Peeves's wails and curses echoed through the instance day after day, yet they never received any response.
In truth, Sagres had known from the beginning that he could not truly "eliminate" Peeves.
As the embodiment of the mischief and malice of Hogwarts students, Peeves was deeply tied to the castle itself. In a sense, he was almost an extension of it.
The so-called "consciousness extraction" and "draining device" were mostly scare tactics Sagres had improvised on the spot, built upon his understanding of Peeves's psychology.
Lyle Lupin's research had nothing to do with it; it was merely a detail added to make the threat more convincing.
The most crucial point was that integrating Peeves into the instance system required an extremely high-level magical contract, one that demanded Peeves's consent.
Sagres had designed two choices: one was a terrifying punishment, deliberately exaggerated; the other was an appealing form of "play," hiding its constraints.
In the end, he successfully tricked Peeves into placing the shackles upon himself.
Although Sagres's deception might seem somewhat unscrupulous, it did not matter.
Peeves would never realize that this had been a cage designed for him from the very beginning.
From that moment on, Peeves was no longer a free-roaming spirit causing trouble throughout the castle. Instead, he became a "random event" within the instance system.
His powers were heavily restricted by the contract and the system's rules, and students were tacitly allowed to carry out limited countermeasures and punishments against him.
Escape?
Impossible.
Unless the Duelling Arena itself were to collapse.
Otherwise, Peeves would remain confined within this limited space, tormenting young wizards for as long as the system endured.
…
As the school year drew to a close, a familiar, complicated emotion once again settled over Hogwarts Castle.
Professor Lupin's gentle smile no longer appeared in Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons.
Once again, they had lost an excellent professor.
Although most students, especially those who had experienced his exceptional teaching, did not care about his identity, for various reasons, this truly talented professor still packed his belongings and left in silence.
He did not even give them a chance to say goodbye.
However, a kind of thoughtless optimism, almost a Hogwarts "tradition," quickly spread during revision season. Since the professor had resigned, would the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam be canceled?
This quiet hope spread through the library and common rooms, gradually becoming an unspoken consensus.
Until the day before exam week officially began, when a slightly worn yet magic-infused parchment was delivered by house-elves to the notice boards of each house.
On the parchment was Professor Lupin's clear and familiar handwriting:
"To all my students,
Although I cannot personally accompany you through the final challenges of the school year, I have already set the final practical assessment for Defense Against the Dark Arts within the magical stone tablet of the Duelling Arena.
It will take the form of an 'instance' you are familiar with, covering all the key magic and practical skills we have studied and practiced together this term. Please consider it my final lesson to you before my departure.
I wish you the best of luck, and may you demonstrate the courage and wisdom you have gained.
Sincerely,
Remus Lupin"
A chorus of groans, mixed with disappointment and resignation, immediately echoed through the Great Hall.
"Oh, no—!"
"Professor Lupin gave us an exam even as he left!"
"I knew it… he's such a good and responsible professor…"
"I know he's good, but did he really have to be that responsible…"
Defense Against the Dark Arts was the second-to-last exam, held on Thursday morning.
Professor Lupin had designed a practical assessment resembling an obstacle course.
Students had to wade through a deep pool filled with Grindylows, pass a series of pits occupied by Red Caps, trudge through a marsh, ignore the deceptive lights of a Hinkypunk, and finally climb into an old trunk to face a new Boggart.
This exam instance lacked Sagres's cold efficiency. Every challenge felt noticeably gentler.
It resembled a thoughtful review of everything they had learned over the term, rather than a harsh evaluation.
When many students successfully drove away Red Caps, or managed to make the Boggart transform into something ridiculous, what filled their hearts was not the satisfaction of passing, but a quiet sense of nostalgia and gratitude.
…
As the school year came to an end, Harry Potter's heart was filled with another kind of bright joy.
His godfather, Sirius Black, stood before him.
Though his face was still somewhat pale, after this period of recovery, Black had regained a hint of his former vitality.
"Harry, I'm all set!"
Sirius's voice was hoarse with excitement as he gripped Harry's shoulder firmly. "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, I've completely cleaned it out. Well, mostly thanks to Kreacher. He's a house-elf."
"Your room is right next to mine. The window faces east, so you'll get the morning sun. You won't have to go back to that Muggle family anymore!"
Harry felt as though countless fireworks were exploding in his chest. The overwhelming joy nearly swept him away.
He was almost ready to nod immediately.
Just then, Sirius noticed Sagres, who had just stepped out of the library.
He turned to him, a trace of awkward sincerity on his face.
"And you, Professor Greengrass," Sirius said, his tone far more serious than usual, "I formally invite you to visit during the holidays. I owe you an apology for everything you've done… and for Kreacher's foolish and malicious behavior earlier. I've already given him a strict warning. There are many ancient books and magical artifacts in the Black family home that I believe you might find interesting."
A faint ripple passed through Sagres's grey eyes, and he gave a slight nod. "Thank you for the invitation, Black. I will consider it."
But the warm atmosphere was abruptly broken by another voice.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Sirius. Harry must return to the Dursleys this summer."
Albus Dumbledore descended the stairs slowly, his silver-white hair and beard gleaming.
His expression was unusually serious. Behind his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes moved from Sirius, who had gone rigid, to Harry, whose face had paled, and finally to Sagres, whose brow had lifted slightly.
"But why, Dumbledore?"
Sirius's voice was filled with confusion and disbelief. "Harry is my godson. He'll be safe and legally under my care."
"Safe…"
Dumbledore repeated the word softly as he stepped closer, his gaze settling heavily on Harry.
"Your true safety, Harry, comes from the protection your mother left you when she sacrificed herself. An ancient magic bound by blood."
"It exists in your blood. I have strengthened it, but this magic requires an anchor—the home of your mother's blood relatives. As long as you still recognize that place as your 'home,' and return there to stay for a period each year, this protection will remain effective, preventing Voldemort from truly reaching you."
Harry's face turned pale, his earlier joy replaced by a cold sense of disappointment.
"No…" he murmured, shaking his head. "Why does it have to be there? Why does it have to be them? Can't that magic… be replaced with something else?"
"I'm afraid not, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "This is the most unique protection your mother left you. We cannot risk it failing."
A surge of desperate anger rose within Harry.
"But that's never been my home! They hate me, and I don't like them! Why do I have to go back?"
His voice grew more agitated. "Voldemort is back. I should be staying with Sirius, learning how to protect myself, preparing for what's coming, not living in a place where I can't even take out my wand, relying on magic I can't even feel!"
"Not feeling it does not mean it isn't there, Harry."
Dumbledore's tone was heavy. "It is the barrier your mother created with her life. We cannot underestimate it simply because it is invisible. I know this is difficult, but for your safety…"
At that moment, a calm voice came from behind them.
"I must disagree, Headmaster."
Sagres leaned against the doorframe, undisguised skepticism in his grey eyes.
"I believe this plan is unfair to everyone, and its necessity is open to question."
Dumbledore looked at him, raising an eyebrow slightly. "I would be very interested to hear your reasoning, Sagres."
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