Chatty Author!

Read 20+ Chapter's Ahead in Patreon

The moment the Time-Turner activated once more, Sargeras felt a strange and unsettling sense of disjunction…

His mind felt as though it had been plunged into thick honey, every thought dragging sluggishly through layers of invisible resistance… yet his body moved with an impossible lightness, as if each motion had been enchanted with a charm.

Before his eyes, the world began to blur and fast-forward.

The four Founders' wands swept through the air, weaving dazzling threads of light into a radiant web. At their command, the castle's foundation stones burst forth from the earth like spring bamboo shoots, lifted by the sheer force of their magic.

The massive crater was soon brimmed with clear, blue lake water, and across its shimmering surface, the sharp shadows of towering spires began to stretch and ripple.

Figures flitted past like flickering lantern slides — young witches and wizards clutching thick tomes rushed back and forth along the corridors, their robes swaying with each hurried step. Newly appointed professors swept through the courtyards in flowing cloaks, a few of them pausing mid-stride to glance curiously in Sargeras' direction — though their gazes seemed to pass through a veil of glass, distant and unfocused.

When the raging river of time finally settled, Sargeras stumbled backward into the armchair in his office, collapsing into its embrace.

He pressed his fingers hard against the center of his brow, forcing his mind and body back into alignment, anchoring himself in the present.

With trembling hands, he loosened his collar and examined the skin over his chest — no wounds, no cursed markings, not even a thread out of place in the silver embroidery along his cuffs. Everything was exactly as it had been.

The Ptolemaic Armillary Sphere lay quietly in his palm, its bronze surface still faintly warm with a heat that didn't belong to this era… as if silently reminding him that what had just happened was no dream.

"Wait a second…" Sargeras frowned, his brows knitting together as confusion crept across his face. "Why am I back in my office?"

He spun around in a flash, thrusting his wand outward. With a loud bang, the oak door flung open. Down the hallway, another version of himself was just beginning to fade, like a water-damaged oil painting slowly being erased from reality.

"Tsk… guess it really was just a minute."

He shut the door with a quiet thud, then carefully tucked the Time-Turner away with solemn reverence.

And then, in a move that was wholly out of character for someone usually so full of energy, the professor did something utterly unexpected. He walked over to the window, drew the curtains tight, and, without a second thought, collapsed onto the bed.

Within seconds, he was sound asleep, snoring peacefully.

————————————————————

Time flew by. Before long, the new school year arrived at Hogwarts.

And in that stretch between summer's end and autumn's beginning, Sargeras had not been idle. Working quietly behind the scenes, he made sure to deal with the poisonous tumor growing within the Bronze Feather.

Not long ago, he'd received a letter from Nightingale. It was brief but clear: she had officially taken up the position of Potions professor at Beauxbatons. Alongside the letter, she had enclosed a newspaper.

The front page of The Daily Pioneer featured a large photograph of Aurors from the French Ministry of Magic proudly displaying a haul of confiscated bronze badges.

"The three-year-long manhunt finally comes to an end!" proclaimed the headline in bold, gleaming golden print, the words practically leaping off the page. "The infamous 'Bronze Feather' organization has been completely wiped out!"

In the bottom corner of the photograph, a mask pierced by a spell lay silently in a pool of blood.

The article went on to describe, in vivid detail, what it called a "heart-pounding raid." It explained how the hideout had been located thanks to what was described as "credible intelligence," and how, amid the chaos of battle, the Aurors had been "forced" to use lethal spells and curses.

What was especially interesting, though, was the convenient fact that every single one of the deceased happened to match names listed on the International Confederation of Wizards' most wanted list… and so, just like that, the case was wrapped up with a neat little bow.

————————————————————

Throughout the summer holidays, Sargeras had practically scoured the entire European continent in search of clues regarding the mysterious Time Dust.

He ventured from the black marshes of Bulgarian dragon's blood markets all the way to the Ancient Runes Research Institute in Norway, but no matter how far he traveled, he found nothing.

If it really came to that, he supposed he could always sneak into the Department of Mysteries and "borrow" a few samples just to keep his research going. But for now, there was no rush—he had time, and plenty of it. His studies weren't bound by urgency.

During the final week before the new term began, he made one last attempt, clinging to the slimmest shred of hope, and wandered into Diagon Alley.

There, in the rare books section of Flourish and Blotts, he unexpectedly ran into a familiar figure — Gilderoy Lockhart, who was adjusting his golden curls in front of a mirror with meticulous care.

In Sargeras' impression, this man's talents were thoroughly unremarkable. If there was anything that set him apart, it wasn't his academic prowess, but rather his gift for self-promotion.

Sargeras had seen him more than once in the Ravenclaw common room, holding court like a peacock, bragging about all sorts of imaginary achievements.

When he graduated, he had even used magical ink to write a message across the common room wall: "Don't be surprised when you see my name in the papers one day — that'll just be the beginning of my dazzling life."

Most of their classmates, at the time, had dismissed him as "a walking joke who belonged in the psychiatric wing of St. Mungo's."

But then, to everyone's surprise, including Sargeras… the story took an unexpected turn.

After graduating, Lockhart spent years traveling the world, and somewhere along the way, he published his first book: Voyages with Vampires. It became a smash hit overnight.

He quickly followed it up with one best-seller after another—Break with a Banshee, Gadding with Ghouls, Holidays with Hags, Year with the Yeti, Wanderings with Werewolves, and eventually, his glowing self-portrait of a memoir: Magical Me.

Sargeras had skimmed through most of these books. Aside from the last one, they actually did contain a few grains of truth. He was beginning to think that maybe this former upperclassman wasn't completely useless after all.

But looking at him now… it was clear that the years had only made this Ravenclaw alumnus more flamboyant than ever.

His violet robes were adorned with no fewer than a dozen glowing badges, and every step he took left behind a trail of glittering gold dust.

Sargeras instinctively tried to duck out of sight, but it was already too late. Lockhart had spotted him with terrifying precision.

"Merlin's beard! Isn't this our little genius from the lower years?" Lockhart's voice dripped like honey-soaked cheese—thick, syrupy, and deeply unsettling.

Floating beside him, the newly published hardcover edition of Magical Me hovered in midair, flipping its pages automatically to reveal one exaggerated illustration after another.

Sargeras remembered clearly that back when he had just arrived at school, this same sixth-year senior had nearly been expelled for casting a Memory Charm on his own roommate—just to make him forget catching Lockhart cheating on an exam.

And even then, when he had been dragged before the professors, he had used that same nauseatingly sweet tone to plead for leniency.

Sargeras wanted to say something — anything — to shut him up. So, without thinking too much, he asked, "Oh, it's you. In that book of yours,Voyages with Vampires, you mentioned that Romanian vampire hunter…"

Lockhart's mouth twitched. Just slightly. But enough to catch Sargeras' eye.

"Oh! My dear little protégé really did read it thoroughly!" he suddenly burst out, all warmth and false camaraderie, clapping a hand onto Sargeras' shoulder. The impact of the "Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League" badge digging into his skin was genuinely painful.

"Speaking of which, I've been planning a new book…"

He glanced around left and right, making sure no one nearby was watching, then leaned in close and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper near Sargeras' ear.

"Have you seen the newspaper? Not The Daily Prophet—I mean The Daily Pioneer from France. The one about the Bronze Feather!"

Sargeras raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting silently for the man to continue.

There was an unmistakable hint of pride in Lockhart's voice as he went on, unable to keep it out. "Those bumbling Aurors in France only cracked the case because I was pulling strings behind-the-scenes. Although…"

He gave a dramatic shrug, pretending to sound regretful.

"Although, yes, the final strike may have been… a little excessive. But when you're dealing with Dark wizards that ruthless… well, can anyone truly guarantee there won't be the occasional slip?"

Sargeras calmly stepped aside, brushing past him with a rare and deliberate smile. "Is that so? Then are you absolutely sure that every last member of this so-called Bronze Feather has been apprehended?"

Lockhart's grin faltered for the briefest second.

Sargeras went on, his tone still casual.

"I mean, we are talking about extremely dangerous Dark wizards. If even one of them escaped… aren't you the slightest bit worried they might come after you for revenge?"

"Uh—haha…" Lockhart gave a dry, awkward laugh. But almost immediately, with the ease of long practice, he slipped back into his usual oily charm.

"Oh come now, Sargeras. I'm not the kind of wizard who got rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her, you know. Granted, I have won Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award five years running, but I don't like to brag about that."

Sargeras smiled faintly as well. In that moment, the Lockhart standing before him finally aligned with the memory of the upperclassman he used to know. As for those books of his… sure, perhaps the events were real, but Lockhart himself likely had very little to do with any of it.

"Oh, by the way, my book signing is about to begin!" Lockhart exclaimed, tugging eagerly at Sargeras' sleeve, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Come with me, Sargeras! Really—really—even if The Daily Prophet never says anything nice about you…"

He lowered his voice and leaned in, his tone practically dripping with smugness.

"But when it comes to handling those nosy reporters, I'm the expert. I could teach you a few tricks, you know. We geniuses ought to help each other out, don't you think?"

Sargeras's brows furrowed slightly. With barely concealed irritation, he pulled his sleeve free. His long, slender fingers traced a silent curve through the air beside him. Instantly, an invisible Confundus Charm wrapped itself around the chatty author like a quiet fog.

"You've mistaken me for someone else," Sargeras said, his voice calm and utterly unshaken. Without another word, he turned and walked away.

There was no point wasting time on someone like him!

Lockhart blinked in confusion. For a moment, his gaze turned vacant and unfocused. By the time he came back to his senses, the black-robed wizard's figure had already vanished at the far end of the street.

**

**

[IMAGE]

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Chapter End's]

🖤 Night_FrOst/ Patreon 🤍

Visit my Patreon for Early Chapter:

https://www.patreon.com/Night_FrOst

Extra Content Already Available