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"I was too young and too foolish back then," Ms. SnowY Owl said, her voice filled with regret. "Later, when the British Ministry of Magic's Aurors began their investigation, I was terrified of being exposed, so I… I panicked, and tried to bribe the official with The Invisible Book of Invisibility. You know, back then it was a rare commodity—and invisible—so it seemed perfect for a little 'gift.'"
"And what happened then?" Even Thunderbird, usually the composed elder, couldn't help but press.
"I ran into a one-eyed Auror," she lowered her gaze, shoulders slightly hunched. "His magical eye was unbelievably powerful—it could see through all invisibility..."
"So?" Robin asked, intrigued.
"Got caught red-handed. With solid evidence... attempted bribery, disruption of Ministry order, and the earlier supply fraud..." She forced the words out. "Multiple charges stacked together. The massive fine was the least of it. The key issue was that the British Ministry concluded I wasn't just a shady merchant—but someone who dared to insult their intelligence with 'invisible stolen goods'... And so, I was 'gloriously' placed on the entry-prohibited blacklist."
Sagres didn't respond right away. He simply stared at Ms. Snowy Owl, his deep gaze calm and unwavering—so intense it made her feel like she was sitting on pins and needles, her breath nearly caught in her throat.
Just as she thought she couldn't bear the silence any longer, Sagres finally spoke:
"'A very large fine,' and being permanently banned by the British Ministry of Magic from all commercial activity within the country—that's what you call 'punishment.'"
He paused, his tone turning a shade colder.
"So, Ms. Snowy Owl, regarding the Hogwarts new textbook supply order... I suggest you…"
"Suggest what?" Ms. Snowy Owl pressed immediately.
"I suggest you change your identity," Sagres said softly, with a trace of imperceptible regret. "I do believe you've reformed. But in the British Ministry of Magic's Department of Education records, your name is probably still right at the top of the blacklist, marked with a bold 'Untrustworthy.'"
"Actually, this piece of cake is insignificant to you now, isn't it?" Stork interjected.
"It is insignificant!" Ms. Snowy Owl looked up, but her shoulders quickly slumped again, her voice tinged with frustration and disappointment. "But if I could reopen the doors to Hogwarts—even just to supply a small portion—it would be like tearing apart that damned prohibition! It's not just about an order; it's… a pass, a way to publicly wipe away my disgrace!"
Sagres's gaze lingered on her face for a moment.
As a merchant who had built a global business empire, Ms. Snowy Owl was clearly still deeply affected by this matter. It wasn't about profit—it was a thorn lodged in her heart.
And for that, she hadn't hesitated to lay bare her reckless past.
From the look of regret on her face, she had clearly come to understand the weight of her mistakes.
At last, Sagres let out a faint sigh, lowering his chin slightly—as if making a reluctant concession.
"...I can try to mediate for you," he said calmly. "See if we can bypass the Ministry of Magic's Department of Education's standard procedures to complete the transaction."
The disappointment in Ms. Snowy Owl's eyes instantly turned into overwhelming joy. She nearly sprang from her chair.
"You mean… you're really willing…?"
Her voice trembled slightly with excitement.
"No guarantees, Madam," Sagres said at once, raising his hand to gently quell her enthusiasm. "It's just an attempt."
"The Department of Education isn't a monolith—there are always cracks to be found. Hogwarts itself, especially the current Headmaster and certain senior professors, have considerable influence over textbook selection."
Robin added, "The Ministry of Magic's bureaucracy is bloated and sprawling. It's not uncommon for people lower down the ladder to act first and file the paperwork later."
...
...
By the time the meeting ended, night had fallen completely.
Sagres, Nightingale, and Kestrel walked back together toward Hogwarts Castle.
The damp night air carried the scent of earth and leaves, occasionally lifting the hems of their wizard robes. From somewhere in the distance came a rustling, as though a creature was moving through the underbrush.
As they walked through the Forbidden Forest, the conversation naturally turned to the dangerous and rare magical creatures that lived within it.
As a Potion Master with a relentless pursuit of rare ingredients, Nightingale broke the silence:
"Can high-quality Acromantula venom be harvested consistently from the Forbidden Forest?"
"Oh? You need Acromantula venom?" Sagres glanced at her.
"Yes," Nightingale nodded, sounding a little exasperated. "The venom available on the market either has too many impurities or lacks potency—it's not suitable for high-precision potions."
"If you need it, you can go get some fresh venom now," Sagres said calmly, as if he were talking about picking mushrooms. "That stuff is everywhere in the Forbidden Forest—just find a suitable nest."
"Wow! Now?"
Kestrel's voice suddenly rose, equal parts excitement and nervousness.
Though she was bold, she still had a bit of a psychological barrier when it came to those hairy creatures. Then another thought struck her. "Oh, right—I've heard there's a Centaur tribe living in the Forbidden Forest. Is that true?"
"Yes," Sagres replied, his tone flat. But Kestrel keenly noticed a subtle chill enter his voice.
"A group of... self-important, yet short-sighted creatures."
"Huh?" Kestrel blinked, surprised by the slightly disparaging remark.
"But I heard my grandfather say their astrology is incredible—they can predict the future?"
"Perhaps," Sagres said indifferently, his pace unchanged.
"But sometimes, the ability to foresee the future doesn't help them see farther. It only makes them more foolish..."
He glanced at the trees around them, his voice tinged with irony.
"They're forever gazing at the stars, yet blind to the thorns beneath their feet."
Nightingale nodded quietly and added, "Sometimes, over-reliance on prophecy can blind one to the dangers right in front of them—and invite disaster instead."
Sagres said nothing more, simply turning his gaze toward the towering trees ahead.
The three of them fell into a brief silence, broken only by the sound of their boots brushing through fallen leaves and soft earth.
Just then, in the clearing ahead, three tall figures silently emerged.
They had the upper bodies of humans and the lower bodies of powerful horses, their muscles smoothly outlined in the moonlight, manes and tails swaying gently in the night breeze.
At the front stood a particularly burly male Centaur, gripping a spear, his sharp gaze fixed intently on the three of them—especially on Sagres, who had just made the remark.
Kestrel instinctively held her breath, while Nightingale's hand had already moved quietly to rest on the wand at her waist.
The Centaurs stood in silence, like three statues carved in moonlight, exuding unmistakable displeasure.
The dark brown Centaur in the lead stepped forward slowly, his hooves leaving deep imprints in the damp earth.
"Human wizards... the night wind carries whispers of disrespect. Are you—mocking the wisdom of the Centaurs?"
Sagres stopped walking and met the Centaur's gaze head-on, his expression completely unreadable.
"Merely stating facts. Not an insult, now was it?"