Faced with Professor Snape's interrogation, the corners of Sagres's lips lifted slightly, revealing a trace of amusement.
Rather than avoiding the question, he replied in a clear, steady, and even faintly teasing tone:
"Still the same as always, Professor Snape."
He met Snape's dark gaze without the slightest hesitation.
"Just thinking about how to rule the world more efficiently. You know, it's important to plan ahead."
A muscle in Professor Snape's cheek seemed to twitch.
He clearly recognised the remark as a direct reference to their previous conversation in the Restricted Section of the library, which amounted to nothing less than open mockery.
"As arrogant as ever..."
Professor Snape ground out the words through clenched teeth.
"I sincerely hope your plans for 'world domination' do not include turning every Hogwarts student into a copy of yourself."
"An evil Dark Lord?"
Sagres supplied helpfully, his tone remaining perfectly calm.
"Don't worry, Professor. Not everyone is a genius like me."
At this shameless self-praise, the corners of Snape's mouth visibly twitched downward.
"A genius?"
He sneered.
"I've seen countless fools who considered themselves geniuses. Most of them ended up either in a permanent ward at St Mungo's or in a cell at Azkaban."
Sagres nodded earnestly, as though accepting a heartfelt blessing.
"Thank you for your concern, Professor Snape. If I do end up in one of those places as you hope, I shall certainly remember to send you a postcard."
His gaze shifted past Snape's shoulder towards Nightingale, who was watching the spectacle from the crowd nearby.
"Well then, Professor, if there are no further accusations, please excuse me for a moment."
He turned slightly, making every indication that he was about to leave.
"In order to better rule the world, I still have some important business to attend to..."
Professor Snape narrowed his eyes.
After a moment, he let out a cold snort.
"Of course..."
He deliberately dragged out the words.
"Go and attend to your 'important business,' Sagres. I wish you every success in your... career."
With that, he sharply flicked his robes and strode away, his black silhouette quickly disappearing behind a display stand showcasing various rare fungi.
Sagres watched him leave without expression, as though the entire exchange had been nothing more than a trivial interruption.
Honestly.
Even missing potion ingredients get blamed on me?
Do I, Sagres Greengrass, really look like someone who would steal African Tree Snake skin and Lacewing fly larvae?
He clicked his tongue and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, mentally adding another mark against his sarcastic colleague.
Then he gathered himself and walked directly towards Nightingale, who had been standing nearby the entire time, perfectly fulfilling the role of a spectator.
A playful smile appeared on Nightingale's face. She had clearly witnessed the entire exchange.
"It seems you're not particularly popular with your colleagues."
"On the contrary, Professor Snape is the one renowned throughout Hogwarts for his unique personality," Sagres replied calmly, completely unconcerned by the curious glances around them. "A minor interruption. Take me to where the Diricawls were sighted. Now."
"Of course, Dark Lord, as you wish." Nightingale nodded gracefully.
Invisible black lines seemed to appear across Sagres's forehead.
He deliberately ignored the teasing in her words and, under the gaze of the surrounding crowd, naturally extended a hand and lightly rested it on her arm.
Nightingale casually placed her wine glass onto the tray of a passing waiter and offered an apologetic smile to a nearby wizard who appeared to be gathering the courage to approach her.
"My apologies, but I have some 'important business' that requires my immediate attention."
The next second, with a faint pop, both of them vanished.
Only the gently rippling air beside the riverbank remained, along with a group of stunned witches and wizards.
Far from the crowd, at the edge of a sparse woodland, the air twisted once more.
Sagres and Nightingale appeared out of nowhere.
Sagres wasted no time with pleasantries.
"What exactly did you find?"
"The magical fluctuation was brief, but the characteristics were unmistakable."
Nightingale tilted her head slightly.
"The flock isn't large. At most six or seven individuals. But their behaviour is abnormal. They seem to be desperately fleeing from something, repeatedly using short-range Apparition and showing clear signs of panic."
She then pointed towards the forest.
"I placed several of their preferred insects in a wetland valley roughly three miles away and cast a calming lure charm. There's a high probability they've adopted it as a temporary refuge by now."
Sagres nodded.
Diricawls possessed an innate ability to Apparate, leaving them with almost no natural predators.
Apart from a handful of extremely fast apex predators, very few creatures posed a genuine threat to them.
Poachers, however, were a different matter.
The magically rich feathers of Diricawls were valuable materials used in the manufacture of high-quality quills and Remembralls, and had once sparked a major hunting craze within the wizarding world.
While speaking quietly, the pair eventually arrived at the edge of the wetland.
The environment was hot and humid, thick with intertwined tropical vegetation. The ground was covered in deep layers of decaying plant matter and scattered pools of water, while the air carried the sweet, earthy scent of decomposition.
Nightingale silently pointed ahead.
Through gaps in the massive overlapping leaves, a small clearing could be seen.
Several fluffy, plump creatures covered in blue-grey feathers were clumsily hopping about, occasionally letting out soft cooing noises.
Their round eyes darted about warily, while their long beaks pecked at glowing moss and small insects scattered across the ground.
There were six Diricawls in total, two adults and four juveniles, appearing to be a family group.
"Those are them," Nightingale whispered.
A flicker of satisfaction passed through Sagres's eyes.
Without making a sound, he drew his wand.
His intention was to cast a spatial anchoring spell to prevent the little creatures from instantly teleporting away in panic.
He only needed to collect a few feathers for his experiments, so there was no need to harm them.
Nightingale silently took up a position nearby, keeping watch over the surroundings to ensure there were no unexpected disturbances.
However, just as Sagres was about to cast the spell—Whoosh!
A black blur burst from the dense forest at a speed that nearly defied perception, like a bolt of black lightning tearing through the air, lunging directly at one of the young Diricawls that had reacted a fraction too slowly.
The speed of the creature was so great that the compressed air emitted a piercing shriek.
The entire flock instantly scattered in panic.
Terrified cooing cries echoed through the wetland.
Just a split second before the black shadow's claws could touch the chick's downy feathers, survival instinct overrode everything else.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
A rapid series of soft popping sounds erupted.
All six Diricawls vanished almost simultaneously, Apparating away in completely random and unpredictable directions.
The black shadow landed gracefully in the clearing, finally revealing its true form.
It was a large feline with a sleek body and powerful muscles. Its fur was covered in magnificent black leopard-like markings.
Most unsettling of all were its enormous eyes, which slowly swirled like glassy vortices.
It was a Wampus.
It had clearly been hunting the Diricawl flock as well.
The creature appeared completely unsurprised by the disappearance of its prey. It merely flicked its tail elegantly before turning its enormous eyes towards the two unexpected intruders nearby: Sagres and Nightingale.
Sagres's spatial anchoring spell had been a fraction too slow, harmlessly enveloping empty air.
His expression darkened instantly.
The Diricawls had practically been within his grasp, only to be scattered at the last moment by a Wampus.
"A Wampus..." Nightingale stepped slightly closer to Sagres. "Its eyes!"
Sagres did not need the warning.
He knew perfectly well how dangerous a Wampus's eyes could be.
Looking directly into them could result in hypnosis, or even complete mental collapse.
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