Chapter 5 - 5: 05: I don’t like when people tell me what to do

Time flew by, and it was now Thursday. During this period, Sagres had taught the young wizards two more lessons. Nowadays, Professor Greengrass had become the most popular professor among the sixth- and seventh-year students at Hogwarts. After all, there was no homework, and the learning results were surprisingly good; such classes were rare at Hogwarts. When Sagres was still studying at Hogwarts, these sixth- and seventh-year students were just in their first or second year. In a way, they were schoolmates, but now he had become their professor. To be honest, it felt pretty good. Sagres hadn't realized that he had a side that enjoyed being a teacher. After spending the entire morning in the Restricted Section, he had just looked up from the books when Fawkes, the phoenix, appeared in a burst of flame. He opened the small note Fawkes held in his beak, and it clearly read: Don't forget this afternoon's tea party. "What a hassle!" Sagres complained, waving his wand to return all the magic books to their original places. After finishing, he nodded at Fawkes on his shoulder. A flash of fiery light swept by, and the figures of one man and one bird vanished from the Hogwarts library. "Caw~ Caw~" A sharp, piercing cry suddenly echoed through the Hogwarts library. It turned out that Noctis, the raven napping on the ceiling, had been startled awake by the firelight and began to shriek madly again. Madam Pince hurried over, holding up her skirt, her face a mix of surprise and anger, causing the young wizards along the way to instinctively make way for her. "Sagres, if you ever bring that stupid raven into the Hogwarts Library again, I'll ask Dumbledore to ban you from entering it forever!" The anger in her voice made the students shrink their necks. To be honest, they had never seen Madam Pince so angry... ... "Coffee, mead, or black tea?" Dumbledore asked Sagres from his chair, his fingertips constantly rubbing the edge of his half-moon spectacles. Sagres didn't answer, but instead looked up at the portraits behind him— Eosa Salkendenberg: Headmistress sometime before 1503. Ambrose Swart: Headmaster in the late Tudor period. Dilys Derwent: Headmistress from 1741–1768, a famous healer. Phineas Nigellus Black: Headmaster from the late 19th century to 1926, of the House of Black. Armando Dippet: Headmaster from the early 20th century to 1956, Headmaster during Lord Voldemort's time at school. These portraits were currently whispering among themselves. Sagres didn't listen closely to what they were discussing. Instead, he casually picked up a cup of coffee from the gilded tea tray. Before he could take a sip, three sugar cubes ran and jumped into his bone china cup. He took a symbolic sip, set the cup down, and calmly said, "Is there something you need, Professor Dumbledore? I think I need to go back and prepare for my lessons." "Sagres, since you started working here, aside from immersing yourself in the sea of books in the Hogwarts Library, I've never seen you step into your office to prepare for lessons," the Headmaster mercilessly exposed his clumsy lie. "But I think I teach quite well, and I believe my students think so too," Sagres replied nonchalantly, his tone light. Until Dumbledore took out three letters sealed with Ministry of Magic wax from his drawer. Fudge's florid signature glowed with a faint red luminescence at the end of the third letter, and Sagres's expression gradually turned serious. "I'm not questioning your teaching methods, Sagres," the Headmaster sighed deeply, a hint of helplessness in his voice. "Nor do I deny your results; the students' performance confirms that. But what I want to know is—when did the Ministry of Magic's Department of Education approve your special permission to cast spells on students in class?" Sagres was expressionless. "Professor, I believe we reached a consensus when we were in Azkaban." Dumbledore nodded at that. "I admit we did, but even so, you should have informed me beforehand. Furthermore, lying to a group of underage students is certainly not what a professor should do." Sagres was a bit annoyed; this scene was somewhat reminiscent of when he was expelled. However, he forced himself to calm down. "I don't think that counts as a lie. You should know my spells would never cause any harm to the students." Sagres calmly raised his hand, his fingertips lightly touching the letters. A pale flame rose from his finger, instantly burning them to ashes. "And I dare say, if Lord Voldemort or Grindelwald were sitting here right now, the Ministry of Magic would never dare to send such letters. Heh~ They lack respect for you, Headmaster." "That's only because people fear them, child," the Headmaster's voice held a trace of weariness. "I don't believe that's right..." "I respect your choice, Albus." This was the first time he had called the Headmaster by his given name. "But I'm not like you. I don't like people telling me what to do." He took out his wand and drew a silver mark on the table. "I don't like it—especially when I'm not wrong." "My request is simple: whether out of respect or fear—don't cross the line, and don't provoke me." Dumbledore opened his mouth, but Sagres interrupted him before he could speak. "They can certainly play politics in the wizarding world, but they need to know their audience. To be honest, it's partly your responsibility, Headmaster, that they've become this way. Your tolerance has fueled their arrogance." Dumbledore's voice was unusually low. "The greater the power one possesses, the less authority one should wield, as no one can guarantee they won't make mistakes." Sagres nodded. "I don't object to that, Professor Dumbledore. As I said, I respect your choice." He then shifted the topic. "However, I am not you. I don't have your broad-mindedness, so if those politicians who play power games in the wizarding world come looking for me, I will show them what the underlying logic of the wizarding world truly is." As his words fell, his figure instantly vanished without a trace. Dumbledore looked at the now-empty office with some surprise, but finally sighed with relief. Dilys Derwent on the wall suddenly spoke. "The child is right, Albus. Sometimes, fear is more persuasive than respect." Dumbledore didn't answer directly, merely tossed a screaming sugar cube into his tea. "He can even Apparate at Hogwarts now, Dilys." He raised his teacup and took a small sip. "He is more powerful than I expected." "You can't control everything," Armando Dippet added. "Besides, this child is completely different from Tom; you don't need to worry about that." Dumbledore said nothing more. He took out his old wand and tried to repair the mark Sagres had left on the table—only to find himself powerless. A scoff came from behind him, and Dumbledore turned around, but he couldn't tell which portrait it had come from. ... Crack—! The explosive sound of Sagres's Apparition startled a few ravens near the pumpkin patch. He brushed the grass clippings from the hem of his robe and looked up at the crooked wooden house before him. Twilight blurred the outline of the Forbidden Forest into a blue-gray, and the warm yellow light leaking from the cottage windows diffused into the damp air. Apparating at Hogwarts was no easy feat; even Sagres had expended a fair amount of magic. However, he felt it was worth it—Dumbledore needed to understand that he was no longer the fifth-year student he once was. He had come here to ask Hagrid for some magical materials. Snape had some as well, but given their relationship, Sagres figured it would be difficult to get anything from his former Potions professor besides a glare. Knock, knock, knock. The dull thud of knuckles on the door startled the occupants inside. Sagres knocked again, but it took a while before the door opened a crack. "Professor Greengrass?" "Good afternoon, Hagrid," Sagres greeted him. He peered through the narrow opening and vaguely saw two figures inside. "Do you have other guests?" "Oh, do come in, Professor, and speak," Hagrid said, shifting his massive body as he yanked the door wide open. The hinges groaned under the strain. "It's Harry and Ron. I invited them over for tea to celebrate their enrollment." Sagres narrowed his eyes—the oil lamp inside cast a flickering halo on the oak table, and two small figures were nearly swallowed by Hagrid's custom-made giant armchairs. Harry's fingers were unconsciously picking at a chip in his teacup, and Ron's ears were flushed red beneath his bright red hair. Sagres looked at the two boys sitting at the table and, uncharacteristically, greeted them, "Good to see you two again." "G-good afternoon, Professor." The two boys scrambled to their feet, stammering as the words caught in their throats. Sagres nodded slightly. Hagrid's tone was cheerful. "Fancy a rock cake, Professor?" "Call me Sagres, Hagrid." He waved away the copper plate Hagrid offered. "I came here to ask you for a favor." "Tell me, Professor—how can I help you?" "If possible, I'd like to purchase some unicorn tail hair and Whomping Willow branches," Sagres said simply and directly. To be honest, he preferred dealing with Hagrid. "Buy? It's my honor to help you!" Hagrid patted his hairy chest, his booming voice making the hanging pot tremble slightly. He reached up and pulled a patched dragon-hide pouch from a wall hook, rummaged through it briefly, and pulled out a handful of pure white hair. "Just collected last week, and combed under the moonlight a few days ago." "As for Whomping Willow branches—are last year's alright?" "Of course. Thank you for your generosity, Hagrid." "You're too kind, Professor. If you need anything else, please feel free to come to me anytime." "Thank you, Hagrid." Sagres placed the materials into his pocket. As he thanked him, he waved his wand again, and the messy house instantly began to tidy itself, becoming neat and cozy in the blink of an eye. Hagrid looked amazed and quickly thanked him, but Sagres waved his hand. "It's just a small thing I can do." He stood up to bid them farewell, and at the door, he turned back to Hagrid and said, "Leave the Christmas tree transportation and decoration to me this Christmas, Hagrid. Please don't refuse." Hagrid was stunned by these words. He instinctively said, "O-of course." Then he broke into a pure smile. "I mean, no problem at all. Thank you, Sagres..." Hagrid leaned against the doorframe, smiling as he watched Sagres leave. Harry suddenly pushed Fang aside and leaned in. "Hagrid, are you very familiar with Professor Greengrass?" "Familiar?" He wiped his beard with a hand the size of a baking tray. "As you can see, we do know each other, but certainly not intimately." "Of course, we've had quite a few dealings," Hagrid added. Ron asked, "Then why did you give him so many magic materials for free? Those things aren't cheap." "Don't think like that, Ron. Professor Greengrass was invited back to teach at Hogwarts by Dumbledore." Hagrid picked up a rock cake and popped it into his mouth. "Don't let his youth fool you—his accomplishments are anything but small." "Don't worry, Hagrid, we've learned plenty about his accomplishments these past few days." Harry and Ron exchanged glances, both recalling how Hermione had been lecturing them about it nonstop, which left them feeling a bit helpless. Harry said, "Tell us something we don't know—like the Gringotts robbery you just mentioned…" "I won't say another word about that!" Hagrid immediately declared. "Then do you know why Professor Greengrass was expelled?" Ron leaned forward, his face full of curiosity. At this, Hagrid's broad back visibly stiffened. He looked reluctant, but this time he didn't refuse. "This isn't a secret—I can tell you. But you can't tell anyone else. It's always bad to gossip about people behind their backs…"