As the sun dipped below the horizon on that late October evening, the temperature plummeted with alarming swiftness, causing an involuntary shiver to ripple through anyone unfortunate enough to be caught outside. The air grew heavy with moisture, and a thick, ghostly mist began to rise from the inky depths of the Black Lake. Like phantom tendrils, it crept across the sprawling grounds of Hogsmeade village and the Hogwarts castle, enveloping everything in its path with an eerie, ethereal shroud.
The ancient stone walls of Hogwarts loomed against the darkening sky, their weathered surfaces disappearing into the encroaching fog. From a distance, the castle appeared neglected and abandoned, its windows dark and lifeless, except for a few flickering lights that hinted at the magic and life contained within.
Yet, despite the somber atmosphere outside, within the walls of the physical education classroom, an entirely different scene was unfolding. The room buzzed with energy and excitement, a stark contrast to the gloomy world beyond its walls.
Young wizards, their faces flushed with exertion and determination, moved about the space with purpose and vigor. They had shed their usual school robes, which now lay in haphazard piles against the walls, forgotten in the heat of their magical exercises.
With sleeves rolled up to their elbows, exposing forearms that were beginning to show the first signs of toning from their rigorous training, the students waved their wands with newfound confidence. Each of them was focused intently on their assigned suit of armor, their targets standing stoically as spell after spell was hurled in their direction.
The change in these young witches and wizards over the past month was nothing short of remarkable. Gone were the awkward, hesitant movements of novices; in their place stood budding magical warriors. Their postures had straightened, shoulders set with determination, and eyes gleaming with a mix of concentration and growing self-assurance. Even the way they carried themselves between spells spoke volumes about their progress – more efficient in their movements, less prone to distraction, and emanating an air of composure that contradicted their youth.
Bryan paced among the students with unhurried steps, his hands clasped behind his back with pride. His keen eyes missed nothing as he observed each student in turn, noting their improvements and mentally cataloging areas that still needed work.
The focus of their training remained on dueling-type spells, but the context had shifted significantly. No longer were they practicing in the safety of Bryan's Spiritual world that had served as their training ground in the early days.
Now, having mastered the basics of combat-oriented magic, they had graduated to practicing in the real world. This transition was crucial, as Bryan knew all too well that the subtle nuances between casting in a magical construct and the physical realm could mean the difference between victory and defeat in a real confrontation.
Suddenly, a streak of brilliant red light, as thick as a man's thumb, whizzed past Bryan's ear. The spell cut through the air with a high-pitched whistle, leaving a faint trail of sparks in its wake. Time seemed to slow as Bryan watched as it precisely struck its target – a suit of armor standing some thirty feet away.
The moment of impact was spectacular. With a resounding clang that echoed through the room, the spear clutched in the armor's gauntlet was violently wrenched free. It spun through the air, end over end, arcing back towards its caster in a display of magical mastery that would have been dangerous were it not so precisely controlled.
But the disarming effect was only the beginning. Before the armor could react, a second spell followed with equal precision. This time, a flash of bright red light—the unmistakable hue of *Stupefy*—hit the suit of armor dead-on. The enchanted metal froze in place, rendered immobile by the stunning force.
Bryan's eyes flickered to the source of this impressive display – Harry standing calmly with his wand raised. What made this demonstration all the more remarkable was the complete silence with which it had been executed. A nonverbal Disarming Charm, augmented with a Stunning Charm's stun effect.
Not far from Harry, Hermione was engaged in her own magical duel with an enchanted suit of armor. Her approach was noticeably different from Harry's, showcasing a diverse repertoire of spells that played to her intellectual strengths. Where Harry relied on raw talent and instinct, Hermione's movements were more calculated, each flick and swish of her wand precise and thoughtful.
She danced around her opponent, unleashing a barrage of different offensive spells in quick succession. A jet of purple flames here, a shower of acidic green sparks there – each spell chosen with careful consideration of its effects and potential combinations. However, the relatively short training period meant that not every incantation could be cast nonverbally yet. Occasionally, a whispered word or phrase would escape her lips.
A series of menacing hisses drew Bryan's attention to another corner of the room. There, Draco stood with his wand extended, a look of fierce concentration on his pale, pointed face. From the tip of his wand, several pitch-black pythons materialized, each as thick as a man's forearm. They dropped to the stone floor with a soft thud, immediately rearing up to face the nearby suit of armor. Their forked tongues flicked out, tasting the air, as their eyes gleamed with an unnatural, cold light.
With a subtle motion of Draco's wand, the serpents sprang into action. They moved with uncanny speed and grace, slithering across the floor in a pattern that seemed almost choreographed. In few moments, they had surrounded the armor, approaching it from multiple angles to cut off any potential escape.
As one, the snakes launched themselves at the metal figure. They coiled around its limbs and torso with frightening strength, their muscles rippling beneath glossy black scales. The sound of straining metal filled the air as the armor began to buckle and warp under the relentless constriction.
But the physical damage was only the beginning. Where the snakes' fangs made contact with the armor's shoulders, a noxious black smoke began to rise. The acrid scent of corrosion filled the air as the once gleaming bronze rapidly bleached to a sickly white before beginning to rot away entirely.
Seeing this, Draco bared his teeth in an excited grin. Instinctively, he sought out Harry, perhaps hoping to gauge his reaction to this show of magical prowess. Instead, his eyes met those of Bryan. The triumphant expression faltered for a moment before Draco quickly ducked his head, suddenly very interested in dealing with the self-repairing charm on his now distorted suit of armor.
Bryan continued his circuit of the room, pausing to observe each student in turn. He watched as Ginny conjured a veritable flood of bats from the end of her wand. The chittering cloud of winged creatures swarmed around her chosen target, their tiny claws and teeth wreaking havoc on the metal surface. The sudden appearance of the bats startled Finch-Fletchley, who was practicing nearby, causing him to yelp and nearly drop his wand.
A few paces away, Luna presented a stark contrast to the frenzied energy around her. The small, blonde witch moved with an almost otherworldly grace, her movements more akin to an intricate dance than traditional spellcasting. As she waved her wand in elegant arcs, a stream of colorful, note-like objects flowed from its tip that effortlessly tore through her assigned armor as if it were made of parchment rather than metal.
Bryan's gaze swept over the other students – Cedric Diggory, his face set in determination as he rapid-fired hexes at his target; Theodore Nott, whose quiet intensity contradicted the devastating effects of his carefully chosen curses; Blaise Zabini, moving with catlike grace as he wove a complex web of interconnected spells around his armor. Each young wizard had found their own rhythm, their own style of magical combat that suited their personalities and strengths.
As Bryan completed his circuit of the room, his eyes fell upon Neville, and his brow furrowed slightly. He was tucking away in a corner, his face red with exertion and frustration as he struggled with even the most basic of spells.
Compared to his excellent physical aptitude and crisis response, Neville's spell-casting was almost unbearable to watch. Bryan's frown deepened as he considered the problem. It wasn't that Neville couldn't recite the incantations correctly or that his wand movements were improper. The issue lay in his control over magical power – or rather, his lack thereof. Even Bryan's newly developed magical training methods couldn't help him with this.
Unlike Harry, who could instinctively chain the power of his Disarming Charm with a Stunning Spell or other spells, or Hermione, whose excellent concentration allowed her to master a wide variety of spells, Neville still struggled with the most basic of attack spells. Because of this, Neville had lost almost all the confidence he had painstakingly built up in this class.
A quiet sigh escaped Bryan's lips as he watched Neville's latest attempt fizzle out harmlessly a foot from his wand tip. The situation was becoming unbearable. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before Neville gave up entirely, crushed under the weight of his perceived inadequacy, but Bryan didn't want to abandon any young wizard who had persevered in training until now. He didn't want to give up on a single one.
'But how to help Neville find his path to improvement?' It was a question that gave Bryan headache, his brow furrowing deeper as he pondered. This wasn't a problem that could be solved with a quick fix or a simple encouragement.
Lost in thought, Bryan almost missed the time. Catching himself, he raised his hands and gave two sharp claps. The sound cut through the cacophony of spellcasting like a knife, immediately drawing the attention of every student in the room.
As if choreographed, the young wizards ceased their activities and began to gather in front of Bryan. They moved with purpose, quickly arranging themselves by house in neat lines. The discipline they displayed was impressive, a far cry from the chaotic assemblies of just a few weeks prior.
Every pair of eyes was fixed on Bryan, their gazes a mix of exhaustion, exhilaration, and deep respect. The Slytherins, in particular, stared at him with an intensity that bordered on fanaticism.
The rules Professor Watson had laid down at the beginning of their training were clear – no boasting about their progress (this was an unspoken rule among them), no inter-house confrontations. But even without words, each student was acutely aware of how far they had come in the past month and a half.
"Today's training ends here," Bryan announced, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The simple statement was met with a collective exhalation, a mix of relief and satisfaction rippling through the gathered students.
Hermione reached up to wipe a bead of sweat from her forehead, her eyes already darting around the group. It was clear she was mentally selecting today's target for her S.P.E.W public relations campaign, while Harry inconspicuously moved a bit further from Hermione.
"Before you leave," Bryan continued, his tone shifting slightly to indicate he had something important to say, "I have some news to share with you in advance. The school was planning to announce this on Friday, but I believe the students in the physical education class deserve some... privileges."
At these words, the young wizards straightened their spines, chests puffing out with pride even as their eyes widened in anticipation.
"At the beginning of this term, during the Sorting Ceremony, I already told you that the Triwizard Tournament would be held this year," Bryan began, his voice measured and calm. "The other two schools, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, will arrive at Hogwarts next Friday. For the rest of this school year, the champion candidates from these two schools will live and study alongside you."
Boom--
The effect of this announcement was immediate and electric. It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck the center of the room, sending shockwaves of excitement through the assembled students. The previously orderly lines dissolved as friends turned to each other, voices rising in a cacophony of excited chatter.
After all, they were a group of young wizards who loved excitement. Upon hearing this news, they could no longer contain themselves and began to discuss it enthusiastically with their friends.
"Professor Watson!" Cedric's voice cut through the noise, his hand raised high as he asked, "But the school hasn't announced the champion selection rules yet!"
"I will announce them in the Great Hall when our guests arrive. For now, this is still confidential." His words were met with a collective groan of disappointment.
"What about the tournament tasks, Professor Watson?" This time it was Fred who spoke up. "Is the school still not allowing underage students to participate?"
"I'm afraid so," Bryan replied with a smile. "As for the tasks to be performed in the tournament..." He spread his hands in a gesture of innocence, his expression one of exaggerated helplessness.
"I don't know. The tasks are decided by the Department of International Magical Cooperation and the Department of Magical Games and Sports. To ensure fairness, they won't disclose this information to the three participating schools in advance. This is strictly confidential."
Another wave of sighs and muttered disappointments swept through the room.
"Alright," Bryan said, clapping his hands once more to regain their attention. "I'm telling you this news to allow those aspiring to compete for the champion position to prepare mentally in advance. Although I shouldn't show favoritism," a twinkle appeared in his eye as he said this, "I still hope that the young wizard representing Hogwarts will be one of you. If it's not one of you, I would feel..."
But before Bryan could finish speaking his thoughts, a sudden, heavy impact sounded from outside the curtained window. The noise was so unexpected and powerful that it caused several students to jump, their wands instinctively raising in a defensive posture. The abrupt interruption shattered the anticipatory atmosphere that had built up around Bryan's words.
Simultaneously, the young wizards turned their attention to the source of the disturbance. Through the heavy velvet curtains that decorated the classroom windows, they could make out a frantic fluttering sound. It was a familiar noise to anyone who had spent time in the wizarding world - the sound of an owl's wings beating against glass.
However, this was probably no ordinary mail delivery. The hour was late, well past the time when owls typically arrived with messages or parcels. The Great Hall during breakfast was the usual setting for such arrivals. An owl seeking entry at this hour, with such urgency, was highly unusual and immediately piqued everyone's curiosity.
Bryan's eyebrow arched slightly. He crossed the room to the window, the students parting before him like water around a stone. As he drew back the curtain, the owl came into full view.
It was a fine-looking brown owl. However, a closer look exposed that its feathers were damp with dew, probably due to a long and hurried flight through the misty night air. The bird's amber eyes were wide and alert, filled with an almost human-like urgency. In its beak, it clutched a roll of parchment, gripping it so tightly that the edges were slightly crumpled.
With a smooth motion of his wand, Bryan unlatched the window and swung it open. A gust of cold, damp air rushed into the room, causing several students to shiver and pull their robes tighter around themselves. The owl didn't wait for an invitation. As soon as the opening was wide enough, it swooped into the room, wings spread wide to slow its flight.
The bird made a beeline for Bryan, hovering before him with an impatient flutter of its wings. Bryan carefully extracted the parchment from its beak as he took a moment to gently pat the bird's head.
The room had fallen into an expectant hush. Even the usual whispers and fidgeting that accompanied any gathering of students had ceased. All eyes were fixed on Bryan as he unrolled the parchment, holding it close to the light of a nearby wall torch to read its contents.
The silence stretched on.
In the tense silence, Harry leaned closer to Hermione, his voice barely above a whisper. "What's going on?" he murmured, his green eyes darting between Professor Watson's now solemn face and the parchment in his hands. "Has anything happened recently? Did the Daily Prophet say anything?"
Hermione's brow creased in thought, her mind no doubt racing through recent events and news articles. After a moment's hesitation, she gave a small shake of her head. "No, Harry," she whispered back, her voice tinged with confusion.
Their hushed exchange was cut short as Bryan finally looked up from the parchment. He folded the parchment and tucked it into an inner pocket of his robes before addressing the class.
"This Friday's physical education class will be supervised by Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood,"
Bryan continued without pause, "There's an urgent matter I need to attend to, and I'll be leaving Hogwarts for a few days."
With these words, Bryan strode out of the classroom, leaving behind a group of confused young wizards standing in place, looking at each other in bewilderment.
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