The gravel beneath Hermione's feet dug into her painfully; she had practically collapsed, and a violent wave of nausea surged up her throat. She lay there retching, tears and cold sweat streaming down her face and dripping onto the cold flagstones.
The life-and-death struggle from moments ago now felt like shattered glass, each fragment stabbing deeply into her mind.
The enormous figure of the Petrificus Totalused Dark Wizard, and the sight of him turning to dust in an instant, were seared into her memory like a burning brand on an endless loop.
"Merlin's Beard! Uack!"
Ron dropped to the ground, his face ashen as he gasped for breath, his wand still clutched tightly in his hand, knuckles white. He glanced at Hermione's distress, then recalled the squat Wizard being reduced to dust under Petrificus Totalus and Reducto, and his stomach lurched.
"Huff... They… they tried to kill us! They used the Killing Curse!" Ron croaked, as if trying to convince himself, or perhaps to comfort Hermione.
Harry managed to steady himself on one knee, his body still trembling. The three sickly green bolts of light seemed to burn on his retinas; the cold touch of death lingered so vividly that it sent a chill through him.
He looked at Sagres, whose calm gaze pierced through his chaotic thoughts like needles. Harry opened his mouth, wanting to speak, but his throat tightened and no sound came out.
The professor's casual "well done" felt like a massive weight pressing down on their hearts.
Well done? They had just… killed someone. Or, at least Hermione had…
"I… I…" Hermione finally stopped retching. She forced her head up, her face streaked with dust and tears, her eyes filled with overwhelming terror.
She stared fixedly at the hand holding her wand, as if it wasn't her own, but a venomous snake coiled around her wrist, flicking its tongue.
"I used Bombarda… and Reducto… I… I might have killed them! Several of them… several of them…"
Her voice broke, tangled with uncontrollable sobs. "Professor Greengrass… you said… you said to finish them off… but I… I only wanted to…"
She couldn't continue. Tears streamed down, mixing with the grime on her face.
During their first dueling lesson, the professor's cold instruction echoed in her mind: "In battle, either completely eliminate the enemy's threat, or be eliminated by the enemy. Showing mercy to an enemy is a desecration of your own life."
But when theory became reality—when a spell truly took a life—the crushing guilt nearly broke her.
Ron looked at Hermione's anguish, and whatever forced bravado he had summoned vanished instantly, leaving only confusion and a lingering thread of fear.
Harry lowered his head as well. After the adrenaline of protecting his friends faded, a wave of guilt and helplessness washed over him. "It was me… they came here following me.. my presence brought them here…"
The suffocating chill of Knockturn Alley seemed briefly shut out, only for another kind of cold to seep up from the bones of the three young wizards.
The weight of taking a life for the first time pressed heavily on their hearts—even if the ones who died had been vicious Dark Wizards.
Their gazes drifted back to the alley that had just been the site of a life-and-death struggle; now it was empty, with only the flames Hermione had cast still crackling, throwing flickering light across the ruined walls.
Sagres observed them quietly, his eyes passing over each face, taking in their fear, their collapse, and their confusion.
He didn't comfort them immediately. He simply waited in silence until Hermione's retching eased into soft, stifled sobs. Only then did Sagres speak, his voice steady:
"Miss Granger, you are a clever Witch. Your spellcasting was precise and decisive, and under pressure, you made the correct choice."
"But I…" Hermione looked up, her eyes still swimming with tears.
"This is not a fault," Sagres cut in, his tone firm. "It is a sign of courage and strength. The 'filth' you feel is the mark the battlefield carves into every warrior."
He lifted a hand, as though intending to place it on her shoulder, but paused in mid-air. He lowered it again, simply meeting her gaze with quiet composure.
Hermione's sobs faded. She was still pale, but the fog of confusion in her eyes seemed to have split open under Sagres's words.
"Feeling nauseous? Frightened? Feeling as if your hands are stained with blood?"
Sagres stepped closer, his voice calm and gentle. "That is perfectly normal. When you face death for the first time—especially death caused by your own wand—not reacting this way would be truly strange."
There was no praise in his voice, no criticism, just his usual composed steadiness. "This proves that you are not born executioners—and that is something worthy of admiration."
The trio froze.
They had expected scolding, or perhaps a cold, dismissive "you'll get used to it."
Sagres's gaze drifted into the shadows illuminated by the flames deep within Knockturn Alley, as if he were staring at some distant memory.
His voice grew slightly lower, "Also in Knockturn Alley, in a filthier corner… just for a few Knuts, a rat tried to slit my throat."
He paused, then added, turning his head slightly, "You probably find it hard to believe—he didn't even have a wand."
The quiet, unembellished statement made the three young wizards hold their breath. Even Hermione's last faint whimper faded completely.
Only the crackling flames remained in the alley.
"Then… were you like us at that time?" Harry couldn't help asking, his voice rough.
"Not entirely." Sagres withdrew his gaze from the shadows and looked back at their pale, frightened faces. "It took me a minute to figure out: why did I have to kill him?"
He answered his own question, each word firm and unhurried: "Because he was about to kill me. In that moment, there were only two paths—either I died, or he died. There was no third option."
With a sweep of his hand, a gust of wind surged through the alley, instantly extinguishing the raging flames.
"Hesitation gives the enemy a chance. Weakness only fuels their greed."
He waved his hand again, and the building destroyed by the Blasting Curse rapidly pieced itself back together under his powerful Reparo charm. At the same time, without turning around, he spoke:
"Today was no different. What would a few ruthless Dark Wizards have done if they'd caught you?"
His sharp gaze swept over them, and the three instantly stiffened. "Blackmail? Torture? Or… like what you did to that short man—reduce you to a pile of dust blown away by the wind?"
Hermione's body trembled again, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. The cold brush of that green light of death grazing past her hair resurfaced vividly in her mind.
"On a real battlefield, in a true life-and-death moment, any hesitation—any mercy toward the enemy—will cost you and the people you care about their lives!"
He lifted his hand, pointing toward the battlefield that had already been restored to its original state. "Blasting them back, knocking them away, even stunning them isn't enough. As long as they still hold a wand—or even have a single finger they can move—they can cast the Killing Curse in the next second and take your life!"
Sagres lowered his hand and looked back at the three of them.
"This kind of scene happens every single day. Since they chose to aim their wands at innocent students, then being killed is the consequence of their own decision."
He nodded at them. "You merely did what you had to do."
The three of them were speechless, and Sagres finally ceased his relentless lecturing.
After a long time, the young students slowly calmed down.
"Professor…" Hermione's voice was soft and drained of strength, "will that feeling… go away?"
Sagres was silent for a moment before he slowly shook his head. "It won't completely vanish, Miss Granger."
He paused, and his gaze seemed to pierce through the girl in front of him, as if seeing something deeper. "It will settle into your body and become a part of you. But this is not a curse—it is the mark of growth."
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