"Or perhaps the problem lies within Hogwarts itself?" Harry offered.
"Ah, you mean Snape..." Ron began, but immediately swallowed the rest of his words under Sagres's calm gaze.
"Professor Snape certainly bears a grudge against Potter," Sagres said evenly, "but that does not mean he was responsible. As one of Dumbledore's most trusted people, he need not be considered for the moment."
"In that case, Professor Moody should also be above suspicion," Hermione reasoned. "He and Dumbledore have been close friends for many years."
"Of course. He's been on Harry's side from the very beginning," Ron agreed.
"I don't think Professor Moody could be one of Voldemort's followers either," Harry said firmly. "He personally captured so many Death Eaters and Dark Wizards. There's no reason he would be working with them."
After a brief silence, Hermione spoke again, this time with some hesitation.
"Actually, there was someone else at the feast whose behaviour struck me as rather strange..."
"Who?" Harry and Ron asked together.
"Mr Crouch."
Hermione spoke with certainty.
"I don't know whether you noticed, but compared with the decisive Mr Crouch we saw at the Quidditch World Cup, he barely spoke at all tonight. He was unusually quiet. And the few clear statements he did make were..."
"Confirming Harry's right to compete," Ron finished, his brows gradually drawing together as he imitated Hermione's thoughtful expression.
However, Hermione suddenly shook her head, rejecting her own theory.
"No, wait... that doesn't make sense. We all know Mr Crouch despises the Dark Arts and Death Eaters, and his methods have always been ruthless. He even sent his own son to Azkaban. In terms of motive, he has no reason to plot against Harry."
After speaking, she looked towards Sagres, hoping for his opinion.
But Sagres merely stared at the shimmering surface of the Black Lake, his eyes unfocused as though lost in thought.
"Professor?" Harry called tentatively.
"Professor Greengrass?" Ron raised his voice as well.
"Professor!" Hermione finally called more loudly.
Sagres suddenly came back to himself, his pupils refocusing. He blinked, turned towards the three of them, and said with a trace of apology,
"Forgive me. I was thinking about something else. What did you say? I didn't quite hear you."
The three exchanged glances before reluctantly repeating their observations about Mr Crouch's unusual silence and Hermione's subsequent doubts.
After listening, Sagres's gaze deepened.
"In the wizarding world, many things cannot be judged simply by common sense or past impressions," he said slowly.
"Miss Granger, you mentioned his ruthless conduct in the past, and you are correct. But have you considered that someone with such a strong will and firm principles might, for that very reason, make an ideal target for certain dark spells?"
"You mean..."
Sagres raised a hand to stop her question and continued.
"The Imperius Curse can completely control a person's mind and actions, turning them into an unwilling puppet. Polyjuice Potion can perfectly alter someone's appearance, making them almost indistinguishable from the real person. And in the hands of certain people, even memories can be altered or stolen at will."
"So do not judge who someone is now solely by what they did in the past. Beneath the surface often lies an entirely different truth."
"Then things become incredibly complicated," Hermione said with a troubled expression, frustration evident in her voice. "If we follow that line of reasoning, anyone could be a puppet controlled by the Imperius Curse. There would be no way to investigate unless we caught them in the act..."
"Indeed, Miss Granger. That is precisely what makes the Imperius Curse so terrifying."
Sagres nodded in agreement.
"During the years when Voldemort's power was at its height, the infiltration and damage caused by this curse within the Ministry of Magic far exceeded that of the other two Unforgivable Curses, because it destroyed the very foundation of trust."
Then he changed the subject and shook his head, drawing them back from their increasingly far-reaching speculation.
"But all of this remains conjecture. Suspicion without direction will only lead us deeper into the fog."
He turned his gaze towards Harry and asked casually, "Potter, have you used the Marauder's Map recently?"
"No, Professor." Harry shook his head. "We haven't been wandering around at night for a long time. Most of our time has been spent practising spells. Hermione has almost finished teaching us The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six."
"Perhaps you should start using it again," Sagres said meaningfully. "This concerns your safety. If you see anyone or anything suspicious on it, you may choose to tell me."
"Very well."
He clapped his hands lightly, drawing their full attention.
"Now let us return to the most practical matter."
"Your immediate priority is the Tournament. The first task is approaching, and whoever secretly entered your name into the Goblet of Fire may have arranged a deadly trap within it."
"You must not only complete the task and survive, but also observe every unusual detail throughout the process. An abnormal glance, a meaningful remark, or a coincidence that should not have occurred. Any of these could prove crucial in exposing the person behind this."
While Harry and the others were still processing his words, a figure approached steadily from the direction of the Castle.
As he drew nearer, the moonlight illuminated his grey robes and dignified face.
It was Barlickner Wolf, the Headmaster of Ilvermorny, known as Thunderbird.
"Professor Greengrass," Thunderbird said, his old, deep voice exceptionally penetrating, "I hope I am not interrupting."
Sagres nodded slightly, then turned towards Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"That will be all for today. Remember what I told you. Return to your common room."
Though the three were full of curiosity, they obediently nodded and began walking back towards the Castle along the path they had taken.
Ron could not resist looking back, but Hermione gently pulled him along.
Once their figures had disappeared into the night, Sagres turned to Thunderbird.
"Has the selection finished?"
"Yes. The Goblet of Fire has made all its choices."
Thunderbird confirmed it, his deep gaze turning towards the Castle.
"Eight schools and sixteen Champions. This Tournament is destined to go down in history."
"The manner in which it does so may not be pleasant," Sagres replied calmly. "Change is often accompanied by shadows."
The two briefly discussed the events that had occurred during the feast, both expressing their concealed concerns about the unusual situation.
After a short silence, Thunderbird changed the subject, his tone taking on a rare solemnity.
"I have a somewhat presumptuous request. Regarding the Elixir of Life I received from Bronze Feather... may I give it to a friend instead? My own need can wait."
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