Time flew by, and it was now Thursday. During this period, Sargeras 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 effect was surprisingly good; such courses were rare at Hogwarts.
When Sargeras was still studying at Hogwarts, these sixth and seventh-year Young Wizards were just in their first or second year. In a way, they were schoolmates, but now he had transformed into their Professor. To be honest, it felt pretty good.
Sargeras 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 from 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!"
Sargeras 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 in the Hogwarts Library. It turned out that Loctis, the raven napping on the ceiling, had been startled awake by the firelight and began to shriek madly again.
Madam Pince hurried along, 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.
"Sargeras, if you ever bring that stupid raven into the Hogwarts Library again, I'll ask Dumbledore to ban you from entering the Hogwarts Library forever!"
The anger in her voice made the students shrink their necks. To be honest, they had never seen Madam Pince so angry...
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"Coffee, mead, or Black tea?"
Dumbledore asked Sargeras from his chair, his fingertips constantly rubbing the edge of his half-moon spectacles.
Sargeras didn't answer, but instead looked up at the portraits behind him—
Eosa Salkendenberg: Principal sometime before 1503.
Ambrose Swart: Principal in the late Tudor period.
Dilys Derwent: Principal from 1741-1768, a famous healer.
Phineas Nigellus Black: Principal from the late 19th century to 1926, belonging to the House of Black.
Armando Dippet: Principal from the early 20th century to 1956, Principal during Lord Voldemort's time at school.
These portraits were currently whispering. Sargeras didn't listen carefully to what they were discussing. Instead, he casually picked up a cup of coffee from the gilded tea tray. Before he did, three sugar cubes ran and jumped into his bone china cup.
He took a symbolic sip, put down the coffee, and calmly spoke, "Is there something you need, Professor Dumbledore? I think I need to go back and prepare for my lessons."
"Sargeras, since you started working here, other than immersing yourself in the sea of books in the Hogwarts Library, I have 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," Sargeras replied nonchalantly, his tone light.
Until Dumbledore took out three letters sealed with Ministry of Magic wax from his drawer.
Fudge's florid signature seeped red luminescence at the end of the third letter, and Sargeras's expression gradually became serious.
"I'm not questioning your teaching methods, Sargeras," the Headmaster sighed deeply with a hint of helplessness. "Nor do I deny your teaching results; the students' performance confirms this. 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?"
Sargeras was expressionless: "Professor, I believe we reached a consensus when we were in Azkaban."
Dumbledore nodded at this. "I admit that, 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."
Sargeras was a bit annoyed; this scene was somewhat similar to when he was expelled. However, he forced himself to calm down. "I don't think that counts as a lie. You should know that my spells would never cause any harm to the students." Sargeras 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. They lack respect for you."
"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 also simple: whether out of respect or fear—don't cross the line, and don't provoke me!"
Dumbledore opened his mouth, but Sargeras 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, Principal, 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."
Sargeras nodded: "I don't object to that, Professor Dumbledore. As I said, I respect your choice." He then changed the subject: "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 tell them what the underlying logic of the Wizarding world is."
As his words fell, his figure instantly vanished without a trace. Dumbledore looked at the 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 tossing 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 also joined the conversation. "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 Sargeras had left on the table, only to find himself powerless.
A scoff came from behind him, and Dumbledore turned around, but he didn't know which portrait it came from.
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The explosive sound of Sargeras's Apparition startled a few ravens near the pumpkin patch. He brushed off 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.
Apparition at Hogwarts was no easy feat; even Sargeras expended a good deal of magic. However, he felt it was fine to do so, as he needed Dumbledore to know that he was no longer the fifth-year student he once was.
He had come here to ask Hagrid for some magic materials. Snape also had some, but Sargeras figured that given their relationship, it would be difficult to get anything other than a glare from his former Potions Professor.
"Knock, knock, knock."
The dull thud of knuckles on the door panel startled the occupants inside. Sargeras knocked on the cottage door, but it took a long time for the door to open a crack.
"Professor Greengrass?"
"Good afternoon, Hagrid," Sargeras greeted him. He peered through the crack in the door, vaguely seeing two figures. "Do you have other guests?"
"Oh, do come in, Professor, and speak," Hagrid shifted his massive body, yanking 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."
Sargeras narrowed his eyes—the oil lamp inside cast a flickering halo on the oak table, and two small figures were almost swallowed by Hagrid's custom-made giant armchairs.
Harry's fingers were unconsciously picking at a chip in his teacup, and Ron's ear tips were flushed red beneath his red hair.
Sargeras 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 words squeezed from their throats. Sargeras nodded slightly.
Hagrid's tone was cheerful, "Fancy a rock cake, Professor?"
"Call me Sargeras, 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," Sargeras 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." Sargeras put 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 a blink of an eye.
Hagrid looked amazed and quickly thanked him, but Sargeras 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, "Of course."
Then he broke into a pure smile, "I mean, no problem at all. Thank you, Sargeras..."
Hagrid leaned against the doorframe, smiling as he watched Sargeras 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: "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 put it in his mouth. "Don't let his youth fool you; his accomplishments are anything but small."
"Don't worry, Hagrid, we've learned enough about his accomplishments these past few days." Harry and Ron exchanged glances, remembering how Hermione had been nagging them about it for days, which made them feel a bit helpless.
Harry: "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.
Hearing 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..."
"Don't worry, Hagrid," the boy promised, patting his chest.
"It was a few years ago, when he was in his fifth year." Hagrid sounded a bit emotional. He turned to face the two boys. "Did I ever tell you he was a Ravenclaw?"
"No, but we already know that."
"Oh, alright." He paused, as if recalling. "He was a true Ravenclaw! From the time he entered school in his first year, for five whole years, he never once left the school."
"His family didn't care about him?" Ron was confused at this point and couldn't help but interrupt him.
"I don't know, he seemed to have a bad relationship with his family, that's what I heard. Hmm, back then he would occasionally come to me to learn about the habits of Forbidden Forest creatures." He smacked his lips. "Later, as he delved deeper into magic, he violated many school rules..."
"Violated school rules? What rules?" Ron pressed.
"Loads of them, like reading books from the Restricted Section without permission, sneaking out at night in the Castle, secretly entering the Forbidden Forest, and finally, he burned down a large section of the Forbidden Forest due to a spell going out of control." Hagrid picked up his teacup and took a sip. "Then, Dumbledore couldn't withstand the pressure from the Ministry of Magic and had to choose to expel him..."
Harry glanced at Ron and directly asked Hagrid the question on his mind: "What do you think of him, Hagrid? Is he researching Dark Arts?"
"Dark Arts? Uh, I don't know." Hagrid waved his hand. "But Professor Greengrass isn't a bad person. For example, I don't like decorating the Christmas tree, and I just mentioned it casually, but he, still a student, offered to help me, even though he was expelled before Christmas..."