HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

“Harry!” Hermione nearly jumped up, her gaze blazing behind her glasses. “I’m not trying to comfort you; I’m protesting a corrupt society built on the exploitation of magical creatures! House-elves deserve wages, holidays, and basic respect!”

“Oh, okay…” Harry paused for a moment, processing this grand idea, then shrugged. “That sounds… complicated. But seriously, if house-elves are free, my situation should improve a bit!”

His friends looked at him with sympathy, their lips moved as if they wanted to comfort him, but for a moment they couldn't find the right words.

The group walked toward the castle, their footsteps crunching through the snow. Their conversation, like the branches of a willow branch, swung back and forth, from the tragic world of house-elves to Professor Greengrass, whom they had just encountered.

"Have you seen the notice board?" Harry asked casually. "Professor Greengrass will be taking over the Duel Club twice a week to train our combat skills."

"I'm really looking forward to it. Finally, it's not Lockhart who's all show and no substance," Ron added happily. "Seriously, what do you guys think the professor would do running into the Forbidden Forest in this freezing weather?"

"Maybe it's something like looking for teaching materials?" Hermione said uncertainly, her voice dropping slightly as she thought of the Flobber caterpillar from the previous practical course.

Ron nodded, not doubting Hermione's words.

“By the way, Hermione…” Harry turned to his companion, “What exactly does the professor teach in his practical classes?”

"Well... it's mainly about... expanding the applications of some spells," Hermione said vaguely.

"It must be very interesting, it's a pity we didn't have a chance to listen in..."

“Um…” Ginny couldn’t help but ask, “Do we first-year students also have the opportunity to take Professor Greengrass’s classes?”

“Of course.” Hermione glanced at her, “but first you have to get Professor McGonagall’s autograph…”

"What do you guys think?" Ginny turned to Luna and Astoria, looking eager. "I'm going to give it a try because everyone says you can learn a lot of useful things in Professor Greengrass's class."

Chapter 114 Malfoy Manor

The air seemed to freeze for a moment, and then, without warning, Sagres's figure tore through the carefully laid anti-apparition barrier of Malfoy Manor.

He descended like a ghost onto the perfectly manicured garden lawn. The ancient manor now seemed desolate, as if foreshadowing its owner's misfortune.

He had been here two years ago, but that meeting was quite brief; Lucius hadn't even let him in. So this time, Sagles naturally didn't intend to knock.

Dobby, the house-elf, screamed in terror, his round eyes widening almost to the point of popping out of their sockets. After all, the wizard who could ignor the manor's defenses and directly apparite was clearly a force that no elf could match.

Sagres looked at the timid house-elf and asked a question without expression.

"Your name is Dobby?"

His tone was flat, and his gaze didn't linger on Dobby for even a second longer. "Where is Lucius?"

Dobby trembled with fear, stammering incoherently, "Oh my God! Mr. Greengrass! Master, Master..."

"Do you know me?" Sagres noticed the sprite's unusual reaction and asked casually.

"Of course, esteemed Mr. Greengrass!"

Dobby bowed deeply, his voice trembling with nervousness, "All the elves know of your deeds, sir. Are you looking for your master? Dobby... Dobby will go and inform him right away!"

"no need."

Sagres struck Dobby with a silent, staffless, and perfectly still motion, instantly turning him into a statue.

He strode straight toward the porch of the manor's main house, his boots echoing monotonously and heavily on the gravel path.

Narcissa Malfoy emerged from the porch looking worried, perhaps wanting some fresh air, or perhaps wanting to ask about Dobby's earlier scream.

When she saw the figure walking against the light, radiating a chilling aura, the worry on her face was instantly replaced by extreme fear. Her blood seemed to freeze instantly.

“Professor Greengrass…” Narcissa’s voice was barely audible, and she involuntarily took a half step back. “You… how could you…”

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Sagrais nodded slightly, politely but without warmth, “I’ve come to see your husband. Where is he?”

Narcissa's face was ashen, her lips trembling. "Sir...please...Lucius...he just did something stupid! He didn't expect it to turn out like this! He really didn't! Even Draco...our poor Draco..."

Mentioning her petrified son, Narcissa's tears welled up instantly, her voice filled with desperate pleading, "He just wanted to get revenge on Arthur Weasley, to cause him some trouble... He never imagined he would unleash the monster from the Chamber of Secrets! This... this was a terrible accident! Please..."

Sagres raised her hand, a simple gesture that silenced her.

"Accident?"

He looked at her pale face, his voice still steady, "Dozens of students were petrified, including even your own sons... Mrs. Malfoy, do you think the word 'accident' can bear such a heavy consequence?"

He took a step closer, the invisible pressure almost suffocating Narcissa. "Where is he? This is something he needs to explain himself."

"No! You can't deal with him privately!" Narcissa mustered her last bit of courage, trying to use the law as a shield. "Even if he's guilty, the Ministry of Magic should be the one to try him..."

Just then, Lucius Malfoy appeared in the shadows of the porch.

He looked somewhat haggard, his expensive silk robe was a little disheveled, and his gray-blue eyes were bloodshot, clearly tormented by his son's situation.

He kept his head down and walked with heavy steps, only realizing something was wrong when he got closer.

Lucius looked up abruptly, and the moment his gaze fell on Sagrais, the weariness and anxiety on his face were instantly replaced by terror, and his face became even paler than Narcissa's.

“Greengrass…”

Lucius's voice was dry and hoarse, and he almost instinctively hid the snake-headed wand behind his back—a move that seemed utterly ridiculous in Sagrais's presence.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to straighten his back, but the fear in his eyes was undeniable.

"Sir...I...I know why you have come."

He abandoned all pointless formalities and pure-blooded arrogance. Faced with absolute power and the opponent's glorious past "achievements," he made the wisest choice: to admit defeat directly.

Sagles looked into Lucius's eyes and said calmly, "That would be perfect, saving me the trouble of asking."

I admit it!

Lucius spoke extremely fast, almost interrupting, as if afraid that if he was a step too slow, he would lose the chance to defend himself.

“It was I who…put that diary into Ginny Weasley’s book. But I swear, Mr. Greengrass, I swear to God!”

His voice rose with excitement, “I didn’t know what it was, the Dark Lord… When he entrusted it to me, he only said it was… an important item. I thought it was some kind of surveillance device or… I just wanted to use it to frame Arthur Weasley, to get him into trouble, to make him lose face, to make him lose his job. I never imagined it would… it would awaken the monster in the Chamber of Secrets…”

"It was all a misunderstanding..." Lucius forced himself to remain calm. "I just wanted to teach him a lesson, to trip him up. I never expected it to cause such serious consequences..."

His gaze swept over Narcissa, who was standing to the side with tears streaming down her face, and he added painfully, "I never imagined it would hurt my own son, Draco..."

Sagles remained silent, his deep eyes sweeping across the other man's face once more.

He secretly cast Legilimency several times, the magic flowing like threads through Lucius's confused, fearful, painful, and remorseful thoughts.

A few seconds later, he received confirmation: Lucius had lied about the true nature of the diary; he might not have known it was a Horcrux, but he definitely knew it was a dangerous dark magic item.

However, his core statements about "only wanting to frame Weasley" and "not anticipating the Basilisk's loss of control and Draco's victimization" are largely true.

At the time, this huge "accident" and the lingering fear did not destroy Lucius's courage to bluff.

He was a smart man, and although he was very remorseful, he still chose to join forces with the Board of Governors to attack Dumbledore after the incident, because if he did not do so, others would suspect that he was involved.

Sagrais looked at Lucius calmly, his voice revealing neither joy nor anger. "Do you know how many people would have died if Percy Weasley hadn't exercised his authority as prefect and reminded everyone to wear their glasses on the stairs that day?"

Lucius remained silent, but his face paled even more upon hearing this. He lowered his head abruptly, his posture more humble than ever before: "Sir, I am willing to take full responsibility and pay any price. I only beg you... to show mercy!"

He dared not say "forgive," but only hoped for "leniency."

He knew that the person in front of him had the ability to bypass the Ministry of Magic, or even ignore it, and directly give him the "final judgment".

The fates of Rita Skeeter, Connelly Fudge, and Violetta Crabbe, who died two years ago on his doorstep, serve as stark warnings.

Chapter 115, Dobby, is free?

Sagres calmly looked at the once arrogant but now humble and begging pure-blood nobleman before him.

Lucius's complete surrender was indeed beyond Sagrais's expectations. He had thought that the other party would make futile excuses or put on airs and talk about bloodlines with him.

It seems fear is indeed a very useful tool, and Lucius is certainly a clever man. He's much easier to control than a fool like Fudge.

Of course, it still needs to be given a nudge from time to time.

“I warned you two years ago, but you clearly ignored me…”

“Sir, we did not…” Lucius tried to explain.

Sagles shook his head, interrupting. "Perhaps I wasn't clear enough back then. So let me reiterate today—"

His cold gaze swept over their necks as he spoke slowly and deliberately, his words sending chills down their spines: "In front of me, put away your petty cleverness, your pure-blood superiority complex, and all those underhanded tricks. Hide them completely. Don't let me smell even the slightest hint of something amiss in any of your 'little things.' Otherwise, I won't hesitate to reduce the 28 Holy Races to 18, or even just 8."

The couple remained silent, terrified.

"At the same time, I must tell you, Lucius, you should really be thankful that no one lost their life because of this."

Sagras's gaze swept over the frozen Dobby, over the tearful Narcissa, and finally settled on Lucius's pale face.

"If a child dies because of your stupidity, Lucius, even if that child is Draco... then your fate will be the same as Violetta Crabbe's, a death footnote in the Ministry of Magic's records. And Malfoy Manor will become a name in history books."

A deathly silence. Only Narcissa's suppressed sobs could be heard.

Lucius froze, cold sweat soaking through the silk of his back. Sagres didn't roar or bellow, but he had no doubt that the other man meant what he said.

“I understand completely, sir.” Lucius’s voice was dry and hoarse, trembling with the shock of surviving a close call, as he bowed deeply at his noble waist. “Thank you for your magnanimity. The Malfoy family will remember your teachings.”

Sagres didn't speak. He shifted his gaze from the terrified Malfoys to the house-elf standing frozen to the side.

He silently scrutinized Dobby, a deep thought flashing across his eyes.

Legend has it that the ancestors of house-elves were "ley elves"—humanoid creatures that live underground, are proficient in earth magic, and can repair rock formations and promote crop growth.

They once established civilizations in deep caves, and those ruins are now locked in the secret vaults of the Egyptian Ministry of Magic.

However, this race was completely wiped out as early as the Metal Wars of the third century BC. The few remaining individuals were sold to wizards by fairies as collateral for debts.

Later, medieval wizards used cruel genetic alchemy to forcibly imprint the "loyalty" of the hounds and the "shame" of the boggarts into the bloodline of the leyline elves, creating the house-elves who were enslaved for generations.

Over the long years, they have become unrecognizable.

The ancestors' immense magic and forging skills have all vanished, leaving only a similar appearance and a long lifespan.

Even more tragically, thousands of years of enslavement and brainwashing have deeply ingrained subservience and servility into their souls. Today's domesticated elves are less like living beings and more like breathing tools.

“This house-elf named Dobby…” Sagres’ deep voice broke the silence.

“It’s yours, Your Excellency! From this moment on, it is your property!” Lucius didn’t hesitate for a moment; he made the decision decisively.

Sagres casually snapped his fingers, the crisp sound like a decree, and the invisible restraints on Dobby were instantly released, causing the little elf to collapse to the ground with a "plop".

“You can refuse.” Sagres looked down at Dobby, his tone flat.