HP: The Dangerous Azkaban Professor

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"To be honest… piecing together the truth isn't all that difficult, if you know what unicorn blood actually does…"

As he spoke, his fingertips lightly dipped into the pool of silvery-white blood, the liquid clinging to his skin like molten silver. His deep, shadowed eyes stayed fixed on that glistening, viscous stain, a quiet intensity swirling in their depths.

"But the books never mentioned what their blood was for," Hermione cut in, her eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly in confusion. "In Potions class, we only ever studied their tail hair and horn."

"That's to protect them," Nightingale chimed in at just the right moment, her voice calm and steady. "Unicorn blood can heal even the gravest of wounds… it can prolong life, even for those already standing at death's door…"

"But the moment your lips touch that blood," she added, her tone dropping into something darker, colder, "the curse wraps around your veins like a creeping, poisonous vine. First comes the pain… then the rot… and after that…"

Her eyes gleamed faintly in the dim moonlight.

"… the wraiths plague at your insides, madness devours your mind, and it won't stop until your very soul is left riddled with holes."

"Exactly…" Sargeras gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "Not many people know this… and even fewer would dare do such a thing."

"But who could it be? Who would do such a thing?" Harry asked, his voice brimming with confusion. "I mean… if you've got to suffer a curse like that… wouldn't it be better to just… die?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself!" Leon the centaur snorted, clearly approving of Harry's blunt honesty.

Sargeras slowly rose to his feet, brushing his robe aside as he straightened to his full height. Then, quite suddenly, his gaze locked onto Harry, and he asked a question — his voice calm, yet carrying an undeniable weight.

"Harry… you said that when that person approached you, the scar on your forehead suddenly started hurting?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry replied at once, his hand unconsciously brushing the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. "It's happened before… but never this badly…"

"Then isn't the answer practically screaming at us?"

A strange, fleeting smile tugged at the corner of Sargeras's mouth, but just as quickly, it was gone.

"What do you mean, Professor?"

"I mean… isn't it obvious by now, Harry?" His voice softened, but the words themselves cut sharper than any blade. "Who's been hiding in the shadows all these years, quietly biding its time, desperate to rise again? Who clings to life with such stubbornness… lurking… waiting… ready to strike the moment the chance appears?"

Harry's heart clenched as if an invisible hand had wrapped around it, squeezing tight. The professor's words echoed endlessly in his mind, each syllable pounding louder with every breath he took.

And then… as though summoned by those thoughts… Hagrid's rough, low voice rumbled through the clearing once more, carrying a heavy, undeniable truth:

"Rumor says he's dead? Bah… that's just scared folk imaginin' things, that is! A soul like his… it ain't never truly gone… just lingers on the edge… hoverin' 'tween life an' death… never knowin' real peace…"

"You mean… Lord Voldemort?" Harry's voice trembled with disbelief as he forced the name past his lips.

A cold shiver swept through the group, brushing over every inch of exposed skin.

Voldemort…

The Dark Lord who once commanded the wind and clouds, who cast his shadow over the entire wizarding world… was he hiding in the Forbidden Forest now?

Had they… just come face to face with him moments ago?

Yes. Suddenly, it all made sense to Harry. The scar. That was Voldemort's mark — the scar he had left behind. That's why it had started hurting the moment the man came close.

So… this was the truth?

The centaurs… they knew. They just didn't want to say it out loud. Were they afraid of Voldemort's revenge?

"But… everyone says the person he's most afraid of is Dumbledore… and the castle's so close to here… he shouldn't be anywhere near this place…" Hermione couldn't help but speak up, her voice tinged with confusion. "It doesn't make sense. He should've run far away, not hide somewhere practically under Dumbledore's nose."

"Maybe… maybe it's because there's somethin' inside the school he wants!" Ron suddenly blurted out, his words snapping both Harry and Hermione out of their daze.

"You mean—the Philosopher's…" Realization dawned on all three of them at once.

WHOOSH—!

Suddenly, an arrow sliced through the treetops, hurtling toward them with alarming speed.

"Hurricane Fury!"

With a casual flick of his hand, Sargeras unleashed a spell. A fierce, howling wind erupted around them, swirling into a protective barrier that deflected the incoming arrow with ease, sending it tumbling harmlessly to the forest floor.

A few seconds later, the hurricane died down, and as the air stilled, everyone looked around in confusion and growing unease.

From behind the dense undergrowth, a group of centaurs slowly stepped into view, their figures tall and imposing beneath the faint moonlight filtering through the trees Bows were gripped firmly in their hands, and sharp eyes filled with hostility locked onto them like hunters sizing up their prey.

"Poachers…" someone muttered grimly.

"They killed a unicorn!"

"Leon? Why are you mixed up with them?"

"Why did you bring them into the forest? Hagrid, we had an agreement, didn't we? No one else is allowed here but you!"

The centaurs' voices rose one after another, their accusations pouring out like a crashing tide. Some of them had already pinned the crime of killing the unicorn on them without a shred of hesitation.

The young wizards were visibly rattled by the sudden hostility, their emotions written plainly across their faces.

Sargeras, however, remained calm as ever. His expression didn't change in the slightest. If anything, a knowing, amused look curled faintly at the corners of his lips, as though he had been expecting this all along. His eyes flicked slowly over the agitated centaurs, unreadable and cool.

"It wasn't us… it was Voldemort…" Harry tried to defend them, his voice a little tense but steady.

"Voldem—Leon, what exactly did you tell them?" one of the centaurs snapped furiously, his gaze locked onto Leon like a drawn arrow. "We all made an oath. Have you forgotten that?"

"I didn't tell them anything, Bane," Leon replied at once, his voice low but firm. "They figured it out on their own."

"Lies! You're a liar!" the centaur named Bane snarled, his anger boiling over in his eyes.

"He's not lying…" Ron suddenly shouted, unable to hold back any longer. "Isn't it obvious? We don't need the stars to tell us that much!"

Bane's face darkened at those words, his fury exploding like a firework. With a sharp pull, he drew back his bowstring, the arrowhead glinting coldly as it pointed straight at Ron.

"Don't say another word… Mr. Weasley…" Sargeras finally spoke again, his voice still calm but with an undertone sharp as glass. "They're just a bunch of arrogant fools… pathetic, really… they only believe what their own eyes see. Anything beyond that… they refuse to trust."

Even as the words left his lips, an arrow whistled through the air, fired straight at him.

Clearly, the centaurs were beyond reason now.

Sargeras clicked his tongue in annoyance, utterly unbothered by the flying arrow. With a lazy wave of his hand, he muttered, "Return to sender."

The arrow instantly reversed course, spinning back through the air with even greater speed, slicing toward the centaur who had fired it.

Bane's expression shifted, and he ducked hastily to the side. Even so, he wasn't fast enough. The arrow grazed his cheek, leaving behind a thin, shallow cut along his skin.

The other centaurs stiffened at the sight, their eyes narrowing with fury. Without hesitation, they raised their bows as one, arrows nocked, all aimed squarely at the group.

"Leon… maybe now would be a good time to explain why we're here," Nightingale remarked coldly, also pulling her wand from her robe in a single smooth motion.

But behind her, Leon said nothing. Without a word, he stepped silently back, moving to stand among his own people once again.

Sargeras let out a soft snort, his dark robe rippling softly as he shifted his stance. His voice was low and laced with irritation as he muttered under his breath, "Knew this job was gonna be a headache…"

He gave a small, careless shrug.

"… but that's alright... dealing with headaches just happens to be what I'm best at handling…"

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"Hagrid, take the human wizards and get out of this forest," Bane's voice rang cold and sharp across the tense clearing. "They're not welcome here!"

"What's got inter yeh lot, Bane? We're jus' 'ere ter find out who killed the unicorn…" Hagrid called back, his deep voice booming through the trees as his massive frame planted itself protectively in front of the group. His broad shoulders squared, unmoving, like a living wall.

SWISH—!

Arrows shot toward Hagrid without the slightest hesitation. The young wizards could hardly believe their eyes. Hagrid had said earlier… there was nothing in the Forbidden Forest that could hurt him.

Just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione raised their wands, ready to defend themselves, Sargeras reached out and pressed their wrists down.

"Stay put," he instructed calmly.

He didn't even bother to lift his wand. He simply pointed a single finger, and in an instant, the arrow ignited in midair. Flames coiled along its shaft, devouring it entirely until only drifting ashes remained, scattered by the wind.

Sargeras turned his gaze back to the centaurs, his expression finally hardening. The quiet in his eyes grew colder, sharp as winter frost.

"Tell me… did you lot forget one rather important thing?" His voice was steady, unhurried, but hollow with biting sarcasm as he swept his eyes across the gathered centaurs. "Since when… did the centaurs become the masters of the Forbidden Forest?"

The words had barely left his lips when the entire forest seemed to stir. The trees shivered without a breeze, their leaves rustling softly like whispers in the dark.

Thick green vines burst from the ground, twisting and writhing like serpents as they slithered rapidly across the forest floor. They coiled around the centaurs' ankles in an instant, their movements eerily smooth and fast.

And then—without warning—they tightened.

A chorus of panicked shouts and muffled grunts rang out, but within moments, the forest had fallen eerily silent again.

With a simple wave of Sargeras's hand, more than twenty centaurs, bound tightly by the vines like insects in a spider's web, were hoisted upside down into the air, dangling helplessly like captured prey.

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[Chapter End's]

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