o(*≧▽≦)ツ💫 Read up to 12+ chapters in advance on P@treon/DarkDevil1 👉 Get early access & exclusive perks!✨
_________
Filch eyed her suspiciously, his cloudy eyes full of distrust.
Making brooms move on their own? It sounded like one of those mischievous rascals' pranks.
"Move on their own? Will they behave? Won't they go mad like those cursed biting brooms?"
He recalled the painful lessons from some of the Weasley twins' prank products.
"Of course not, you dummy! I'll apply very precise, very stable magic!" Kestrel patted her chest, speaking with confidence. "Come on, give me your mop and bucket!"
Filch hesitated, but finally, with a mix of doubt and reluctant belief, he handed over the weathered mop leaning against the wall and a dented tin bucket.
Kestrel took the tools, immediately drew her wand, and began to chant.
The tip of her wand lightly touched the mop handle and the bucket, leaving behind a few faint traces of blue light that quickly vanished.
"Done!"
Kestrel happily handed the tools back to Filch. "Try it. Now you just need to say: 'Cleaning start!' and they'll find work on their own.
Say 'Stop!' and they'll obediently wait.
Simple, isn't it?"
Filch pressed his lips tightly together, taking the tools as if they were dangerous contraband.
He carefully gripped the mop handle, looked around, and his gaze fell on a stubborn patch of mud mixed with ice shards nearby.
He cleared his throat and, with a tone that was almost sacred yet full of doubt, whispered, "Clean—Cleaning start!"
As soon as he spoke, the mop in his hand trembled violently, as if it had suddenly come alive!
It broke free from Filch's hand, "plopped" into the bucket on its own, soaked its cloth strands, then agilely sprang out and lunged at the stain, scrubbing back and forth with astonishing speed and efficiency.
At the same time, the tin bucket beside it made a faint "gurgling" sound, and the water at the bottom seemed to be absorbed by an invisible sponge, instantly becoming dry and clean.
Filch stared dumbfounded at the scene before him: the mop he had used for over a decade, now seeming to have a mind of its own, was working tirelessly, several times more efficiently than he ever had!
For the first time, his perpetually gloomy face showed an expression mixed with shock, bewilderment, and even a hint of… relief.
Perhaps, perhaps this eccentric new Professor… really did have some tricks up her sleeve?
Kestrel stood with her hands on her hips, proudly admiring her "masterpiece."
"How is it, baldy—ehm.. I mean.. Mr. Filch? Feeling better?"
Filch did not answer immediately, only staring intently at the strangely joyful, wiggling mop, as if trying to comprehend yet another enigma of the magical world.
Then he slowly, very slightly, nodded, letting out an indistinct grunt from his throat.
At least this was much better than him toiling away alone… as long as they didn't run around the Castle by themselves in the middle of the night.
"Oh, right…" Kestrel seemed to suddenly remember, and she reminded Filch, "They need a magic recharge once a week. If you can't find anyone to help then, you can come to me."
"…Thank you… Miss Lumina." Filch's voice was a bit stiff, but unusually friendly for once.
"You're welcome, it was my fault to begin with," Kestrel said with a smile, waving her hand.
"Then goodbye, Mr. Filch."
...
...
Duelling Club was scheduled for Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, still in the spacious Great Hall.
Of course, if there were special needs, the venue could be flexibly changed.
As the first class approached, Sagres planned to start with three basic yet practical spells: Expelliarmus (Disarming Charm), Stupefy (Stunning Spell), and Petrificus Totalus (Full Body-Bind Curse).
They were relatively simple, safe, and their effects were immediate, making them ideal starting points for training novices.
However, there was a practical problem before him: students from several different years were standing in the Great Hall.
Older students might already be proficient in these three spells, finding them unchallenging; while younger students, especially first-years who had been admitted for less than a year, might not even hold their wands steadily and would know nothing about these three spells.
But Sagres was not too worried about this, because he had a way to quickly initiate these Young Wizards, and even help them master these spells.
Mechanical Mind was the key to addressing these differences.
It could temporarily transform Young Wizards into rational, calm, photographic geniuses, ensuring they precisely captured and imprinted every casting essential.
Once knowledge was perfectly "downloaded" into the brain, what remained was thousands of repetitions until muscle memory was formed.
His goal for the first class was clear and firm: to ensure every student in the Great Hall, regardless of their year, could master and successfully cast these three spells.
This might sound arrogant, but to Sagres, it was not an impossible task.
...
On Wednesday afternoon, the Great Hall was expanded into a spacious practice ground by the Undetectable Extension Charm.
The oak floor was as smooth as a mirror, reflecting the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows.
The air was filled with the excited and nervous buzz of Young Wizards, students in different house robes gathered in small groups, whispering about Professor Greengrass and his Duelling Club.
They clearly still remembered the previous duel: Professor Greengrass's calm composure, Snape's flexibility and resilience, and Lockhart's… rather typical negative example—all had been very educational.
All the Professors came to the Great Hall, even Professor Snape.
And Kestrel, who had heard about Sagres's splendid performance in the last duel from somewhere, kept pestering Professor Snape with questions, completely ignoring his increasingly gloomy face.
"Tell me more, Professor Snape, and then what?" Kestrel leaned close to him, her two curious eyes almost touching his face.
Professor Snape's face darkened, and he silently cast a Muffliato on himself.
The few Professors around them couldn't help but cover their mouths and snicker at this scene.
In the end, it was Sagres who rescued Professor Snape—he stepped into the Great Hall precisely on time.
He was wearing a well-tailored dark gray Wizard robe today, which made him look very tall and straight.
Without unnecessary pleasantries, his calm gaze swept across the entire hall, instantly quieting the noise.
"Good afternoon." His voice was not loud, but it clearly reached every corner, carrying a calming power. "Welcome to the Duelling Club.
The original intention of establishing this class is to enable you to survive in real conflicts.
Therefore, all flashy spells and performative actions will be discarded.
In short, here you only need to learn one thing—survival."
If it had been before, the lazy students might have dismissed Sagres's words, but after the Chamber of Secrets incident, they became much more subdued.
Perhaps they finally realized that even Hogwarts was not an absolutely safe haven.
"Mechanica mentem faciunt!"
Sagres raised his wand, and without chanting, the tip of his wand suddenly lit up with a cold blue light.
The moment his words fell, that blue light rapidly spread, transforming into countless fine, silken light streams that precisely entered the foreheads of every student.
An indescribable coolness instantly flooded their brains, like precisely meshing gears, dispelling all distractions, tension, and ingrained thought patterns.
The world seemed to move in slow motion, and the students felt their senses become exceptionally acute, while their minds were as calm as ice crystals.
This was the first time Sagres had unleashed Mechanical Mind on so many people; although it had not reached his limit, it was indeed a considerable burden.