.

"When they're useful, you admire them. The moment they slip up, you scorn on them. Honestly, your shrewdness and opportunism could give Slytherin a run for their money."

Sargeras didn't sugarcoat his words in the slightest. His tone was blunt, carrying the same sharpness as a blade drawn across glass.

Even the Gryffindors looked rather awkward at that, because when Harry had scored points for their House during Quidditch, they had called him their savior, practically their hero. Yet now, the moment he lost them points, they couldn't wait to cut ties and pretend none of it mattered.

Watching the silent, guilty crowd, Sargeras tilted his chin again, his expression cool and composed.

"Now, leave. All of you. Right now."

The students shuffled out like frightened quails, their heads lowered, not daring to meet his eyes. As the last of them filed out of the classroom, Harry and the other two were about to follow them, only to suddenly realize… they couldn't move at all.

It wasn't even a full minute before the classroom had completely emptied, leaving only the three of them and Sargeras standing there. And in that same instant, they could finally move their legs again.

"As for you… Harry," Sargeras turned toward the young wizard, his calm gaze falling steadily upon him. "You're planning to quit the Quidditch team?"

Harry opened his mouth but no sound came out. For some reason, the words he had prepared so firmly earlier — the decision to quit — now felt like they were caught in his throat, impossible to say aloud.

Sargeras looked at him, his voice cool and quiet.

"What a shame. I couldn't see even the faintest trace of Gryffindor in you. All I see is a coward, ready to turn and run the moment things get difficult."

His words were calm, but every syllable was like a cold, sharp dagger sinking straight into Harry's heart.

"After all, quitting won't bring the lost points back…" Sargeras said, his voice steady, "it'll only ensure you never have the chance to earn them back again."

Harry lowered his head in shame, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"And you, Miss Granger," Sargeras shifted his gaze to Hermione, his expression unreadable. "I heard… you haven't dared to answer questions in class these past few days?"

Hermione's head drooped as well, her shoulders slumping, her whole expression clouded with discouragement.

Sargeras' eyes turned to Ron next.

"Mr. Weasley, do I need to say anything to you?"

Ron shook his head, and for once, he actually looked calmer and more composed than usual.

"The three of you… this is a lesson, but it's also a test." His sharp, clear gaze lingered on them earnestly as he spoke, his tone softening slightly, losing some of its previous harshness. "I know the past few days have been hard for you… but maybe… maybe that's not entirely a bad thing."

With that, he picked up his textbooks and gestured for the three of them to follow him.

The four of them walked past the Herbology Classroom, crossed the Quidditch pitch, and finally arrived in front of Hagrid's hut.

The three young wizards exchanged puzzled looks, clearly confused, but Sargeras offered no explanation. Instead, he walked straight up to the wooden door and knocked.

CREAK—the door opened!

"Professor? Harry? Is something wrong?" Hagrid opened the door and looked at them with surprise written all over his face.

"There is something, actually. Can we come in first, Hagrid?" Sargeras replied calmly.

"Of course you can, come on in…"

The group stepped inside. Sargeras made himself comfortable on a chair without the slightest hesitation, while Harry and the others stood stiffly off to the side, looking awkward and uneasy.

"Hagrid, do you know that for sending away that dragon you were raising, Harry and his friends cost Gryffindor a hundred and fifty points?"

The blunt, straight-to-the-point remark instantly froze the entire room. The young students' eyes widened, and even Hagrid's mouth hung open, stunned into complete silence. No one could utter a single word.

Sargeras, however, didn't seem to care about the heavy silence hanging in the air. His voice remained calm and natural, carrying that quiet, unwavering authority.

"Hagrid, you've already been expelled from Hogwarts once. But clearly, that lesson didn't stick. Or… have you grown tired of your job as Keeper of the Grounds?"

"Professor, I… I'm sorry, I really am… I just…" Hagrid stumbled over his words, his broad face flushed with guilt, but he couldn't even get a full sentence out.

"You don't need to apologize to me. After all, I didn't do anything…" Sargeras said coolly, gesturing toward the three young witch and wizard beside him. "You should be apologizing to them."

"These three… they've been isolated and blamed by everyone because of the points that were lost. And the one who started this whole mess… you've been more concerned about that baby dragon than you have about them."

As he spoke, he shook his head softly, his voice carrying a trace of disappointment.

"To be honest… that's a little disheartening. They took responsibility for your mistake without hesitation, and when they landed themselves in trouble because of it, you didn't even offer them a single word of comfort."

Hagrid stood in the small wooden hut, his massive frame like a stone wall, silent and unmoving.

Harry and the others instinctively wanted to defend Hagrid, to say something on his behalf, but Sargeras shot them a single glance — calm, sharp, impossible to defy — and the words died in their throats.

"Don't let your friends sink into the mud for your sake again," Sargeras continued, his tone cool but not unkind. "Next time you make a decision… please think about the consequences first."

With that, he stood, motioning for the young students to follow him as they left the hut.

But they hadn't gone far when Hagrid came hurrying after them, calling out and apologizing sincerely to Harry and the others. The three young students, pure-hearted as they were, naturally forgave him without hesitation.

And at long last, Sargeras finally saw smiles appear on their faces.

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[Chapter End's]

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