, Section 617: Before Dawn 1

Chapter 608, Section 617: Before Dawn 1

Sprout also made a move.

She pointed her wand at the ground, and the rubble and debris instantly came to life, surging towards the Death Eaters' feet like startled snakes.

Several Death Eaters tripped and fell to the ground. Before they could get up, they were struck by spells from the other professors.

"I didn't really want to come, but Dumbledore convinced me." Slughorn waved his wand repeatedly, and several golden beams of light shot out from the tip of his wand.

It accurately struck several Death Eaters' wands.

"Damn it!"

These Death Eaters were no match for the professor's magical prowess. As the Death Eaters cried out in surprise, their wands instantly flew out of their hands, soaring into the sky and falling into the distant sea.

"Yes!" Slughorn was excited. Although he was not a battle wizard, his spell accuracy was extremely high, and he used the disarming spell better than most Aurors.

The professors were indeed formidable. They weren't Aurors, nor were they specifically trained for combat, but each was an expert in their respective field, possessing a wealth of practical experience. Flitwick was a former dueling champion, Sprout had protected her greenhouse and students during numerous attacks by dark wizards, and Slughorn had experienced the chaos of Grindelwald's era in his youth. Their teamwork, while not as seamless as that of the Aurors, was certainly impressive.

But each of them was very capable, and for a time they managed to suppress the Death Eaters.

"Back off! Move closer to the Lord!" shouted a Death Eater, pointing his wand to the sky, and a red flare rose into the air.

The Death Eaters began to shrink back, retreating towards the center of the ruins. The professors pursued them relentlessly, the light of the incantations chasing after them. One Death Eater was struck down, then another, and another.

But the prisoners remained. Seeing the Hogwarts professors arrive, they became even more frenzied and desperate. They knew that if they were caught and taken back, they would face even longer sentences, or even the kiss of a Dementor. So they charged at the professors relentlessly, attacking with their teeth, their nails, their fists, using any means at their disposal.

A prisoner lunged at Sprout, his hands reaching for her neck. Sprout dodged to the side, her wand pressed against his chest, and a beam of red light sent him flying.

Another prisoner charged from the side. Before Sprout could turn around, Flitwick's wand pointed at the prisoner, and a blue light struck him in the back. He fell stiffly to the ground, just a step away from Sprout.

"Be careful," Flitwick said.

Sprout nodded without saying anything.

The professors continued to work, but at a noticeably slower pace.

There were too many prisoners; though weak and unarmed, their numbers were vast and they were fearless. The professors...

They were Hogwarts professors, not executioners, who could deal with the same deadly force as the Death Eaters. They could only use binding charms, stunning charms, and disarming charms.

These non-lethal spells were used against the prisoners, but the prisoners didn't care; as long as they had a breath left, they would get up and continue attacking.

"Hehehe~"

The stitched-together monster stood atop the highest point of the ruins, its eyes surveying the entire battlefield.

It saw the Death Eaters being suppressed by the Hogwarts professors, saw the prisoners scattering and fleeing, and saw the Aurors stubbornly resisting from the tower.

Those eyes blinked simultaneously, their dark red light flickering. On Bellatrix's half-face, the corners of her mouth slowly parted to reveal a ferocious, mocking smile.

"A Hogwarts professor." Her voice was low and disordered, carrying a morbid, almost manic pleasure. "Dumbledore himself doesn't dare come, so he sends you to your deaths?"

She leaped from the highest point of the ruins, her six arms outstretched, their claws gleaming coldly in the morning light. Her body traced a strange arc in the air, and the moment she landed, her twisted limbs exerted force simultaneously, creating several deep craters in the ground and scattering debris everywhere.

The professors all stopped in their tracks.

They saw the monster. A gigantic, twisted, grotesque stitched-together monster. Six arms, countless eyes.

Eyes, two merged faces, and wounds still dripping black liquid. It stood before them, those eyes looking down at them simultaneously, like an indescribable, terrifying being emerging from a nightmare.

Flitwick's pupils contracted slightly. He had seen many dark wizards, many creatures twisted by dark magic, but he had never seen anything like this—no, this was not a creature, it was a creation, a creation made by some mad, blasphemous being.

"Back off." His voice was low and calm, but every word carried an unquestionable command.

The professors instinctively took a few steps back. Not because they were cowardly, but because of the aura emanating from the monster—the aura of deep space, the aura of an incomprehensible being from beyond dimensions. It made their wands tremble slightly, stagnated their magical circulation, and stirred a primal fear deep within their souls.

The stitched-together monster took a step forward. Its eyes blinked simultaneously, a dark red light flickering across the professors' faces.

"Dumbledore is finished," Bellatrix's voice came from the fused face, tinged with a morbid, almost manic pleasure. "He could only send you to your deaths. What can a bunch of teachers do?"

Flitwick did not answer. He pointed his wand at the stitched monster, and a blue beam shot out from the tip of the wand with astonishing speed, heading straight for the eyes on its chest.

The stitched-together monster didn't dodge. The blue light struck its chest, blasting open a fist-sized crater. Black liquid gushed from the wound, dripping onto the ground and corroding small, smoking pits. It looked down at the crater, then raised its head, its eyes filled with mockery.

"this one?"

Flitwick's expression changed slightly.

Sprout acted simultaneously. Her wand pointed to the ground, and the rubble and debris surged forth as if alive, coiling around the stitched monster's feet! They climbed its legs, wrapped around its waist, trying to pin it to the spot!

The stitched monster raised one leg and gave a slight struggle. The rubble and debris shattered instantly, turning into powder that scattered across the ground.

Its power is so great that ordinary binding spells are completely ineffective against it.

Slughorn swung his wand repeatedly, sending several golden beams of light toward the stitched monster's arms—a disarming charm. But he wasn't disarming the wand; he was disarming the claws. He wanted to render them incapable of attacking, at least temporarily.

Golden light struck the stitched-together monster's arm; its claws trembled slightly but did not detach, nor were they even injured. Its eyes simultaneously turned to Slughorn, a crimson light flickering across his face.

"You old fatso," Bellatrix's voice was mocking, "you're here too."

Slughorn's face turned deathly pale, but he did not retreat. He raised his wand again, and another beam of golden light shot toward the stitched monster's face—this time, he aimed for its eyes.

The stitched-together monster raised an arm, blocking the light. The golden light struck its palm, blasting open a bloody hole from which black liquid gushed. But it didn't even flinch—if it had one. It simply stared at Slughorn, its eyes filled with mockery.

"Is that all you've got?"

It raised six arms and waved them at the professors at the same time!

The claws flashed through the air, leaving six streaks of cold light, moving at an astonishing speed! Flitwick ducked to avoid them, Sprout sidestepped, and Slughorn took a few steps back, but a young professor couldn't dodge in time and was slashed on the shoulder by the claws. He screamed and fell to the ground, blood flowing down his arm.

"Scatter!" Flitwick shouted. "Don't stay together!"

The professors quickly spread out, attacking the stitched-together monster from different angles. Blue, red, and golden beams of light shot towards it from all directions, some hitting its chest, some its arms, and some its head. The wounds burst open on its body, black liquid splattering everywhere, but it remained standing, still not fallen.

"It's useless." Bellatrix's voice carried a morbid, almost manic pleasure. "My master's power is limitless. How could you mortals possibly harm me?"

She whirled around, one arm sweeping across, its claws slicing through the air with a piercing shriek. A professor, unable to dodge in time, was slashed across the back by the claws, screaming in agony as he collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from the wound and staining the ground red.

Sprout's eyes turned red. She pointed her wand at the stitched monster, and a thick red beam of light shot from the tip, striking one of its arms. The arm snapped off at the joint, falling to the ground, still twitching, its eyes still blinking, their dark red light flickering.

The stitched-up monster looked down at the severed arm and remained silent for a second.

Then it raised its head, its eyes filled with anger.

"You—" Bellatrix's voice was sharp and piercing, "you dare to have its remaining five arms reach out to Sprout at the same time! Those claws drew five cold streaks in the air, blocking all her escape routes!"

Flitwick charged in from the side, his wand pointed at the claws, and a beam of blue light shot out, striking one of the arms and deflecting it. Slughorn acted simultaneously, a beam of golden light striking the other arm, momentarily stunning it.

Sprout seized the opportunity to retreat, narrowly avoiding the sharp claws.

But the stitched monster didn't stop. Its body suddenly spun, its five arms waving like a windmill, forcing back all the professors who approached! One professor was slashed in the chest by claws and fell with a scream; another was hit in the abdomen, bent over, coughing up blood; and yet another was grabbed by the collar by claws, flung into the air, and crashed heavily to the ground, where he lay motionless.

Flitwick's face turned extremely grim. He knew they couldn't defeat this monster. Its strength was too great, its speed too fast, and its regenerative ability too incredible. They could hit it ten times and it would still be able to stand up; if it hit them once, they would never get up again.

"Retreat!" he shouted. "Retreat to the tower!"

The professors fought their way back, converging on the tower where the Aurors were. The stitched monsters pursued them, their five arms flailing wildly, their claws slicing through the air with a chilling light. One professor was a little slower; a claw slashed his calf, and he fell with a scream, dragged away by his companions.

Fox swooped down from the sky, golden light shooting towards the stitched monster's eyes. The stitched monster closed its eyes, the golden light striking its eyelids and blasting several small craters. It raised an arm to grab at Fox, Fox's spirit...

It skillfully dodges, flies to a high place, circles, and waits for the next opportunity.

"The bird is still there," Bellatrix said mockingly. "Dumbledore only has this bird left."

She burst into laughter. The laughter was low and chaotic, emanating from her fused face, echoing through the ruins, carrying a chilling, morbid pleasure.

"Dumbledore! Do you see this? Your professors are dying! Your phoenix is ​​dying! Your Hogwarts is doomed!"

In the distance, from the tower window, Shakel gazed at the battlefield, at the fallen professors, at the weary phoenix, at the unstoppable stitched monster. His fists clenched tightly, his nails digging into his palms, drawing blood.

He knew they wouldn't last much longer.

But he didn't know that the phoenix, the professors, and the Aurors who were still persevering weren't fighting for victory, but for time. To buy enough time for the person who was still waiting.

Fox let out another cry in the air, its voice hoarse and weary, but it continued to fly, continued to fight, and continued to protect.

Inside the tower, Shakel turned and looked at the Aurors who were still resisting.

Hang in there.

His voice was hoarse but firm.

Hang in there.

Outside the window, the stitched-together monster raised its claws again and lunged at the professors.

The stitched monster raised all five arms simultaneously, its claws gleaming coldly in the morning light. A grotesque, maniacal grin spread across the half of Bellatrix's face. She watched the retreating professors, the Aurors lying in pools of blood, and the weary phoenix still struggling to fly, and a morbid, indescribable pleasure welled up within her.

"Dumbledore!" Her voice was shrill and piercing, echoing through the ruins. "Look at this! This is your Hogwarts! This is your professors! They're dying! And you can't even protect your own phoenix!"

Fox let out a hoarse cry and swooped down, golden light shooting into the eyes of the stitched monster. The stitched monster raised an arm to block, its claws reaching for Fox, who narrowly dodged, a few golden feathers drifting down.

"Grab it!" Bellatrix shouted.

Several Death Eaters raised their wands, shooting green beams of light at Fawkes. Fawkes tumbled through the air, dodging each attack, but its movements grew slower and slower, and the golden light dimmed.

Flitwick was deathly pale; his wand was still in his hand, but its magic was nearly exhausted. Sprout helped an injured professor back to the tower entrance; her apron was stained with blood—her own, her colleagues', and her students'.

Slughorn was panting heavily, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead, mingling with dust and leaving streaks on his face.

They couldn't hold on any longer.

The stitched-together monster raised its five arms, ready to deliver the final blow to the professors.

Just then, a cry came from the sky.

It wasn't the cry of Fox, but another sound. Clearer, more ancient, more indescribable. The sound wasn't loud or shrill, yet it traveled clearly throughout Azkaban, reaching the ears of everyone. Like the first breeze from the beginning of the world.

Like a final sigh from the end of fate.

The Death Eaters stopped what they were doing and looked up at the sky.

The professors also looked up.

The Aurors peered out of the tower windows, looking up at the sky.

A raven swooped down from the clouds.