The three of them stared at him blankly.
"Alright," Sagres changed the subject. "Noctis will escort you back to the Leaky Cauldron."
The raven on his shoulder glided down in silence, landing on Hermione's shoulder. It tilted its head, its deep eyes calmly studying the three of them.
"What about you, Professor? Aren't you coming with us?" Harry asked.
"I'll be there shortly. There are still a few things that need to be dealt with."
Sagres's gaze fell on the seemingly flat ground, his tone as calm as still water. "Go. Noctis will ensure your safety."
The three exchanged glances. Though their emotions were still heavy and unsettled, Sagres's words and composure were like an anchor, temporarily steadying their nearly capsized hearts.
Harry was the first to reach out, helping Hermione to her feet as she continued to tremble slightly. Ron also pushed himself upright, brushing the dust from his robes.
Under Noctis's silent prompting, they supported one another and slowly made their way out of the alley that had just claimed lives, heading toward the Leaky Cauldron.
The light at the mouth of the alley was a little brighter, but the shadows in their hearts had yet to fully fade.
After walking in silence for some time, far from the battlefield, Harry finally drew a deep breath and broke the quiet. "I… I need to tell you something. Going to Knockturn Alley today… was actually because of Black."
Hermione and Ron both turned to him sharply, their eyes filled with shock.
"To capture Sirius Black as soon as possible," Harry said with difficulty, "I decided to act as bait to draw him out, and Professor Greengrass would… deal with him from the shadows."
"Are you mad?" Ron gasped. "Alone? Acting as bait? That's Sirius Black!"
"The professor said he'd be watching…" Harry's voice trailed off, carrying a trace of irritation. "But Black didn't show up. Instead, a few… lunatics did."
He paused, as if wanting to change the subject, or simply to say something to ease the oppressive mood. So he told the other two about Aunt Marge being poisoned and silenced during the summer holidays.
Hermione's attention was indeed drawn away. Her voice was still a little unsteady, but filled with curiosity.
"Silenced?"
"Yes." Harry nodded, his expression complicated, somewhere between satisfaction and helplessness. "She drank a cup of… well, wine mixed with Mr. Noctis's… excrement. After that, she couldn't speak anymore."
"Excrement? Bird droppings? Pfft~!" Ron's eyes went wide, his fear temporarily forgotten. "Merlin. Did you order it to do that? Does the Ministry of Magic know?"
Harry neither confirmed nor denied it, only shrugged. "People from the Ministry came. They said she was completely silenced and had lost all her teeth, and that it couldn't be cured. But… they didn't hold me responsible."
"They didn't hold you responsible?" Hermione stared at him, shock pushing aside the heaviness in her heart. "How is that possible? A Muggle being poisoned and silenced? That violates the Statute of Secrecy. How could the Ministry of Magic…"
"I was surprised too," Harry said with a frown. "But Minister Fudge came to the Leaky Cauldron to see me, and then… he left. It seems that Aunt Marge being silenced… isn't considered a serious matter to them."
"That's not fair!" Ron burst out at once, a mix of indignation and envy in his voice. "If I poisoned some awful aunt and silenced her, the Ministry of Magic would've thrown me straight into Azkaban!"
He quickly shifted tone, pulling a strange face. "Though before that, they'd probably have to dig me out of the ground—because Mum would've killed me first!"
Ron made an exaggerated choking gesture.
"Pfft~! haha—" Harry couldn't control himself and started laughing, and Ron also joined him.
The sudden outburst was like a faint current, instantly dispersing the heavy atmosphere hanging over the three of them.
"You two.. seriously.."
Hermione froze for a moment, then the corners of her mouth twitched uncontrollably, the oppressive mood easing slightly.
...
At the same time, in Knockturn Alley.
Sagres stood quietly at the mouth of the alley until the figures of the three had completely vanished. Only then did he slowly raise his wand and cast a powerful Confundo over the area.
The air seemed to stiffen for an instant. An invisible barrier spread out in silence, completely isolating all sights and sounds within.
He then casually waved a hand toward the spot where the three had been standing moments earlier. The flat ground began to writhe soundlessly, like a slumbering giant turning over.
Soil and gravel split apart as three figures, faintly breathing, were lifted by an unseen force and slowly rose from beneath the ground.
They were the three Dark Wizards who had been swallowed by the rocky maw earlier: Scarface, Big Yellow Tooth, and the strongman.
Their bodies were coated in damp, cold earth, their tattered robes plastered to their skin, and the exposed flesh was marred by deep purple bruises left by the crushing pressure of stone.
Their eyes were tightly shut, their chests rising and falling only faintly, like three broken dolls dragged from a grave.
Sagres looked down at them from above, his expression utterly calm, without the slightest ripple of emotion. There was only cold scrutiny in his gaze, as though he were selecting materials for an experiment.
At last, his eyes settled on Scarface.
Without the slightest hesitation, Sagres stepped forward. The tip of his wand gently touched Scarface's forehead, slick with grime and cold sweat.
"₥₳₲ł₵ ₴ł₱ⱧØ₦."
The low incantation, laden with undisguised intent to plunder, echoed through the silent alley.
In an instant, a subtle surge of magical energy burst from the wand tip.
"Uh—ah—!!!"
Scarface, who had been unconscious only a moment earlier, snapped his eyes open.
His pupils were unfocused, filled with nothing but blankness and the terror of being torn apart by overwhelming pain.
An inhuman scream tore from deep in his throat. His body arched violently, spasming like a shrimp dropped into boiling water.
He felt something within him being ripped apart by a cold, ravenous force.
The agony pierced to the bone. The very essence that sustained his existence as a wizard was being stripped away and crushed, piece by piece.
Sagres watched him without expression.
A chilling, bone-piercing current of magic, like venom forcibly drawn out, surged backward along the Everlasting Flower Wood wand and into his palm.
The power tore roughly through his arm, bringing a sharp, searing pain, before finally merging into his magic core, which had lain dormant for many years.
The sensation… was like an icy, venomous snake boring straight into his heart, yet it carried with it an intoxicating sense of fullness.
Scarface's screams shifted from shrill to hoarse, from piercing to barely audible.
His violent convulsions slowly faded, replaced by uncontrollable spasms.
The light that symbolized magic in his eyes dimmed rapidly, giving way to a hollow, lifeless gray.
His mouth hung open, but only ragged, "ho—ho" gasps escaped, saliva mixed with dirt spilling from the corners of his lips.
Sagres lifted his wrist slightly, and the wand left Scarface's forehead.
The once-ferocious Dark Wizard collapsed to the ground with a dull thud, like a heap of mud that had lost all support, his body still twitching faintly in reflex.
All magic within him had vanished completely, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell, as though his very soul had been scooped out.
He had become a Muggle.
A newly born Muggle, utterly abandoned by the magical world.
Sagres closed his eyes and took a moment to feel it.
The magical barrier that had remained immovable for many years now clearly showed a tiny crack.
His magic… had indeed increased, if only by a small margin.
Sagres opened his eyes, his expression calm and undisturbed, as though he had merely completed a trivial replenishment of energy.
His gaze shifted to the next target—Big Yellow Tooth.
At that moment, Big Yellow Tooth seemed to be roused by Scarface's final scream and the violent surge of magic.
His eyelids fluttered, and with great effort he forced them open a sliver.
His blurred vision first caught the gloomy sky of Knockturn Alley above him, then Scarface lying motionless on the ground, wasted and still.
And then… the tall, slender figure standing nearby, wand in hand, looking down at him with cold indifference.
A terror colder and more absolute than the face of death itself washed over him in an instant.
He didn't understand what had happened to Scarface, but he knew with certainty that it was nothing good.
He wanted to scream, to struggle, to beg for mercy, but his body, only just waking from unconsciousness, felt impossibly heavy.
His throat was so dry that no proper sound would come out, only frightened, broken "uh… uh…" noises.
His body writhed uselessly against the ground as Big Yellow Tooth tried to crawl away from the man who seemed like Death incarnate.
Sagres ignored the fear nearly spilling from his eyes, his gaze calm and detached, as if he were merely watching a struggling insect.
No unnecessary words. No hint of pity.
The wand lightly touched his chest, which was heaving violently with terror.
"₥₳₲ł₵ ₴ł₱ⱧØ₦."
The same spell. The same cold act of plunder.
"No—arrrrrrrgggggghh!!!"
This time, Big Yellow Tooth managed a brief, desperate cry before the overwhelming pain swallowed his consciousness.
The sound was thick with regret, but it was instantly drowned out by even more agonized screams.
His body convulsed and arched violently, as though struck by the Cruciatus Curse.
Sagres closed his eyes once more, sensing another torrent of violent magic surge into him, only to be absorbed and assimilated by his own power.
His magic core hummed faintly again, and the crack in the barrier seemed to widen just a little more.
Big Yellow Tooth's screams quickly weakened, fading into nothing but hoarse gasps.
When the wand was withdrawn, he collapsed as well, following Scarface's path—his eyes empty, his magic gone, reduced to a Muggle.
Sagres's gaze shifted to the last remaining one—the tall, Strongman Dark Wizard.
He was still unconscious, oblivious to the fate that had befallen his companions.
Sagres repeated the process.
Wand to forehead.
"₥₳₲ł₵ ₴ł₱ⱧØ₦...."
The strongman let out a pained groan even in his unconscious state, his body shuddering violently, though far less intensely than the previous two.
The magic within him flowed steadily into Sagres's body, like a stream forcibly siphoned away.
But this time, as the magic surged in, Sagres frowned slightly.
A faint stinging sensation rose from within. The clear sense of growth he had felt while absorbing the previous two became vague, and the loosening of the magic barrier stalled.
What a pity.
Just a little more.
________
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