Could Be Expelled?

When Sagreles Apparated back to Hogsmeade, it was not yet dark.

For once, he stopped by the tavern for a while before leisurely making his way toward Hogwarts Castle.

On the road back to the castle, he spotted a furtive figure. The other person had wrapped themselves up tightly with all sorts of things, but when they passed each other, Sagreles still recognized him—Quirrell!

After all, that overpowering stench of garlic was simply too obvious. Every disguise seemed feeble before such a glaring flaw.

Sagreles ignored him, though. This was Dumbledore's business—or rather, the task Dumbledore had given Snape. It had nothing to do with him.

There would be a Quidditch Cup match tomorrow. Just like last time, Professor McGonagall had invited him in advance to watch it. Though he was still uninterested, he didn't refuse.

The next day soon arrived, and news from the Daily Prophet swept through the school.

One of the sacred twenty-eight pure-blood families, the Flint family's manor estate, had been attacked by werewolves the previous night.

The news caused quite a stir at Hogwarts. Many Slytherin students discussed it in private, because their house's Quidditch captain, Marcus, was a member of the Flint family.

Meanwhile, the reports about Sagreles's teaching methods were almost completely ignored. He was more than happy with that outcome. Nothing was more comfortable than teaching quietly at Hogwarts.

He leisurely watched the match on the Quidditch Pitch, and nothing unexpected happened. That was not only because Dumbledore had come to the pitch—Harry Potter also deserved much of the credit.

Less than five minutes after the match began, he caught the Golden Snitch and ended it.

Sagreles was in a pleasant mood. That had indirectly saved him quite a bit of time.

After the match, he spoke to Harry alone for a few moments.

"I'm glad you didn't become obsessed with that mirror." Sagreles patted Harry's shoulder. "You performed wonderfully today. I hope that whenever I'm watching, you'll win as quickly as you did today."

"Thank you, Professor Greengrass..." Harry's excitement made him blush slightly.

Just as they were about to continue talking, Dumbledore called Sagreles away, instantly wiping out his good mood.

When he arrived at the headmaster's office, he found that Dumbledore was not alone. Professor McGonagall was there as well.

The headmaster and deputy headmistress of Hogwarts were speaking to him together... What was this about?

Without thinking much of it, Sagreles calmly conjured a chair and sat down.

"Sagreles, I called you here because I want to ask you something..."

The old headmaster glanced at Professor McGonagall beside him and said solemnly, "This concerns whether you can continue serving as a professor at Hogwarts."

Professor McGonagall's eyes widened at those words, and she covered her mouth in shock. In contrast, Sagreles remained calm, merely narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Albus, you called me here..."

"Minerva, inviting Sagreles back to Hogwarts was a decision we made together."

Dumbledore explained, "And as Hogwarts's deputy headmistress, this next matter should also be decided by the two of us."

After saying that, the old man turned to him with a stern expression. "Sagreles, you must tell me whether what happened to the Flint family had anything to do with you..."

Professor McGonagall was even more astonished by the question. She instinctively said, "What are you talking about? Albus, what does this have to do with Sagreles? Wasn't it because of the werewolves..."

"I'm afraid it wasn't only because of the werewolves, Minerva..." Dumbledore looked at Sagreles and said gravely, "This may have been murder. Sagreles, I believe we need to know the truth!"

"Hm... Before that, I have to ask something!" Sagreles narrowed his eyes at the old man behind the desk, his tone stiff. "Are you interrogating me?"

"Don't be like this, Sagreles. No matter what, I believe in you." Professor McGonagall spoke to him firmly.

He turned toward McGonagall and nodded calmly. "Yes, I admit it. This matter has a direct connection to me..."

Ignoring Professor McGonagall's widened eyes, Sagreles continued, "But there's something I don't understand, Dumbledore..." He leaned back in his chair, his right hand continuously stroking the Everlasting Flowerwood Wand beneath his robes.

"If you respect the law, then why didn't you step forward and tell everyone the truth when the Daily Prophet was smearing me?" Without waiting for the old man to answer, he went on. "And if you recognize strength, why are you using the law to suppress me when I sought justice for myself?"

"Was I so weak that I looked easy to bully? Or are you prejudiced against me?"

Sagreles said without hesitation, "And to tell you the truth, there are at least eighty, if not a hundred, people who have died by my hand. But my conscience is clear, because every one of them had a reason to die!"

He stared directly at Dumbledore, his gaze calm and cold.

"No matter what, that isn't a reason for you to take a life. And I will not allow a murderer to teach my students..." Dumbledore's tone was unhurried, yet beyond question.

Silence fell over the office. In the end, Sagreles was the one who spoke again.

"Yes, I went to the Daily Prophet headquarters yesterday. Barnabas Cuffe told me that Kalbot Flint had threatened him into running defamatory reports about me, and afterward, I went to the Flint estate..."

Professor McGonagall was too shocked to speak, while Dumbledore sternly demanded, "And then you killed him?"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you..." Sagreles felt no ripples in his heart. "That inbred idiot, that piece of trash whose head was filled with nothing but family honor and bloodline supremacy, wasn't worthy of dying by my hand!"

"Then who killed him?"

"Why don't you investigate it yourself, Headmaster?" Sagreles was not polite in the slightest.

"Don't be like this, Sagreles. I know you would never do something like this without reason..." Professor McGonagall soothed him.

"Heh!" He gave a cold laugh. "Do you know what spell Kalbot used on me?"

"The Killing Curse!" Sagreles said calmly. "And in the flowerbeds of his manor, at least thirty executed Squibs were buried!"

The two school leaders opened their mouths. Sagreles ignored them and continued, "To kill me, he even colluded with the werewolves of the Blood Moon Alliance. He even used Necromancy to desecrate the corpses of those innocent dead..."

"I want to ask, didn't a person like that deserve to die?" he said coldly. "Never mind that I didn't kill him—even if I had, so what?"

"Even so, we should not resort to private punishment. We should let the law judge him." The old headmaster's expression softened considerably.

"The law? If the law were useful, they should have been judged the moment they executed their first Squib." Sagreles sneered.

"So the werewolves killed him?" Professor McGonagall asked softly.

He nodded. "Yes. Gargo, the tactical commander of the Blood Moon Alliance, killed him."

"But weren't they allies? Why would they..."

"They were allies before transforming into werewolves. Once they became werewolves, they were not." Dumbledore had nearly understood it all. With a hint of sorrow, he said, "I owe you an apology, Sagreles. I misunderstood you..."

"But I'm sorry, I can't forgive you." Sagreles stood up and said expressionlessly, "So if one day I truly am in the wrong, don't expect me to surrender without resistance."

After saying that, he turned and left the office. Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore exchanged a look, and neither spoke for a while.

"I don't think he was wrong." Professor McGonagall broke the silence and said seriously, "You were too harsh on him, Albus. Treating him like this will only push him down the wrong path."

"Is that so, Minerva?" Dumbledore seemed to sink into memory as he muttered, "But he's too young, and he's grown too quickly. Once someone like him loses control, the consequences will be more terrifying than ten Voldemorts!"

Professor McGonagall covered her mouth. She hadn't expected Dumbledore to say such a thing.

"The Dark Lord wouldn't attack a pure-blood for the sake of a few Squibs."

The portraits on the wall finally couldn't help interrupting. Both Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore fell into thought upon hearing those words.

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