Hogwarts during the summer holidays was vast and silent, with only the soft murmur of talking portraits and the occasional clank of armour echoing through the corridors.
In this rare tranquility, Sagres stood before the colossal Dueling Monument, his grey eyes fixed on the magic energy slowly swirling within it.
His thoughts drifted back to the dangerous time travel he had undertaken two years ago.
At that time, he had used a Time-Turner to briefly travel through time, venturing alone to the founding era of Hogwarts, where he caught a glimpse of the founders in their youth.
The magic styles and combat logic of Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin, in particular, were deeply etched into his memory.
Now, it was time to turn those memories into reality.
He raised his wand, its tip gathering silver magic, and began to draw in the air.
Countless complex runes and threads of magic flowed out, merging into the core of the Dueling Monument.
The first image gradually took shape.
It was Rowena Ravenclaw, whose wisdom was not merely confined to books.
Her magic was swift and precise, imbued with a deadly elegance. Every spell seemed to have been calculated and refined countless times, capable of instantly finding even the slightest flaw in an opponent's defence.
Next came Salazar Slytherin.
His mirror image exuded a cold majesty, with serpentine phantoms coiling and slithering at his feet.
His power followed a completely different style: ancient and chilling, filled with the cunning of serpents and a sharp, decisive lethality. His mastery of the Dark Arts was unfathomable, and his understanding of the essence of magic ran deep.
Constructing the mirror images of the founders took several days. To prevent them from becoming nothing more than lifeless puppets, Sagres had to rack his brain to recreate the spirit of their original selves.
After completing the mirror images of these two founders, Sagres did not stop. There were still many dangerous figures buried deep within his memory.
He began constructing some relatively simple, yet sufficiently dangerous, "NPCs" and "monsters."
For example, Old Elios, that madman who had lived to be over one hundred and thirty years old and was obsessed with wand-making.
There was also Fenrir Greyback, the brutal and powerful werewolf leader.
And several skilled yet ambitious goblins. There were even two house-elves who had turned household magic into deadly attacks.
He even recalled many pure-blood family members he had once dueled, all of whom had ultimately fallen.
Their magic had been distinctive, insidious, and difficult to guard against.
However, considering that Hogwarts still had no shortage of descendants from these families, publicly recreating the defeat of their elders would be somewhat inappropriate, so he wisely abandoned the idea.
These newly created "characters" would be placed in various dungeon scenarios, serving as unexpected obstacles or neutral threats, adding more uncertainty to the students' challenges.
By the time he lowered his wand, the Dueling Monument already had a new, silent group of residents.
Sagres temporarily left the floating arena. As agreed earlier, on a gloomy afternoon, he arrived at Number 12, Grimmauld Place by using the fireplace in Professor McGonagall's office.
In fact, he had visited once at the very beginning of the summer holidays.
That visit had not been for socialising, but to turn the place into an impregnable safe house.
"Are you sure you want to be the Secret-Keeper yourself?"
Sagres looked at Sirius, his tone calm. "This role carries absolute danger. Once you are captured, the consequences, aside from exposing the secret, will most likely be death."
Sirius no longer wore his usual carefree expression. In its place was firm resolve.
He glanced at Harry, who stood beside him with clenched fists, and answered without hesitation, "I'm sure. I'm Harry's godfather. This is my responsibility. I won't let anyone else… fall into danger because of my mistakes again."
The final sentence came out with difficulty, clearly tied to the painful memory of Peter Pettigrew.
Sagres gave a slight nod and said nothing more.
"Then, let's begin."
Over the next few hours, the core area of the House of Black hummed with magic, producing a steady, resonant vibration.
Sagres stood at the centre of the living room, a stream of brilliant magical power, like molten silver, flowing from the tip of his wand and sending ripples through the air.
Sirius and Harry stood nearby, watching intently.
They could clearly feel the surrounding air gradually becoming different. An invisible, indestructible barrier was slowly forming, quietly separating the mansion from the ordinary streets of London.
As the final syllable fell, a dazzling golden light burst from the tip of Sagres's wand, instantly spreading to every corner of the house before rapidly contracting and disappearing into Sirius's body.
An extreme silence followed.
"It's done. I made a few subtle adjustments."
Sagres lowered his wand. "From now on, the existence of Number 12, Grimmauld Place will exist only in your consciousness, Black, and in the minds of those you personally inform. To the outside world, it has completely vanished."
Black felt a strange sense of relief, as if the sword that had been hanging over his head had finally been lifted a little.
But this was only the first layer of protection.
Sagres did not stop. He immediately began adding layer upon layer of additional safeguards to the safe house.
With a wave of his wand, countless intricate silver ancient runes were imprinted onto the doors, windows, and walls, forming a powerful anti-eavesdropping spell.
He applied different magic to the roof and the foundation, deflecting malicious probes and curses.
He even adjusted the mansion's own magic nodes, allowing them to resonate with the Fidelius Charm and further strengthen its concealment.
All the protections were perfectly integrated, forming a tightly interwoven system of layered defences.
Sirius and Harry watched in astonishment. They had never seen anyone cast such a vast number of protective spells with such effortless precision.
When everything was complete, the interior of the House of Black had been entirely transformed into a fortress guarded by layers of magic.
"All right." Sagres checked everything one last time, then put away his wand. "As long as the Secret-Keeper does not reveal the secret, this will be the safest place in the magical world."
"Thank you, Professor Greengrass," Harry said sincerely, his green eyes filled with gratitude.
Sirius also thanked him solemnly. "Thank you for your help, Professor. If you ever need anything from me, please don't hesitate to ask."
Sagres only gave a faint nod, not taking their words to heart.
Over the following weeks, Sirius sent messages by Patronus several times, repeatedly inviting Sagres to visit, both to express his thanks and to let him personally see how Harry, now under protection, was settling in.
Thus, on this gloomy afternoon, Sagres arrived once more through the Floo Network.
The flames in the fireplace flickered as Sagres stepped out, brushing the dust from his robes.
The atmosphere inside the house was very different from his last visit.
Although it was still dim and carried the musty scent of age, the oppressive sense of decay had largely faded.
The scent of scones drifted through the air, and from a distance, he could hear Sirius arguing with a portrait.
"Professor Greengrass, you're here!" Harry said in surprise, having just run down the stairs, a relaxed smile on his face.
"Who's here?"
Sirius's voice came from the other end of the corridor.
A moment later, accompanied by hurried footsteps, he strode over. His serious expression turned into a smile the instant he saw Sagres, and he looked far more spirited than before.
"Ah, Professor! Welcome back. Welcome to the House of Black, which finally doesn't look like a haunted house anymore!"
After a few pleasantries, Sirius brought up the main matter, his expression a complicated mix of pride and distaste.
"I think you might be interested in this," he said, pushing open a heavy black walnut door. "The House of Black's 'treasure', the library. It's filled with centuries of things collected by my ancestors. Honestly, a lot of the ideas in here are absolutely disgusting. But I have to admit, there are also plenty of obscure magical books and notes you won't find anywhere else. I thought… perhaps you could sort through them and pick out anything valuable instead of letting them rot here forever."
The library was spacious, with tall bookshelves lining every wall. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and leather.
Several glass cabinets displayed dangerous yet captivating magical items.
A flicker of curiosity passed through Sagres's eyes.
He stepped slowly into the library, his gaze sweeping over the worn spines, which bore unsettling titles such as "Bloodline Purification: Theory and Practice," "Shadow Walking," and "Atypical Curses and Their Dissolution Methods."
"Indeed… impressive."
Sagres's voice carried a trace of admiration. "The accumulation of a pure-blood family over centuries, no matter how narrow its original intent, has a breadth and depth great enough to uncover valuable knowledge."
His finger brushed along a row of spines before coming to rest on a large tome bound in black dragonhide.
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