HP: Dangerous Professor from Azkaban

It wasn't dark yet when Sagres Apparated back to Hogsmeade.

He uncharacteristically stopped by the pub for a while before slowly walking towards Hogwarts Castle.

On the way back to the castle, he saw a shadowy figure, heavily cloaked, but Sagres knew his identity when they brushed past each other — Quirrell!

After all, the strong smell of garlic was too obvious; all disguises seemed pale in comparison to this flaw.

However, Sagres ignored him. This was Dumbledore's business, or rather, it was a task Dumbledore had given Snape, and it had nothing to do with him.

Tomorrow there was a Quidditch House Cup match, and as with last time, Professor McGonagall had already invited him to watch, and while he still wasn't interested, he didn't refuse either.

Time quickly came to the next day, and news from the Daily Prophet swept through the campus.

The estate of the Flint family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families, was attacked by werewolves last night.

This news caused quite a stir at Hogwarts; many Slytherin students discussed it privately because their House Quidditch captain, Marcus, was a member of the Flint family.

And reports about Sagres's teaching methods were almost ignored by everyone. He was happy to see this result, as nothing was more comfortable than quietly teaching at Hogwarts.

He leisurely watched the game on the Quidditch pitch, and no accidents occurred during it—not only because Dumbledore was at the pitch, but Harry Potter also deserved credit.

Why?

Because he caught the Golden Snitch less than five minutes after the game started, ending the match.

Sagres was in a good mood; this indirectly saved him a lot of time.

He therefore spoke to Harry alone after the game.

"I'm glad you didn't get lost in that mirror," Sagres patted Harry's shoulder. "You were excellent today, and I hope that in any future games I watch, you'll win as quickly as you did today."

"Thank you, Professor Greengrass..." Harry's face was flushed with excitement.

Just as they were about to continue talking, Dumbledore called Sagres away, and Sagres's good mood instantly vanished.

When he arrived at the Headmaster's office, he found that Dumbledore wasn't the only one there—Professor McGonagall was also present.

Hogwarts' Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress were talking to him at the same time... so what was going on?

"What is it?" Without thinking much, Sagres naturally conjured a chair and sat down.

"Sagres, I called you here because I wanted to ask you something..."

The Headmaster glanced at Professor McGonagall beside him and said solemnly, "This matter concerns whether you can continue to serve as a professor at Hogwarts."

Professor McGonagall's eyes widened when she heard this, and she covered her mouth in surprise, while Sagres remained calm, merely narrowing his eyes slightly.

Professor McGonagall: "Albus, you called me here because..."

"Minerva, inviting Sagres back to Hogwarts was a joint decision between you and me."

Dumbledore explained to her, "And as Hogwarts' Deputy Headmistress, the next matter should be decided by the two of us."

After the old man finished, he turned his head seriously. "Sagres, you must tell me if what happened to the Flint family has anything to do with you..."

Professor McGonagall was even more surprised by this question and instinctively spoke, "What are you saying? Albus, what does this have to do with Sagres? Wasn't it because of werewolves—"

"I'm afraid it's not just because of werewolves, Minerva..." Dumbledore looked at Sagres and said seriously, "This might be a murder, Sagres, and I think we need to know the truth."

"Hmm... Before that, I have to ask one thing." Sagres narrowed his eyes and looked at the old man behind the desk, his tone stiff. "Are you interrogating me?"

"Don't be like that, Sagres. I believe you, no matter what!" Professor McGonagall affirmed to him.

He turned to Professor McGonagall and calmly nodded. "Yes, I admit, this matter is directly related to me."

Gasp!

Ignoring Professor McGonagall's wide eyes, Sagres looked at Dumbledore and continued, "But there's something I don't understand, Dumbledore..." He leaned back in his chair, his right hand continuously stroking the everlasting flower wood wand inside his wizard robe.

"If you respect the law, then why didn't you stand up and tell everyone the truth when the Daily Prophet was slandering me?" Without waiting for the old man to answer, he continued, "And if you recognize power, then why are you using the law to suppress me when I'm seeking justice for myself?"

"Am I acting weak and easily bullied? Or do you have a prejudice against me?"

Sagres said without hesitation, "And to be honest, I've killed at least eighty, if not a hundred, people. But my conscience is clear, because every one of them had a damned reason to die."

He stared directly at Dumbledore, his gaze calm and cold.

"Regardless, this is not a reason for you to take a life, and I will not allow a murderer to teach my students..." Dumbledore's tone was unhurried but unquestionable.

"Fair enough." Sagres said and was about to apparate when McGonagall's desperate voice came, "Sagres.. please.. explain yourself."

Silence fell in the office, and finally, Sagres spoke again.

"Yes, yesterday I went to the Daily Prophet headquarters, and Barnabas Guffey told me that Carbott Flint threatened him to publish defamatory reports about me. Then I went to the Flint family's estate..."

Professor McGonagall was too surprised to speak, while Dumbledore sternly questioned, "And then you killed him?"

"I'm afraid I'll disappoint you..." Sagres felt nothing inside. "That inbred imbecile, a waste whose mind is full of family honor and bloodline supremacy, doesn't deserve to die by my hand."

"Then who killed him?"

"Why don't you check yourself, Mr. Headmaster?" Sagres was not at all polite.

"Don't be like that, Sagres, I know you would never do such a thing without reason..." Professor McGonagall soothed.

"Hmph!" He sneered. "Do you know what curse Carbott used on me?"

"The Killing Curse," Sagres said calmly. "And in his manor's flower garden, at least thirty executed Squibs are buried!"

The two Heads opened their mouths, but Sagres ignored them and continued, "To kill me, he didn't hesitate to collude with the werewolves of the Blood Moon Alliance, and even desecrated the bodies of those innocent dead with necromancy..."

"I want to ask—shouldn't such a person die?" he said coldly. "I say I didn't kill him; but even if I did, what then?"

"Even so, we shouldn't resort to vigilantism, but let the law judge him." The Headmaster's expression softened considerably.

"Law? If the law worked, they should have been judged as soon as they executed the first Squib," Sagres scoffed.

"So the werewolves killed him?" Professor McGonagall asked softly.

He nodded. "Yes, Gargoyle—the tactical commander of the Blood Moon Alliance—killed him."

"But weren't they allies? Why would they..."

"They were allies before transforming into werewolves; they weren't afterward." Dumbledore mostly understood, and he said with some emotion, "I owe you an apology, Sagres; I misunderstood you..."

"But I'm sorry, I can't forgive you." Sagres stood up and said expressionlessly, "So if I'm ever truly wrong, don't expect me to surrender."

He finished speaking and turned to leave the office.

Snap!

Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore exchanged glances, neither speaking for a moment.

"I don't think he's wrong," Professor McGonagall broke the silence and said earnestly. "You're being a bit harsh on him, Albus; you'll only make him go down the wrong path."

"Is that so, Minerva?" Dumbledore seemed lost in thought, murmuring, "But he's too young, and he's growing too fast. If such a person loses control, the consequences will be more terrifying than ten Lord Voldemorts."

Professor McGonagall covered her mouth; she hadn't expected Dumbledore to say something like that.

"You-Know-Who wouldn't attack a pure-blood for a few Squibs."

The portraits on the wall finally couldn't help but interject, and both Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore fell into thought upon hearing this.