HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

Chapter 465 Grindelwald

The debate among the portrait artists still echoed softly in the principal's office, while Sagres had already walked back to his office through the silent corridor.

He didn't turn on too many lights, letting the fireplace flames and starlight from the window illuminate a corner of the room.

Stinfalis remained lurking in the shadows of the room, his eyes twinkling like stars in the dim light, seemingly waiting.

"Did you get the answer you wanted?" Stinfalis asked sullenly.

"Permission was not granted immediately, but it was not outright rejected either."

Sagles spoke as if to Stinfairis, or perhaps as he was organizing his own thoughts: “Dumbledore needs time, a more detailed plan, and to weigh countless risks. This is within my expectations.”

He walked to the bookshelf, his fingers tracing the rows of thick classics, finally stopping on an old book without a title.

He pulled it out, and the pages turned automatically, stopping on a slightly hastily drawn map—the outline of Central Europe, with an inconspicuous little dot circled in dark red ink.

"Hogwarts is an ideal starting point, but not the only fulcrum."

Sagress's voice was low. "Dumbledore's concerns stemmed from protection, from cherishing the existing order and fearing loss of control. His perspective was that of a 'Guardian.' I need another perspective... one that also saw the ills of the old world, but chose to 'reshape' it in a completely different, even drastic, way. His experience, whether successful or not, is crucial."

Stinfalis let out a slightly puzzled gurgle.

Sagrais tapped his finger on the dark red mark: "A prisoner. A prophet and tyrant defeated and imprisoned by his greatest adversary. He once tried to break the International Law of Secrecy, to let wizards stand in the sunlight, and even to rule Muggles. His methods were wrong, and the cost was heavy, but some of his theories... were not entirely without merit."

He closed the book, a glint of light flashing in his eyes.

"If the concept of 'Magic Network' requires a broader perspective, an understanding of the greatest resistance and backlash that may be encountered in forcibly pushing for change, and even the checks and balances or endorsements of another force in certain extreme circumstances, then it is time to visit the legendary 'Dark Lord' while he is still alive and able to think."

He turned to Stinfairis: “I’m leaving Hogwarts for a few days. You stay here, and if Red Falcon asks, tell him I’m going out to look up some rare information.”

……

The following day, Vienna, Austria.

Even in the magical world, this city is permeated with an ancient and complex atmosphere, where past glories are intertwined with a heavy history.

Sagres appeared in a quiet alley, dusted off non-existent dust, and stepped into the afternoon sunlight.

He did not linger in the music capital.

Through several hidden magical portals and a precise apparition, his destination was Neumorgard, a desolate mountain range hidden by powerful magic within Austria.

The lifeless, dark fortress stood atop the cliff, like a painful crystallization growing from the rock.

There are no Dementors here, but the suffocating feeling of despair and loneliness almost forms a tangible force field.

Sargeras did not attempt to force his way through the outer protective magic, as that would trigger unnecessary alarms.

He skillfully bypassed all the protective magic, and the heavy door opened a crack just wide enough for one person to pass through.

The cold stone steps wind upwards, leading to the deepest part of the fortress.

There are no windows here, only ever-burning magical torches emitting a dim light.

The air seemed to freeze, and time itself seemed to stand still.

Finally, Sagres stopped in front of a stone door without a keyhole. He took out his wand and waved it, and the stone door slid open silently.

Inside was a nearly empty circular stone chamber.

A thin figure sat with his back to the door on the only rough stone chair, facing the empty wall.

His once brilliant blond hair is now gray and disheveled, hanging loosely over his shoulders. His once upright figure is now slightly hunched, and his magnificent robes have been replaced by simple gray prison clothes.

But when he slowly turned his head, his heterochromatic eyes—one deep blue, the other grayish-white—remained astonishingly sharp, as if they could pierce through flesh and blood and stare directly into the soul.

Time and imprisonment have worn away his outward sharpness, but they seem to have made something within him even more profound.

Gellert Grindelwald looked at the uninvited guest at the door, his face showing no surprise, only a slightly mocking calm.

“Ah,” his voice was hoarse, yet still carried a unique, captivating rhythm, his German accent elegant and clear, “a visitor from Hogwarts. With unparalleled ambition… and eyes etched with ‘grand plans.’ Has Dumbledore finally decided it’s time for his successor to witness this failed specimen of mine?”

Sagres stepped into the stone chamber, and the stone door closed behind him.

He nodded slightly, his attitude neither humble nor arrogant: "Mr. Grindelwald. I am Sagrais. This trip has nothing to do with Headmaster Dumbledore; it is my personal choice. I am not here to judge the past, but to inquire about... the future."

"future?"

Grindelwald chuckled softly, the sound hollow in the stone chamber. "What future can a person locked in a stone box possibly have? Or do you, young man, think you can learn from me how to better 'plan' your future?"

His gaze sharpened, and he frowned. "There is indeed something... very interesting about you. What is it? I can't quite put my finger on it. But I know you're weaving something, something very complex. And you believe it will succeed."

Sagles did not deny it.

"I'm conceiving a system, a network. It's designed to change how the magical world connects, how knowledge flows, and how talent barriers exist."

He succinctly described the core concepts of the "Magic Network" and the "Magic Tower," particularly the possibility that environmental changes could allow Squibs or even Muggles to come into contact with magic, and the built-in arbitration rules.

Grindelwald listened quietly, the mockery in his heterochromatic eyes gradually fading. When Sagres finished speaking, a long silence fell over the stone chamber, with only the light of the magical torches flickering on their faces.

"interesting……"

Grindelwald finally murmured, “A ‘system’ that can operate autonomously and is based on consensus… not for domination, but merely as ‘infrastructure’… you even want to fundamentally expand the wizarding population… Ha! This is more… arrogant and more sinister than the grandest dream Albus and I had when we were young.”

He turned and stared intently at Sagres: “Do you know why? Because you've avoided the most direct power struggles; you've tried to turn change into an ‘environment,’ a ‘default option.’ You offer ‘equality’ and ‘opportunity’ as bait, and ‘security’ and ‘order’ as constraints. This sounds much milder and smarter than waving a wand and proclaiming the superiority of wizards. But!”

His voice was calm and cold: "Your so-called 'favoritism towards the Linkers' will create a new privileged class, only this time the privilege is called 'access rights.' And when your system is powerful enough, refusing access itself means being marginalized and losing protection. Isn't that a more covert form of coercion? You and I are essentially trying to reshape the world, only your tools have changed from blood and fire to nets and towers."

Sagres remained unfazed by this pointed accusation: "I admit it. Any new system will create cracks when it replaces the old one. But my network attempts to bridge the gap between talent and birth, not to deepen it. As for coercion? No, people always have the right to choose freedom, it's just that freedom often comes at a price."

"free?"

Grindelwald seemed to find this amusing. “When the whole world is connected to your ‘magic network,’ enjoying its convenience and security, where can the rest of us go? How fragile does ‘freedom’ become in the face of immense social pressure and practical interests? Young man, my experience has taught me that the greatest violence often comes in the name of ‘common interests’ and ‘a better future.’ Albus imprisoned me, and in his view, it was also for ‘greater interests.’”

He took a breath, as if the long speech had taken a toll on him: "Your idea is fascinating, and may even be partially feasible. But you will encounter resistance, more intense resistance than you imagine. Those ancient families, those vested interests in power, and... those ordinary people who are afraid of change and dread the unknown. You will need allies, and you will need... deterrence. Pure idealism doesn't go very far, and I am a living example of that."

He leaned back, a weary smile on his face. "So, you came to me to find out if I'll be your enemy, or... an ally who can offer some 'lessons'?"

Sagles looked him straight in the eye: "I've come to ask if it's possible to conduct experiments in Durmstrang."

Grindelwald gazed at Sagrais for a long time, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming, and finally, he slowly nodded.

“You are more clear-headed and cautious than I was back then. But that’s not necessarily a good thing; sometimes hesitation can cause you to miss opportunities.”

He waved his hand, as if dispelling the smoke. "Go. I'm just a prisoner, I can't give you any answers. Take your grand plans and leave. If one day you really can build your own testing ground in Durmstrang... perhaps I can sense a different world through this stone wall."

He turned back to the empty wall, his back regaining its initial solitude, as if he had once again become a sculpture made of flesh and blood.

“Tell Albus…”

Grindelwald's voice lowered, almost blending into the stone wall, "If that day really comes, I probably won't stay here any longer."

When he left Nurmengard, the biting mountain wind did not make Sagres feel much cold; instead, it ignited a burning passion within him.

Northern Norway.

Deep within the fjord, shrouded in ice and concealment magic, Durmstrang Castle, resembling a black stone fortress, stands silently.

Durmstrang School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is not governed by a board of directors.

Its management is highly centralized in the hands of the principal, and its operation is deeply influenced by the concept of pure bloodline, so it is more like a closed institution dominated by a powerful leader.

Here, the principal wields considerable power, but the power to appoint and dismiss the principal remains in the hands of a group of elderly people hidden behind the scenes: Grindelwald's followers—the remnants of the "Masonic Party".

This time, Sagres did not return secretly, but chose to return to the castle as an outstanding graduate and distinguished alumnus of Durmstrang.

The heavy doors swung open inward with a low rumble.

He was greeted by Vice Principal Olson, who caught a glimpse of well-disguised surprise in his eyes.

A subtle sense of vigilance hung in the air, mixed with the professors' undisguised scrutiny: an accomplished but enigmatic "insider" had returned to the school at a time when the position of principal was still undecided.

The meeting was not held in a regular conference room, but in the "Corona North Hall," which overlooks the entire frozen fjord.

The hall is adorned with portraits of outstanding wizards and explorers from various dynasties, creating a solemn and dignified atmosphere that easily evokes deep-seated memories of past glories.

Ironically, although Durmstrang's time studying there was only two years and was full of ups and downs, he found his own record in the school history archives.

Sagres made no small talk.

He stepped into the hall, his gaze calmly sweeping over the people present—three of whom had taught him during his student days.

Their teaching level is mediocre, and they are also prone to using spells to punish students.

However, Sagrais was not too bothered by this, after all, their curses had not had a chance to fall on him back then.

"Hello everyone, it's been a long time."

Sagras's voice clearly drowned out the crackling of the fireplace flames, "When I needed help the most, Durmstrang took me in and taught me how to use my own strength, for which I am always grateful."

Ms. Olsen nodded slightly, her silver hair neatly combed: "Sagres, your achievements have brought much glory to the school. But surely you haven't returned just to reminisce with us?"

"of course."

Sagres cut straight to the heart of the matter, saying, "I have heard about Principal Karkarov's ordeal and I deeply regret it."

He paused, and the choice of this word caused several school board members to exchange glances.

"With the principalship of Durmstrang now vacant, cracks are inevitably emerging in the administration. Traditionalists, pragmatists, and those who yearn for the old 'glory' are all vying for power in secret. This is dangerous, especially now that external shadows are looming ever closer."

A professor with a stern expression spoke in a deep voice: "Demstrang has its own traditions and emergency mechanisms, and we are capable of handling internal affairs."

“Of course,” Sagres said without refuting, his tone as calm as ever, “but tradition can sometimes be cumbersome when faced with entirely new challenges. And the most pressing challenge right now, besides electing a new principal, is how to maintain the school’s effective operation amidst the chaos, enhance the school’s cohesion, and prevent internal strife.”

He stepped forward, his fingertips tracing lines in the air. Instantly, complex magical lines and runic symbols formed a dynamic diagram of a "magic net" and a "magic tower," which floated before everyone.

This seemingly effortless manipulation of magic caused the pupils of several professors present to shrink slightly.

“I’ve brought an idea, or rather, a tool, that can help you get through this difficult time.”

Chapter 466 A Series of Lies

"The Magic Network can seamlessly integrate with the existing castle defense and teaching systems, filling the management loopholes during periods of power vacuum."

"You mean we need to relinquish control of the school?" Vice Principal Olson asked sternly.

"of course not."

Sagrass replied without changing his expression, "You can decide the area covered by the Magic Tower and the time it is open. As I said, it is just a tool."

“That sounds pretty good,” a professor said dryly, “but why did you choose Durmstrang? Or to put it more bluntly: will Durmstrang become a casualty of trial and error in your grand plan?”

“You need not worry about that, Professor Norif.”