Sagres stood up, his wand sweeping through the air as a massive parchment covered in ancient incantations slowly unfurled before everyone.

"The situation is deteriorating," he said calmly. "The Wizarding World is in chaos, so you must learn new spells to protect yourselves."

Everyone's fingers unconsciously traced the red-glowing incantations on the parchment.

"Are these all... Dark Arts?"

"Correction," Sagres replied, unbothered. "They are highly effective survival magic forbidden by the Ministry of Magic."

He snapped his fingers, and the text on the parchment abruptly rearranged into three columns:

[Auxiliary Protection Spells]

[Movement and Escape Spells]

[Control and Offensive Spells]

Sagres's gaze was deep, his voice quiet. "I hope every member of Bronze Feather can live safely and for a long time."

Thunderbird was caught off guard by his words, a flicker of surprise flashing across his wrinkled face. Sagres immediately understood and gave a rare smile. "Of course, Mr. Thunderbird is an exception."

"What price do we have to pay?" Robin's sharp gaze pierced through his mask, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the edge of the parchment.

"None," Sagres said firmly. "You've already proven your character through your actions. Each of you is a good person… Of course, if one day I need help, I hope you'll step forward and do what you can."

Silence spread through the stone chamber. Sagres didn't rush them, simply waiting quietly.

"If no one objects, I'll take that as agreement," he said, tapping the table with a finger. The parchment instantly split into eight copies in midair, each one landing precisely in front of its intended recipient.

"We'll meet on the night of the full moon each month. I'll teach you everything I know. How much you can learn depends entirely on your own ability."

With that, Sagres gave a casual wave. "Well then, see you in a week…"

Before he even finished speaking, Sagres's figure vanished from where he stood. Everyone exchanged stunned glances, staring blankly at the empty space—until Kestrel suddenly let out a cheer.

"Look at this!" She jabbed a finger at the parchment, nearly poking through it as she pointed beneath [Raven Shadow Body Instant]: Can transform into a shadow, fly swiftly, and bypass anti-Apparition wards!

"If I learn this, I won't need a broomstick anymore!" Kestrel said excitedly. "You probably don't know this, but I've never been great at flying…"

Everyone looked at one another, and soon the stone room was filled with the sounds of animated discussion.

Under the flickering candlelight, the densely packed spells on the parchment glowed in various hues—scarlet Dark Arts, ethereal blue ancient magic, gilded rune magic…

Mastering all of them would be impossible, but even learning just a few could be enough to stand out in the Wizarding World.

"Does he really know all of these spells?" Snowy Owl asked, clearly doubtful.

"I doubt he'd write down spells he doesn't know," Nightingale replied without looking up. "What do you think?"

Everyone nodded in agreement.

These were spells Sagres had collected from all over the world over the course of more than ten years—some from stone tablets buried deep within the Forbidden Forest, others from crystal balls traded on the Goblin black market, and still others from the Pensieves of long-dead Dark Wizards...

But a few of the most dangerous spells were never listed.

Those self-created incantations had long since fused with Sagres's soul and simply couldn't be taught... or SHOULDN'T be taught.

…

…

Upon returning to Hogwarts, Sagres immediately headed for the Restricted Section—he needed to look something up.

Mana Siphon—this alchemical technique, discovered on a parchment manuscript in an alchemy lab—suddenly reopened a path of thinking he had long since sealed away.

A mad idea surged in his mind: what if this alchemical method could be converted into spellwork?

"Then I could create a spell capable of drawing magic from others, thereby forcefully increasing the total amount of mana in my body!"

If he could really achieve that... would his cheat ability reactivate?

With that thought, Sagres threw himself into researching the material with renewed obsession. Whenever fatigue hit, he simply used Sleep-Inducing Vapor and an Awakening Charm on himself.

It wasn't until the following afternoon that he finally left the Hogwarts Library—not because he'd had a breakthrough, but because he had to attend class.

It was another lesson on healing spells, and Sagres was feeling rather sluggish after so many days of nonstop study and combat. After all, the last time he'd slept properly was before the start of term—nearly a month ago.

In class, Sagres looked exceptionally haggard. To stay awake, he mechanically waved his wand, slicing open his arm again and again—blood snaked down his pale skin, staining his black robes with dark red streaks.

"Pay attention to the pattern of the wound's contraction," his voice was unbearably hoarse. "The magic flow for advanced healing spells should follow a spiral path…"

Hermione, seated in the front row, suddenly gagged. Her face turned pale with fright, clearly unwell. Sagres then noticed the students' hands were trembling as they gripped their wands.

Finally, when class ended, Sagres knew he desperately needed to rest; even his mechanical mind was not able to hold him anymore.

His peripheral vision was filled with black spots, and his ears echoed with intermittent hallucinations—sometimes the chanting of magical runes, sometimes the roaring whispers of alchemical manuscripts.

"Professor… Professor!" a student called out to him. Sagres couldn't help but sigh.

"What is it, Potter?" he asked, rubbing his temples, where his blood vessels throbbed painfully.

"Do you know why some people sometimes hear strange noises in the castle?"

Sagres thought to himself—what kind of absurd question is this?

He was already hearing plenty of strange noises right now: some telling him to sleep, others pushing him to keep researching, like a chorus of hags throwing a party inside his skull.

"Be specific," he said, suppressing his irritation. "Time? Location? What kind of noises?"

"Uh, I.. I mean.. a friend of mine, in Professor Lockhart's office at night, heard some strange words…"

"Ghosts? Or one of Peeves's new tricks?" Sagres replied somewhat dismissively—though only because the question had been far too vague.

Harry nodded in confusion, clearly not entirely satisfied with the answer.

But he also knew he couldn't blame anyone else; his question had been vague to begin with, so naturally, the response would be just as vague.

Still, Sagres's guess wasn't entirely without basis—because that very afternoon, Lockhart had been enthusiastically boasting in class about his "feat of taming Peeves," only to be immediately struck from above by a dung bomb.

The entire corridor rang with Peeves's shrill, mocking voice:

"Liar Lockhart—"

"Boaster Lockhart—"

"Look at his new hairstyle—"

A moment later, a rotten egg hit Lockhart squarely on the forehead. The yolk slowly slid down his nose, and the entire classroom fell silent—only the muffled snickers of students trying to hold back laughter remained.

"Th-this is an attack on a professor!" Lockhart fumbled for his wand. "Watch me—"

Peeves swooped forward, snatched the wand from his hand, and tossed it neatly out the window.

Then, as if by magic, he produced a bucket filled with ink balloons. "Taste Peeves's special ink eggs!"

One balloon hit Lockhart in the face, bursting on contact. Ink sprayed everywhere, transforming his pristine white robes into something resembling an abstract painting.

"My new robes!"

Lockhart shrieked and leapt to his feet—only to step on a banana peel no one had noticed Peeves drop.

Thud thud thud Bang!

He slid three meters across the floor, finally landing on the lecturer's desk in a perfect breaststroke pose.

Peeves somersaulted in the air. "Full marks!"

The classroom erupted into deafening laughter. Seamus rolled off his chair, howling. Ron slapped the desk so hard it echoed louder than the Whomping Willow, and even Hermione was shaking uncontrollably, covering her mouth.

"What are you laughing at? Did Lord Peeves give you permission to laugh?"

With that, Peeves hurled a few more ink balloons into the student crowd, and screams immediately echoed down the corridor.

Lockhart struggled to get up, his wig crooked, revealing the ink-stained hair beneath. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, another ink balloon hit him squarely, sealing his lips shut.

Then chaos truly broke loose. Peeves launched ink balloons indiscriminately—though Lockhart remained his primary target, many young wizards weren't spared either.

"Class dismissed!" Peeves declared cheerfully. After throwing the last balloon, he whistled and soared away in loops.

His fading song still echoed down the hallway:

"Lockhart is a big fool~♫

Only knows how to brag and show off~♪"

Lockhart stood frozen, an eggshell on his head, streamers draped across his robes—looking like a Christmas tree ravaged by a hurricane.

He forced a smile. "Th-this was a planned demonstration… on how to gracefully—"

"Professor," Neville, uncharacteristically bold, raised his hand. "Your hair is on fire."

"Eh?"

Only then did Lockhart realize Peeves had "helpfully" lit a small flame on his wig before flying off. The classroom once again filled with screams as Lockhart frantically slapped at his head.

But none of this had anything to do with Sagres.

At that moment, all he wanted was a good sleep—then to find a quiet place to finally complete that damned Mana Siphon spell.

___

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