Pointing to the books from top to bottom, he said:
"This book completely dismantles the theory of racial superiority using geographical determinism." — Guns, Germs, and Steel (Jared Diamond)
"This book explains how fictional narratives sustain class systems; you can think of it as the blueprint for how pureblood theory was constructed." — Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind (Yuval Noah Harari)
"This book uses the history of science to show that true reforrs are often labeled heretics. The sa applies to the magical world—most magical advancents were driven by half-blood wizards." — Born to Rebel (Frank Sulloway)
"This book uses modern genetics to prove that so-called noble bloodlines show negligible genetic differences. You and the 'Mudbloods' you speak of share 99.9% genetic similarity." — The Great Gene (Yin Ye)
"This book analyzes how eugenics was distorted by racism; you can compare it to the pureblood movent in the wizarding world." — The Rupture of the Pseudo-Saint (David Wilson)
"This book deconstructs bloodline worship from an evolutionary standpoint: genes don't care about your surna, whether it's Malfoy or Weasley." — The Selfish Gene (Richard Dawkins)
"This book reveals the true nature of bloodline classifications—they are rely tools of power and control." — Discipline and Punish (Michel Foucault)
"This book…"
...
…
"Professor, could you speak a little slower? I can't rember all that…" Draco Malfoy whispered.
"It's fine," Sagres said expressionlessly. "Your next detention is to copy all these books. You'll rember everything clearly once you've written them out."
"..." Draco Malfoy was dumbfounded.
Sagres estimated that once Draco had copied all these books, he would co to understand one truth—what pureblood families protected was never bloodline, but privilege.
And once he saw that behind the so-called glory of purebloods lay only self-serving calculations, that gilded myth would naturally fall away.
"Noctis, keep an eye on him," Sagres instructed the raven perched on the windowsill. "Let him go back at eleven."
"Caw—"
The raven cawed in response, and Draco instinctively shrank his neck, his face even paler than his hair.
"It—it won't peck out my eyes, will it?"
"Don't worry… it only eats the eyes of lazy people," Sagres said calmly, glancing at him. "So I suggest you take this seriously—and preferably don't miss a single punctuation mark."
With that, he turned and walked off, disappearing at the end of the corridor without a backward glance.
…
"Acromantula venom, moonstone powder, Doxy juice, rperson scales, Madagorn Cat whiskers, Murtlap claws, North Arican Mountain Tyrannosaurus tartar…"
Sagres's finger paused on North Arican Mountain Tyrannosaurus tartar. He could almost picture the author of this recipe cackling in so dark corner.
But alchemy was a complex and profound art. Even though he strongly suspected the ingredient list was a joke, he didn't dare leave anything out.
When Sagres arrived at Hagrid's hut, the half-giant was outside, de-worming his giant pumpkins.
"Hello, Hagrid!"
"Hello, Professor Greengrass," the half-giant greeted him, carefully prodding the pumpkin vines with a small spade (small for him). "Are you here for the Flobberworm mucus?"
Sagres shook his head. "I'm looking for so magical materials. Are you busy?"
"Nah, just tending to the pumpkins—you know, Halloween's coming soon…" Hagrid gave a simple, honest smile. "We'll be makin' so pumpkin lanterns for the castle."
Sagres nodded. He tapped the fence with his finger, and the tangled pumpkin vines instantly straightened themselves. All the insects were wrapped up by a spell and flung into the Forbidden Forest.
"Oh, thank you, Professor! You're such a good man!"
Sagres smiled without replying, while Hagrid looked a bit sheepish. He lowered his voice and said, "I heard that recently, you and Professor Dumbledore…"
"It's in the past," Sagres said naturally, with a smile. "It's over."
"Oh, I knew it…" Hagrid bead. "Must be those young wizards spreading rumors…"
Hagrid stepped out of the pumpkin patch and asked, "So, what do you need?"
Sagres handed him the parchnt list he was holding. Hagrid quickly wiped his hands on his coat, then carefully pinched the list between two fingers.
"I've got this… think I've got this too… not sure about this one, I'll have to check… don't have this one, though I always wanted to raise one…"
Sagres waited patiently. At last, Hagrid turned and walked into the wooden hut. After so rummaging, he finally unearthed a few dusty bottles and jars from a corner.
"Acromantula venom—" Hagrid said, picking up a clay pot and setting it aside.
Sagres glanced at the word Jam written on the pot and couldn't help but freeze in place.
"You'll have to grind the moonstone into powder yourself—" Hagrid said as he handed over a few yellowish-white stones, so still speckled with bird droppings.
"rperson scales… here…" He pulled a dried rperson specin off the wall, rubbed it a few tis with his hand, and a pile of dry scales flaked off imdiately.
"I don't know if they'll be any good, since I picked them up by the Black Lake…"
Sagres picked them up and examined them—no issues.
"As for the Doxy…" Hagrid scratched his head, his thick finger gesturing toward the Forbidden Forest. "Don't have any here. I'll have to head into the forest. But they're hungry this season…"
He looked at the sowhat thin, black-robed professor, hesitating for a mont as if he wanted to say more. "Why don't I go with y—"
"No need," Sagres interrupted.
After having Hagrid point him in the right direction, he turned and headed straight into the Forbidden Forest.
Following Hagrid's directions, Sagres hadn't walked far before spotting his target.
A few Doxys glowed dully red in the fading twilight, their vines pulsing faintly like blood vessels.
As he drew closer, the branches lifted and coiled like venomous snakes, barbs glinting at their tips.
"Relax."
With a casual wave of his wand, a precise cutting spell flashed, cleanly slicing through the main vine.
The severed section of Doxy on the ground let out a hissing sound, almost like a whimper, its sap splattering across the dead leaves like bloodstains. The remaining vines froze instantly, then slowly retreated into the shadows.
As Sagres pocketed his spoils, he muttered to himself, "You should thank your past life's commitnt to sustainable developnt—otherwise, I'd rip you out by the roots right now."
He wasn't about to use any blood-luring tricks on such a dangerous plant—unless he was teaching students.
"Hmm.. Should I visit the Centaur tribe to look for more?" Sagres wondered, but ultimately shook his head and gave up on the idea.
The last ti he went, it had been with good reason—going again now would be pushing it. And Centaurs were people too.
He hadn't been able to gather any more materials from Hagrid.
He planned to ask the others at the upcoming Bronze Feather gathering. But before that, he still needed to scour the black market.
___
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