HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

"Does he have Voldemort's Horcrux on him?"

—Sagres did not sense the presence of any dark magic items.

"Then, inside him?"

Sagres frowned deeply, an absurd yet undeniable deduction surfacing in his mind: "Or rather... Harry Potter himself is one of Voldemort's Horcruxes?"

He immediately banished the thought from his mind: how could a living person be turned into a Horcrux?

Could it be that... more than ten years ago, on that night when Voldemort was reduced to ashes, something unimaginable happened that caused this young wizard's soul to form some kind of... fatal connection with Voldemort?

"Professor, here is the crystal ball you requested."

Harry and Ron's voices interrupted his thoughts. The two carefully carried the four crystal balls back to Sagrada Familia.

With a casual wave of his wand, the crystal ball flew lightly into his wide robe sleeve.

Thank you.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared on his face. After neatly putting all his belongings into his pocket, he calmly said goodbye, "I have something to attend to, so I'll be going now."

Before he finished speaking, he had already turned and strode away.

……

The headmaster's office, on the eighth floor of Hogwarts Castle.

Dumbledore gazed at the solemn-faced young man opposite him and suddenly felt a touch of melancholy brought on by the passing years.

“So you also believe,” Sagres said thoughtfully, looking directly into Dumbledore’s eyes, “that a piece of Voldemort’s soul truly resides within Harry?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore replied softly, “I’ve had this suspicion in my mind ever since I learned that he had Parsley’s ability.”

"So, how can we separate this fragment of Voldemort's soul?" he asked bluntly.

“Sagres,” Dumbledore’s voice was heavy with weariness, “this is not two pieces of clay that can be easily separated. It’s more like… pouring one cup of water into another. You cannot completely remove the outsider without harming it. That’s… impossible.”

"Isn't the meaning of magic precisely to turn the impossible into reality?" Sagres said calmly.

“No, you are wrong,” Dumbledore slowly shook his head, his blue eyes staring at the other through his glasses. “I know you possess many incredible magical abilities, but in this matter… perhaps only when that child’s life ends can Voldemort be completely destroyed.”

“Voldemort?” Sagres scoffed, his tone disdainful. “He has never been my concern. What I worry about is the child himself—whether that parasitic soul will twist his will, drag him into the abyss, and ultimately… turn him into a completely different person?”

Upon hearing this, Dumbledore fixed his gaze on Sargeras' face, as if seeing the man before him for the first time. He stared at him for a long time, and finally, a gentle and complex smile spread across his aged lips.

“Sagles,” he said softly, “it seems that in some ways I have indeed…misunderstood you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Sagres waved his hand dismissively. “Other people’s opinions have never been my concern. I only do what I believe is right.”

“Hmm,” Dumbledore nodded slightly, his blue eyes gleaming with inquiry, “So, regarding Voldemort… what do you think we should do?”

“Simple!” Sagrais said decisively, each word ringing with conviction.

"No matter how many Horcruxes he creates, no matter how many times he resurrects, as long as he refuses to hide like a rat in the gutter and dares to show himself and stir up trouble... I will kill him with my own hands, again and again."

Sagres turned to the old man. "And you, Dumbledore, you pinned your hopes of defeating Voldemort on a child—and a child who would ultimately have to die? Is this all you've meticulously planned?"

Dumbledore remained silent for a long time before slowly speaking with a hint of weariness: "Voldemort is far more powerful than you imagine. His previous power was merely a severely weakened version..."

“Professor Dumbledore, you may not understand one thing,” Sargeras interrupted him calmly, “I am also far more powerful than you think. If Voldemort cannot even defeat you, then he will only die faster if he encounters me. Believe me, I never lie about this.”

The old principal's aged fingers were clasped together, his gaze behind his glasses was deep, and he did not respond.

"In your plan, Harry Potter will eventually die, right?" Sagles continued to press.

Dumbledore remained silent, but that silence itself was a heavy answer.

"I guess you'll keep this a secret from him, hiding it until he has nowhere left to run?"

Sagles paused, catching the undisguised acquiescence in the other's eyes.

"Just as I expected," he said.

“But that plan won’t work for me.” He changed the subject. “I’ll tell Potter what’s really hidden in his soul.”

“My plan… was perhaps insignificant to begin with,” Dumbledore said in a low voice, tinged with deep helplessness. “It’s just that the truth… is too cruel for him right now…”

“Keeping him in the dark won’t make the truth any better.” He stood up and added indifferently, “And if you really want the other person to die, then you’d better tell him the truth from the beginning.”

Dumbledore opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing.

“Don’t worry,” Sagres added before stepping out of the office, “Potter is a good boy… I think I’ll find a way that will both save his life and rid Voldemort of his soul.”

"But what is your purpose?" Dumbledore's voice came from behind. "To save an innocent soul?"

Sagreston paused, then slowly turned around. "Eliminating destabilizing factors while maintaining peace in the magical world, Albus, that's your goal, and mine too. But—"

He slightly raised his chin. "What you crave is a stagnant, tranquil peace, while what I pursue is a peace forged in fire, surging with vibrant life. Our paths, our destinations, may be quite different."

"You want to change things? But do you know how many people will die?" Dumbledore said seriously. "You will face unprecedented resistance, because that's how the wizarding world is. Candles will only become brighter candles, and brooms will only become faster brooms. They fear fundamental change and think it's not necessary."

"Blood will only flow when strength is insufficient."

Sagres tapped his knuckles lightly on the doorframe. "As for 'whether or not things need to change'? This has never been a game decided by the number of people, Albus. The decision always rests with those who have the power to reshape the rules."

“But that still means sacrifice,” Dumbledore’s voice was heavy with worry, “There are many like Rita Skeeter, like Cornelius Fudge…”

“That’s only because they deserved to die.” Sagres’s voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable firmness. “Besides, you weren’t entirely an innocent bystander in their fate. It was your consistent ‘forgiveness’ and ‘indulgence’ that allowed them to walk step by step to the edge of the cliff and recklessly provoke me! If you had given them even the slightest punishment when they pointed their fingers at you and slandered you, they might have known to restrain themselves and not been so foolish as to seek their own death.”

“Power needs to be regulated and restrained.” Dumbledore’s eyes were full of worry. “Uncontrolled power is a disaster.”

“I’m sorry, Albus,” Sagres said, straightening his back, his tone calm, “I will not, like you, willingly confine my power within that rusty, crumbling cage of the system. If change must be driven by my own hands—”

He took a deep breath and said resolutely, "Then, I will first build a flawless and indestructible new cage myself, and I will never tolerate a bunch of incompetent fools pointing fingers outside the cage and causing unnecessary trouble!"

After saying that, Sagles left the principal's office.

Chapter 105 Ginny's Atonement

Malfoy's confinement was finally over. However, ever since that attack, he seemed to have lost some of his vitality.

When Lucius took him back to the manor to recuperate and he returned to Hogwarts, the boy's arrogant and domineering aura had largely dissipated, replaced by an almost gloomy silence.

He often sat alone in a corner, becoming even more taciturn.

Crabbe and Goyle whispered among themselves, guessing that he was still bothered by the Basilisk incident.

But they were wrong.

What truly haunted Draco's mind was the secret he had overheard—the stifling yet intense argument between his father Lucius and mother Narcissa behind the closed study door.

The mother's voice was filled with rare anger and lingering fear as she accused "Lucius of some stupid decision" that almost killed their son.

Draco hadn't caught the specific details, but the vague accusation coiled around his heart like a cold snake. His father seemed... to be somehow connected to the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts.

"I won't be going back for Christmas."

Malfoy made a decision in his heart.

……

The midterm exams finally came to an end the day before the holiday, and the entire castle breathed a sigh of relief. The gloom that had shrouded the area for days seemed to have been washed away by the expected heavy snow, and the air was crisp and refreshing.

Snowflakes fluttered down, transforming Hogwarts into a giant, silvery-white castle.

The young wizards, wrapped in thick scarves and with their hats pulled low, looked like a group of colorful snow sprites, flitting and playing in the courtyard.

Snowballs whistled through the air and exploded on the cloak; snowmen of various shapes and sizes stood endearingly by the roadside with mouths made of pebbles.

As usual, Sagres came to help Hagrid decorate the Christmas tree in the Great Hall. He could have easily chopped down the tree and carried it away with a wave of his wand, but Hagrid reacted violently, like a Niffler being robbed.

"No, absolutely not!"

He waved his large, fan-like hand, his beard trembling with excitement. "This is my job! I have to do something, otherwise what am I, the guard of this hunting ground, doing? Just a figurehead who eats and does nothing?"

He insisted on personally going to the forbidden forest to select and cut down those tall fir trees.

However, when Sagres stepped into the warm and bright hall, a young wizard was already busy helping Hagrid with his work.

The petite figure with fiery red hair was standing on tiptoe, laboriously hanging a string of glittering gold foil stars on the highest branch.

Sagles narrowed his eyes slightly; he knew what the girl was thinking at that moment.

He had originally planned to schedule the conversation after Christmas, but now it seems like a good opportunity.

"Hello, Miss Weasley!"

The little witch was startled by the sudden greeting. She trembled violently, her hand shook, and she almost dropped the star.

Then she turned around abruptly like a startled fawn, and when she saw who it was, her cheeks instantly turned bright red, almost the same color as her hair.

“Hello, Professor Greengrass.”

She stammered a greeting to the other person, her fingers unconsciously twisting the tassels of her scarf.

Hagrid happened to be carrying in a large bundle of holly branches and, seeing this, cheerfully interjected, "Hello, Professor Greengrass! Look, Miss Weasley is offering to help. What a good girl, isn't she?"

His tone was full of admiration.

Ginny lowered her head even further, almost burying it in her thick scarf.

“Indeed enthusiastic,” Sagrais said calmly, his gaze gently falling on Hagrid. “Hagrid, how many more trees are needed?”

"Hmm, we're still missing four big ones!"

Hagrid put down the holly bushes, brushed the snow off his clothes, and said, "I've already cut them down and placed them by the Forbidden Forest. I'll go carry them in now!"

After saying that, he strode heavily through the auditorium doors, his imposing figure disappearing into the snow and wind outside.

Sagres nodded slightly, standing quietly as he watched Hagrid leave.

The only things left in the auditorium were the light reflected from the colorful balls, the fragrance of pine needles, and him and the uneasy red-haired girl in front of him.

“Miss Weasley,” Sagrais’s voice was deep and gentle, “I’ve been wanting to speak with you.”

Ginny's body stiffened visibly, her fingers gripping the hem of her clothes tightly.

“Uh…Professor Greengrass,” she tried to keep her voice from trembling, “is…is there something you need?”

“You came to help because you wanted to make amends to Hagrid for the…” Sagres paused deliberately, looking at her calmly, “…those unfortunate roosters who died, right?”

These words struck like a silent thunderbolt. Ginny jerked her head up, the color draining from her face instantly, leaving only a deathly pallor.

He knew! He knew everything! Expulsion... Azkaban... those terrible thoughts gripped her fragile nerves instantly.