HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

There's no need to change the same test questions, because these students have actually learned something in class; they just used some incorrect methods before.

……

By the time the last student finished the exam, the setting sun had bathed the classroom in gold. Sagres collected the exam papers, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips.

“Congratulations,” he said without turning his head, “eleven trolls have successfully evolved into humans.”

Several graduates immediately hugged each other, laughing and crying, and they started telling Sagres about their summer vacation. To be honest, Sagres wasn't interested at all, but he patiently listened to the students' endless chatter.

The Hufflepuff girl who always mispronounced spells even leaned closer with tears in her eyes, stammering as she recounted her internship at the Department of Magical Creatures Control.

And Sagles finally raised his hand to stop the alumni gathering that had arrived ahead of schedule.

"Alright, everyone—"

He waved the parchment in his hand and said earnestly to the students, "Next time, remember to learn these before you graduate."

Sagrass left the classroom amidst the students' awe-inspiring gazes, his black robes billowing behind him.

He hurried down the corridor—the next spells class was about to begin.

The theme of the first lesson of the new semester was healing spells. Sagres walked into the classroom empty-handed.

"Today we'll be explaining the distribution of magical nodes in healing spells." His voice was exceptionally clear in the quiet classroom. "After two theory lessons, we'll be doing practical exercises."

He tapped his wand lightly, and a complex spell diagram automatically appeared on the blackboard.

“Remember these three steps: stop the spell immediately, detect the magic, and only then should you heal.” Sagrais’ tone was somewhat solemn. “I don’t expect you to become healers at St. Mungo’s, but at least—”

He suddenly slashed his palm with his wand, and blood gushed out. The students gasped.

"Help quickly." Sagres chanted the incantation without changing his expression, and the wound healed at a speed visible to the naked eye. "At least it will allow you to handle some simple emergencies in life on your own, so that you won't be helpless and at a loss."

Since the last point deduction incident, Slytherin's students have been unusually well-behaved in his class.

Sagres was quite pleased with this—although every time he encountered Snape in the corridor, the latter's gloomy expression made the temperature drop ten degrees.

But Sagles didn't care, because the old bat had never given him a pleasant look.

After class, he went straight to Hagrid's cabin. The autumn sunlight filtered through the shadows of the Forbidden Forest, dappling the path and creating a pleasant atmosphere.

However, a golden figure ruined his good mood.

"—Just sprinkle my special glitter powder around the well, and I guarantee no water sprite will dare to come near!" Lockhart was gesturing wildly as he promoted his "invention" to Hagrid, the medals on his chest gleaming in the sunlight.

Hagrid's face was full of reluctance, and his thick fingers kept twisting his beard.

As Sagles approached, Lockhart's expression instantly froze—clearly, the previous tongue-locking chokehold had left a deep impression on him.

"Ah, Professor Greengrass!"

He wasn't called "Sagres" anymore. Lockhart straightened his collar, trying to appear calm. "I suddenly remembered I still have some letters from fans that I haven't replied to..."

Sagles gave him only a cold glance, and Lockhart scurried away like a startled sniff.

"Thank God... he's finally gone!" Hagrid breathed a sigh of relief. "He's even more annoying than before, isn't he?"

Sagles smiled and nodded.

“Is there anything I can help you with, Professor Greengrass?” Hagrid asked.

After Sagres explained his purpose, Hagrid scratched his head: "A creature for the healing class? How about Grindylow from the Black Lake?"

Sagles shook his head in rejection. "You know more about the Forbidden Forest. Do you have any other suitable recommendations?"

"Goblins? Or ghouls?"

He continued to shake his head.

In the end, Sagres returned empty-handed, but he asked Hagrid to help him collect some Flobber caterpillars.

But as he passed the Quidditch pitch, a loud argument caught his attention.

The Slytherin and Gryffindor players were facing off in the center of the pitch. Even more striking was Snape standing in the shadows of the stands, his black robes blending seamlessly with the darkness, his eyes gleaming with an enigmatic light.

Chapter 62 For My Former Self

The seven members of the Slytherin Quidditch team stood in unison, each holding a brand-new Nimbus 2001, the silver-plated patterns on the broom handles gleaming in the sunlight.

Malfoy slowly stroked the registration number on the end of the broom, a malicious glint in his eyes.

“Let me introduce myself, I’m Slytherin’s new Seeker,” Malfoy said smugly. “Want to admire the new flying broomstick my dad bought for our team?”

The Gryffindors stared silently at the seven high-class brooms before them, unable to utter a single word.

"Not bad, right?" Malfoy said with a fake smile. "But Gryffindor should have enough money to buy a few new brooms, after all, your team's five-star sweepers are all real antiques, the museum would definitely be willing to pay a high price for them."

The Slytherin team burst into laughter, while the Gryffindor team's faces turned bright red.

“At least every member of Gryffindor got into the team based on their own merit, not by spending money to buy brooms for others!” Hermione pointed out sharply.

Malfoy's fake smile froze on his face, as if a sore spot had been touched. "This is none of your business, you stinking little mudblood!"

Upon hearing this, the situation immediately spiraled out of control. George and Fred rushed towards Malfoy, while Marcus Flint stepped in front of Malfoy to shield him.

"What did you say?" Arya, a female member of Gryffindor, asked angrily, while Ron also pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it menacingly at Malfoy.

"Ron Weasley..."

The chilling voice was like a bucket of ice water poured over them. Turning around, they saw Sagrais already standing behind them. And not far away, Snape's figure was rapidly approaching.

"Are you going to cast a spell on your classmate?" Sagrais looked at Ron expressionlessly. "Think it over, Mr. Weasley. If you can handle Lucius, who might come after you, I won't stop you!"

"But Professor, he insulted Hermione..."

“I heard you!” Sagres said, turning to Malfoy.

"A long-forgotten word..."

He looked at the Slytherin group, his voice calm and utterly emotionless.

"I can't believe that after all these years, your vocabulary is still shockingly poor!"

His gaze swept over the necks of the group, and the seven Slytherins took a half-step back in unison.

"Slytherin, deduct 50 points!" he announced calmly. "And you, Malfoy, one month of confinement. If you dare utter another word, I'll add another month."

Draco Malfoy's face immediately turned very ugly.

“Professor, isn’t this…” Slytherin captain Marcus tried to speak.

“Marcus Flint!” Sagles interrupted him. “If I were you, I would stand there quietly!”

"But……"

"Before you speak, think about how many people are left in the Flint family, Marcus."

Marcus Flint's face turned pale instantly.

“Sagres…” Snape approached silently, “Is a month of confinement too harsh?”

“Severe?” Sagres said without turning his head. “Did you hear what Malfoy said, Professor?”

“Too far away, I couldn’t hear you clearly…” Snape said expressionlessly.

“Is that so? I can retrieve his memories and let you relive his brilliant remarks just now…” Sagres raised an eyebrow.

Malfoy was so frightened by these words that he took another step back.

Snape gave Malfoy a cold look. "But if I remember correctly, you've already lost points."

"Yes, but the school rules don't say that you can't be put in solitary confinement if you lose points."

"The one-month confinement period is open to discussion!"

“Professor, he’s talking about Mudbloods!” Sagres reiterated. “Do you have some misunderstanding about the word? Or… does it remind you of something pleasant?”

Snape froze, then his face contorted in a rage. "How dare you!" he roared, drawing his wand. "How dare you cast Legilimency on me!"

The students scattered in fright, but Sagres remained calm and even casually adjusted his cuffs.

"Shall we take action, Professor?"

He looked at Snape with a half-smile, ignoring the wand pointing at him.

“Then I advise you to think this through carefully…” His voice was soft, as if he were whispering, “Think it through very… very carefully…”

But his eyes clearly said: Do it!

Snape's face was contorted with rage, his knuckles white as he gripped his wand, and he trembled uncontrollably.

"Petrify them all!"

A blinding beam of magical light shot out from the tip of his staff.

Just as the spell was about to strike its target, a gray lightning bolt descended from the sky, precisely intercepting the spell.

Snape's pupils contracted sharply—the gray shadow was Sargeras' raven. It was now swooping down on him unharmed, bathed in the cursed light.

The surprise on his face vanished in an instant, replaced by a chilling killing intent—"Divine Sharpness Without a Trace!"

However, the raven once again charged straight at the cutting spell, the sharp spell light flashing across its wings, leaving only a few marks.

In the blink of an eye, the raven had swooped down in front of Snape.

"Obstacles are heavy—"

Swish!

Sharp claws left three bloody marks on his face, interrupting his unfinished incantation.

Snape staggered backward, his wand flashing a dangerous red light once more.

"Go away!"

But the raven was faster—it swooped down, snatched Snape's wand precisely, then flapped its wings and flew high, finally circling and landing on Sagres' shoulder at the side of the field.

Immediately afterwards, a dazzling light suddenly shone, Fawkes' wings tore through the air, and Dumbledore's figure slowly emerged from the flames.

“Always late, Dumbledore,” Sagres said with a cold sarcasm in his voice, his back to the old headmaster. “Just like back then…”

“Sagles, you shouldn’t have—”

“Shouldn’t we continue to tolerate your stupidity and arrogance?” Sagres calmly took the wand from Lochtis’s mouth, his slender fingers gently stroking the wand as tenderly as if he were caressing a precious jewel.