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"I was far too young back then, and far too foolish as well," Lady Snowy Owl said, her voice carrying a note of regret. "Afterward, when the Aurors of the British Ministry of Magic began investigating the matter, I was terrified they would uncover the truth. I lost my head completely and… in a moment of desperate recklessness, I tried tried to bribe the official in charge with The Invisible Book of Invisibility. You can understand, can't you? At that time the book was considered a rare treasure, and since it was literally invisible, it seemed to me the perfect 'gift' to offer."
"And what happened in the end?" Even the usually composed elder, Thunderbird, could not keep himself from asking.
"In the end I ran headlong into a one-eyed Auror." Her eyes lowered, her shoulders slumped, and her whole frame seemed to shrink. "That magical eye of his was incredibly powerful. It could pierce through every layer of invisibility…"
"And then?" Robin asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
"They caught me red-handed, with the book in my possession. The evidence was irrefutable. Attempted bribery, disrupting the order of the Ministry, and when added to the earlier charge of fraudulent supplies…" She forced those heavy words out with difficulty, each one like a stone on her chest. "All the crimes were tallied together. The enormous fine was nothing compared to what followed; the real punishment was the British Ministry of Magic declaring that I was not merely a crooked merchant, but a dangerous criminal who had dared to use an 'invisible bribe' as though mocking their intelligence. And so, I was 'honored' with a permanent place on their blacklist, forbidden to ever set foot in Britain again."
Sargeras did not reply at once. He only fixed those deep, searching eyes on Lady Snowy Owl, his gaze so steady and penetrating that she felt as if she were sitting on needles, struggling to draw breath.
Just as she thought she might suffocate beneath the weight of his silence, Sargeras finally spoke again.
"A heavy fine, yes. But more importantly, the British Ministry of Magic permanently banning you from entering the country or conducting any business there. That, I believe, is the punishment you speak of."
He paused, rubbing at his temple as though the matter troubled him. "So, Lady Snowy Owl, regarding your idea of supplying Hogwarts with textbooks, my advice to you would be…"
"What advice?" Lady Snowy Owl pressed at once, desperate for him to finish.
"My advice," Sargeras said with a faint sigh, a trace of reluctant pity slipping into his voice, "is that you change your identity altogether. I do believe you when you say you've mended your ways. But in the records of the British Ministry's Department of Magical Education, I fear your name is still pinned firmly at the very top of their blacklist, stamped with a glaring red mark that reads 'Untrustworthy.'"
"To be honest, this little slice of the pie hardly matters to you anymore, does it?" Stork could not resist interjecting.
"It hardly matters!" Lady Snowy Owl lifted her head, but almost at once her shoulders sagged again. Her voice wavered between bitterness and despair. "Yet if I could knock once more upon Hogwarts' doors, even if only to supply the smallest portion of their needs… it would mean tearing open that damned ban! It would not just be a contract. It would be a passage, a key that would let me openly and honorably wash away the disgrace that has clung to me for so long."
Sargeras allowed his gaze to rest on her face for a while, studying the flickering light in her eyes and the desperation hidden beneath her defiance.
For a merchant whose trade network had stretched its roots into nearly every corner of the world, Lady Snowy Owl clearly still nursed a deep wound from this matter. It was not simply the loss of profit that gnawed at her. The ban was like a thorn lodged in her heart, sharp and unyielding, pricking her pride every time she thought of it.
To prove how much it haunted her, she had even been willing to expose her reckless, shameful past… the folly of her youth, laid bare without defense. And from the look of regret etched across her features, it seemed she truly had come to understand the magnitude of her mistake back then.
At last Sargeras exhaled a long, quiet breath. His chin dipped ever so slightly, a subtle motion that carried the weight of decision, as though he had conceded something within himself.
"…I can try to mediate on your behalf," he said at last, his voice still calm and measured, every word deliberate. "I will see whether it's possible to bypass the regular procedures of the Ministry's Department of Magical Education and bring this deal to completion."
The disappointment in Lady Snowy Owl's eyes flared at once into a joy so sharp and sudden it was almost disbelieving. She nearly sprang from her chair in excitement, her voice breaking with tremor as she stammered, "You mean… you truly would…?"
Her tone was trembling with emotion, unable to steady itself, as if relief and ecstasy were fighting for dominance.
"No promises, madam," Sargeras immediately raised a hand, his composed gesture quelling her outburst before it could spiral further. His tone was cool, firm, yet not unkind. "Not a guarantee, only an attempt."
"The Department of Magical Education is not an immovable wall. There are always cracks to slip through, loopholes waiting for the right hands to take advantage of. And Hogwarts itself, particularly the current Headmaster along with several long-serving professors, holds considerable influence over the choice of textbooks."
Robin then spoke up, adding his own perspective in a thoughtful tone. "The Ministry's bureaucracy is bloated and cumbersome. It happens often enough that people down below take action first, and only afterward do the reports slowly make their way through the channels. Such things are hardly unusual."
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By the time the meeting finally drew to a close, night had already fallen deep.
Sargeras, Nightingale, and Kestrel left together, their footsteps carrying them back toward the looming silhouette of Hogwarts Castle.
The night air was damp and heavy, laced with the mingled scents of soil and wild grass, of damp moss and the faint sweetness of crushed leaves. From time to time, a gust of wind swept across the forest floor, tugging at the hems of their wizarding robes so that the fabric whispered and fluttered around their legs. Somewhere in the distance came a faint rustling, as though some unseen creature were slipping silently through the undergrowth.
As they walked beneath the towering canopy, their conversation drifted almost unconsciously toward the unique and perilous magical creatures that dwelled within the Forbidden Forest.
At last, it was Nightingale who broke the silence. She was, after all, a master of potions with an almost obsessive pursuit of rare materials, and the question seemed to burn too strongly on her tongue to remain unspoken. "Is it possible to gather a steady supply of high-quality Acromantula venom from the forest?"
"You need Acromantula venom?" Sargeras looked at her sideways.
"Yes." Nightingale nodded, a touch of helplessness in her tone. "What's circulating on the market is either hopelessly tainted with impurities or so lacking in potency it's useless for precision brewing. It's become almost impossible to meet the standards for advanced potions."
"If that's what you need, you can collect some fresh venom now." Sargeras spoke with a quiet indifference, as though he were suggesting they pick mushrooms along the path. "There are nests scattered all through the Forbidden Forest. All it takes is finding the right one."
"What? Right now?"
Kestrel's voice shot up several notes, bright with both excitement and a little unease.
She was bold by nature, yet when it came to those massive, shaggy beasts, even her courage faltered. To hide the flicker of hesitation, she quickly latched onto another rumor that had long lingered in her thoughts. "Oh… by the way, what about the stories of a centaur tribe living here in the forest? Are they true?"
"It is true." Sargeras' voice was utterly flat, stripped of warmth. Yet Kestrel, sharp-eared and quick to sense the shift in people's moods, caught the faint chill that had crept into his tone. "A tribe of creatures… arrogant in their pride, yet narrow-sighted in vision."
"Huh?" Kestrel blinked, surprised by such a dismissive judgment. "But my grandfather always said their astrology is remarkable, that they can foresee the future?"
"Perhaps," Sargeras said, neither agreeing nor denying. His steps slowed a fraction, his eyes narrowing as though he were lost in a thought he would not fully voice. "But sometimes, the ability to glimpse the future does not teach them to see more clearly. On the contrary, it only makes them more foolish."
His gaze swept over the surrounding forest, and with a note of quiet irony he added, "They drown themselves in the study of the stars above, yet turn a blind eye to the thorns beneath their feet."
Nightingale nodded slightly in agreement, her voice dropping to a soft murmur. "There are times when leaning too heavily on prophecy blinds one to the dangers standing right before them, and such blindness often invites calamity."
Sargeras said no more. He only let his eyes rest on the towering trees not far ahead, their trunks like dark pillars rising into the sky.
A hush settled over the three of them. The only sound was the steady rhythm of boots pressing into fallen leaves and soft, damp earth, the faint rustle echoing between the trees.
Then, without warning, three tall figures emerged in silence upon the clearing ahead.
They were half-man, half-horse, their human torsos broad and muscular, rising seamlessly from powerful equine bodies. Moonlight traced every contour of their muscles, cast a pale sheen upon their flowing manes, and caught the sweep of their tails as they stirred in the night wind.
At their head stood a centaur larger and more imposing than the rest, a male of great stature who gripped a long spear in his hand. His sharp gaze locked on the trio with piercing intensity—though it lingered most of all on Sargeras, who had just spoken his harsh judgment.
Kestrel instinctively held her breath, her body going taut. At her side, Nightingale's fingers slipped almost unconsciously toward the wand at her waist.
The centaurs did not speak at first. They stood there in the moonlit clearing like living statues, their silence heavy with displeasure, an aura of stern reproach radiating from them.
At last, the chestnut leader stepped forward, his hooves pressing into the damp soil with a sound that seemed far louder than it should have been, each mark leaving a sharp print in the earth.
"Human wizards… the night wind carried some whispers of disrespect. Were you… mocking the wisdom of the centaurs?"
Sargeras halted, his composure unbroken, and met the centaur's fierce eyes without a flicker of unease. His face remained perfectly calm as he answered evenly, "I merely stated the truth, not an insult."
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[NOTE]
You're probably wondering why I haven't uploaded any chapters this week. I had college exams going on, so I couldn't post anything, but they finished today, and now I'm back on track.
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