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The October night wind swept fallen leaves past the spires of Hogwarts. Sagres set down his manuscript of De Vermis Mysteriis and glanced at the magical hourglass in the Hogwarts Library.

The timing was perfect—midnight was near.

He rose to his feet, walked slowly out of the castle, passed the greenhouse, crossed the Quidditch Pitch, skirted around Hagrid's pumpkin patch, and finally ventured deep into the Forbidden Forest.

He stopped only when surrounded by thick thorns and boulders, then slowly drew his wand from his pocket.

"Ossa lapidea pro trabibus, spinae pro tegulis."

The ground surged upward, forming stark white stone beams. Fallen dead trees twisted together to form a dome, which was then layered with thorns and glowing moss.

In the blink of an eye, a safe house shaped like a giant beast's skull lay crouched in the forest clearing.

Sagres pulled the Bronze Feather badge from within his robes, his fingers gently brushing its surface.

Eight figures appeared one after another, each accompanied by the sharp crack of spatial distortion, followed by several voices echoing through the Forbidden Forest.

"Merlin's smelly socks, can't we change this blasted arrival method?" Stork muttered, covering his mouth.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Too far of a trip—probably a little nauseous…" Swift guessed.

"Alright, everyone, let's head inside and talk," Sagres said, clapping his hands.

Swoosh~! Flames suddenly lit up in the "eye sockets" of the safe house, like a giant beast slowly opening its eyes.

The night wind whistled through the rib-like window frames, producing a low, mournful moan.

Kestrel's Adam's apple bobbed. "Do we really have to hold a meeting in such a… creative place?"

"Don't be afraid…" Thunderbird quipped, "Your wand matches the decor perfectly."

"Thank you for your comfort," Kestrel replied with a deadpan expression, putting away her spine-shaped wand. "Though I only feel insulted."

Snowy Owl nervously turned her Eastern European-style silver ring. "Allow me to ask once more—where exactly are we?"

"Deep in the Forbidden Forest, about ten miles from Hogwarts," Sagres answered casually.

"What?" Snowy Owl exclaimed. "I can't be in Britain. I've been banned from entering by the British Ministry of Magic. I still have four years left on the ban!"

"Heh~ Don't worry—no one knows you're here…"

As he reassured her, he waved his wand.

In an instant, a long table made of dark oak rose from the ground, and nine high-backed chairs arranged themselves around it. Each chair's back was carved with the emblematic animal of a Bronze Feather member.

Sagres sat first, lightly tapping the tabletop with his fingers. Drinks appeared in front of everyone.

Kestrel took a curious sip of the black liquid in her cup—her eyes immediately widened. "What… what is this? This thing is biting my tongue!"

"Cola," Sagres said without looking up. "A Muggle drink."

"Made by Muggles?" Kestrel looked suspicious, took another sip, then frowned. "Are you sure they didn't capture a wizard to make this for them? This thing feels like it has Magic!"

"Rather than worrying about the Statute of Secrecy," Sagres said, tapping his cup to draw everyone's attention, "why don't we talk about what you want to learn tonight?"

Kestrel immediately raised her hand—so abruptly that she nearly knocked over Stork's drink.

"Ah! Me first, me first! I want to learn Crow Shadow Instant Movement! But I just want to ask—can I replace the crow shadow with something a bit more elegant, something that better suits my temperament?"

"And what suits your temperament?" Stork asked, lazily dabbing his splashed cuff. "A Dementor?"

"Pfft~!!"

"Ug! You spat your cola on my face!"

"Bahaha~!"

The room burst into laughter.

"Ok.. What about the rest of you?"

"I want to learn Soul Weaving." Hummingbird's slender fingers gently traced the edge of her parchment. Her usually soft voice was unusually resolute. "I want to learn it. But… can it really heal a soul tormented by the Cruciatus?"

Sagres's grey-blue eyes narrowed slightly. "Just like mending a torn spiderweb," he said, and his wand traced silver threads in the air, "as long as the core is intact, it can be repaired…"

"Then I'll learn that!"

"Are you sure? You already know quite a bit of healing magic. I was going to suggest you focus on offensive or defensive spells first."

"Thank you, Raven, but I'll learn this one first. I have a few patients…"

"As you wish."

Sagres nodded thoughtfully and turned to the others.

"I want to learn this Thunderbolt Blast—that's alright, isn't it?"

"Of course. Anything listed on the parchment is fair game."

"Summon Wolf Spirit."

Swift curiously pointed to a spell on the parchment. "This Whispers of the Dead—can it really talk to corpses?"

"Limited to 'yes' or 'no' answers," Sagres said, lifting a wisp of silver light with his wand. "And it's best to use fresh ones—those that are too badly decomposed tend to mumble."

…

Once the last member had selected their spell, Sagres suddenly pointed his wand at his temple.

"Memory Diversion Phantoms!"

He tapped his temple repeatedly with his wand. With each tap, a phantom peeled away from his body. After eight taps, eight translucent figures of Sagres emerged one by one.

Each phantom radiated a distinct magical aura—Soul Weaving had silver threads wrapped around its fingertips, Thunderbolt Blast crackled with electricity at the ends of its hair, and the phantom assigned to Whispers of the Dead had eerie green ghost-fire flickering in its pupils…

"This…" Even the well-traveled Thunderbird looked slightly disturbed. "This is… truly astonishing. What kind of magic is this?"

"It's not as powerful as you think," Sagres said, rubbing his temple. "Just phantoms temporarily formed by magic, with a little bit of memory added in."

With that, he waved his hand, and the eight phantoms immediately moved to their respective "students."

"Begin, everyone." Sagres picked up the drink on the table and took a sip. "Try to master the basic form of the spell before sunrise… I have a small favor to ask afterward."

Robin hesitated, then finally spoke up. "Raven, since we're so close to Hogwarts… can you take me on a tour?"

She clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture. "I heard there are protective spells inside, cast by the four founders themselves—"

"Me! Me! I want to go too!" Kestrel chimed in, suddenly looking up. "I've only ever heard about it—I've never seen it!"

Sagres raised his hand to stop any further requests. "I'm afraid not."

His voice was gentle, but firm. "Right now, I'm just a professor—not the Headmaster, and certainly not a tour guide."

Seeing their disappointed expressions, he added, "However… if you really want to visit, you can write formally to Dumbledore. I don't think he would refuse."

Kestrel immediately scooted closer, eyes sparkling. "What if you become the Headmaster? Then would you—?"

"Kestrel," Nightingale said, grabbing her by the back of her collar. "Stop bothering him. If you really want to go, I'll write to the Headmaster of Hogwarts tomorrow."

The room fell silent again, the only sound coming from the faint hum of Sagres's eight glowing phantoms, each guiding their student.

Sagres cleared his throat, and a few sparks flickered from the tip of his wand. "Concentrate on your practice!"