Hermione fell silent and continued toward the library, hugging her books to her chest.
She pushed open the heavy library doors, and the familiar scent of parchment and old books inside allowed the tension in her nerves to ease slightly.
Hermione walked straight to her usual seat by the window, only to unexpectedly find someone standing nearby. It was Professor Greengrass.
He was taking a thick volume from a tall bookshelf, comparing it with another book in his hand.
Hermione's steps faltered. Thinking of her "performance" in Divination class just moments ago, and the commotion it might cause, her cheeks flushed faintly, a trace of unease rising in her chest.
Sagres seemed to sense her presence. He turned his head, his calm grey eyes settling on her, as though they could see straight through people.
He closed the book in his hand and spoke in a gentle, low voice. "Miss Granger. Noctis mentioned that you seem to have finished your class in the North Tower a little early today."
There was no reproach in his tone, only a quiet note of understanding.
"How did you know, Professor?" Hermione asked, somewhat surprised.
Sagres smiled. "Noctis has been searching for something around the castle recently."
Hermione nodded, wisely choosing not to pursue the topic.
However, her face grew even redder, a hint of stubborn resolve surfacing as she explained a little too quickly, "Yes, Professor. I… I had some… disagreements with Professor Trelawney. I believe Divination lacks a reliable empirical basis and is a waste of time."
As the argument replayed itself in her mind, her tone grew slightly agitated once more.
Sagres listened quietly, showing no sign of surprise. He moved to an empty oak table nearby and gestured for Hermione to sit as well.
"Divination," Sagres said calmly, "is a discipline that relies heavily on talent. It is like an elusive form of magical perception, not something that can necessarily be mastered through diligence alone. True Seers, like Professor Trelawney's ancestors, are exceedingly rare."
He looked at Hermione, his gaze open and sincere. "For most people, myself included, spending large amounts of time interpreting tea-leaf patterns, illusions in crystal balls, or the movements of the stars often yields far less than devoting that same effort to fields of knowledge that are logically structured and can be learned and mastered systematically."
He gently tapped the thick magic tome in his hand.
"You… you don't believe in those prophecies either?" Hermione asked, a little surprised. She had assumed that a powerful wizard like Sagres might hold more reverence for mysterious forces.
Sagres shook his head slightly, a faint smile touching the corner of his mouth. "I believe that fate has its own trajectory. But rather than relying on vague and elusive prophecies, I place greater faith in seizing the present and shaping the future through my own knowledge and power."
"Prophecies, if they exist, are often obscure and difficult to decipher, filled with misdirection. They can even become shackles that restrict action. Without that innate 'Inner Eye,' fixating on Divination can indeed be a waste of time."
He met Hermione's gaze, his eyes filled with understanding and a gentle, almost paternal reassurance.
"So leaving a course that frustrates you and offers no value in your eyes, Miss Granger, is not a sign of weakness or failure, but a wise decision. Hogwarts has many fields worthy of your passion and intellect."
Sagres's words were like cool spring water, extinguishing the last traces of self-doubt and irritation in Hermione's heart caused by "dropping the course."
His views aligned perfectly with hers, further affirming her decision.
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said sincerely, the final knot in her heart completely dissolving.
Sagres gave a slight nod. "Your time is very precious. Pursuing a meaningless twelve O.W.L.s is pointless."
As he spoke, he extended a hand, and a magic book so thick it could almost serve as a shield floated lightly down from a towering bookshelf, settling steadily into his palm.
"I know you are widely read and have mastered many branches of magic," he said, shifting the topic as he handed the book to Hermione, "but compared to breadth, I also hope you will pay attention to depth."
"Without a deep understanding of the essence and principles of magic, it is very difficult to cross the threshold of creation."
What he handed her was none other than the book every Hogwarts first-year purchased upon entering the school: Magical Theory.
"You mean… creating my own spells?" Hermione instinctively accepted the book, asking in disbelief. "I can do that too?"
"Why not?" Sagres replied as if it were self-evident. "As far as I know, Professor Snape created more than one spell when he was a student."
"Professor Snape?" Hermione's voice rose in surprise.
"Exactly," Sagres said calmly, nodding. "Putting aside his temperament, Professor Snape is undeniably a genius in the fields of Charms and Potions."
Hermione nodded reluctantly, then curiosity pushed her to ask, "What about you, Professor? When you were a student…"
"Of course, I was the same," Sagres said frankly. "But openly calling myself a genius—doesn't that sound a bit immodest?"
"You are inherently arrogant and conceited."
A cold voice rang out without warning.
Snape emerged silently from the shadows between the bookshelves, clutching an ancient tome bound in grim leather.
At that moment, his expression was as dark as the book's cover, clearly having heard Sagres's earlier remark about "putting aside his character."
"Do you find something wrong with my character, Sagres?" he demanded, practically hissing the words through clenched teeth.
"Not at all."
Sagres turned around, a flawless smile on his face.
Their voices had evidently carried in the otherwise silent library, for Madam Pince peered out from behind a distant bookshelf, her stern gaze sweeping over them several times in silent warning.
Snape snorted coldly, flung his robes aside, and turned to leave.
Only after the black-robed figure vanished behind layers of shelves did Sagres turn back to Hermione. Lowering his voice, he added earnestly, "What I meant was that Professor Snape doesn't really have a 'character' at all—because I was 'especially looked after' by him quite often when I was a student."
His tone was unusually teasing.
Hermione could not help letting out a small snort of laughter, quickly covering her mouth with her hand as her shoulders shook slightly.
After a while, Hermione finally stopped laughing and looked with curiosity at the thick, weighty book Sagres was holding.
"Professor, what is that you're holding…?"
"A compendium on the application of Transfiguration in ancient ritual magic," Sagres lowered his gaze to the book in his hand, his voice carrying a trace of barely perceptible regret. "Unfortunately, many of the core materials recorded within have long been lost, and I'm afraid suitable substitutes can no longer be found."
His tone soon returned to normal. Hermione nodded in understanding, her eyes reflecting regret for the knowledge that had been lost to time.
Sagres said nothing more. He gave Hermione a slight nod, then, holding the heavy ancient tome firmly in his hands, turned and walked deeper into the quiet, secluded maze of bookshelves in the library.
He was still searching for any remaining clues that might relate to it.
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