HP: Dangerous Professor from Azkaban

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A long time had passed since the first attack, and the truth of the second had been deliberately suppressed by the Headmaster and the Professors.

Gradually, the "Chamber of Secrets" legend became a common topic of conversation among students, and Professor McGonagall's mandatory rule of wearing protective glasses had also become a source of complaint for many.

Once the novelty wore off, glasses could often be seen pushed up onto foreheads or casually hanging from collars in the corridors—students would only reluctantly put them back on when met with a Professor's stern gaze.

At that moment, Percy Weasley stood in the aisle, glaring sternly at the second-years who had just finished Potions.

Under his "point deduction warning," all the students obediently put their glasses back on.

The mixed scent of toad guts and wormwood still lingered in the air. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were caught in the flow of people, heavy books in hand, moving slowly with the crowd.

Suddenly, an extremely faint rustling sound, like fingernails scraping against rotten wood, cut through the students' laughter and footsteps and reached Harry's ears.

Harry stopped abruptly, his face changing in an instant.

That sound… he hadn't heard it in a long time.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Ron stumbled into him, muttering in annoyance. Hermione also looked at him in confusion.

"Shh!" Harry raised a finger, frowning deeply as he tilted his head to listen intently. "That sound… it seems to be…"

"What sound?" Hermione asked, looking around warily.

The aisle was bustling with people—dozens of students from two houses squeezed together, noisy chatter and the clatter of books rising and falling around them. "It's too noisy here. You must have misheard."

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he slowly bent down, pressing his ear almost against the wall.

Caw—!

A rough, piercing cry exploded overhead.

The three of them jumped and looked toward the source of the sound, only to see Sagres's raven, Noctis, its feathers gleaming with a cold, hard sheen, perched steadily on a high windowsill nearby.

Several sharp-eyed students immediately gathered around in excitement. Harry straightened up, shaking his head helplessly at Ron and Hermione. "Maybe… maybe I really did mishear. It's too noisy."

"I told you it was a false alarm!" Ron let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, then subconsciously adjusted his glasses more securely.

"Still," Hermione said, pushing her protective glasses up the bridge of her nose, her gaze behind the lenses tinged with concern, "it's never wrong to be cautious. Isn't Professor Greengrass still investigating? We can tell him about this 'suspected situation' this afternoon."

Harry thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, we'll tell him this afternoon. For now, let's go back to the tower and put away our books. I'm starving."

As they spoke, the three of them moved toward the windowsill, wanting to see the raven that rarely appeared on weekdays.

Someone pulled out owl treats to feed it, but Noctis merely gave an arrogant glance before disdainfully turning its head away.

"He eats iron!" Seamus reminded.

"That… doesn't look like iron…" Neville said, sounding uncertain.

"Hey, say something! Say something for us to hear!" Parvati Patil called up to the raven, full of anticipation.

Noctis tilted his small black head, staring at her with gleaming eyes.

"Quiet!"

The distinctive hoarse voice rang out again, as grating as sandpaper on wood.

The students all instinctively took a step back, but then immediately crowded forward again.

"Does he only know that one phrase?" Dean Thomas scratched his head, sounding a little disappointed.

"Probably…" Seamus said, still unwilling to give up. He tentatively reached out to touch the bird's metallic-looking feathers.

Noctis quickly drew back his neck, dodging Seamus's hand, and at the same time opened his beak. "Idiot!"

The young wizards froze instantly, their faces flushing before paling again in embarrassment.

"…Well," Dean Thomas said awkwardly, "at least that proves his vocabulary isn't just one word."

Noctis's small head turned left and right, as if scrutinising the crowd below, a faint gurgling sound rumbling from his throat.

"What does he eat, anyway?"

"Mithril!" Hermione answered without hesitation. "Professor Greengrass feeds him that."

"Then his food must cost a fortune…" Ron muttered, smacking his lips.

Just then, Malfoy, with Crabbe and Goyle in tow, pushed through the crowd. Pinching a small handful of shimmering mithril from his pocket, he held it out directly toward the raven.

He said nothing, but the self-satisfaction in his eyes was plain to see.

Yet the raven still didn't touch the mithril in Malfoy's hand, instead continuing to tilt his head, scanning the crowd.

Food… slaughter… kill.. eat...

An inhuman, soul-shattering hiss exploded in Harry's ear without warning—

Followed by the thunderous crash of a wall being smashed apart with immense force.

Boom!!

The students instinctively turned toward the source of the sound.

At the far corner of the corridor, rubble sprayed like rain, and through the billowing dust, a massive, terrifying figure—radiating a suffocating aura of destruction—charged out from the shattered wall.

Everyone froze instantly.

As soon as the giant serpent's shadow appeared, its molten-gold eyes locked onto the back of the nearest student. In the next instant, its fanged maw lunged forward in a savage bite, carrying with it a foul, rotting stench.

Crash!

The young wizard's figure shattered instantly—it was only the mirrored corner of the castle, and what had been torn apart was nothing but cold, reflective glass.

"Aaaaahhhhh!!!!"

A wave of terror erupted among the students.

Monster!

A living, man-eating giant serpent!

Its body was thick and massive, covered in heavy scales, and its enormous, hideous head rose high, nearly brushing the corridor's towering ceiling.

Most terrifying of all were its huge, molten-gold vertical pupils—eyes that held a deadly magic capable of freezing life itself.

Even worse, along the Basilisk's path, scattered by misfortune, were dozens of young wizards who had just finished class, laughing as they made their way back to their common rooms.

The smiles on their faces hadn't even had time to fade before they froze under that pair of destructive golden lights.

Time itself seemed to pause in that instant.

A Slytherin girl was bending down to pick up a dropped book, her fingertips barely an inch from the parchment, when she instantly turned into a rigid stone statue.

Two Gryffindor boys, arms slung over each other's shoulders, had their smiles frozen into eternal astonishment, their bodies petrified mid-step.

The students gathered in a circle around the raven also turned at the noise, but only had time to meet those destructive eyes before they themselves became a ring of cold stone statues in various poses.

A Gryffindor student who had fallen to the ground raised his wand in terror, the faint glow of a spell flickering at its tip for only a heartbeat before both he and that speck of light faded into lifeless gray.

A Slytherin student reacted a fraction faster, attempting to turn and flee, but the instant he instinctively looked back, his twisted posture and the raw fear on his face were permanently frozen in stone.

Silent yellow light swept through the aisle. In an instant, dozens of statues with varied forms and expressions stood frozen in the corridor.

The space that had been so full of life moments ago was transformed into a cold graveyard of stone.

Only the Basilisk's heavy, foul-smelling breathing and the crumble of falling rubble broke the silence.

Harry had lowered his head almost the moment the Basilisk appeared. Now he shouted to the few young wizards who had not yet been caught:

"Don't look back! Run!!!"

Then he seized Ron and Hermione and sprinted in the opposite direction.

The few of them pounded down the corridor, their footsteps creating chaotic echoes in the emptiness.

In the rush, Hermione's glasses clattered to the ground, but she had no time to think about them.

"N-No.."

The most terrifying thing was that, in the midst of their frantic sprint, Hermione could clearly hear the rustling of scales scraping against the cold stone floor behind her—the sound was close, like a countdown to death.

Immense fear seized her, and almost instinctively, she began to turn her head—

Whoosh!

The raven swept past her eyes, its sharp talons raking precisely across them. Blood welled instantly.

"Ah—!"

Hermione screamed, clutching her eyes in agony.

"Hermione!"

Harry instinctively started to turn back, but Ron shoved him hard.

"Go find a Professor!" Ron's roar was decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

He then stopped abruptly and lunged toward Hermione, who was groaning in pain with her hands over her eyes.

Harry's chest felt as though it had been ripped open, but he forced himself to turn away and run desperately down the corridor.

However, the sight ahead nearly made him despair—around the corner, a group of unsuspecting young wizards were heading toward him, laughing and chatting.

"Don't come closer! Get out of here!!"

Harry waved his arms frantically, his voice hoarse, desperate to stop them from stepping into this corridor of death.

But his warning became an even more fatal curse.

Several students who heard the shout instinctively lifted their heads. Their confused gazes passed over Harry—and in that instant, they caught sight of the massive, dark, terrifying shadow deeper in the corridor: that colossal body like a nightmare made real, those huge, molten-gold vertical pupils.

Time seemed to freeze.

Before expressions of shock could even form on their faces, the petrifying gray had already spread mercilessly. One by one, the young wizards' footsteps halted mid-stride, their bodies turning into cold stone sculptures, frozen in a variety of poses.

Wrong.

Terribly wrong.

Harry's heart sank into an icy abyss.

He realized in despair that in a moment of such extreme fear, any sudden sound, any vast and unknown presence, would act like a magnet—pulling on humanity's most primal instinct: to look.

And with the Basilisk lurking in the corridor, its presence far too massive to ignore, a single glance was enough to mean the end of life.