The air seemed to freeze in that moment.

Dumbledore's long beard swayed without wind, and his blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles gleamed with a dangerous light.

"Apologize?" The Headmaster's voice was soft, yet it silenced the entire pitch. "For what? For preventing a talented student from going astray?"

Sagres chuckled, the sound like shards of ice scraping against glass.

"Astray?" He raised his hand, his Everlasting Flower Wood Wand tracing a faint arc through the air. "Look around you, Albus Dumbledore. Who allows the cancer of pure-blood supremacy to spread unchecked in this school? Who silently permits Professors to wear masks of virtue while trampling on fairness and justice?"

His gaze swept toward Snape's pale face; the man's fingers, hidden beneath his black robes, had already reached quietly for the spare wand tucked into his sleeve.

"Don't move, Severus." Sagres didn't even look at him. "Unless you want to embark on 'another grand adventure'."

Dumbledore raised a hand to stop Snape. "What kind of apology do you want?" he asked, a trace of weariness creeping into his voice for the first time.

"A sincere one." Sagres stepped forward, the gravel beneath his feet parting as if of its own accord. "Admit your dereliction of duty. Admit you allowed a bullied student to endure the hostility of an entire House alone. Admit that you knew everything happening at Hogwarts—and chose to look away again and again."

A commotion stirred in the distance. Professor McGonagall and several other teachers were hurrying over, but all froze in place when they saw the confrontation at the center of the field.

Dumbledore's brow furrowed deeply. "I never—"

"You lied," Sagres said calmly.

An invisible shockwave radiated from him; all the torches around the stadium extinguished at once, and a chilling magic swept over the crowd.

"Six years ago, I didn't know. But just now, when Malfoy called Hermione Granger a Mudblood, you were clearly paying attention from your office—and you did nothing."

His words struck like a hammer to the chest. Hermione Granger's face turned pale, and the Gryffindor students stared at the Headmaster in disbelief.

Dumbledore's shoulders sank slightly. "At that time, I was—"

"Plotting for the greater good?" Sagres interrupted flatly. "No, Albus. Not this time. I won't accept any more excuses."

The tip of his wand began to glow with a dangerous red light, yet his voice remained eerily calm. "I was too weak once, and I hoped time would change you. But I was wrong. Hogwarts should be the beacon of civilization in the wizarding world—not a breeding ground for prejudice. Today, I will make this school return to its original mission—"

The red light at his wand tip flared. "Anyone who dares stand in my way will vanish—forever."

The air hung still for several long seconds.

"…I apologize, Sagres," Dumbledore finally said, his voice hoarse. "For my dereliction of duty."

"And Miss Granger." Sagres didn't retreat.

The Headmaster turned toward Hermione. His blue eyes behind the half-moon glasses showed a rare trace of remorse. "Please accept my sincerest apologies, Miss Granger."

"Uh, actually, I…" Hermione flailed her hands nervously. "I don't even understand what that word means…"

"That is a highly insulting word." Dumbledore straightened up, his voice becoming steady and commanding. "I guarantee, in the name of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, that from this moment forward, that word will never again be spoken within this Castle."

His sharp gaze swept over the Slytherin students. "Mr. Malfoy, I will be writing a letter to your father."

Finally, he turned to Sagres. "Is this resolution acceptable to you?"

"You made the right choice, Headmaster."

Sagres turned and walked toward the Forbidden Forest, his black robes billowing behind him.

He should have felt victorious—but all he tasted was the bitterness of ash on his tongue.

His fingers lightly kneaded his wand inside his sleeve. A part of him even wished—wished that the old man had raised his wand against him, so that he could justifiably turn the man into a framed photograph on the wall, even if it meant being branded the next Dark Lord.

But in the end, they had chosen to bow their heads.

And he couldn't bring himself to do it in front of these innocent students. After all, his ultimate goal was a thriving future for the Wizarding world where talented children like him wouldn't have to endure what he had been through.

The setting sun cast his shadow long across the lawn, stretching in solitude. In the distance, the Castle lights began to flicker on, illuminating a group of children still blissfully unaware of the world's cruelty.

Sigh...

Hogwarts must change.

When eleven-year-old children learn prejudice instead of tolerance here—when whispers of pure-blood supremacy still echo in the Slytherin common room—this Castle has already strayed far from the original vision of the four founders.

If the Dark Mark were to tear across the night sky once more, how many Slytherin students would join without hesitation?

Could Dumbledore see it? Of course he could. But on the chessboard behind those blue eyes, these students were merely pawns—sacrifices to be made.

Sagres stopped in the Forbidden Forest and raised his hand to catch a drifting maple leaf.

Flames ignited in his palm, reducing the leaf to ash.

Tonight was only the beginning.

Hogwarts was the ideal starting point—these young minds were still soft and malleable, like wet clay.

From curriculum reform to the House system, from faculty appointments and dismissals to admission standards—he wanted the wildfire of change to sweep through this ancient Castle.

And then the Ministry of Magic, then the International Confederation of Wizards…

"You seem to be severely bothered by Wrackspurts," a dreamy voice suddenly floated over.

"Hmm?" Sagres turned abruptly to find two first-year girls tiptoeing over to feed hay to a Thestral, the setting sun casting a soft glow around them.

"Luna Lovegood. Astoria Greengrass," Sagres said, looking at the speaker while forcing down his turbulent thoughts, "Students are not allowed near the Forbidden Forest. Didn't you know that?"

"Professor, we just…" Astoria nervously wrung her fingers, her light golden hair fluttering in the night wind.

"Ah! The Wrackspurts suddenly disappeared!" Luna suddenly widened her misty eyes, tilting her head to study Sagres. "How did you do that?"

Sagres felt a kind of powerlessness he had never experienced before. With a stern expression, he declared, "Ten points from Ravenclaw hous—"

"How strange, they're back again…" Luna murmured to herself, entirely unaware of the point deduction.

Sagres took a deep breath, the fading light casting soft shadows across his sharply defined features. "Last chance—explain what you're doing here."

"We're making friends with the Thestrals," Luna Lovegood said in her peculiar voice, somewhat reminiscent of Rowena Ravenclaw's accent, but lacking the weight. "You can see them too, right?"

Sagres didn't answer. Instead, he turned his gaze to the other girl. "Astoria, when did you start seeing Thestrals?"

"I can't see them," the younger Greengrass replied softly, her fingers nonetheless tracing the Thestral's bony spine with precision. "But I can touch them. And Luna said they're beautiful..."

Sagres shook his head helplessly, his mood unconsciously easing.

"Alright, you two need to return to the Castle now." His tone had softened. "The Forbidden Forest is dangerous at night."

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