HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

“The answer is—of course not!” Then he didn’t explain further, but started talking about other issues.

Does anyone know how many people die in the Auror Office every year?

Seeing the crowd shaking their heads, Sagrais continued.

How many incantations will a spellbreaker encounter in their lifetime?

The students continued to shake their heads.

"What do the healers at St. Mungo's do when they encounter difficult patients?"

This time, he gave the answer directly without waiting for the students to react.

"The Standard Spellbook allows you to cast spells in the simplest way, but it is not the most comprehensive, nor is it the most effective."

With a gentle twirl of the wand, the floating text exploded into stardust, piecing together a scene on the dome of a medieval wizard inscribing spells in runes.

"The Ministry of Magic offers the course 'Charm Theory and Practice' so that underage wizards can learn survival skills that go beyond the framework of exams before leaving school..."

"Whether you want to be an Auror, a scholar, or an alchemist, you need to master this course."

"Because the foundation upon which you will live in the future will be forged here."

Before the words were even finished, the silver ripples from the tip of the staff had already spread across the stone platform.

Janet White, the previous prefect of Ravenclaw, suddenly contracted her pupils, clearly feeling the turbulent thoughts in her head being calmed by some force.

The moment the ripples touched all the students, their eyes suddenly became clear and sharp.

"Professor?" Her voice was so calm it startled him.

Sagres stepped down the floating steps, his black robe sweeping over the words frozen in mid-air: "Emotion is the fog of cognition, therefore in my class, you need absolute reason."

“Professor Greengrass, are you saying you cast a spell on us?” The students immediately realized the changes in themselves.

A tall, thin boy calmly observed his own body and said, "I'm afraid so. After all, if our emotions hadn't been disturbed, we wouldn't be so calm right now."

“I believe this is illegal. The Ministry of Magic will not allow you to cast such an unregistered spell with unknown effects on the students,” the Hufflepuff students also began to calmly protest.

Sagres ran his fingertips over the textbooks of the students in the front row, answering their questions without turning his head: "'Mechanical Mind,' specially approved by the Department of Education of the Ministry of Magic, its effect is to keep you all absolutely rational for ninety minutes—of course, the effect is limited to the classroom."

“Professor Greengrass, we have never heard of this curse.”

"Because this is my own unique emotional magic."

As he spoke, all the students' textbooks flew onto their desks and turned to page 12.

"Lesson One: The Distribution of Magic Nodes in the Spell of Summons..."

For the next ninety minutes, only Sagles's voice echoed in the classroom...

As the last ray of silver light dissipated through the dome prism, the school bell rang, startling those immersed in the classroom.

The students gradually regained their composure, then looked at each other in disbelief—those complex magical runes were etched into their minds as if carved by a knife.

The students finally understood why Professor Greengrass had said at the opening dinner that "everyone will benefit from his class."

If Harry were here, he'd be sure even Neville could recite those spell decay formulas perfectly.

With a wave of his wand, Sagrais restored the deformed, floating lectern to its original state, and his deep voice rang in everyone's ears.

"The spell will be practiced next Tuesday."

He then ignored the gradually recovering crowd and left the classroom without looking back.

……

The classroom immediately erupted in excitement.

"cool!"

“No notes needed at all!” The Hufflepuff boy stared at the empty parchment. “I can remember every single word Professor Greengrass said.”

"If you ask me, if other courses could also use this method..."

The students chattered incessantly, all appearing quite excited.

Chapter 5 Dumbledore's Tea Party

Thursday arrived in the blink of an eye, and during this time, Professor Greengrass taught two more classes to the young wizards. These days, Professor Greengrass is the most popular professor in the sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts.

After all, there was no homework, and the learning effect was surprisingly good. Such a course is rare at Hogwarts.

When Sagres was still studying at Hogwarts, these sixth and seventh-year wizards were just first and second-year students. They were alumni, but now he had become their professor. To be honest, it felt pretty good.

Sagres never imagined that he had a tendency to be a know-it-all.

He had spent the morning in the restricted book section, and just as he looked up from the pile of books, Phoenix Fox appeared from a ball of flame.

Open the small note that Fox was holding in his mouth; it read: "Don't forget today's afternoon tea."

"What a hassle!"

Sagres grumbled and waved his wand, returning all the spellbooks to their places. Only after doing so did he nod to Fawkes on his shoulder.

A flash of flame streaked across the room, and the figures of the man and the bird vanished from the library.

"Ga~ga~"

A sharp, piercing cry suddenly rang out in the library. It turned out that Lochtis, the raven who had been dozing in the ceiling, had been awakened by the firelight and was now screaming madly again.

Mrs. Pince ran along, lifting her skirt, her face showing surprise and anger, which made the young wizards along the way give way.

“Sagres, if you bring that stupid raven into the library again, I’ll ask Dumbledore to ban you from ever entering the library again!”

The anger in her voice made the students involuntarily shrink back; to be honest, they had never seen Mrs. Pince so angry...

————————————————————

Coffee, mead, or black tea?

Dumbledore sat in his chair and asked Sacramento a question, his fingertips constantly tracing the edge of his half-moon spectacles.

Sagles did not answer, but instead looked up at the portraits behind him—

Iosha Sackendenberg: Principal sometime before 1503.

Ambrose Swart: Principal of the late Tudor dynasty.

Delis Devant: Principal from 1741 to 1768, and a renowned healer.

Phineas Nigellus Black: Principal from the late 19th century until 1926, belonging to the Black family.

Armando Dippet: Headmaster from the early 20th century until 1956, and headmaster during Voldemort's time at the school.

The portraits were whispering amongst themselves, but Sagres didn't listen to what they were talking about. Instead, he casually picked up a cup of coffee from the gilded tea tray, before three sugar cubes had run and jumped into his bone china cup.

He took a symbolic sip of his coffee and put it down, calmly asking, "Is there something you need, Professor Dumbledore? I think I need to go back and prepare my lessons."

“Sagres, since you joined the company, I have never seen you step into the office to prepare lessons, except when you are immersed in the sea of ​​books in the library.” The old man ruthlessly exposed his clumsy lie.

“But I think I’ve taught quite well, and I think my students think so too,” Sagres replied nonchalantly.

It wasn't until Dumbledore took out three letters covered with sealing wax from the Ministry of Magic from the drawer that the problem was resolved.

Fudge's cursive signature glowed red at the end of the third letter, and Sagres's expression gradually turned serious.

“I’m not questioning your teaching methods, Sagres,” the old man sighed deeply, a hint of helplessness in his voice. “I don’t deny your teaching results either; the students’ performance proves it. But what I want to know is, when did the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Education grant you special permission to cast spells on students in the classroom?”

Sagles remained expressionless: "Professor, I believe we reached an agreement back in Azkaban."

Dumbledore nodded upon hearing this: "I admit it, but even so, you should have informed me in advance, and lying to a group of underage students is really not the behavior of a professor."

Sagrass was somewhat agitated; this scene was somewhat similar to when he was expelled years ago. However, he forced himself to calm down. "I don't think that was a lie. You should know that my spells would never harm the students." Sagrass calmly raised his hand, his fingertips lightly touching the letters.

A pale flame rose from his fingertip, instantly burning it to ashes. "And I dare say that if Voldemort or Grindelwald were sitting here right now, the Ministry of Magic would never dare to send such a letter. They have no respect for you."

“That’s just because people are afraid of them, child,” the old headmaster said wearily. “I don’t think that’s right…”

“I respect your choice, Albus.” This was the first time he had addressed the old man by his given name.

"But I'm different from you. I don't like it when others tell 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 very simple: whether out of respect or fear—don't cross the line, and don't mess with me!"

Dumbledore opened his mouth, about to speak, but was interrupted by Sagrais.

"Of course they can play politics in the magical world, but they must be careful who they target. To be honest, you, Headmaster, also bear some responsibility for how they've become. Your tolerance has emboldened them."

Dumbledore's voice was unusually low: "The greater the power one possesses, the less authority one must wield, since no one can guarantee that they will not make mistakes."

Sagres nodded. “I don’t object to that, Professor Dumbledore. Like I said, I respect your choice.” He then added, “However, I am not you. I don’t have your magnanimity, so if those politicians who play power games in the wizarding world come knocking on my door, I will tell them what the underlying logic of the wizarding world is.”

As soon as he finished speaking, his figure vanished without a trace. Dumbledore looked at the empty office with some surprise, but in the end he sighed with relief.

Suddenly, Delis Devant on the wall spoke up: "That child is right, Albus. Sometimes, fear is more persuasive than respect."

Dumbledore didn't answer directly, but instead tossed a screaming sugar cube into his tea.

“He can even teleport at Hogwarts, Delis.” He picked up his teacup and took a sip. “He’s more powerful than I expected.”

“You can’t control everything,” Armando Dippet joined the conversation. “Besides, this kid is completely different from Tom, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

Dumbledore said nothing more. He took out the Elder Wand and tried to repair the marks Sargeras had left on the table, only to find that he was powerless to do so.

A sneer came from behind him. Dumbledore turned around, but he didn't know which portrait had given the sound.

————————————————————

The explosive sound of Sagres Apparating startled several ravens near the pumpkin patch. He brushed the grass clippings off the hem of his robe and looked up at the crooked wooden house before him.

As dusk settled, the outline of the Forbidden Forest turned a bluish-gray, and warm yellow light leaked through the cracks in the windows of the cabin, spreading in the damp air.

Apparition at Hogwarts is no easy feat; even Sacramento expended a considerable amount of magic. However, he felt it was acceptable to do so, after all, he needed to let Dumbledore know that he was no longer the fifth-year student he once was.

He came here to ask Hagrid for some magical materials. Actually, Snape had some too, but Sagres figured that given their relationship, it would be difficult for him to get anything from the former Potions professor other than eye rolls.

"dong dong dong"

The dull thud of knuckles striking the door startled the people inside. Sagres knocked on the door of the hut, but it took a long time for the door to open a crack.

"Professor Greengrass?"