That afternoon, Harry was still lying unconscious in the pristine white bed of the Hospital Wing.
The chaos on the Quidditch Pitch seemed to have temporarily subsided.
Hogwarts, newly washed by the rain, was filled with the crisp scent of earth and grass.
Sagres and the diminutive Professor Flitwick walked along the muddy path outside the castle, heading toward the Whomping Willow at the edge of the Pitch, the direction where Harry's Nimbus 2000 had last been seen falling.
"Sagres," Professor Flitwick said, struggling to keep pace with the black-robed wizard, "regarding Dumbledore, I hope you don't hold a grudge against him."
He advised earnestly, "We all know his intention has always been to protect everyone in this school."
Sagres did not respond immediately. He deliberately slowed his steps so that Professor Flitwick could keep up more easily.
"I understand, Professor Flitwick," Sagres said in a steady voice that revealed little emotion, "but that does not mean I agree."
He shook his head, his tone firm. "Hogwarts is first and foremost a school. Any decision concerning student safety leaves no room for compromise."
He paused before continuing, "Especially when that compromise is made with a group of insatiable politicians."
"Alas," Professor Flitwick sighed, a trace of helplessness in his reedy voice. "Hogwarts has a long and glorious history, but it is also entangled with many things."
As they talked, the two soon reached the edge of the dangerous area marked around the Whomping Willow.
Bathed in the sunlight after the rain, the Whomping Willow looked particularly menacing. Thick branches were still hung with droplets of water, like the fangs of a ferocious beast.
Looking up, scattered among the branches of that violent tree was a pile of gruesome debris: broken broomsticks, twisted branches, shattered tail twigs…
It was Harry's Nimbus 2000.
Evidently, the excellent broom had been swept up by the storm and crashed into the Whomping Willow, instantly subjected to the merciless lashing of the magical plant and utterly destroyed.
"Oh, poor Harry!" Professor Flitwick cried out in regret, his voice rising even higher. "This is truly a disaster. He's had more than enough trouble recently!"
Sagres remained silent and did not respond.
He raised his wand, pointing it not at the fragments, but directly at the restless Whomping Willow.
"Immobulus!"
An invisible yet powerful binding force instantly enveloped the entire Whomping Willow.
Its branches, frozen halfway through a swing, halted in mid-air as if a pause button had been pressed, turning the tree into a completely motionless sculpture.
Professor Flitwick opened his mouth in surprise, then quickly relaxed as he remembered that the caster was Sagres.
Sagres walked straight toward the Whomping Willow. With a casual flick of his wand, a silent Levitation Charm gathered all the fragments and suspended them beside him.
Just as he was about to leave, his sharp gaze caught sight of a series of messy animal footprints in the muddy ground.
They stretched from the direction of the Forbidden Forest, lingered briefly near the Whomping Willow, and then seemed to mysteriously disappear around its gnarled roots.
"Oh, dear!"
Professor Flitwick also noticed the footprints and said with some concern, "It must be Hagrid's Fang! That big oaf always forgets to keep his dog in check. I really must remind him to keep his darling away from this dangerous tree, or one day it will be beaten into a pulp without even knowing why!"
He clearly took it to be nothing more than one of the gamekeeper's pet's misadventures.
Sagres's movements paused almost imperceptibly.
He did not correct Professor Flitwick's guess, merely replying calmly, "Yes, he should be reminded."
"It's time to head back," Professor Flitwick said, his gaze falling once more on the Whomping Willow with a trace of regret.
"Do you have a class this afternoon?" Sagres asked casually, his eyes seeming to sweep over the footprints that vanished into the ground.
"Yes, Charms for the fifth-years," Professor Flitwick sighed, his gaze shifting to the floating broom fragments beside Sagres. "Alas, that broom… I'm afraid it can't be repaired. But I think I should still show it to Harry. He ought to know what happened."
As he spoke, he extended his hand. "Give me the fragments."
Sagres gave a slight nod. "Alright. I'd still like to walk around a bit."
He subtly adjusted the Levitation Charm, allowing the pile of wreckage to drift steadily toward Professor Flitwick.
"No problem." The diminutive Charms professor quickly waved his wand, casting a Levitation Charm of his own to help himself. He carefully gathered the fragments in front of him, then held them rather clumsily in his arms.
Sagres remained where he was, watching as Professor Flitwick, clutching the fragments, trudged back toward the castle.
Sagres watched until Professor Flitwick's figure disappeared around the corner of the castle. Only then did the calm mask on his face instantly fade, his grey eyes locking onto the spot where the footprints had vanished.
He raised his wand again, the tip precisely aimed at the muddy ground.
"Vestigium Revelio!"
Light flickered at the tip of the wand. In an instant, the ground seemed to be illuminated by an invisible radiance.
Lines of footprints lit up. Not only the dog tracks seen earlier, but many more appeared, new and old traces overlapping one another.
There were both cat and dog prints, but the most conspicuous were the dog footprints, repeated again and again, clearly leading toward the base of the Whomping Willow.
They tangled chaotically like glowing streams, finally converging at a crevice at the foot of the Whomping Willow, half concealed by a large root burl and creeping vines.
Sagres narrowed his eyes and strode toward the crevice.
With a flick of his wand, he cleared away the vines and slick moss covering it, and a hidden entrance immediately revealed itself.
The faint smell of earth and mould wafted out. The rocks and thick tree roots around the entrance bore obvious friction marks, unnaturally smooth compared to their surroundings.
A cold glint flashed through Sagres's eyes.
"So I've finally found you…"
He decisively cast a protective charm on himself, then without hesitation squeezed into the narrow hollow within the tree.
The secret passage sloped downward. Its walls were cold and damp, and the air was heavy with the scent of soil and decay.
A cold white glow dispelled the darkness ahead, illuminating the rough earthen walls and gnarled tree roots on either side, like the entrails of a giant beast.
The narrow, oppressive passage seemed endless.
After walking for some time through the stifling darkness, a faint glimmer of light finally appeared ahead.
Sagres quickened his pace, approaching silently, and pushed open the rickety wooden door at the end.
"Creak—"
The teeth-grating sound of friction was especially jarring in the dead silence.
This was a dilapidated house.
Dust motes danced in the beams of light filtering through the broken windows.
Furniture—if it could still be called furniture—lay toppled over, draped in thick layers of dust like burial shrouds and covered in dense cobwebs.
The walls were scored with chaotic claw marks, grotesquely intertwined, as though a mad beast had once been trapped here, desperately tearing at the surrounding walls.
A faint scent of decay lingered in the air, but more dominant still was the weight of ancient stillness.
The Shrieking Shack?
The house in Hogsmeade that no one dared approach, rumored to be haunted…
The name flashed through Sagres's mind at once. So this was where the secret passage ended.
His sharp gaze swiftly swept across the entire room.
The thick dust on the floor clearly revealed recent footprints: human footprints, along with the paw prints of a large dog.
In one corner lay dried, mouldy food scraps, and the fireplace bore traces of recently burned ash.
Clearly, Sirius Black had indeed been hiding here not long ago.
However, at this moment, this legendary "haunted house" was empty.
The target was not here. That meant he must have gone to the Forbidden Forest.
Sagres did not linger.
He swiftly tapped his wand, setting up concealed, trigger-based alert magic along the doorframe and several key spots, like laying down an invisible spider's web.
Then, with care, he used a cleaning charm to erase every trace of his presence, including footprints and scent.
After confirming that everything was in order, he turned without hesitation and re-entered the cold, damp tree-hollow passage, retracing his steps back the way he had come.
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