House Cup

When Sagreles stepped into the Great Hall, it was already packed to the brim.

The Great Hall had been redecorated in Slytherin's green and silver to celebrate their seventh consecutive House Cup victory. At the same time, a massive banner bearing the Slytherin serpent hung prominently on the wall behind the professors' table.

Sagreles curled his lip. Snape had undoubtedly contributed greatly to Slytherin winning the House Cup. If he hadn't spared no effort in deducting points from the other three Houses, the Cup's outcome might still have been uncertain.

Of course, Sagreles himself had always looked down on who won the House Cup. In his view, it was nothing more than symbolic "glory."

Granted, it could strengthen students' sense of identity with their own Houses, but it also intensified the hostility and prejudice between them.

The Great Hall buzzed with voices. The students were filled with anticipation for the coming holiday, like birds in cages, eagerly waiting for the doors to open so they could spread their wings and fly.

At the professors' table, the professors were chatting among themselves as well.

There was one thing Sagreles found rather baffling: the professors almost never failed students in the final exams. This relaxed approach to education was somewhat reminiscent of the "happy education" he remembered from the West.

But that had nothing to do with him. He would still stand by his principles; when a zero was deserved, he wouldn't hesitate to give one.

When Dumbledore's silver-white figure appeared at the doors of the Great Hall, the uproar ebbed away like a receding tide.

"Another year, and time flies," the old headmaster said, his voice as rich as honey yet carrying an undeniable authority. "Before we enjoy this splendid feast, allow this old man to say a few words." He gave a playful wink, drawing soft laughter from several younger students.

"Over the past year, every one of you has grown wiser—though naturally, some may have grown a great deal wiser than others."

Kind laughter rang through the Great Hall, and even Professor McGonagall couldn't help curling the corner of her mouth.

"Now, let us announce this year's House Cup results." Dumbledore waved his wand, and the four House point hourglasses rose into the air, shimmering.

"Fourth place—Gryffindor. Third place—Hufflepuff. Second place—Ravenclaw. First place—"

He deliberately drew out the last word, and the Slytherin table had already begun to stir restlessly.

"Slytherin!"

The sea of silver and green instantly boiled over.

Draco Malfoy slammed his goblet heavily onto the oak table, the crystal base striking the wooden surface with a sharp crack.

Excitement flushed his pale cheeks red as he rhythmically stamped his heel against the floor and shot a provocative look toward the Gryffindor table.

Crabbe and Goyle, like two moving hills, waved their thick arms around and nearly knocked over the pumpkin juice in front of them.

Pansy Parkinson shrieked with laughter as she tossed silver-and-green streamers into the air.

"So far, that is—Slytherin has the highest score..."

Dumbledore's silver-white beard trembled faintly in the candlelight. He raised a hand to quiet the cheering Slytherins, his blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles gleaming with mischief.

"However," the old headmaster said, his voice suddenly taking on a playful note, "I believe that everything which happened before the end of term should be taken into account."

His gaze swept across the professors' table. McGonagall straightened her back, Snape's mouth twitched, while Sagreles lifted his goblet to hide the knowing smile at his lips.

"Mr. Ron Weasley—" Dumbledore's voice echoed through the suddenly silent hall.

Ron's face instantly turned bright red, like a blazing boiler, only missing steam pouring from his ears.

"He displayed extraordinary tactical talent, commanding what may have been the finest game of Wizard's Chess Hogwarts has seen in a century." A large number of rubies suddenly poured into Gryffindor's hourglass. "For that, Gryffindor receives fifty points."

The Gryffindor table erupted in deafening cheers. Fred and George leapt onto the benches and tossed their pointed hats into the air. Percy tried his best to maintain a prefect's dignity, but his grin had already stretched from ear to ear.

"Miss Hermione Granger—" Dumbledore continued. Hermione's curls fell forward as she lowered her head, hiding her flushed cheeks. "Under the threat of fire and a Troll, she displayed remarkable intelligence and courage." Another batch of rubies fell into the hourglass. "Another fifty points."

Padma Patil leaned close to her sister's ear and whispered, "I told you she should've come to our House."

Knife-sharp glares from Slytherin House stabbed into the backs of the Gryffindors. Every one of them looked like a volcano on the verge of erupting, their thick necks flushed red.

"Mr. Harry Potter—" Dumbledore's voice suddenly turned solemn, and all whispering in the Great Hall ceased at once. "Faced with unimaginable challenges, he displayed exceptional courage and determination." Rubies cascaded down like a waterfall. "For that, I award Gryffindor another sixty points."

Gryffindor's cheers nearly blew the enchanted ceiling off. Lee Jordan jumped onto the long table and began an improvised dance, only to slide back down under a single look from McGonagall.

"Finally—"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "True courage lies not only in challenging one's enemies, but also in standing by one's principles when facing one's friends."

He turned toward Neville, who was nervously clutching his toad. "Mr. Neville Longbottom, for being willing to face possible ridicule and isolation in order to stop his friends from breaking school rules. For that, I award Gryffindor another ten points."

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The entire Great Hall fell into brief silence before erupting into even louder cheers.

Neville sat there in a daze until Seamus gave him a hard shove, bringing him back to his senses. Gryffindor's total had now surpassed Slytherin's by ten points, and the red and silver hourglasses gleamed with entirely different lights beneath the candles.

"I think," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "it's time to give the Great Hall some new decorations."

He clapped his hands, and Slytherin's silver-and-green banners instantly transformed into golden-red lions. Thousands of golden-red balloons drifted down from the vaulted ceiling, while the Fat Friar's ghost excitedly passed through the long tables.

McGonagall composedly adjusted her pointed hat, Professor Flitwick clapped excitedly, Professor Sprout wore a gentle smile, while Snape reluctantly forced out an awkward one.

Sagreles wore a faintly amused expression. He felt that the House Cup had become even less valuable because of this.

After all, the power to award points rested solely in the professors' hands. Snape's favoritism toward his own House and McGonagall's strict fairness were not all that different.

Because this was, in truth, a battle over who had the right to define the standard of "excellence."

As for Dumbledore adding points for Harry and the others at the last minute and reversing the result, that was a direct declaration that authority could trample rules.

Under such circumstances, what meaning did this trophy symbolizing honor have?

Sagreles rose and left the Great Hall, his robes sweeping an elegant arc behind him.

Dumbledore's little trick left him utterly bored—though seeing Snape's greasy old face turn livid with anger was admittedly satisfying, such childish rulings were truly beneath all dignity.

"Professor! Professor Greengrass..."

The young wizards' cries came from behind him. Sagreles turned around and found the trio chasing after him, panting for breath.

"What is it, you three?" Sagreles asked with a smile. "At a time like this, Gryffindor's heroes ought to be in the Great Hall enjoying the cheers of victory."

The three exchanged awkward looks, visibly embarrassed, and much of the joy had faded from their faces.

"Professor, we really didn't know Professor Dumbledore would give us extra points..." Harry began. "We all know you've already given us points, but..."

"Oh, come on!" Ron's red hair looked like a flame as he instinctively protested. "Snape's given Slytherin at least two hundred completely random points! We only—"

"Ron!" Hermione suddenly looked up. "That's not the issue. The issue is that this is a little... a little... a little against the rules..."

The young witch struggled for ages before finding a less harsh way to put it.

Sagreles couldn't help finding it somewhat amusing. Clearly, these three young wizards had indeed matured quite a bit. They hadn't been dazzled by honor; instead, they had keenly noticed something deeper.

But this had been Dumbledore's decision, and they had no need to feel even the slightest shame over it.

He lightly waved his right hand, and the heavy curtains in the corridor were slowly drawn aside by an invisible hand. Orange evening sunlight gently streamed in through the windows.

"Relax..." he said softly. "The House Cup is only a children's game. Its purpose is simply to teach you to follow rules and make you easier to manage."

"Ah! Is... is that so?"

A trace of confusion appeared on their faces. Clearly, Sagreles' few words had shattered some of their illusions.

The black-robed professor calmly looked at them, then raised a hand and pointed at the exquisite point hourglasses beneath the Great Hall's ceiling. In an earnest tone, he said, "The sparkle of those gems is nothing more than fleeting brilliance. True glory isn't in the hourglass, but here—"

He pointed his wand at the young wizards' chests.

"The courage and wisdom in your hearts won't change because points rise or fall. That was Dumbledore's purpose in doing this—I think he merely wanted to reward your outstanding courage."

After all, the old headmaster had originally intended to award each of them a "Special Contribution Medal," but apparently changed it to points in the end.

Harry said, "So..."

"So you can enjoy all this with a clear conscience and needn't worry about whether it follows the rules," Sagreles said with a smile.

"I don't really understand..." Ron scratched his head. "What you're saying is too profound, Professor."

"Simply put, follow your heart, even if the hourglass runs out," Sagreles explained.

A Raven fluttered gracefully over from the end of the corridor and lightly landed on his outstretched arm, a letter still held in its beak.

"Now, enjoy the feast that belongs to you, and the wonderful holiday ahead."

With a wave, he "shooed" the three young wizards back toward the Great Hall. Then Sagreles turned and headed toward the library, his figure gradually disappearing at the end of the corridor.

Fortunately, before crossing over, he'd read quite a few books on "success studies." At the very least, when it came to preaching lofty values, fooling a few underage young wizards was more than easy enough.

Sagreles thought to himself as he walked...

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