Time flew by, and by October, Hogwarts grew colder.
The first month of school passed peacefully, with only a few minor incidents.
The most frequent thing Sagres heard was that Harry Potter had been chosen as the youngest Seeker for Gryffindor in a hundred years.
Next was Professor Quirinus Quirrell of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, who had turned classroom instruction into a textbook example of failure.
This puzzled Sagres, as Professor Quirrell, like him, had once been in Ravenclaw House.
Furthermore, he heard that Professor Quirrell had excelled academically during his studies, demonstrating outstanding theoretical knowledge, with the only drawback being his lack of confidence and his introverted, sensitive nature.
When Sagres was a student, Professor Quirrell had briefly taught Muggle Studies at Hogwarts; he had attended his class, and honestly, it wasn't taught very well.
Quirrell's attitude toward Muggle culture was somewhat contradictory—both interested and implicitly prejudiced—which was common in the wizarding world. However, despite his unsatisfactory teaching performance then, it wasn't as bad as it was now.
According to students' descriptions these past few days, this re-hired professor had not improved over the years; instead, he had become much worse.
However, none of this concerned Sagres. Dumbledore had invited him back, and even if Quirrell taught poorly, Sagres didn't need to worry about him; he only needed to teach his own classes well.
Sagres fiddled with the raven's obsidian eyes. His research had hit a bottleneck recently, and he needed to do something else to distract himself.
For example, replacing one of this guy's eyes…
And he had already commissioned someone to custom-make it.
With a flutter, a gray owl carrying a parcel landed at the office window. Sagres opened the window, took the parcel, and simultaneously pulled out a handful of mithril flakes.
There was only one item in the parcel: a constantly rotating magical eyeball, crafted by the alchemy master Barclay. The only reason he knew this person was entirely due to Mad-Eye Moody's recommendation.
Yes, Barclay was the alchemist who created Moody's magical eye.
However, the eyeball Sagres commissioned was different from Moody's. Due to its small size, it only had the function of a scrying mirror, capable of transmitting only what Loctis saw.
At the same time, it retained its previous function of refracting magic—able to emit light from the eyeball and play pre-recorded messages.
However, this was sufficient, as it was originally intended to be a messenger.
Sagres nodded in satisfaction but suddenly noticed the owl still standing at the window, tilting its head and looking at him.
He slapped his forehead. "Sorry, it's a habit."
He waved his hand, and a bag of nearly expired owl treats flew from the drawer. He grabbed a handful and offered it to the owl.
After sending off the owl, Sagres quickly replaced the raven's new eyeball and sent it out for a flight around.
The raven flew swiftly around the castle, and through its new eyes, Sagres saw a group of young wizards training on the Quidditch Pitch.
...
Late October, Halloween.
Hogwarts was filled with floating jack-o'-lanterns and bats, and a strong festive atmosphere permeated the castle.
Sagres sat at the professors' table, having little interest in the lavish feast.
Actually, when he was informed he had to attend the feast, he had initially wanted to refuse. But Professor Filius, who had been his Head of House during his student days and had helped him a lot, made it difficult for him to turn down the request.
Inside the Great Hall, young wizards happily ate their dinner, and professors chatted amongst themselves. However, the castle ghosts were nowhere to be seen—only Peeves was wandering around.
But not everyone was in the Great Hall. One such person was Hermione.
This clever young witch was sometimes not so bright; nearly two months into school, she still hadn't made a single friend.
That alone had already disheartened her—and then today, Ron Weasley spoke ill of her in front of so many people.
And all she had done was correct his spell-casting technique in Charms class.
She had helped him, yet he spoke ill of her behind her back! Hermione repeatedly muttered this to herself...
As a girl with strong self-esteem, Hermione Granger had always excelled academically since childhood, and even at Hogwarts, she was a very outstanding young witch.
She didn't understand why everyone disliked her. Was it so unpopular to strictly follow school rules and refuse to do anything against regulations?
In the washroom, Granger hid in a stall, crying alone.
...
Sagres's gaze swept over the feasting students, finally settling on the famous Harry Potter.
As a transmigrator, he had always carried a question in his mind.
Because he knew nothing about the plot—only that Harry, as the Boy who lived, eventually defeated Lord Voldemort—he had been pondering a question based on his own experiences over the years.
That is, the act of defeating Lord Voldemort had already been accomplished eleven years ago—when Harry was a baby.
So what exactly did that world-renowned fantasy novel from his previous life write about?
How a baby defeated Lord Voldemort?
That didn't make sense!
He had considered countless possibilities but ultimately couldn't reach a conclusion.
Perhaps... Lord Voldemort wasn't dead?
Sagres sat at the professors' table, lost in thought. Suddenly, a terrified cry came from the entrance of the Great Hall.
"Troll!"
Professor Quirrell rushed into the Great Hall in a panic, shouting as he ran, "There's a troll! In the dungeons…"
He ran directly to Dumbledore, gasping, and said, "I thought you should know…"
Then he collapsed to the ground, neatly fainting.
Thud~
The Great Hall immediately erupted into chaos. Young wizards stood up, faces filled with terror, shouting and screaming.
Sagres watched the chaotic Great Hall without speaking; he even remained calmly seated in his chair.
Although he, too, had some doubts.
How could a troll appear inside Hogwarts Castle?
And Quirrell's behavior was somewhat illogical. Sagres knew he was a bit timid and cowardly, and panic was understandable—but to faint outright…
"Silence!"
Dumbledore raised his wand and made several loud bangs, and the noisy Great Hall quieted down again.
"Prefects, lead the students back to their dormitories."
"Professors, follow me to the dungeons to deal with the troll."
The Headmaster's composure calmed the young wizards.
The students huddled together under the Prefects' direction. Ron looked at Harry and whispered, "Hermione doesn't know about the troll! She's still crying in the girls' bathroom!"
Harry immediately reacted and decided, "We have to go tell her…"
Ron made a bitter face but didn't argue, following Harry and slipping out of the line amidst the confusion…
And Sagres, upon hearing Dumbledore's instructions, also stood up and waved to Noctis on the chandelier frame. The raven immediately swooped down and landed steadily on his arm.
Sagres and several professors went to the dungeons together. During this time, Dumbledore and Snape left the group and disappeared.
However, when they arrived at the dungeons, they didn't find any sign of the troll.
Professor McGonagall looked confused and spoke in surprise, "It's not here—there's no troll here…"
"Hmm.. It's been here. I can smell it," Sagres said casually, surveying the surroundings.
Professor McGonagall nodded, then turned to the other two professors. "Filius, you and Sprout go watch the students. Don't let them come over. Sagres—"
"I know." Sagres nodded, waved his hand to release the raven, and said gravely, "Find it."
"Caw~"
Noctis flew into the corridor, quickly searching every passage.
Sagres narrowed his eyes, silently watching the images transmitted through its eyes.
Suddenly, a piercing scream came from the girls' bathroom. Noctis, flying through the corridor, immediately turned and shot like an arrow toward the bathroom door.
Inside the washroom, the figure of the troll came into view.
It was a Mountain Troll, with gray skin, a lumpy body, and flat, calloused feet. But there wasn't just a troll here—there were also three disheveled young wizards.
"Shadowless celeritas."
Sagres's figure instantly vanished before the eyes of the professors.
At this moment, the washroom was in chaos. Sinks and stalls had been smashed, and water sprayed from burst pipes.
Hermione cowered in a corner, too frightened to move.
Ron Weasley was throwing broken wood at the troll nearby.
Harry was being held upside down by his ankle, dangling in the air in the troll's grip.
And the troll, holding a wooden club in one hand and Harry in the other, was about to strike the young wizard with a blow.
The raven immediately let out a piercing shriek.
...
Hermione Granger was filled with regret at that moment. She looked at the fifteen-foot-tall grayish-black troll, her heart full of despair.
All her previous courage had vanished. She watched with her own eyes as Harry Potter climbed onto the troll's back to save her, sticking his wand into its nostril.
She wanted to help too, but her legs were trembling, and she couldn't even stand up.
For a moment, she felt that everything she was experiencing was an absurd dream.
At first, she thought it was a beautiful dream about magic—but then, a terrifying troll suddenly appeared in that dream.
Now the club was about to swing, and as the boy was pounded into minced meat, the beautiful dream would shatter, and everything would quickly turn into a nightmare from which she couldn't wake.
Desperate, Hermione curled up helplessly in the corner… Then she saw a strange scene—the new professor's raven flew in through the doorway. After a piercing shriek, Professor Greengrass appeared out of thin air.
He raised his wand at the troll and chanted a spell decisively and coldly.
"Crimson Tear."
Blood-red light shot from the tip of his wand, striking the troll in the blink of an eye.
Splash~
The mountain-like troll instantly turned into minced meat. The powerful magical fluctuations blew the collapsing flesh onto the washroom walls, casting a huge crimson, monstrous shadow.
The troll died just like that.
The three young wizards were safe, but they were still shaken—especially Harry, who was drenched in troll blood and guts, the stench making him nauseous.
"Scourgify."
Sagres put away his wand and pointed a finger at the three students.
An invisible wave of air swept over them, and the three immediately looked brand new. The filth on their wizard robes was gone, cold sweat and tears disappeared, and even the strands of hair stuck to their foreheads became dry and smooth.
Ignoring the stunned trio, Sagres continued to cast spells.
"Reparo!"
The broken sinks were restored, and the splashing water returned from the puddles on the ground to the broken pipes.
Then he picked up a wand from the ground, looked at the trio, and placed it back into Harry's hand.
The three young wizards were about to say something, but Sagres raised his hand to stop them.
"Corpse Accio."
The minced meat rose from the ground, forming a sphere, and blood seeped from the gaps, turning into thin lines.
The thin lines wrapped around the sphere, which slowly floated toward them, suspended in front of everyone.
"No need to explain." He showed a slight smile. "You should save your excuses for your Head of House. I guess she won't be too happy to see you here in a moment."
As soon as he finished speaking, hurried footsteps came from the doorway.
Snape, Quirrell, and Professor McGonagall appeared together at the entrance.
"Now you can start explaining."