HP: The Dangerous Azkaban Professor

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Sargeras returned to the Hogwarts library and continued studying the manuscript. This time, no one came to disturb him. Just like that, without even realizing it, he ended up staying in the Restricted Section all the way until the afternoon of the second day.

It wasn't until the final stages of his research, when he truly began to feel the weariness creeping in, that he finally pulled out his wand and cast two spells on himself in succession — Waking Requiem and Sleep Banishment.

Over the years, these two spells had bought him a great deal of precious time. They were, in a sense, his little "secret weapons" for being able to study magic "day and night" without pause.

Waking Requiem was like a fleeting moment of spiritual slumber. It served as a substitute for physical sleep, allowing the caster's mind and body to enter a state of rest remarkably similar to sleep, yet without the need to actually close one's eyes or halt their activities.

Sleep Banishment, on the other hand, dispelled the body's craving for sleep altogether. It temporarily suppressed physical exhaustion, accelerated the recovery of magical power and stamina, and enabled the caster to stay awake and operate at peak efficiency for extended periods.

These two spells were things he had once stumbled upon while digging through the archives of the Greengrass family. Originally, they had been designed for a far more sinister purpose — to create an "army of tireless slaves." However, with the downfall of the Greengrass family, no one had paid attention to these spells for a very long time.

At first, Sargeras had assumed they weren't all that useful either. But out of idle curiosity, he gave them a try — and to his surprise, they turned out to be far more effective than he had expected when it came to simply staying awake.

Naturally, excessive use of these two spells would eventually lead to irritability, mood swings, and even emotional breakdowns. But as long as he disciplined himself to get some proper sleep at least once every ten days, the side effects were almost negligible and could be brushed aside without much thought.

Especially after he created the Mechanical Mind, those side effects had become even less of a concern for him. In fact, they were so faint and insignificant now that they were almost laughable.

Walking out of the library, Sargeras had just been planning to head over to the Great Hall and grab a bite to eat when Dumbledore's Phoenix, Fawkes, found him.

"Please come to the Headmaster's Office. Password: Toffee."

That was what the note clutched in Fawkes's beak said.

Sargeras curled his lips in faint annoyance, but still went to find a house-elf and grabbed a few meat pies. Only after that did he start making his way toward the Headmaster's office on the eighth floor, eating as he walked.

The stone gargoyle slowly turned aside, revealing the spiral staircase behind it. As Sargeras's black robes brushed past, the flickering candlelight cast fleeting shadows along the steps.

Professor Dumbledore sat quietly by the Phoenix perch, his fingertips gently tracing the blood-red veins swirling across the surface of the Philosopher's Stone.

"Good afternoon, Sargeras…" The old Headmaster's eyes twinkled with amusement behind his moon-shaped glasses. "Tell me, do you think it's about time I handed out a few more Hogwarts Special Award for Services to the School?"

Sargeras picked up a drink from the tea tray, gave it a careful glance, then tapped the rim of the cup. The honey mead inside instantly transformed into coffee.

"For Potter and the other two?" He took a sip of the coffee, asking casually, "It seems… you don't blame them for acting on their own."

"Sargeras, I may be an old man, but I was young once too," Professor Dumbledore replied with a gentle smile. "The three of them were certainly reckless, no denying that… but their hearts are good, and the potential they've shown is… remarkable."

"Suit yourself. You're the Headmaster…" Sargeras shrugged indifferently. "Is that the only reason you called me here?"

The Philosopher's Stone floating in Professor Dumbledore's hand suddenly rose higher, casting a brilliant, shimmering light that filled the space between the two of them.

"Of course not," the old Headmaster said, his voice growing faintly wistful. "There's… one more matter."

His gaze lingered on the glowing Philosopher's Stone, his expression tinged with emotion. "A miracle that has lasted for six centuries… in the end, it too must return to dust."

Dumbledore let out a quiet sigh and said, "After much discussion, Nicolas and I have both come to the same conclusion… destroying the Philosopher's Stone is the wisest choice."

"Destroy it?" For the first time, Sargeras's expression turned truly serious. "Nicolas Flamel agreed to that too?"

Dumbledore nodded slightly.

"Then… doesn't that mean he and his wife will… both die?"

"Everyone dies, Sargeras…" Dumbledore replied with a gentle smile. "For young lives like yours, death might seem distant, unfamiliar… maybe even frightening. But Nicolas and Perenelle have long since seen through all of that. To them, death is nothing more than a peaceful rest after a long, long journey. And to those who are truly wise… it is even more than that. It is a brand new, grand adventure."

"But…"

"But… it's not what you imagined, is it?" The old Headmaster's smile deepened, his eyes full of quiet amusement. "You thought no one could resist the temptation of immortality, especially after having tasted it for themselves."

Sargeras said nothing, because that was indeed exactly what he had thought.

"You're very clever, Sargeras…" The old Headmaster's voice carried a rare trace of admiration. "Among all the young people I've seen… there hasn't been anyone sharper than you."

There wasn't the slightest hint of jest in the old man's words. His tone was steady and completely serious.

"But at the same time, you are far too proud… deep down, you look down on every one of us, right down to your very bones. You've done a good job hiding that sense of superiority… but I can still see it."

"I think… you might have misunderstood me, I never—"

Professor Dumbledore raised his hand, cutting off Sargeras's intended rebuttal. His expression grew firm, and though his tone remained calm, there was an undeniable weight behind his words.

"This is something you might not even be aware of yourself… but I can see it clearly. And it's not thanks to magic… it's because of something that has nothing to do with magic at all. Something that comes from many, many years of experience… what Muggles would simply call… 'life experience.'"

Sargeras suddenly fell silent. He couldn't utter a single word.

For the briefest moment, he even suspected that the old Headmaster had used Legilimency on him again. But his reason swiftly dismissed that thought — no, he hadn't. After all, ever since third year, no one had been able to bypass the Occlumency shields protecting his mind without him noticing.

But… just as Professor Dumbledore had pointed out, he had never truly realized this problem himself before.

In the past twenty-some years, he had always thought of himself as humble enough, diligent enough, polite and well-mannered…

But the reality?

The reality was, he had always carried the mindset of a transmigrator — always looking down from above. Deep inside, he had been quietly pleased with the fact that he possessed a 'golden finger' no one else had.

And as for the people of this world? In his heart, he had always dismissed them as nothing more than… 'natives.'

He had never shown it outwardly, but that didn't make it any less real. It had been buried deep within him all along.

The old Headmaster looked at the silent Sargeras and spoke again, his voice gentle yet firm.

"I don't know what kind of experiences you've had, Sargeras… Maybe you've seen wondrous sights that others can't even imagine. Maybe you've mastered mysterious magic that no one else in this world could ever hope to touch. But I must tell you… none of that gives you an excuse for arrogance. If you keep underestimating the people around you, one day… you'll trip over that pride of yours."

The old Headmaster's voice was steady and full of quiet patience, every word carrying the weight of heartfelt sincerity.

"Just like how you believed… no one could resist the temptation of the Philosopher's Stone. But the truth is… Nicolas and his wife… they have been prepared for this moment for a very long time. In heart and spirit, they are no smaller than you. And when it comes to their actions… they are far more courageous than you."

"…I understand." Sargeras nodded, his voice quiet but sincere. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore."

"Ha~ that was heartfelt gratitude. I can hear it…" The old Headmaster chuckled softly, the amusement in his eyes brighter than ever, his whole expression light and content.

"But there's one thing, Headmaster… I don't think destroying the Philosopher's Stone is the right choice."

Professor Dumbledore looked at him in mild surprise. "Oh? And why is that? Don't tell me… you've started to fancy the idea of immortality too?"

Sargeras shook his head firmly. "That is not my path! I simply think… the Philosopher's Stone, as the pinnacle of alchemical achievement, would be wasted if we just destroyed it. After all, it's the only Philosopher's Stone in the entire magical world. Maybe it could guide future generations… show them a new direction in their studies, in ways we can't even imagine yet."

"But every fragment of it… could give birth to another Tom Riddle." Professor Dumbledore let out a quiet sigh, his eyes dimming slightly. "And you know perfectly well how easily it corrupts the human heart. After all… the Elixir of Life… those are powerful, dangerous words."

"Then put it somewhere safer than Gringotts. And… bury the secret in a mind no Legilimency master could ever hope to breach."

"You mean…"

"I mean… carry it with you." Sargeras's voice was calm but firm, every word carrying quiet certainty. "Just slip it into your pocket… Trust me, it won't take up much space at all. And once you do, no one in this world will ever come looking for it again."

The old Headmaster fell silent for a long moment, then gently placed the glowing crimson Philosopher's Stone on the table before him.

"But I think… that would be a burden," Dumbledore sighed softly, the faint trace of helplessness in his voice impossible to miss. "I'm not exactly young anymore, after all… How many more years do you think I can keep it safe?"

"It's just a suggestion…" Sargeras replied evenly, quietly sidestepping the old man's question. His tone remained composed, without the slightest hint of pressure or insistence. "I won't stop you from doing what you believe is right. I simply think… destroying it would be a terrible loss for the magical world."

Professor Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at that, clearly surprised by the angle Sargeras had taken, one he had never truly considered before.

"I suppose… Nicolas and I will have to give your suggestion some serious thought."

Sargeras nodded lightly, about to stand up and leave, when a sudden thought flashed through his mind, making him pause mid-movement. "I almost forgot to ask… the Tom Riddle you mentioned earlier… who exactly is that?"

"Ah… you met him just last night…" Professor Dumbledore replied with a mysterious smile this time, deliberately avoiding a direct answer.

"You mean… Voldemort?" A strong sense of curiosity stirred within Sargeras' heart.

The old Headmaster smiled and nodded.

"You know much about him?" Sargeras sat back down, unable to hide the confusion in his voice regarding Voldemort's current state.

The old man behind the desk sank into brief contemplation before slowly replying, "I wouldn't say I know him well… but I've always been trying to understand him."

"Then that… state he's in…"

Professor Dumbledore shook his head faintly. "I don't know either. I cannot explain how he's still… alive. Though, perhaps… that may no longer count as 'living' at all."

The old Headmaster drifted into memory, and the deep blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles seemed to pierce straight through time itself, as though they were gazing upon moments long buried in the past — yet still lingering vividly in his mind.

"Tom… Voldemort… his obsession with immortality runs deeper than anyone's. And for that… he has paid many, many prices." Dumbledore's voice grew low and distant, carrying the weight of those distant years, as though the words themselves had drifted across the decades to reach this moment.

"It's precisely because of that… that he has walked further down the path toward immortality… than anyone else ever has."

Sargeras's mind was racing with countless thoughts. He had always believed there was no such thing as true immortality in this world — at least, not in any history he was familiar with.

If there truly were, how could there be no legends of someone who had actually achieved it?

Nicolas Flamel?

A life spanning six centuries was certainly long, but it still couldn't be called eternal.

And besides, that life was only made possible by the Elixir crafted from the Philosopher's Stone — it wasn't the result of sheer magical power.

He had met Nicolas Flamel in person once.

The man was already frail and weathered, withering under the weight of the years. The Elixir of Life had merely delayed his death, but it could not stop his body from growing old.

It had only granted him a fragile, incomplete version of immortality.

"By the way…" Sargeras suddenly spoke up, his tone carrying a rare note of seriousness. "Could you give me a small vial of the Elixir of Life? Just a small one."

He wasn't planning to drink it himself. He had made that perfectly clear before… such a path was never one he intended to follow.

"That stuff… only Nicolas has it." Professor Dumbledore's eyes refocused on him, a quiet, thoughtful sharpness glinting beneath those aged lenses. "Of course, I could ask him for you… but first, you'll need to tell me why you want it."

Behind those half-moon spectacles, the old wizard's gaze held a certain scrutiny, steady and patient, waiting for an answer.

"Well… I can promise I won't drink it myself." Sargeras hesitated for a moment, but in the end, he chose to be frank. "I need it… to trade for something."

The old Headmaster remained silent, just watching him in silence, waiting for him to finish.

"Uh… a Time-Turner. An unregistered Time-Turner… because it's already broken."

Sargeras's tone was surprisingly nonchalant, like it was nothing more than a small selfish wish of his. Even if the request was rejected outright, it didn't seem like it would trouble him much.

But hearing those words, Dumbledore's brow furrowed ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly.

"I will help you ask Nicolas Flamel."

"Thank you."

"Hmm… I doubt he would refuse you," Professor Dumbledore added with quiet certainty. "After all… you're the one who protected the Philosopher's Stone this time."

Sargeras had just opened his mouth to speak when Dumbledore's tone suddenly turned stern.

"But I feel obliged to warn you, Sargeras…"

The old man's voice was steady and grave, each word carrying undeniable weight. "Any magic involving time is extremely dangerous. I would hate for Hogwarts to lose a brilliant professor because of this."

Sargeras nodded to the Headmaster, expressing his understanding of the concern behind those words.

Seeing this, Professor Dumbledore let out a faint sigh of relief.

"More importantly… those who meddle too much with Time-Turners often fall into the trap of constantly 'correcting mistakes'… and in doing so, they forget the far more difficult, but necessary, task of simply… accepting reality."

"I understand," Sargeras replied with a faint smile. "I don't have any intention to change anything… I just want to keep… a possible option."

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