Late at night, the Restricted Section.
Moonlight streamed through the high window, weaving a black net across the mold-stained parchment. Sargeras looked at the Potion in his hand, hesitated repeatedly, and finally pried open Loctis's mouth, forcing it down its throat.
But before that, to prevent the stupid bird from going mad again, he had already cast a "Throat-Locking Tongue-Tie" on it.
The raven's metallic-sheened black feathers trembled slightly, and distinct patterns began to emerge.
In the interim of waiting, he couldn't help but recall his experiences over the years.
He had been in this world for twenty-one years, and by now, Sargeras had successfully created seven magic Spells using his awakened ability, and further derived and improved a series of magic Spells from them.
These magic Spells were once his foundation for survival in this world.
But now, this gift that came with his transmigration had stopped functioning three years ago—on the night of his coming-of-age ceremony.
This ability's prerequisite was the enhancement of magic, and a Wizard's magic would not grow indefinitely.
From his first magic outburst at five years old, to the solidification of his magic tide as an adult, over these past ten-plus years, Sargeras's magic growth had become increasingly slow, almost completely stagnating at eighteen.
This was the inherent magic shackles of a Wizard; everyone was like this, and even a transmigrator could not break it.
Although his total magic far surpassed that of an average adult Wizard, in reality, it was only comparable to the combined magic of three seasoned hitmen. He estimated it probably couldn't even catch up to an old monster like Dumbledore.
However, even if his total magic was inferior to Dumbledore's, he was certain that the power of his magic Spells was absolutely no less than his, because he knew that his spells had long broken through the shackles of total magic—magic control as precise as a surgeon's scalpel was enough to forge every drop of magic into a deadly blade.
This almost obsessive pursuit could be traced back to that turbulent period. His childhood experiences made him extremely insecure, so in the decade or so after leaving the family, he had been frantically absorbing knowledge, and of course, seizing power along the way.
From Dark Arts, to ancient war magic, and then to ancient rune magic, Sargeras accepted all comers.
He walked among those ancient, decaying ruins, time and again extracting ancient magic that had long been forgotten in texts, and making it his own.
Hogwarts, Durmstrang, Ilvermorny (United States)—he had virtually read all the books in the libraries of these three schools, and in the year-plus he traveled afterward, he also successively visited Beauxbatons in the French Pyrenees, the Moon Mountain magic school in Uganda, Africa, and the magic institute on Japan's volcanic island...
Of course, the Principals of these schools had no idea that Sargeras had "studied" in their libraries...
Over a decade of day-and-night study, nourished by countless magic texts, the boy who once curled up in the Greengrass Family's private Library had now transformed into a Wizard who could make the entire magic world tremble.
Improving magic Spells? Creating magic? This had long become an instinct ingrained in his bones. The difference was that he no longer relied on external power, but on the knowledge in his own mind.
Sargeras tapped the table lightly with his finger. Loctis, who was preening its feathers, looked up, its obsidian eyes reflecting the deepening curve of his lips.
He recalled the life-or-death crisis in the North Sea three years ago—at the time, he was attempting to improve Apparition, and the spatial ripples caused by the magic Spell had disturbed a sleeping Norwegian Sea Monster.
Tentacles like giant pythons shot out from the trench, suddenly tightening as they touched him. Yet Sargeras was still immersed in the illusion woven by the creature, not even noticing the briny seawater filling his nasal cavity.
Even now, the thought still sent shivers down his spine.
The monster's mental infiltration could bypass his magic barrier, which he had never relaxed over the years. If not for Loctis's piercing cry from choking on water, which tore through the illusion, he might have long become a skeleton in the sea monster's lair.
Fortunately, he had that stupid bird then, even though it often made Sargeras's temples throb.
Sargeras, who had almost capsized in the gutter back then, looked at the giant beast before him. After a brief moment of fear came an uncontrollable rage.
He unhesitatingly pulled out his wand and directly used his most powerful magic Spell.
A violent torrent of magic erupted with a roar, and scarlet spell light tore through the water curtain.
Then, this mountain-like giant octopus was blasted into minced meat.
And that damned trip to France...
Loctis, due to its gluttony for the ancient books' mithril bindings in the Beauxbatons Library, awakened a Dark Arts book that had been dormant for two centuries.
The panicked raven darted between the vaulted beams, its feathers brushing against ancient texts that successively activated magic wards, eventually escalating into a school-wide Dark creature invasion alert.
When he grabbed the raven by the neck right under the gargoyle patrol's nose, the idiot was still clutching half a gnawed-off piece of mithril in its claws...
His memories were interrupted by footsteps. Sargeras looked towards the door as Snape, wrapped in a large black robe, glided in.
He expressionlessly surveyed Sargeras, but an unmistakable look of disgust appeared in his eyes when they landed on the raven: "Sargeras, only you would employ such a peculiar creature."
Hearing this, Sargeras nodded in agreement, his tone serious: "Indeed, Professor Snape."
The Potion Professor's disgust became even more apparent: "What exactly are you plotting, staying in the Restricted Section late at night?" His tone carried overt scrutiny and suspicion.
"As you can see, Professor..." He pointed to the raven on the table: "I'm researching Dark Arts, and of course, how to rule the world!"
Snape let out a scoff, just as he was about to retort, Sargeras waved his wand at the raven on the table, and Loctis immediately flew to his shoulder, "Caw~ Caw~"
The Throat-Locking Tongue-Tie had been lifted at some point, and it stood on Sargeras's shoulder, letting out two piercing cries.
"Shut up! You idiot!" Sargeras snapped.
Then he explained apologetically to the open-mouthed Snape: "My apologies, Professor Snape, I wasn't referring to you..."
"Sargeras..." Snape's face darkened, his low voice filled with anger: "Perhaps you should learn how to respect your former Professor."
"Of course, Professor Snape." Sargeras gave a polite smile: "Rest assured, I certainly have absolute respect for you, but if you truly feel I've offended you, then deduct points from me!"
After speaking, he bowed slightly to Snape, and as he turned to leave, he looked back and added, "Oh, I forgot. You can't deduct points from me now, Professor, after all, I'm no longer a Hogwarts student."
After speaking, he ignored the grim-faced Snape and left the Hogwarts Library with Loctis the raven...
Sargeras knew Snape disliked him, and likewise, he intensely disliked his former Potion Professor.
Their feud had a long history, and the reason for their animosity was quite simple.
During Sargeras's student days, he was almost constantly accompanied by insults and curses. Among them, the students of Slytherin House were particularly active, truly the "masters of foul-mouthing."
At first, Sargeras paid no attention, because in his view, these insults weren't even insults.
One might ask, how much harm could attacking a Wizard with a modern adult soul cause him?
It could only be said that the harm was minimal, and the insult was not strong at all.
So Sargeras didn't even bother with pleasantries, choosing to simply ignore them.
But his constant forbearance did not make this group of morally skewed students restrain themselves; Sargeras's silence instead fueled their arrogance, causing them to push their luck.
When verbal attacks proved ineffective, they resorted to ambushing him with dark curses.
At first, Sargeras also inadvertently fell victim a few times, his face swelling like a pig's head, or his body growing hair. Although the negative effects of these minor curses weren't strong, and Madam Pomfrey could fix them in a few minutes, Sargeras couldn't possibly be on high alert with his wand out all day long.
After all, insults were one thing, but physical action was intolerable.
He wasn't just a Ravenclaw who only focused on studying; it turned out his practical abilities were also strong.
For the next period, Sargeras spent his days attending classes, frequenting the Hogwarts Library, and precisely intercepting lone Slytherins to give them their daily 'practical lessons' with his wand tip pressed against their trembling throats.
For a time, Hogwarts was in an uproar.
However, most of the time, after Sargeras punished someone, he would cast a healing spell on them—at least to remove superficial wounds, otherwise he would be given detention.
As for psychological trauma, that was not within his consideration.
Perhaps Sargeras was too heavy-handed, and these underage Young Wizards were severely frightened, to the extent that members of some pure-blood families began to pressure Snape.
The young Dean repeatedly sought out Sargeras for talks, even resorting to verbal threats.
Initially, Sargeras was cooperative, but he quickly realized that the Slytherin Dean was not there to solve problems at all. He was extremely protective of his own, lacked fairness, and without distinguishing right from wrong, he gave Sargeras detention.
This infuriated Sargeras, and he tried to report it to Dumbledore, but to little avail.
Having no other choice, Sargeras, with nowhere to turn for help, redirected his anger onto the Slytherin students.
This time, he didn't wait for others to provoke him; instead, he actively sought out trouble with them, and after he was done, he would even heal them.
When students reported him, he simply denied it.
Sargeras still remembered what he had said at the time, "Professor, you said I used a cutting spell on him?" He filled his face with confusion: "How is that possible? How could I use such an aggressive spell on a classmate? You must be mistaken."
"Besides, they don't even have a scratch on them. If this isn't a misunderstanding, then it's blatant slander."
"What? You said I cast a spell on him and then healed him? Who would do something so boring?"
This tug-of-war ended when Dumbledore branded his secondhand wand with a Trace.
The moment the old wand touched the yew wood shaft, Sargeras sensed the warning lurking behind those half-moon spectacles.
He understood that from then on, Dumbledore could see every spell he cast with that wand, if the Headmaster wished.
That dusk, Sargeras leaned against the top of the Ravenclaw Tower, letting the mountain wind fill his robes. Finally, he chose to seal the secondhand wand in a dragonhide case and then desperately practiced silent, wandless casting at the top of the Astronomy Tower.
To be honest, everyone in the magic world should be grateful that Sargeras is a transmigrator. After all, if it weren't for the imprint of nine years of compulsory education from his previous life, Sargeras might very well have become another Dark Lord.
During that time, he spent his days either in class or in detention, and only in the quiet of the night could he secretly slip into the Hogwarts Library, reading ravenously.
At that time, Snape, just like today, would always come to the Hogwarts Library late at night to catch him. Sometimes, Sargeras would luckily escape, but more often, he would be caught and then continue to be given detention, and Peeves also contributed a lot to this.
Initially, Sargeras would feel angry and disheartened, but as time went on, he gradually let go. Fortunately, his diligent practice was not in vain; the power of his silent, wandless magic was now almost identical to when he used a wand.
Later, it was the matter of his expulsion in fifth year.
After self-studying a large number of spells in the Hogwarts Library at that time, the young Sargeras began to try creating his own spells—without external aid.
He secretly went to the Forbidden Forest late at night and there summoned his Patronus, a raven.
Yes, he had a strong connection with ravens.
At that time, he was somewhat disappointed with the effect of the Patronus Charm; this complex, advanced magic could only be used to ward off Dementors, and its effect was singular.
He was determined to combine the Patronus with other magic to enhance its offensive power.
Ultimately, he chose the Fiendfyre Curse.
Pale flames erupted from the pure white raven, completely different from the Fiendfyre he had used before. These pale flames were not only more bizarre in form but also more dangerous and difficult to handle than Fiendfyre.
The raven flew rapidly through the air with a brilliant fiery tail, and the scorching flames distorted the very air.
For a moment, Sargeras thought he had succeeded, but then, his Patronus began to wail, finally turning to ash in the flames.
The Fiendfyre Curse, this terrifying Dark Arts, burned everything around Sargeras to ashes. He was fortunate that the spell did not go out of control; he did not fall into the situation of playing with fire and getting burned.
The attempt at creating a new spell ended in failure, but Sargeras was not too disappointed.
However, Snape, that persistent fellow, appeared again.
Looking at the forest scorched to a wasteland, Sargeras knew that this time it would be at least a month of detention.
"Sargeras..." Snape's tone contained a hint of schadenfreude, "I have to admit, you're very bold." He looked at Sargeras as if seeing him for the first time, "You dare to secretly learn Fiendfyre; do you know what terrifying consequences this spell can cause once it goes out of control?"
Sargeras frowned and remained silent.
Snape continued, "Your wand has the Trace set by Dumbledore. This time, there's no denying it. Get ready to be expelled!"
Sargeras spoke coldly, "Snape, why do you always target me?"
"Call me Professor Snape! Do I need to teach you how to respect your Potion Class Professor?"
A fine crack appeared in Sargeras's yew wand in his palm. He suddenly chuckled softly at Snape not far away, a hint of annoyance flashing in his eyes: "Alright, Professor Snape! Do you want to see a real spell?"
In an instant, the power of magic tore through the night, and a dozen spell lights of different colors exploded in the sky above the Forbidden Forest, forming a dazzling and terrifying scene.
The powerful magical fluctuation even reached Hogwarts Castle.
Sargeras stood silently in the center of the scorched earth, holding his charred wand, the Trace deep within its core almost dissipating into smoke under the impact of the magic.
"Snape, Professor..." Sargeras stared coldly at Snape emerging from the Forbidden Forest, his voice full of chill: "If I had wanted to, you would have died just now."
Snape pursed his lips and said nothing, but the shock in his eyes showed that he was not as composed as he appeared.
Sargeras's voice was low and cold, sharp and hurtful like a knife: "If I hadn't restrained myself again and again, do you think you and those pure-blood brats from your House would still be studying at Hogwarts unharmed?"
Recalling his school life over the past few years, Sargeras's heart churned.
He realized that he really was about to leave this ancient Castle, but before that, he had to speak his mind.
"You and Dumbledore have no fairness whatsoever. Is it just because of my bloodline?" Sargeras turned to Dumbledore, who had appeared in the Phoenix's firelight, his face growing even uglier, "Yes, bloodline! My esteemed Principal, the great Professor Dumbledore, when those noble surnames cursed my origin, when I was being cursed by others, why didn't you appear as quickly as you did today?"
"Oh, I understand." Sargeras nodded: "You're here to expel me!"
"I'm afraid so, Sargeras, you've violated too many school rules." Dumbledore's voice was calm and firm, a complex glint flashing in his eyes.
Sargeras turned to look at Snape, his eyes full of indifference, "As you wished, Severus Snape, I've finally been driven out of Hogwarts by you."
Then he gave Dumbledore a deep look, said nothing, and simply Apparated away from there.
There was nothing more to say.
It was just a pity he hadn't finished reading the books in the Hogwarts Library; in the last moment before leaving, Sargeras thought to himself...