Meanwhile, in the warm Gryffindor Tower common room, the atmosphere was equally somber.
In a corner, Neville was distractedly wiping mud from the hem of his robe, his eyes darting away.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione huddled around a table far from the crowd, heatedly discussing the recent attacks, their faces grim.
"This isn't 'sparring' at all!"
Ron lowered his voice, slamming his fist on the table so hard the ink bottle jumped. "Look at Neville! And Susan Bones, right outside the library—it's insane!"
Hermione frowned deeply, rapidly flipping through her thick copy of Dark Arts: A Guide to Self-Defense, as if the answer lay hidden within its yellowed pages.
"Professor Greengrass's goal is for us to protect ourselves, not to bully others! These attacks… they're a complete misuse of magic, the worst distortion of his teaching philosophy. School rule number… number… Oh!"
She closed the book in frustration. "We have to report this to Professor McGonagall, or Headmaster Dumbledore. It's out of control."
Harry gazed at the leaping fire in the hearth, suppressed anger burning in his green eyes.
He remembered how his cousin Dudley and his friends used to bully him, the same feeling of helplessness and humiliation.
"Hermione's right. This isn't about improvement. This is sneak attacks hidden behind 'practice' and hoods, the actions of cowards too afraid to show their faces."
His voice was low, carrying a dangerous chill. "They only target those who are alone—bullying Neville, and Goyle…"
Ron paused. "Goyle? He deserves it! Think about how he and Crabbe usually treat others!"
"Ron!" Hermione cut him off sharply. "This is different! Being cornered by several people, bound by Petrificus Totalus and humiliated… No matter who it is, that's too much! And…"
She cast a worried glance around the common room, lowering her voice. "The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are looking at us strangely, as if all the attackers are Gryffindors. This can't go on…"
Harry nodded heavily. "Exactly. Professor Greengrass's dueling class was supposed to be a good thing, but now… it feels like Pandora's Box has been opened…"
…
News spread quickly through the castle's shadows.
Injured and humiliated students stammered under Madam Pomfrey's stern gaze, while dissatisfaction and anger quietly seeped through all four Houses.
The atmosphere in the common rooms turned uneasy; even within the same House, trust rapidly frayed under the excuse of "sparring."
Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick received a few vague complaints, but the lack of clear targets and evidence made them difficult to act on.
Professor Snape, his face dark, reinforced patrols at the entrance to the Slytherin dungeons, his icy gaze sweeping over every non-Slytherin who passed, as if silently asserting his territory.
Until one day, the out-of-control "dueling craze" and the malice it fostered inevitably reached its instigator—Sagres.
During the second dueling class on Saturday, as students practiced the Shield Charm, Sagres silently appeared between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor who were testing each other with Expelliarmus, their movements already edged with hostility.
He didn't even raise his hand; he simply uttered two cold words: "Everyone, stop."
The word was not loud, but it instantly cut through the tense air between the two. The spell light ceased at once, and the students froze in place, their faces pale.
Sagres's gaze swept slowly across the Great Hall. His eyes no longer held simple observation, but a knowing comprehension of everything.. and a trace of cold disappointment.
He didn't scold anyone, nor did he deliver a long safety lecture. He simply walked onto the platform and gave a small nod to everyone.
"It seems some of you, having learned a few spells, have already forgotten their boundaries."
His voice was calm as always, yet the temperature in the Great Hall seemed to drop instantly.
Sagres walked to the center of the hall, and an invisible pressure radiated outward. All practice ceased. The lights at wand tips winked out one by one, leaving only a heavy silence.
"I teach you dueling not to provide an excuse for bullying, nor to give cover for indulging your personal whims. My sole purpose is to grant you the ability to protect yourselves when faced with real threats."
He did not name any incidents, but his sweeping, all-seeing gaze made every student who had taken part in malicious "sparring"—or been its victim—shiver.
Then his next action made everyone hold their breath even tighter.
Sagres casually pointed to a Gryffindor prefect, Percy Weasley, who had shown the best performance in recent practice.
"Mr. Weasley, use your most proficient offensive spell on me. Any spell."
Percy froze, and a collective gasp rippled through the Great Hall.
"Immediately." Sagres's command allowed no room for doubt.
Percy hesitated, then gritted his teeth, raising his wand. "Stupefy!"
A dazzling flash of red light tore through the air, streaking straight toward Sagres.
Just as it was about to strike him, Sagres didn't even reach for his wand.
He merely lifted his hand slightly, flicking his fingers in a movement so swift it was almost imperceptible.
The powerful red beam of the Stupefy spell, as though it had struck an invisible, slippery wall, rebounded at even greater speed, curving back in a strange arc to hit Percy squarely.
Percy collapsed without a sound, crumpling to the ground.
The Great Hall fell into utter silence.
Hundreds of eyes darted between the unconscious Percy Weasley and the motionless professor.
Sagres's gaze was like ice water made tangible, seeping into every heart.
Calmly, he drew his wand, gave it a light wave, and lifted the spell on Percy.
Percy struggled to sit up, his face ashen, as though waking from a nightmare.
"Do you see?"
Sagres's voice was steady. "The disparity in power can be so vast… and do you truly know what power is?"
The students hung their heads in silence, those who had secretly engaged in violence trembling uncontrollably.
"Now, everyone," Sagres's icy gaze swept the hall, "pick up your wands and cast spells at me. Any spell."
The students exchanged uneasy glances but didn't move.
"What?"
A nearly cruel sneer touched his lips. "Afraid of hurting me? Afraid of killing me? Or is your so-called 'courage' only enough to strike weaker peers?"
No one answered.
"Bullying the weak to satisfy your own pleasure…" He shook his head, his gaze like an ice pick piercing those who guiltily lowered their eyes. "That is the most despicable, most foolish act of cowardice—a desecration of magic itself."
He walked slowly among the hushed rows of students, his voice quiet but carrying the weight of final judgment:
"Effective immediately, all unauthorized 'private duels' are forbidden within the castle. Any spell attack, once confirmed to be malicious or carried out in non-consensual, unsupervised circumstances, will no longer be treated as a mere violation of school rules. It will be handled directly by me."
His cold gaze lingered on each face, and those caught in it instinctively lowered their heads.
"Believe me—you do not want to fall into my hands."
Seeing the students like a flock of quail, Sagres finally added calmly, "Of course, I will give you a chance—"
"Want to prove yourselves? You can. But it must be within the rules, and under my watchful eye."
_________
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