Here's another chapter as an apology♥
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Malfoy's detention finally ended. However, ever since the attack, he seed to have lost so of his spirit.
When Lucius took him back to the manor to recuperate and then he returned to Hogwarts, the boy's flamboyant arrogance had largely dissipated, replaced by a gloomy silence.
He often sat alone in a corner, far more withdrawn than before.
Crabbe and Goyle whispered privately, guessing he was still brooding over the Basilisk incident.
But they were wrong.
What truly haunted Draco's mind was the secret he had accidentally overheard—the suppressed and heated argunt between his father, Lucius, and his mother, Narcissa, behind the closed study door.
His mother's voice, carrying rare anger and lingering fear, accused "Lucius's foolish decision" of nearly killing their son.
Draco hadn't caught the specific details, but that vague accusation, like a cold snake, coiled itself around his heart. His father seed… to have so connection to the Chamber of Secrets incident at Hogwarts.
"I won't be going back for Christmas," Malfoy resolved inwardly.
…
The midterm exams finally concluded the day before the holiday, and the entire castle seed to let out a collective sigh of relief. The gloom that had lingered for days was swept away by the tily arrival of heavy snow, leaving the air refreshingly crisp.
Snowflakes drifted down, transforming Hogwarts into a vast, silvery-white castle.
The young wizards, bundled in thick scarves with hat brims pulled low, darted and frolicked through the courtyard like a swarm of colorful snow sprites.
Snowballs whizzed through the air, bursting against cloaks; snown of various shapes grinned with pebble mouths, standing cheerfully by the roadside.
Sagres, as usual, ca to help Hagrid decorate the Great Hall's Christmas tree. He could easily have waved his wand to cut and transport the tree, but Hagrid reacted as if he were a Niffler being robbed.
"No, absolutely not!"
He waved his large, fan-like hands, his beard trembling with excitent. "This is my job! I have to do sothing—otherwise, what kind of gakeeper would I be? Just a decoration that eats but doesn't work?"
He insisted on personally going into the Forbidden Forest to select and fell the tall fir trees.
However, when Sagres stepped into the warm, bright Great Hall, a young witch was already bustling about, helping Hagrid with the work.
That petite figure with fla-red hair was standing on tiptoe, struggling to hang a string of sparkling gold foil stars on the highest branch.
Sagres's eyes narrowed slightly; he understood what the witch was thinking in that mont.
He had originally planned to arrange the conversation after Christmas, but now seed like the right opportunity.
"Hello, Miss Weasley!"
The young witch was startled by the sudden greeting. She trembled violently, her hand shaking, almost dropping the stars.
Then she spun around like a startled fawn, and when she saw who it was, her cheeks instantly flushed crimson, nearly matching the color of her hair.
"H-hello, Professor Greengrass," she stamred, her fingers unconsciously twisting the fringe of her scarf.
Hagrid happened to co in carrying a large bundle of holly branches and, seeing the scene, cheerfully interjected, "Hello, Professor Greengrass! Look, Miss Weasley volunteered to help—she's a good kid, isn't she?"
His tone was full of praise.
Ginny's head drooped even lower, almost buried in her thick scarf.
"Indeed, enthusiastic," Sagres said calmly, his gaze settling gently on Hagrid. "Hagrid, how many more trees?"
"Hmm, four more big ones!"
Hagrid set down the holly and brushed off the snow clinging to him. "I've already cut them and left them at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I'll go bring them in now!"
With that, he lumbered toward the doors of the Great Hall, his heavy steps echoing until his burly figure vanished into the snowstorm outside.
Sagres gave a slight nod, standing quietly in place as he watched Hagrid leave.
Only the glow of the colorful baubles, the fresh scent of pine needles, and the uneasy red-haired girl remained in the Great Hall.
"Miss Weasley," Sagres's voice was low and gentle, "I was just looking for you to talk."
Ginny's body stiffened visibly, her fingers clenching tightly around her robes.
"Uh… Professor Greengrass," she tried to steady her voice, though it trembled, "is… is there sothing you need?"
"You volunteered to help make up to Hagrid for those…" Sagres paused deliberately, his calm gaze fixed on her, "…those unfortunate roosters that died, didn't you?"
The words struck like a silent thunderclap. Ginny suddenly looked up, the color draining instantly from her face until it was as pale as paper.
He knew! He knew everything!
Expulsion… Azkaban… those terrible thoughts seized her fragile nerves all at once.
Large tears rolled down without warning, tracing cold streaks across her reddened cheeks.
"I'm sorry, Professor, I'm sorry…" Her voice broke into desperate sobs, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably.
Sagres sighed softly, his eyes showing no bla, only a trace of helplessness.
He drew his wand and, with a swift motion, pointed it at Ginny. A soft, warm golden glow instantly swept over her body, carrying a strange, calming power.
The young witch's sobs stopped abruptly, her rushing tears seemingly damd by an invisible force, leaving only shimring droplets clinging to her lashes.
She blinked blankly, staring at the Professor, still shaken.
"I hear you've been quietly bringing dried fish and milk from the Great Hall lately, leaving them in corners Mrs. Norris often passes? Even though that proud lady never seems to appreciate it?"
Sagres's voice was steady.
Ginny nodded shafully, the tears she had just held back welling up in her eyes once more.
"Rest assured, Miss Weasley," Sagres's voice carried a reassuring weight. "For now, this matter will remain a secret."
He leaned slightly, his gaze gentle. "And in my opinion, you have already learned a heavy and profound lesson from this terrible experience, haven't you?"
"Pro… Professor," Ginny's voice was faint. "Do you an… you… you won't expose ?"
Hope flickered cautiously in her eyes.
"Of course not," Sagres replied firmly. "You were rely a student bewitched and manipulated by a powerful Dark Arts item. And fortunately, it did not result in an irreversible tragedy—no innocent lives were lost because of it… aside from those roosters, of course."
He looked directly into Ginny's eyes, as if peering into her very soul. "The source of all this was that evil diary, not your true nature."
"I'm sorry, Professor…"
Ginny's tears fell again, but this ti they were mingled with relief and gratitude. "I… I was just so scared… Professor Lockhart… he… he must have been hurt because of that diary too… I'm sorry…"
Her apology tumbled out incoherently, both for herself and seemingly for the unfortunate professor.
"Miss Weasley," Sagres's tone carried an undeniable gravity, "it is not uncommon for students, especially young ones, to be bewitched by Dark Arts or their artifacts. One of Hogwarts' duties is to teach you to recognize and resist these dangers."
His voice suddenly turned cold, edged with severity. "But a professor is entirely different. If a qualified professor lacks even the ability to recognize such a danger and allows himself to be so easily manipulated, then he is not fit to stand at the podium. Otherwise, he will only cause endless harm and disgrace the title of 'Professor'!"
Ginny looked at him in confusion, not understanding why he suddenly directed his criticism toward Lockhart.
"So, relax," Sagres's tone softened again, as though comforting a frightened chick. "Although what you did while under the diary's control was not right, fortunately the outco was still manageable. As for Professor Lockhart's fate…"
He gave a slight shake of his head, a trace of sarcasm flickering at the corner of his mouth.
"That is not your responsibility. Frankly, if that diary had fallen into the hands of any other professor—whether Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, or Professor Snape—this crisis would have been cut off cleanly from the start."
"So… Professor," Ginny gathered her last bit of courage and asked the question that had tornted her day and night, "I… I won't be expelled? I… I won't be sent to Azkaban either?"
"Of course not," Sagres answered with certainty. "However, Miss Weasley, you must tell where you first obtained that diary."
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