"Hagrid, are you here in the Hogwarts Library for sothing?" A slightly puzzled question made Sagres prick up his ears, recognizing it as the voice of Harry's good friend, Ron Weasley.
"Just browsing…" Hagrid's figure was sowhat evasive, and he tucked a few books into his coat, saying with a hint of slyness, "You still haven't figured out who Nicolas Flal is, have you?"
"Ha, we knew who he was years ago," Ron said triumphantly. "And we also know what that dog is guarding on the third floor—it's the Philosopher's Stone…"
"Shush… shush…" Hagrid almost clapped his hand over Ron's mouth. "Don't be so loud!"
As he spoke, he looked around to see if anyone was paying attention.
A strange smile appeared on Sagres's face in the distance. He took out his wand and tapped his ear to hear more clearly.
"Actually, we wanted to ask you sothing, Hagrid," this was Harry's voice.
"Yes, besides Fluffy, is anyone else guarding the Philosopher's Stone?"
"Shush…" Hagrid didn't want to stay there any longer. He felt that these young wizards couldn't keep their mouths shut at all. "Listen, don't say another word! At least not here…"
He squeezed his massive body out from between the bookshelves and leaned closer to the three young wizards, whispering, "Students aren't supposed to know about this, or Dumbledore will think I told you everything!"
"It makes no difference!" Ron said blankly. "You practically told us this information yourself."
"..."
Hagrid helplessly covered his face, no longer trying to communicate with them. He turned and left the Hogwarts Library unhappily.
…
"He seed to be hiding books in his coat?" Hermione said with a frown.
"Do you think it's connected to the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry also beca interested.
"I'll go see what books are on that shelf," Ron said, putting down his howork and walking toward the shelf where Hagrid had been.
A few minutes later, he returned to the wooden table with a large stack of books.
"Dragons!" He widened his eyes and spoke mysteriously to his two companions. "Hagrid was looking for books about dragons!"
He spread the books one by one on the table: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland, Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit, and From Egg to Inferno: A Dragon Keeper's Guide.
"Hagrid did want a dragon; he said so when we first t, but at the ti I thought he was joking," Harry recalled what Hagrid had said when he first picked him up for Hogwarts.
"But that violates the law made by the Wizengamot," Ron said. "According to the Warlock's Convention passed in 1709, dragons are classified as XXXXX-class creatures, and unauthorized private breeding is illegal and will be punished by the Ministry of Magic."
Seeing their rather unconcerned expressions, Ron added, "And dragons are very dangerous. You should know about Charlie being bitten by a wild dragon in Romania."
"But there are no wild dragons in England!"
"Who said that?" Ron corrected him. "There are Common Welsh Green dragons and Hebridean Black dragons. And the Ministry of Magic has a departnt—the Departnt for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures—and its Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau is specifically tasked with concealing these wild dragons."
"So what exactly is Hagrid up to?"
"Let's go to his hut later, I'm almost done writing…"
Sagres listened to the rustling of their howork and finally put down his wand.
The conversation contained a lot of information. They had first ntioned Nicolas Flal and the Philosopher's Stone. Sagres, of course, knew who Nicolas Flal was.
He didn't need to look it up, because Nicolas Flal, as the only known living creator of the Philosopher's Stone, was renowned in the magical world for his superb alchemical skills.
And the Philosopher's Stone, as a very rare alchemical product, could not only turn base tals into gold but also grant immortality.
Of course, immortality was still a question mark for Sagres, but its ability to greatly extend a person's life was unquestionable.
After all, Nicolas Flal and his wife's age of over six hundred years was enough to prove the point.
Listening to their conversation—was the Philosopher's Stone currently at Hogwarts?
So, was Lord Voldemort sending Quirrell back to Hogwarts to get the Philosopher's Stone? Was it to heal his injuries, or to gain immortality?
Sagres thought of many questions, although he didn't care at all—Dumbledore would handle it if the sky fell, and if things ran their course, Harry Potter would eventually defeat Lord Voldemort.
He was very certain in his heart, and even if Harry Potter failed, it didn't matter; he wanted to see how powerful this forr Dark Lord truly was.
Everyone said Lord Voldemort's mastery of the Dark Arts was unparalleled, but Sagres felt his own achievents in this area were no less impressive.
There was a saying in the magical world that frequent use of the Dark Arts would corrode the user's mind, causing them to unknowingly fall into darkness.
While he didn't scoff at this notion, he never worried about the erosion of the Dark Arts.
His chanical mind allowed him absolute control over his emotions, so he had a clear understanding of the state of his soul—this was his confidence in fearlessly researching the Dark Arts.
At the sa ti, because he could adjust his emotions at will, the upper limit of his spell power was very high.
This was also common knowledge in the magical world: strong emotions could significantly amplify spell power. Although he always chose to suppress his emotions in combat, this was only because he had not yet encountered an enemy that required abandoning reason to face.
As for the other thing Harry and the others had just ntioned—Hagrid wanting to raise a dragon—he thought, was that even a big deal?
He himself knew many spells that could allow one to secretly raise a dragon.
Of course, as soon as he thought of Hagrid's unreliable personality, he dismissed the idea. The three young wizards' worries were not unfounded.
...
A few more days without classes passed peacefully.
That day, as Sagres returned to his office from the Hogwarts Library, a snowy owl landed steadily at his window.
Opening the letter clutched in its beak, his brows furrowed involuntarily.
Dear Mr. Raven,
I am writing this letter to you from the Ronnie Black Market in Belgium—hoping for your assistance.
Those cockroaches in the underground auction houses always say that astrologers calculate planetary trajectories even to pour a cup of tea, so this ti I need to draw upon your unique insights into the ecology of the Forbidden Forest.
Last month, at an underground auction in the black market, I adopted a special guest at the cost of three ounces of cursed mithril.
This Centaur warrior (he calls himself Leon) had his right forehoof corroded by a Dark wizard's chaining curse, leading to his capture by a poaching team.
I rescued him from the poaching team and made a classical agreent with him: if I could return him to the Frostdew Clan in the northeast corner of the Forbidden Forest, he would interpret a horoscope for and give magical materials worth three thousand Galleons (unique to the Forbidden Forest).
Of course, you are aware that the Forbidden Forest is no longer the cozy model of the International Statute of Magical Creature Migration—the Ministry of Magic's monitoring copper eagles are not only increasingly sensitive, but more troublingly, the Frostdew Clan still carves the seventeenth-century wizard siege on their cave walls, and every mber of their clan harbors great malice toward wizards.
And I myself, due to so special reasons, cannot travel to Britain.
So I thought, if I could get your help, then completing this transaction might not be so difficult for .
Friday at midnight, if you are willing to help, I will arrange for personnel to transfer Leon to Hogsade Village.
In return, attached are two pieces of information you might be interested in:
1) I heard you've always been very interested in ti-turners. Coincidentally, I acquired a dilapidated ti-turner when I was in Egypt recently, and it can be your reward.
2) The complete copy of De Vermis Mysteriis that you have been tracking is currently lying in the lowest layer of the Balk family's vault. If you wish, I can obtain it and exchange it with you.
Sincerely,
Snowy Owl
On the Night of Waning Moonbeam
...
Sagres put away the letter, thought for a mont, and then took out a new piece of parchnt to write a reply.
He originally didn't want to get involved, as it concerned the illegal trade of intelligent races, but the information provided by the sender was too appealing to him, so he ultimately decided to help.
The difficulty of this commission lay in how to collect the materials Leon promised. Centaurs have always been hostile toward human wizards, so it would not be easy to make these proud, intelligent creatures willingly hand over magical materials.
Additionally, he changed the handover location in the letter to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, as Hogsade was a wizard village with many eyes and ears, and the Forbidden Forest was clearly safer.
Finally, he handed the letter to the well-fed snowy owl and watched it leave Hogwarts.
...
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