The days went by, and little by little everything returned to a certain normalcy. Despite the previous incidents, everything was under control… or rather, I made sure it was.
Malena hadn't exaggerated when she spoke of the appeal of foreigners. Not only were several boys setting their sights on Hannah, but I myself seemed to be drawing the interest of far too many girls. Being "exotic" was enough on its own, without adding the title of "foreigner." Of course, I didn't care much about that; the real problem was Hannah, and I was grateful Malena had taken her under her wing. She taught her things that genuinely helped fend off unwanted attention. Neville, on the other hand, didn't suffer quite as much: Malena made sure everyone understood she'd kick the ass of any "slut" who got clever with him.
As for me, I took a practical countermeasure: strengthening our training plan. Instead of doing it in private, I moved it to the school courtyard, in full view of everyone. There, I trained with Hannah and Neville in magic and combat.
Hannah already had experience thanks to what we did in the Lair, and Neville, with his new wand and a renewed sense of courage, was progressing quickly. At first it wasn't very noticeable, but over time both of them began to show their abilities. And of course… so did I.
The audience quickly grew. The boys interested in Hannah began to gather around, cheering her on—until they saw her fight at nearly a professional level. She might not have been the best, but after tempering both her character and her magic under my guidance, she had become capable of defending herself seriously. That left her onlookers gaping. In classes equivalent to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hannah already had good practical grades… now everyone understood why: she had been holding back.
The problem was that this didn't lessen her appeal; it multiplied it. Suddenly, Hannah was seen as a warrior witch—strong and admirable. So I decided to step in.
I arranged a duel with her, and although I never touched her with my spells, I took the opportunity to show off a bit of my own repertoire. I knew how to turn the simplest charms deadly: flames, lightning, cuts… all perfectly aimed never to graze her, but to pass "accidentally" a little too close to certain spectators who whistled at her.
At first no one noticed, but little by little they began to understand the message. My cold stares and the aura I released with every movement made it clear: Hannah was off limits. The younger and more timid ones backed off quickly. With the older ones—those who still mocked me with their eyes—I was more direct: "accidents" a little more dangerous, spells that brushed the air or made their skin prickle.
That, of course, earned me a few invitations to Castelobruxo's underground duels. I refused them all—I had no interest whatsoever. My only goal was to mark territory, and over time, I largely succeeded.
Professor Crone, the one who oversaw combat training, ended up witnessing one of these sessions. She observed us quietly, nodding from time to time. Technically, what we were doing bordered on illegality within the school rules. We were only tolerated because we were exchange students. That teacher had been sent to warn us and redirect our energy toward dueling clubs and official organizations, instead of practicing on our own.
The school feared private duels because of the risk of someone getting hurt. Of course, they couldn't control everything, as the clandestine duels proved. But ours was far too public to go unnoticed.
And yet, the professor didn't reprimand us immediately. On the contrary: just like Silvia had done, she saw potential in us. Even in Neville, whom many would overlook, she sensed a spark that could grow if cultivated properly. She knew perfectly well what I was doing, but said nothing. Instead, she pushed me to take one step further.
She encouraged us to put on a formal demonstration: a duel against some Castelobruxo students. According to her, it would serve to learn from one another, to train the locals, and to foster a kind of friendly rivalry between the two schools. And for me… it was the perfect chance to get rid of Hannah's admirers.
With the professor as referee, the courtyard in front of Castelobruxo became more orderly, but also much livelier: more students gathered, all eager to see the action. It was advertised as "Hogwarts vs. Castelobruxo," although in reality it wasn't a formal interschool competition but rather an exhibition in which only the three of us participated. Still, no one could deny that we were the main attraction. Our fights stood out above all others.
Neville was the least fortunate: he fought a few times against first- and second-year students, earning slightly more victories than losses. Against third-years he didn't win anymore, but that didn't matter: every win against his own level boosted his confidence a notch. Seeing him defeat kids his age—several, in fact—changed something in him. With auror parents, maybe some of that was in his blood, and perhaps in the future he'd follow a similar path if things kept progressing so well. Watching him grow, with our support, gave him a massive push forward.
And, of course, Malena was there: she cheered for him with pompoms and hugs, her enthusiasm leaving Neville redder by the second. After each match she pampered him with a damp towel, water, and over-the-top encouragement; there was no way the crowd wouldn't notice the scene, and few resisted joking about it.
Then it was Hannah's turn, and once again she showed what she was made of. If anyone had thought my training was a sham, they were quickly disabused of the notion. Hannah easily defeated second-years, bested several third-years, and even a couple of fourth-years. Her reflexes, sharpened by our "surprise attack" drills, gave her the skill to overwhelm opponents who couldn't keep up. On top of that, the physical conditioning we had worked on was evident: if she didn't win on pure skill, she did on endurance.
The professor nodded with satisfaction. She could see in Hannah a future Sentinel, or perhaps a dueling champion. Just like Silvia with me, she was already thinking about how to convince her to stay and pursue her future here. If Hogwarts wanted to show the best face of their country to the other nations, then we were accomplishing exactly that.
And then it was my turn. I was ready to send a clear message to both old and new admirers of my girl. The first fight was against students my age: few, because after what they'd seen, many already knew who the most capable one in our group was. I dispatched them quickly: finished them off with a single strike, in a way that wasn't very respectful to those who had clearly shown interest in Hannah, singling them out with precise spells that hurt and scared them just enough to make them understand the lesson.
The professor noticed and told the third-years to be more careful; several of them were "eliminated" with a couple of harsher spells. Some ended up with uncomfortable aches—enough to make them leave the stage.
The crowd was impressed. It seemed like I wasn't even giving my all, and still things were escalating. Then came fourth-, fifth-, and sixth-years: each more prepared, each more dangerous on paper. That was when I revealed a bit of my true skill: I fought without many restraints, using common spells but with tactics and precision beyond what simple students could achieve. The combination wiped the floor with several of them… some literally.
The contrast was clear: the astonishment, the hushed murmurs, and the tension in the air grew while the professor maintained a grave expression, observing. When Professor Silvia, informed of what was happening, appeared alongside other staff members, her surprise blended with everyone else's: it confirmed not only my exceptional aptitude in prophecy, but that my talent for combat and strategy was real—and worryingly remarkable.
At last came the matches against the seventh-years, the school's most senior students. They likely wouldn't have shown up if the school hadn't summoned them: they were about to graduate, and few had time to waste dueling "kids." Some came for the thrill, but most attended because the administration wanted to save face and avoid such a crushing defeat.
With them I added a bit more showmanship: I pretended to dodge attacks "by a hair's breadth," as though in a more "decent" battle. The knowledgeable ones—and my opponents themselves—knew I was really toying with them. Malena stopped fanning Neville, who still squirmed against her chest, and stared at me wide-eyed.
Then the professor made an unexpected decision: she called three seventh-years to face me at once. The uproar was immediate; no one thought it was fair or dignified: three against one brought no glory in victory and shame in defeat. But the professor didn't care about appearances. She had other purposes.
I didn't back down. I had already given certain admirers a beating to remember, and I had no problem making it even clearer what they'd be up against if they tried to touch what was mine.
The duel began with them forming a triangle around me, and I stood in the center. To many, it didn't feel right; Hannah and Neville grew uneasy. For me, however, it was child's play: I had fought longer than most wizards, survived wars and beasts that would make the bravest quake.
I dominated the field without leaving the center: lights, flashes, and almost choreographed movements of my "Dancing Style"—a step, a spin, a controlled explosion. In the end, my three rivals fell defeated in short order, almost simultaneously.
The silence was thunderous. It broke only when Professor Crone herself stepped forward to challenge me next. That surprised me, but I didn't retreat. This time, my bow before the duel was more formal than with the students.
The duel against Crone was intense and real: she had true experience. I knew I could defeat her if I gave my all, but I had already shown enough; I didn't want to complicate things. I raised and lowered the intensity, until, after minutes of exchange, I admitted defeat. Still, I had shone in the early rounds.
It ended with the professor bowing in respect and then inviting me to her office to talk about my future. She had seen that, in combat, I was already a "monster" deserving of attention; she wanted to know if I intended to pursue a military path or something similar.
With this, I made it clear that no one messed with us because there was someone they couldn't beat. Later, Malena would tell me that Crone herself had warned the students not to "stick their noses in with Hannah," because she didn't want to be the one to pick up the pieces. A delightful woman.
That, of course, made Hannah start to believe Malena's claims about me. Her embarrassment grew, though I could see a spark of excitement in her eyes.
Anyway, now it was time to prepare for the next big challenge. Valentine's Day was approaching.