The Sorting Ceremony continued in an eerie silence.
Sagres leaned back in the high-backed chair at the Professors' table, his gray eyes sweeping indifferently over each new student.
The entire Great Hall echoed only with the Sorting Hat's announcents and polite applause—everyone at the Slytherin table was visibly tense, even breathing cautiously.
"Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!" Lockhart suddenly leaned over, his golden curls bouncing with his exaggerated movents.
He lowered his voice, but the excitent in his tone was unmistakable. "Sagres, you really know how to steal the spotlight. That move just now was… truly…"
He paused, searching for adjectives, while the dals on his chest clinked noisily.
Sagres picked up a crystal goblet and took a shallow sip of ad, not bothering to look at him.
"But if you ask ," Lockhart continued, undeterred, leaning closer—his overpowering perfu enough to make one dizzy—"your lines could be more commanding. If it were —"
He suddenly straightened, striking a dramatic pose. "'In rlin's na, I will show you what true discipline is!' Then I'd wave my wand like this…"
Sagres ignored him, silently set down his goblet, and stood up, leaving without so much as a glance at the chattering man beside him.
"Wait, where are you going? I haven't finished—" Lockhart's voice abruptly cut off.
Sagres snapped his fingers without looking back, casting a Tongue-Tying Curse on him. He walked toward the side door as if the gesticulating, golden-haired professor behind him were nothing more than air.
…
…
Ti passed quietly. In the blink of an eye, Hogwarts welcod its first make-up exam season since its founding.
Yes, make-up exams! They hadn't existed before—but now they did.
Sagres stood at the front of the classroom, his slender fingers lightly tapping the podium.
Sunlight slanted through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the classroom and illuminating the nervous graduates seated before him—two of whom were even wearing Ministry of Magic uniforms.
"Advanced Charms Theory and Practice," he announced, his voice calm and steady, without the slightest fluctuation. "A compulsory exam, specially arranged because the Ministry of Magic believes the standard of Hogwarts graduates is… concerning."
A few awkward chuckles echoed through the room.
Sagres paid them no mind. His fingers tapped the stack of test papers on the desk, and the sheets of parchnt flew into the air, transforming into flying birds, giant beetles, dragonflies, and other creatures.
"The official remarks of Outstanding (O), Exceeds Expectations (E), Acceptable (A), Poor (P), Dreadful (D), and Troll (T)... heh~ I don't care about. Those who know and those who have read about should know that nothing you do can exceed my expectations because I expect everything and assu nothing."
He paced slowly between the desks, his black robes brushing the floor. "With , there are only two outcos—"
He paused, then suddenly turned, his gray eyes sweeping across every student.
"Either pass, or zero points."
The questions remained unchanged—they didn't need to be—because these students had actually learned sothing in class. They had simply used the wrong thods before.
…
By the ti the last student finished the exam, the setting sun had already turned the classroom golden.
Sagres collected the test papers, a barely noticeable smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
"Congratulations," he said without looking back, "eleven Trolls have successfully evolved into humans."
Several graduates imdiately hugged each other, laughing and crying, and began chatting with Sagres about their sumr holidays.
To be honest, Sagres had no interest in any of it, but he patiently listened to their chattering.
The Hufflepuff girl who always mispronounced spells even ca over with red eyes, stamring as she talked about her internship at the Departnt for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
At last, Sagres raised a hand to bring the early alumni gathering to an end.
"All right, everyone—"
He held up the parchnt in his hand and said seriously, "Next ti, try learning this before graduation."
Under the students' awestruck gazes, Sagres left the classroom, his black robe billowing behind him.
He moved quickly down the corridor—the next Charms theory class was about to begin.
The topic of the first lesson for the new sester was healing spells. Sagres entered the classroom empty-handed.
"Today we'll cover the distribution of magic nodes in healing spells," he said clearly in the quiet room. "After two theory sessions, we'll begin practical application."
With a tap of his wand, complex spell diagrams appeared on the blackboard.
"Rember these three steps: counter-spell, magical detection, and finally, healing." His tone grew more serious. "I don't expect you to beco Healers at St. Mungo's, but at the very least—"
He suddenly drew his wand across his palm, and blood gushed out.
The students gasped.
"Vulnera Sanentur." Sagres recited the spell without a change in expression, and the wound healed visibly. "At the very least, this will help you deal with simple ergencies on your own so you're not completely helpless."
Since the point-deduction incident, the Slytherin students had been particularly well-behaved in his class.
Sagres was quite satisfied with this—although every ti he passed Snape in the corridor, the latter's gloomy expression seed to lower the surrounding temperature by ten degrees.
But Sagres didn't care, since the old bat had never looked at him pleasantly anyway.
After class, he headed straight to Hagrid's hut.
The autumn sunlight filtered through the leaves of the Forbidden Forest, casting shifting shadows across the path—it was a peaceful scene.
Until a golden figure ruined his mood.
"—Just sprinkle so of my special glittering powder around the well, and I guarantee not a single Grindylow will dare co close!" Lockhart was enthusiastically waving his hands, trying to sell one of his "inventions" to Hagrid, his dals glinting blindingly in the light.
Hagrid looked reluctant, his large fingers absentmindedly twisting his beard.
When Lockhart spotted Sagres approaching, his expression instantly stiffened—clearly, the Tongue-Tying Curse from before had left a lasting impression.
"Ah, Professor Greengrass!"
He no longer dared call him "Sagres." Composing himself, Lockhart quickly adjusted his collar. "I suddenly rembered—I've got so fan letters to reply to…"
Sagres rely shot him a cold glance, and Lockhart scurried off like a startled Niffler.
"Thank goodness… he's finally gone!" Hagrid let out a long sigh of relief. "He's even more annoying than he used to be, isn't he?"
Sagres smiled and nodded.
"Is there anything you need, Professor Greengrass?" Hagrid asked.
After Sagres explained his purpose, Hagrid scratched his head. "Creatures for Charms Theory Class? How about the Grindylows in the Black Lake?"
Sagres shook his head. "You know the Forbidden Forest better. Do you have any other suitable recomndations?"
"Gnos? Or Ghouls?"
He shook his head again.
In the end, Sagres returned empty-handed but asked Hagrid to help him collect so Flobberworms.
As he passed the Quidditch Pitch, a heated argunt caught his attention.
The Slytherin and Gryffindor team mbers were squaring off at the center of the pitch.
Even more striking—Snape stood in the shadows of the stands, his black robes blending into the darkness, his eyes flickering with an unreadable light.
___
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