HP: Dangerous Professor from Azkaban Chapter 14: 14: Veiliss Nixia - The Nightingale

Sagres walked over to Nightingale, tapping her body with the tip of his wand, and an invisible current of air imdiately swept away the mud clinging to her.

He supported her shoulder with one hand and used his wand with the other to cut open the fabric on her shoulder.

A ghastly wound extended from her shoulder to her back, with treelike black veins spreading out from it.

Sagres frowned slightly and, ignoring her resistance, tore off her blood-stained cloak.

"Vulnera Sanentur."

A verdant glow lit up, and a wisp of black smoke rose from the wound.

Injuries caused by Dark Arts usually require specific counter-curses to heal, but fortunately, Sagres's mastery of healing spells was not lacking. Although the healing spell had clearly had limited effect just now, he remained confident in his ability to treat her.

"Episkey."

Another flash of pure white light passed, but the effect was still minimal. This ti, Nightingale finally couldn't help but let out a faint, pained groan.

He raised his wand again, preparing to cast another spell, but the weakened Nightingale suddenly grabbed his wrist. Under his questioning gaze, she murmured, "Safe house… tree hollow…"

Then she suddenly fainted.

Sagres looked at the unconscious Nightingale, thought for a mont, then snapped his fingers.

Invisible ripples spread out, and soon, tiny silver-white strands of broken hair and drops of blood flew in from various parts of the town.

After placing all of them into a crystal vial, he picked up the unconscious Nightingale and Apparated.

...

Moldova, Twilight Forest

After a soft pop, Sagres appeared before a tall oak tree.

Nightingale, sleeping in his arms, let out a soft groan but showed no signs of waking.

He nodded at the large tree and chanted an ancient, obscure incantation. Imdiately, the trunk of the tree indented, forming a two-foot-high hollow.

The space inside was quite spacious, clearly enhanced with an Undetectable Extension Charm. Sagres raised his chin, and a soft light imdiately lit up the interior.

A branch hung down from the ceiling of the hollow, quickly growing and weaving itself into a wooden lounge chair. After gently laying the horizontally cradled Nightingale down, Sagres walked to the entrance and cast several layers of powerful protective charms.

Turning back to look at the unconscious Nightingale, he couldn't help but sigh. After all, dealing with a woman like her was truly troubleso.

Veela—a highly deceptive and dangerous magical creature, commonly found in Eastern Europe.

They typically appear as extrely beautiful won, with silver-white long hair, smooth skin, and captivating looks. When unconscious, their bodies may even emit a faint glow.

Of course, Veela also have another form—a bird-like monster with a sharp beak, flaming wings, and ferocious claws.

They can intermarry with humans, and their descendants may inherit so Veela traits.

And Nightingale—or more accurately, Veiliss Nixia—was a half-Veela. Her mother had Veela blood, and her father had Snow Demon blood, which caused her to exhibit atavistic and mutated features.

Before Sagres t her, Nightingale, in order to prevent others from falling into obsession because of her beauty and causing disturbances, had chosen to live in seclusion for many years in the prival forests of Moldova.

Helping the still-unconscious Nightingale sit up, Sagres directly thrust the tip of his wand into the wound on her back. The black patterns writhing beneath her skin suddenly let out a shriek, then were slowly and resolutely stripped from her body.

Dark Magic slowly surged from the wound toward the wand. Sagres felt a slight warmth in his palm, and by the ti he had completely drawn the magic from Nightingale's body, he discovered that so of the dark curses had seeped from the wand into his own hand.

This was sowhat unexpected, but he wasn't too concerned. However, when he picked up his wand, he found that the old yew wand had been corroded by the curse and appeared to be completely unusable.

Sagres felt a mont of sentintality.

He had found this wand in the Greengrass family attic when he was a child, and it had been with him since he was six. Although it had never been a perfect fit, he had never replaced it all these years.

Placing the decayed wand on the table, Sagres gently stroked Nightingale's back with his other hand, and the ghastly wound imdiately vanished without a trace.

Two consecutive nonverbal spells were cast, and her torn clothing was also restored to its original state.

After carefully laying her flat on the lounge chair, he instinctively glanced at her—only to find she had already opened her eyes.

Sagres casually withdrew his hand and calmly nodded at her. "The curse has been cleared. No scars remain."

Nightingale stared blankly at Sagres' right hand, which had been corroded by the curse during the healing, and said nothing.

Sagres frowned and conjured a teapot, pouring out a steaming drink and offering it to her. "Those Dark Wizards couldn't cast such a powerful curse. What exactly happened?"

Nightingale slowly took the drink, her voice low and hoarse. "Erios ambushed … He stole the Kraken heart you gave …"

"Hmm.." Sagres neither comforted her nor blad her.

He simply offered a calm suggestion: "So now we're looking for two people—Kestrel and Erios. My suggestion is to find Kestrel first."

As he spoke, he pulled a thumb-sized dark blue gem from his cloak. "A Kraken has two hearts. As long as Erios still carries yours, finding him won't be difficult."

Nightingale nodded. She set down her teacup and took Sagres's right hand, which was covered in dark veins, falling into a long silence.

"Can it be healed?"

"Of course." Sagres pulled his hand away from hers and casually snapped the decayed wand on the table into two pieces. "If there are no other issues, I suggest we depart imdiately."

After speaking, he handed her three crystal vials, containing her silver hair, blood, and tears, respectively. "Keep your things safe. I'll take half of the potion you brew."

Nightingale paused for a mont, then gave a graceful smile. "Do you have any leads on her?"

"No, but I know who does."

Sagres extended his left hand, and Nightingale, understanding, reached out her pale right hand to et his.

The mont their hands touched, their figures instantly vanished.

Snap!

...

With a short-distance Apparition, Sagres and Nightingale crossed the border of Moldova and arrived in the Balkan Peninsula.

The two walked into a secluded village and, guided by the villagers, found a Romani fortune-telling tent.

Just as Sagres pointed a finger at the tent, a vicious curse erupted from within: "Which damned bastard dares to cast a spell on Seraphin Somberlin's tent—"

Before the words had even faded, a hunched old woman leaning on a walking stick pulled back the tent's curtain and stepped out.

"I'll turn your skin into pages and use your blood to brew ink—"

The cursing stopped abruptly. The wrinkled old witch suddenly choked when she saw Nightingale, then her vacant gaze slowly filled with greed. "Ah, what perfect spell-casting material… Your hair will surely brew the finest Love Potion in the world!"

She slowly extended her filthy, clawed hand, trying to gently caress Nightingale's silver hair.

Immobulus

Sagres imdiately cast a nonverbal Freezing Charm, immobilizing the old witch.

Then a pile of stones rose from the ground, and a silent Homorphus Charm transford all the stones into sharp spikes, surrounding her.

"Now I ask, you answer."

Sagres looked at her calmly, ignoring the fear and malice in her eyes.

"A month ago, outside Hoff's Apothecary in Bulgaria, two wizards dressed as Romani set up a tent there."

He stared into her malicious eyes and asked without emotion, "Tell where they are now."

The witch suddenly realized she had regained the ability to speak. She tried to pull out her wand, but her body clearly still wasn't under her control.

"Don't make search for the answer in your mind myself. Believe , you won't like that thod…"

Seeing that she wasn't being very cooperative, Sagres calmly offered a "reminder."

Whether it was his threat that worked, or the old witch—who called herself Seraphin Somberlin—finally understood her situation, she imdiately beca quite cooperative.

"Ok.. Let think, let think, ah… I need a crystal ball…"

Sagres extended his palm, and three crystal balls of different sizes imdiately flew out of the tent and hovered in his hand.

"The smallest one, I want the smallest one…"

The deep purple crystal ball responded to her choice, slowly floating in front of Seraphin. Only then did she realize her arm could move freely again.

Placing her withered hand on the crystal ball, the purple smoke inside it imdiately began to shift and swirl, while her eyes turned completely white.

"The mists will tell where the children are. Wheel of Fortune, if you continue to turn, then I will bury silver coins when the raven perches on the laurel branch—otherwise, let my na disappear forever from the pages…"

The images within the crystal ball continuously changed, finally settling on a scene of two Romani guarding a dilapidated wooden house.

Sagres imdiately understood.

He extended his hand to Nightingale, their hands t, and the popping sound of Apparition echoed once more.

(Veiliss Nixia Image)

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The p@treon will be 12 chaps ahead by tomorrow♥ It's at Ch 21 right now!

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