"Hmm.. You can try to understand how Nicolas Flamel uses the Philosopher's Stone to create the Elixir of Life," Sagres said. "It might be useful later."

Nightingale nodded. The person who currently needed that item the most in Bronze Feather was Thunderbird, the Dean of Ilvermorny, who was already over a hundred years old.

"Tell me if you need help," Sagres added casually, his tone calm. "There are probably quite a few people coveting his inheritance."

"Do we need to get involved in this matter too?" Kestrel, who had finished collecting, stood up and carefully placed her travel bag under her robe.

Sagres shook his head. "All we want is the method of using the Philosopher's Stone, nothing else."

He continued walking, speaking as he went, "Besides, as long as Nicolas Flamel donates his research findings intact to his alma mater, it won't be difficult for Villes to access them. What we need to be wary of now are those with ulterior motives, who might try to rob him along the way."

"That's right, after all, both he and his wife are still alive," Nightingale explained softly to Kestrel. "It's too early to consider these things."

Suddenly, heavy footsteps and the distinct panting of a dog came from the distance.

"Who's there?"

A booming voice pierced through the bushes.

Moments later, Hagrid's burly figure emerged, holding a swaying oil lamp, with Fang panting beside him.

"Oh! It's you!" Hagrid's eyes widened in surprise, the lamp's light flickering across his unruly beard. "Professor Greengrass? And you two… uh, wait, why are you wandering around in the Forbidden Forest at this hour?"

Sagres nodded slightly, his demeanor calm. "We were collecting some materials, Hagrid."

Fang curiously came closer, sniffing the hem of Kestrel's robe with his wet nose, then suddenly let out a loud sneeze.

He had clearly picked up the scent of Acromantula. Hagrid understood at once; the surprise on his face quickly turned to worry, his brows knitting together. "Wait… you didn't go to…"

"Aragog's lair? Yes," Sagres admitted frankly. "We needed some fresh venom."

"You weren't hurt, were you?" Hagrid's face flushed red in alarm. "And you didn't… hurt Aragog, did you? He's very old now, not in the best health, and…"

"He's safe and sound," Sagres replied calmly, "though his offspring did try to make us their supper."

Hagrid looked both guilty and concerned. "Aragog's actually very docile, as long as you talk to him nicely and use the right method…"

"Docile?" Kestrel couldn't help but interject. "The bones in his lair are piled as high as a small mountain!"

Hagrid awkwardly rubbed his large hands. "That… that's just the way it is! The Forbidden Forest has its rules…"

"Don't worry, he's fine," Nightingale reassured Hagrid. "We only took some venom from him."

Hagrid looked at her gratefully, then offered, "Come to my place for a bit? Have some hot tea and a few of my freshly baked pastries to warm yourselves up? You must be starving after walking all night."

Sagres didn't refuse, motioning for the other two to follow as he walked beside Hagrid.

"Speaking of which," Sagres said casually, "how did you teach Aragog to speak? That's a miracle in magical biology."

Hagrid's expression immediately brightened. "Ah! That was a long process!"

He gestured animatedly. "I kept him in a cupboard in the Castle, read Fairy Tales for Little Wizards to him every day, talked to him… It took a full two years before he stammered out his first word—'Hagrid'!"

At that, the big man's eyes lit up.

Nightingale and Kestrel exchanged an incredulous glance.

"Later…" The light in Hagrid's eyes quickly dimmed, and his voice dropped low. "Later, something happened at the Castle… there was an attack, a student… died. They couldn't find the culprit, and they… they all suspected Aragog did it."

He clenched his fists. "But I knew it wasn't him! I swear! Aragog would never hurt a student—he knows that's wrong!"

"What happened then?"

Hagrid took a deep breath, his voice thick with disappointment. "Later, he escaped into the Forbidden Forest to hide. Headmaster Dippet… well, he couldn't stand up to the pressure from the Ministry of Magic and the school governors, and he expelled me…"

Hagrid's voice was heavy with helplessness.

Fang seemed to sense his master's mood, gently rubbing his head against Hagrid's leg.

Hagrid calmed himself and continued, a note of fondness in his tone. "Then, I couldn't bear to leave him all alone, so I spent several months searching through the forests of Albania and finally found a female Acromantula—Mosag. Then I brought her to the Forbidden Forest to keep Aragog company."

Sagres gently shook his head. "In a way, you could be considered exceptionally gifted."

His tone carried a hint of something hard to define. "You successfully turned a XXXXX-rated dangerous creature into a talking XXXXX-rated dangerous creature."

Hagrid quickly defended himself. "But he's never intentionally harmed a Hogwarts student!"

"Who knows?" Sagres replied calmly. "In his lair, there are at least several human skeletons in varying states of freshness."

Hagrid looked as if he'd been jabbed in a sore spot. He lowered his gaze to his boots. "I… I'll go talk to Aragog…"

Fang, sensing the tension, let out a few uneasy whines, his tail drooping.

"I think that's unnecessary," Sagres said evenly. "We've already come to an agreement with him."

As he finished speaking, Hagrid's crooked little wooden house came into view.

The Beauxbatons Abraxan horses were tethered beside the hut, and barrels of firewhisky were stacked nearby.

The four people and one dog walked straight into the cabin; the warmth of the fireplace and the familiar mixture of odd smells welcomed them inside.

Hagrid clumsily took a sizzling copper kettle from the fire and poured each person a cup of hot, strong tea. The coarse ceramic mugs looked tiny in his massive hands.

"Professor," Hagrid said cautiously, holding his own cup, "about that Umbridge matter…"

"Don't worry," Sagres replied calmly. "If the Ministry of Magic has any sense, they'll stay quiet."

At those words, Hagrid's face broke into a wide, hearty smile.

"I knew you'd be fine—Hermione was just talking about it with me yesterday."

He pulled out some freshly baked cauldron cakes and offered them to the group.

As they chatted, the topic gradually shifted to the dueling tournament.

"…The dueling arena you created is probably the best thing someone has come up with in the past few years," Hagrid said. "Students are bound to learn a lot—much better than just reading from books."

"Its function is similar to Quidditch," Sagres said, taking a sip of tea. "Even if they don't learn much, it gives energetic young Wizards a safe and legal outlet."

"You're absolutely right!" Hagrid nodded vigorously. Then, with a rare, bashful expression, he rubbed his large, fan-like hands together awkwardly. "Er… Professor… can I… can I apply for a dueling badge too?"

He asked shyly, like a big child asking for sweets.

"No problem," Sagres nodded calmly. "Headmaster Dumbledore and many Professors have already applied. Though later on, we may need a few small prizes to reward the winners."

"Leave it to me!" Hagrid beamed, thumping his chest enthusiastically. "Anything I've got here—just say the word!"

Nightingale's gaze happened to sweep across the hut, noting the various rare magical materials casually stacked in the corner.

"Are those… dried glow-in-the-dark hallucinogenic mushrooms?" Nightingale asked, pointing to a pile of purplish-black dried mushrooms.

"What? Oh, you mean those?"

Hagrid glanced at the mushrooms. "They glow at night—very pretty—but hallucinations? No, no. They just make you sleepy when you eat them, and you sleep especially well."

The group's expressions shifted subtly. It seemed Hagrid's powerful half-Giant bloodline made him nearly immune to substances that were highly toxic and dangerous to ordinary Wizards.

~~~~~~~

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