Old Memories

Late at night, Restricted Section

Moonlight streamed through the high windows, weaving a black net across the mold-speckled parchment. Sagreles looked at the potion in his hand, hesitated again and again, then finally pried open Loctis's beak and forcibly poured it down its throat.

But before that, to keep the stupid bird from going mad again, he'd already hit it with a Tongue-Sealing Curse.

The raven's pitch-black feathers, gleaming with a metallic sheen, trembled slightly as distinct patterns began to emerge.

While he waited, he couldn't help recalling the years gone by.

He had been in this world for twenty-one years. By now, Sagreles had used his awakened ability to successfully create seven spells, then derived and improved an entire series of spells from them.

Those spells had once been the foundation that let him establish himself in this world.

But this gift that had come with his transmigration had stopped functioning three years ago—on the night of his coming-of-age ceremony.

That was because the ability required him to increase his magical power, and a wizard's magical power could not grow without limit.

From his first magical outburst at the age of five to the solidification of his magical tide upon adulthood, Sagreles's magical power had grown slower and slower over those ten-odd years, nearly coming to a complete halt when he turned eighteen.

This was the innate shackle on a wizard's magical power. Everyone was the same; not even a transmigrator could break it.

Although his total magical power far exceeded that of an ordinary adult wizard, in practical terms, it was only about equal to the combined magical power of three veteran Aurors. He estimated that it still fell short of an old monster like Dumbledore.

But even if his total magical power was inferior to Dumbledore's, he was certain that the power of his spells was no weaker. He knew that his spells had long broken past the limits of total magical power—his scalpel-like precision in controlling magic was enough to forge every drop of it into a blade that killed at the first sight of blood.

That almost obsessive pursuit dated back to that turbulent period. His childhood experiences had left him desperately lacking in security, so in the decade after leaving his family, he had been madly absorbing knowledge—and, naturally, seizing power along the way.

From Dark Arts to ancient war magic, then to rune magic from antiquity, Sagreles accepted it all.

He walked through those ancient, crumbling ruins, digging out forgotten magic from old tomes again and again and making it his own.

Hogwarts, Durmstrang, Ilvermorny in America—he had read nearly every book in the libraries of those three schools. During the year or so he spent traveling afterward, he had also visited Beauxbatons in the French Pyrenees, Mountains of the Moon School in Uganda, Africa, and Mahoutokoro on Japan's volcanic islands...

Of course, the headmasters of those schools had no idea Sagreles had once "furthered his studies" in their libraries...

After more than a decade of studying day and night, nourished by countless magical texts, the boy who had once curled up in the Greengrass family library had transformed into a wizard capable of making the entire magical world tremble.

Improving spells? Creating magic? It had long become an instinct engraved in his bones. The difference was that now, he no longer relied on an external power, but on the knowledge in his own mind.

Sagreles curled a finger and tapped the table. Loctis, who had been preening its feathers, lifted its head, its obsidian eyes reflecting the deepening curve of his lips.

He remembered the life-or-death crisis in the North Sea three years ago—he had been attempting to improve Apparition when the spatial ripples caused by the spell disturbed a slumbering Norwegian Sea Monster.

Serpent-like tentacles burst from the trench and tightened abruptly the instant they touched him. Yet Sagreles had still been immersed in the illusion woven by the creature, unable to notice even the salty seawater flooding into his nostrils.

Even now, thinking back on it sent a chill down his spine.

The monster's mental corruption had bypassed the magical barrier he had never relaxed for years. If Loctis hadn't let out a piercing cry after choking on seawater and torn through the illusion, he would likely have become nothing more than a skeleton in the sea monster's nest.

Fortunately, he had had that stupid bird with him, though it often made his temples throb.

After nearly capsizing in a ditch, Sagreles stared at the enormous beast before him. The brief fear was followed by uncontrollable fury.

Without hesitation, he drew his wand and directly used his most powerful spell.

A violent torrent of magic erupted with a thunderous blast, scarlet spell-light tearing through the curtain of water.

Then the mountain-sized octopus was blown into chunks of flesh.

And there had also been that damned trip to France...

Loctis had greedily eaten the mithril edging of an ancient book in Beauxbatons's library, awakening a Dark Arts book that had slumbered for two centuries.

The panicked raven darted wildly between the dome's beams, and the ancient books knocked down by its feathers activated magical wards one after another, eventually triggering a school-wide alert for an invasion of dark creatures.

When he caught the raven by the neck right under the noses of the gargoyle patrol, the idiot still had half a chewed-off piece of mithril clutched tightly in its claws...

His memories were interrupted by footsteps. Sagreles looked toward the doorway as Snape swept in, wrapped in his enormous black robes.

Snape examined Sagreles expressionlessly, but when his gaze fell upon the raven, barely concealed disgust appeared in his eyes. "Sagreles, only you would keep something as strange as that."

Hearing this, Sagreles nodded in agreement, his tone utterly serious. "Indeed, Professor Snape."

The Potions professor's disgust became even more obvious. "Lurking in the Restricted Section in the middle of the night—what exactly are you plotting?" His tone carried blatant scrutiny and suspicion.

"As you can see, Professor..." He pointed to the raven on the table. "I'm researching Dark Arts. And, of course, how to rule the world!"

Snape gave a scornful snort. Just as he was about to mock him, Sagreles waved his wand at the raven on the table. Loctis immediately flew onto his shoulder. "Caw! Caw!"

At some point, the Tongue-Sealing Curse had been lifted. Perched on Sagreles's shoulder, it let out two piercing cries.

"Shut up, you idiot!" Sagreles snapped.

Then, with an apologetic expression, he explained to the Snape who had opened his mouth to speak, "Sorry, Professor Snape. I wasn't talking about you..."

"Sagreles..." Snape's face darkened, his low voice brimming with anger. "Perhaps you should learn how to respect one of your former professors."

"Of course, Professor Snape." Sagreles smiled politely. "I naturally have absolute respect for you, so please rest assured of that. But if you truly feel I've offended you, then deduct points from me!"

After saying that, he gave Snape a slight bow. As he turned to leave, he looked back and added, "Oh, I forgot. You can't deduct points from me anymore, Professor. After all, I'm no longer a Hogwarts student."

Without sparing another glance for Snape's ugly expression, he left the library with Loctis...

Sagreles knew Snape disliked him. Likewise, he deeply disliked his former Potions professor.

Their grudge went back a long way, and the reason for it was quite simple.

During Sagreles's school days, insults and abuse had followed him almost constantly. Among them, the students of Slytherin House had been especially active—truly the worst offenders when it came to foul mouths.

At first, Sagreles paid them no attention, because in his eyes, those insults did not even qualify as insults.

Really, how much damage could an attack on the bloodline of a wizard with the soul of a modern adult inflict on him?

The answer was simple: barely harmful, and not insulting in the slightest.

So Sagreles did not even bother with polite replies and simply chose to ignore them.

But his endless tolerance did not make those students with warped values restrain themselves. Instead, Sagreles's silence only fed their arrogance, making them push their luck further and further.

When verbal attacks stopped working, they switched to sneak attacks with nasty curses.

At first, Sagreles had carelessly fallen victim a few times—his face swelling up like a pig's head, hair growing all over his body, and so on. Although Madam Pomfrey could clear up the weak side effects of those little curses within minutes, Sagreles could not keep his wand raised in constant readiness all day.

Words were one thing, but once they laid hands on him, he could not tolerate it.

He was not some Ravenclaw who only knew how to study. As it turned out, he was not bad at fighting either.

For the next stretch of time, aside from attending class and burying himself in the library, Sagreles spent every day precisely intercepting lone Slytherins, pressing the tip of his wand to their trembling Adam's apples, and giving them their daily dose of "practical instruction."

For a time, Hogwarts was thrown into utter chaos.

Still, most of the time, after teaching someone a lesson, Sagreles would cast a healing spell on them—at least enough to remove the visible injuries, or he would be given detention.

As for psychological trauma, that was beyond his consideration.

Perhaps Sagreles had hit too hard. The underage wizards were thoroughly frightened, to the point that members of several pure-blood families began putting pressure on Snape.

The young Head of House sought Sagreles out many times for talks, even resorting to verbal threats.

At first, Sagreles had been fairly cooperative. But he soon discovered that Slytherin's Head of House had never come to solve the problem. He was fiercely biased toward his own students, lacked any sense of fairness, and gave Sagreles detention without bothering to learn the facts.

This infuriated Sagreles. He tried reporting Snape to Dumbledore, but it accomplished very little.

With nowhere to turn for help, Sagreles simply poured his anger onto the Slytherin students instead.

This time, he did not wait for anyone to provoke him. He actively sought trouble with them, then healed them afterward.

When students reported him, he flatly denied everything.

Sagreles still remembered what he had said back then. "Professor, you're saying I used a Cutting Curse on him?" His face was full of confusion. "How could that be possible? How could I use such an offensive spell on a fellow student? You must be mistaken."

"Besides, he doesn't have so much as a wound on him. If this isn't a misunderstanding, then it's blatant slander."

"What? You're saying I cursed him and then healed him afterward? Who would do something so pointless?"

That tug-of-war came to an end when Dumbledore placed a Trace on his secondhand wand.

The instant the Elder Wand touched the yew wand's shaft, Sagreles sensed the warning hidden behind those half-moon spectacles.

He understood. From then on, Dumbledore could see every spell he cast with that wand, so long as the old headmaster wished to.

At dusk that day, Sagreles leaned against the top of Ravenclaw Tower, letting the mountain wind fill his robes. In the end, he sealed that secondhand wand in a dragonhide case and desperately practiced silent, wandless magic atop the Astronomy Tower.

To be honest, everyone in the magical world should have been grateful that Sagreles was a transmigrator. After all, if not for the imprint left by the nine years of compulsory education from his previous life, he might very well have become another Dark Lord.

During that period, aside from attending class, he spent his days in detention. Only in the quiet of night could he secretly slip into the library and read with insatiable hunger.

The Snape of that time was just like today, always coming to the library deep at night to catch him. Sometimes Sagreles managed to escape by luck, but more often, he was caught and sent back to detention. Peeves had also contributed quite a bit to that.

At first, Sagreles felt angry and discouraged, but as time passed, he gradually came to terms with it. Fortunately, his diligent practice had not been in vain. The silent, wandless magic he cast was now nearly as powerful as the magic he had once used with a wand.

Later came the matter of his expulsion in fifth year.

After teaching himself a great many spells in the library, the young Sagreles began attempting to create his own spells—without relying on external power.

He secretly went to the Forbidden Forest late at night and summoned his Patronus there: a raven.

Yes, he and ravens had always shared an affinity.

At the time, he was somewhat disappointed by the Patronus Charm. This complicated, advanced magic could only be used to repel Dementors; its purpose was too limited.

He decided to combine the Patronus with other magic and enhance its offensive power.

In the end, he chose Fiendfyre.

Pale flames rose from the white raven's body. They were completely different from the Fiendfyre he had used before. These pale flames were not only stranger in form, but also more dangerous and difficult to deal with than ordinary Fiendfyre.

The raven swept rapidly through the air, its brilliant tail of flame trailing behind it as scorching heat warped the air itself.

For one moment, Sagreles thought he had succeeded. But then his Patronus began to cry mournfully, eventually vanishing into the flames.

Fiendfyre, that terrifying Dark Arts spell, burned everything around Sagreles to ash. Fortunately, the spell did not lose control, and he did not end up burning himself with his own fire.

His first attempt at creating a spell ended in failure, but Sagreles was not overly disappointed.

Then Snape, that persistent nuisance, appeared again.

Looking at the forest roasted into blackened earth, Sagreles knew that this time, he would receive at least a month of detention.

"Sagreles..." There was a hint of schadenfreude in Snape's voice. "I have to admit, you have a great deal of nerve." He looked at Sagreles as if seeing him for the first time. "You dared to secretly learn Fiendfyre. Do you know how terrifying the consequences would be if that spell went out of control?"

Sagreles frowned and remained silent.

Snape continued, "Your wand bears the Trace Dumbledore placed on it. This time, no matter what you say, you won't be able to deny it. Prepare to be expelled!"

Sagreles spoke coldly. "Snape, why are you always targeting me?"

"Call me Professor Snape! Do I need to teach you how to respect your Potions professor?"

A thin crack appeared across the yew wand in Sagreles's palm. He suddenly gave Snape, standing some distance away, a light laugh, irritation flashing through his eyes. "Very well, Professor Snape. Would you like to see a real spell?"

In an instant, magical power tore through the night sky. More than a dozen streaks of spell-light in different colors exploded over the Forbidden Forest, forming a dazzling yet terrifying sight.

The powerful magical fluctuations even reached Hogwarts Castle.

Holding a charred wand, Sagreles stood silently in the middle of the scorched earth. The Trace deep within the wand's core nearly turned to smoke and dispersed beneath the impact of magic.

"Snape, Professor..." Sagreles stared coldly at Snape in the Forbidden Forest, his tone icy. "If I'd wanted to, you would already be dead."

Snape pressed his lips together and said nothing, but the shock in his eyes showed that he was not as calm as he appeared.

Sagreles's voice was low and cruel, sharp enough to wound like a blade. "If I hadn't restrained myself again and again, do you think you and that pack of pure-blood brats from your House could have continued studying at Hogwarts without a scratch?"

Thinking of the past few years at school, emotions churned within Sagreles.

He realized that he really seemed to be leaving this ancient castle, but before that, he had to finally say everything on his mind.

"You and Dumbledore have no fairness whatsoever. Is it because of my bloodline?" Sagreles turned toward Dumbledore, who had appeared in the glow of phoenix fire, his expression becoming even uglier. "Yes, bloodline! My esteemed Headmaster, the great Professor Dumbledore—when those noble surnames cursed my origins, when evil curses were cast upon me, why didn't you appear as quickly as you did today?"

"Oh, I understand." Sagreles nodded. "You're here to expel me!"

"I'm afraid so, Sagreles. You have violated far too many school rules." Dumbledore's voice was calm and firm, though a complicated glint passed through his eyes.

Sagreles turned to Snape, his eyes filled with indifference. "As you wished, Severus Snape. You've finally driven me out of Hogwarts."

Then he gave Dumbledore one last long look. Without saying anything, he Apparated away.

There was nothing more to say.