HP: Dangerous Professor from Azkaban

When Sagres stepped into the Great Hall, it was already packed.

The Great Hall had been redecorated in Slytherin's green and silver, celebrating their seventh consecutive House Cup victory. A giant banner depicting the Slytherin serpent hung prominently on the wall behind the Professors' table.

Sagres curled his lip. Snape was undoubtedly instrumental in Slytherin's victory. If he hadn't relentlessly deducted points from the other three houses, the outcome of the House Cup might have been very different.

Of course, Sagres himself had always disdained the House Cup's outcome. In his opinion, it was merely a symbolic "honor."

Admittedly, it could strengthen students' identification with their respective houses, but at the same time, it also intensified inter-house antagonism and prejudice.

The Great Hall buzzed with noise, students eagerly anticipating the upcoming holidays—like birds in a cage, waiting for the cage door to open so they could spread their wings and fly.

At the Professors' table, the staff were also chatting among themselves.

Sagres found one thing quite perplexing: the Professors almost never failed students in their final exams. This lenient approach to education was—Um.. Sagres didn't know what to think of it.

However, this had nothing to do with him. He would still adhere to his principles and wouldn't hesitate to give zeroes where they were due.

When Dumbledore's silver-haired figure appeared at the entrance to the Great Hall, the clamor receded like a tide.

"Another year—how time flies," the Headmaster's voice was as rich as honey, yet carried a commanding authority. "Before we enjoy this magnificent feast, allow this old man to say a few more words." He winked playfully, eliciting soft laughter from some of the younger students.

"This year, each of your intelligences has grown—of course, some of you may have grown much more than others."

Good-natured laughter rippled through the Great Hall, and even Professor McGonagall at the staff table couldn't help but purse her lips.

"Now, let us reveal the winner of this year's House Cup." Dumbledore waved his wand, and the four House hourglasses shimmered as they floated into the air.

"Fourth place—Gryffindor. Third place—Hufflepuff. Second place—Ravenclaw. First place—"

He deliberately drew out the final words, while the Slytherin table was already stirring with anticipation.

"Slytherin!"

The silver-and-green sea instantly erupted.

Draco Malfoy slammed his goblet onto the oak table, the crystal base ringing crisply against the wood.

His pale face flushed with excitement as he rhythmically stamped his heel on the floor, casting a provocative gaze toward the Gryffindor table.

Crabbe and Goyle, like two moving mountains, waved their thick arms, nearly knocking over the pumpkin juice in front of them.

Pansy Parkinson shrieked with laughter, tossing silver-green streamers into the air.

"So far, that is—Slytherin has the most points..."

Dumbledore's silver beard trembled slightly in the candlelight. He raised a hand to quiet the cheering Slytherins, his blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles twinkling with mischief.

"However," the Headmaster's voice suddenly took on a playful tone, "I believe everything that happened before the end of the term should be taken into consideration."

His gaze swept over the staff table. Professor McGonagall straightened her back, Snape's mouth twitched, while Sagres picked up his goblet, concealing the meaningful smile on his lips.

"Mr. Ron Weasley—" Dumbledore's voice echoed through the suddenly silent hall.

Ron's face instantly turned crimson, like a red-hot furnace, nearly steaming from his ears.

"He displayed extraordinary tactical talent, commanding a Wizard's Chess duel that can be considered the most brilliant in Hogwarts's history." A large number of rubies suddenly poured into Gryffindor's hourglass. "For this, Gryffindor shall be awarded fifty points."

A deafening cheer erupted from the Gryffindor table. Fred and George jumped onto the benches, tossing their wizard hats into the air. Percy tried to maintain his prefect's composure, but his grin stretched from ear to ear.

"Miss Hermione Granger—" Dumbledore continued. Hermione's curly hair fell forward to cover her flushed cheeks as she bowed her head. "She displayed remarkable wisdom and courage under the threat of fire and a Troll." Another batch of rubies fell into the hourglass. "Another fifty points."

Padma Patil leaned in and whispered to her sister, "I told you she should have come to our house."

Slytherin's dagger-like gazes pierced the backs of the Gryffindors, each one like a volcano about to erupt, their thick necks flushed crimson.

"Mr. Harry Potter—" Dumbledore's voice suddenly became solemn, and the whispers in the Great Hall ceased abruptly. "He faced unimaginable challenges and displayed extraordinary courage and determination."

Rubies cascaded down like a waterfall. "For this, I shall award Gryffindor sixty more points."

Gryffindor's cheers almost lifted the enchanted ceiling. Lee Jordan jumped onto the long table and began dancing impromptu, only to slide back down, startled by a glance from Professor McGonagall.

"Finally—"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "True courage lies not only in challenging enemies but also in standing firm on your principles when facing friends."

He turned to Neville, who was nervously squeezing his toad. "Mr. Neville Longbottom, for preventing his friends from breaking school rules, he bravely faced potential ridicule and isolation. For this, I shall award Gryffindor ten more points."

The entire Great Hall fell into a brief silence, followed by even more enthusiastic cheers.

Neville sat stunned until Seamus gave him a hard shove, bringing him back to his senses. Gryffindor's total score had now surpassed Slytherin's by ten points, the red and silver hourglasses shimmering with distinctly different lights under the candlelight.

"I think," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "it's time for some new decorations in the Great Hall."

He clapped his hands, and Slytherin's silver-green banners instantly transformed into golden-red lions.

Thousands of golden-red balloons floated down from the dome, and the Fat Friar's ghost excitedly drifted through the long tables.

Professor McGonagall primly adjusted her wizard hat, Professor Flitwick clapped enthusiastically, Professor Sprout displayed a gentle smile, while Snape managed to force out a strained, awkward smile.

Sagres wore a half-smile, feeling that the House Cup's value had consequently diminished even further.

After all, the power to award points rested solely with the Professors; Snape's favoritism and Professor McGonagall's strict impartiality ultimately made little difference.

Because it was essentially a battle for their definition of the standard of "excellence."

As for Dumbledore's last-minute addition of points for Harry and the others, reversing the outcome, it was a direct declaration of authority trampling on rules.

In such circumstances, what meaning did this symbolic trophy of honor hold?

Sagres rose and left the Great Hall, his robes tracing an elegant arc behind him.

Dumbledore's trick left him feeling rather flat—while it was certainly amusing to see Snape's greasy old face turn green with anger, such a childish method of judgment was truly undignified. "Pfft~!" Sagres held back a chuckle.

"Professor! Professor Greengrass…"

The Young Wizards' shouts came from behind, and Sagres turned to find the trio panting as they chased after him.

"Is there something I can help you with, you three?" Sagres asked with a smile. "At this time, Gryffindor's heroes should be enjoying the cheers of victory in the Great Hall."

The trio exchanged awkward glances, looking a little embarrassed, their joy largely dissipated.

"Professor, we really didn't know Professor Dumbledore would give us points..." Harry began. "We know you already gave us points, but..."

"Oh, come on!" Ron's red hair was like a flame, and he instinctively retorted, "Snape gave Slytherin at least two hundred inexplicable points! This is just—"

"Ron!" Hermione suddenly looked up. "That's not the point. The point is this is a bit... a bit... a bit out of order..."

The little witch struggled for a long time to find a less harsh word.

Sagres couldn't help but find it somewhat amusing. It was clear that these three Young Wizards had indeed grown a lot. They hadn't been carried away by honor; instead, they had keenly perceived something deeper.

However, this was Dumbledore's decision, and they had no reason to feel the slightest shame about it.

He lightly waved his right hand, and the heavy curtains in the corridor were slowly drawn open by an invisible hand, allowing the orange glow of the setting sun to gently pour through the glass.

"Relax..." he said softly. "The House Cup is just a children's game; its purpose is merely to teach you to follow rules, for easier management."

"Ah! Is... is that so?"

A hint of confusion appeared on the trio's faces, clearly having had some illusions shattered by Sagres's few words.

The black-robed Professor calmly looked at them, then raised a finger to point at the exquisite scoring hourglasses on the Great Hall's dome, saying earnestly, "The sparkle of those jewels is but a fleeting brilliance; true glory is not in the hourglass, but here—"

He pointed his wand at the Young Wizards' chests.

"The courage and wisdom in your hearts will not change with the addition or subtraction of points. This is also Dumbledore's purpose in doing this—I think he just wants to reward your exceptional courage."

After all, the Headmaster had originally intended to award them each a "Special Contribution Medal," but it seemed he ultimately changed it to points.

Harry: "So…"

"So you can fully enjoy all of this with a clear conscience, without worrying about whether it's in order or not," Sagres said with a smile.

"I don't quite understand…" Ron scratched his head. "You're speaking too profoundly, Professor."

"Simply put, follow your heart, even if the hourglass goes to zero," Sagres explained.

A raven gracefully flew from the end of the corridor, lightly landing on his outstretched arm, holding a letter in its beak.

"Now, enjoy your feast to the fullest—and the wonderful holiday that is about to begin."

Waving his hand to shoo the three Young Wizards back into the Great Hall, Sagres turned and walked toward the Hogwarts Library, his figure gradually disappearing at the end of the corridor.

Fortunately, he had read many "successology" books before transmigrating.

At least when it came to lecturing others, fooling a few underage Young Wizards was more than enough.

Sagres thought to himself as he walked...

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