After more than ten days of self-imposed seclusion, Sagres finally felt the curse inside him begin to fade.
Like rocks revealed after the tide recedes, a long-lost lightness returned to his body.
He took a deep breath of air carrying the fresh scent of grass and wood, then pushed open the oak door of his office, which had been tightly shut for days.
The corridor was empty; with summer vacation underway, the noise of students had long since vanished.
Sagres walked purposefully toward the Great Hall. Nothing announced a return to "normalcy" better than a hot dinner.
His requirements for food were not high, but if circumstances allowed, eating like a normal person was naturally preferable.
The Great Hall was so empty he could hear his own footsteps echo.
But beside the high table, he noticed Albus Dumbledore.
The Headmaster was seated there with a small dish of creamy pudding drizzled with maple syrup, his silver fork suspended in midair, blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles—as though he had been waiting for him.
As expected.
"Sagres." Dumbledore's voice carried clearly through the empty hall. "It is truly wonderful to see you out of your room."
"Indeed." Sagres took the high-backed chair prepared for him—he never doubted it—and reached for a large spoonful of mashed potatoes.
"Something wrong?" he asked directly, his fork already aimed at a piece of golden-brown roasted carrot on his plate.
Dumbledore nodded, elegantly spearing a small piece of pudding with his silver fork. "Earlier today, I visited Professor Lumina at St. Mungo's."
Sagres's chewing slowed.
Dumbledore let out a soft sigh, his blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles filled with deep sympathy. "Unfortunately, the consequences of the accident were far more serious than I expected. The Healers at St. Mungo's did their best, but the conclusion is… she will not be able to return to teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts next school year, perhaps not for an even longer time. Her body needs rest—a very long rest."
"I see." Sagres's tone was calm. "That is indeed unfortunate." But beneath the flat tone, there wasn't the slightest trace of regret.
"Yes, very unfortunate," Dumbledore agreed, taking another bite of pudding. "This also means we must find a new Professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position—ah—our notoriously difficult post—before September."
Sagres silently put the carrot into his mouth. Finding a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor had always been a problem for Hogwarts; the position seemed forever cursed.
"Fortunately," Dumbledore continued, his voice brightening with a tone that suggested he had found a solution, "I have just thought of a very suitable candidate. Someone exceptionally capable, who has demonstrated remarkable courage and wisdom even in trying circumstances."
"Oh?" Sagres responded absently, his thoughts clearly still tangled in Kestrel's predicament. "Who is it?"
"Remus Lupin." Dumbledore spoke the name clearly. "As it happens, he's also your senior, though by the time you enrolled, he had already graduated three years earlier."
"Lupin?" Sagres's chewing stopped entirely.
"You know him?" Dumbledore set down his fork and looked at Sagres with interest.
"No." Sagres shook his head, then returned to his food. "Is he also from Ravenclaw?" he asked casually.
"No, he was a Gryffindor," Dumbledore said with a smile. "But rest assured, he served as a Gryffindor Prefect during his school years. There is absolutely no issue with his competence."
"I see."
Sagres placed his knife and fork down, his voice suddenly clearer and more resolute than before. "Since you already have a candidate in mind—and I happen to be considering going out for some fresh air—"
He met Dumbledore's questioning gaze. "If you think it appropriate, I could make the trip for you and speak with this Mr. Remus Lupin."
Dumbledore looked at him with mild surprise, his deep eyes seeming to probe him. After a long moment, he finally nodded. "Of course, that would be fine."
The old man lifted his goblet and took a sip. "However, Sagres, I hope your approach will be a bit gentler. He is a good man.. it's simply that… life after graduation has not treated him kindly."
Sagres nodded. "Do you have his address?" he asked lightly. "You must have been in contact already, yes?"
"Yes, indeed," Dumbledore replied.
"I'll leave tomorrow morning. Write whatever you want to say in a letter, and I'll deliver it along with my message."
Dumbledore nodded. "That works as well. I happen to have other matters to handle these next two days."
"What matters?" Sagres asked.
"That is also one of the reasons I came to find you today." The Headmaster sighed, his tone growing heavy. "Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban."
"Sirius Black?" Sagres frowned, repeating the name.
"Yes. A follower of Lord Voldemort. He was the one who betrayed the Potters, which ultimately led to that tragedy." Dumbledore's expression was solemn.
"After so many years, he's still alive?" Sagres sounded slightly surprised. "To survive so long in Azkaban and still have the strength to escape…"
"Yes, I too was quite shocked when I heard the news," Dumbledore said.
"But that's the Ministry of Magic's negligence," Sagres replied. "What does it have to do with you?"
"Because he likely escaped with only one purpose."
Sagres paused. "You mean… he wants revenge for his former master?"
"That is my guess," Dumbledore said with a nod. "Which means Harry Potter's situation is extremely dangerous—but Azkaban requires immediate attention as well."
The Headmaster said gravely, "Cornelius has invited me to assist in the investigation and determine how Black managed to escape. The Ministry of Magic is in chaos—terrified others might imitate the escape, and even more afraid that Black will cause greater harm outside."
Sagres pressed his lips together. "So why did you want to talk to me today?"
"You once worked as a Dark wizard hunter, and you also served as an Auror in the Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore said, looking straight at him. "If possible, I hope you can help me track him down. Of course, this is purely a personal request."
After a long silence, Sagres finally spoke. "So, what's the reward?"
He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "And let me be clear—I'm not short on Galleons."
"Hm, that does make things difficult," the Headmaster murmured, thinking for a moment. "How about wool socks?"
"Absolutely not," Sagres replied calmly, not even raising an eyebrow.
"Then is there something you want?" Dumbledore asked.
"Just owe me for now. I'll tell you when I think of it." Sagres stood up and, before leaving, turned back to ask, "Did you give this commission only to me?"
"Oh, not just you," the Headmaster said with his usual mysterious smile. "I also mentioned it to a few old friends. After all, the more people involved, the sooner we might find him."
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