Professor Flitwick observed William with bewilderment, as though he were trying to decipher something from his face.
This kind of sudden surge in combat skill was anything but normal.
The first rule of dueling was to stay focused—a lesson Flitwick had drilled into William from day one.
But this time, Professor Flitwick couldn't help but let his mind wander briefly, needing a moment to absorb his own shock.
It wasn't unusual for graduating students to still stand rooted to the spot, waving their wands aimlessly like baboons, having barely grasped the fundamentals of wizard duelling.
Professor Flitwick could take down a whole row of such students with a single spell.
In contrast, while William's style still bore the rough edges of inexperience, he had undoubtedly crossed into competent duelist territory.
Professor Flitwick might get distracted during training, but William did not—the countless bruises he had nurse over the last thirty days reminded him all too well that daydreaming in a duel could end in disaster.
William kept moving, his wand spinning through the air as the glass from eight windows shattered, gathering like a massive snowball.
The broken glass coalesced into countless sharp shards and shot toward Flitwick like a hail of bullets, soon filling the room with a cloud of glass fragments.
Although momentarily distracted, Professor Flitwick's combat instincts were razor-sharp. Reacting to the first strike, he flicked his wrist on instinct.
A high-pitched sound echoed through the classroom as his wand tilted upward, seeming to reel in a deep-sea leviathan that crashed into the hovering mass of glass.
William's face paled; he scrambled backward in quick, disjointed steps.
As he neared the classroom's edge, he barely managed to steady himself, swallowing down the taste of blood while keeping a firm grip on his wand.
Professor Flitwick didn't pursue, standing perfectly still instead.
This was precisely the "accident" he'd warned William about. When Flitwick's focus wavered, his reflexive spells could pack immense power, inflicting more damage on William than intended.
After a moment, Professor Flitwick spoke up excitedly, "You've had thirty seconds to catch your breath. Ready for more?"
William tightened his grip on his wand and nodded with intensity. This was the kind of grind he needed.
He didn't believe that simple back-and-forth spellwork would turn him into any kind of dueling master.
Seeing this determination, Professor Flitwick's mouth curved into a faint smile of approval.
"William, you've exceeded my expectations. I won't be holding back as if you were just a child anymore."
William said nothing, rushing in once again with reckless abandon.
Every ounce of the past month's training bore down into each movement, though every spell he cast was effortlessly countered by Professor Flitwick.
Flitwick seemed determined to test William's limits, engaging purely in defense as though waiting for the precise moment William's magic would deplete, to swiftly bring the match to an end.
This kind of torment was like having a wand to your head without allowing on to breathe.
But then, the unexpected happened.
This classroom was never designed for combat. The room's support beam, having withstood several rounds of spell impact, took a direct hit from one of Flitwick's powerful spells, driving half a meter deep and leaving a crack over two meters long.
The movement in the beam caught William's eye, and sensing imminent danger, he curbed his urge to counter and retreated further back.
Professor Flitwick's second volley of magical arrows, like a storm of arrows, had already begun.
Suddenly, the air swirled, and the arrows all veered in a single direction, almost reverently, as though all magic in the room had been drawn toward one force.
Dumbledore appeared, floating gracefully into the room.
With a simple gesture, he "caught" William's wand mid-air, then pointed a finger.
The crack in the ceiling beam sealed itself, and the classroom's damage was restored in an instant, as though the duel had never taken place.
Dumbledore stood between William and Flitwick, his purple robes billowing out like a sphere, absorbing the impact of countless magical arrows.
Centered on the toe of his dark boots, ripples of magic pulsed outward.
Dust billowed, his beard floated, and his powerful figure stood unmoving. The magic within his robes not only didn't falter but seemed to strengthen, swelling once more.
"My apologies, Professor Dumbledore. Things got a little out of hand," Professor Flitwick immediately apologized.
Dumbledore gave a gentle smile, lowering his hands as his robes settled. He handed William's wand back and stood beside him.
"Filius, I've been looking for you for quite some time. I didn't expect you'd be here."
"Professor, has something happened?"
"A tragedy, I'm afraid. A Ravenclaw student has died," Dumbledore said somberly.
"What? How is that possible?" Professor Flitwick's hands trembled, his voice becoming sharp.
Dumbledore quickly explained the situation, not bothering to exclude William from the details.
"Who did it?" Tears filled Flitwick's eyes.
"We don't know yet," Dumbledore replied. "Please, Filius, head to Ravenclaw Tower to maintain order."
"Yes, of course." Professor Flitwick hurried toward the door on his short legs.
But after only a few steps, he turned back, saying, "William, come along with me back to Ravenclaw Tower. It's too dangerous outside."
William and Dumbledore both spoke up at the same time.
"I still need to speak with the Headmaster."
"I have questions for William myself."
Baffled, Professor Flitwick left, while Dumbledore's blue eyes fixed upon William.
"William, your defense against the Dark Arts is quite advanced."
"Well, of course, Professor. I've been training with Professor Flitwick for over a month now," William replied cheerfully.
William raised his right hand, showing Dumbledore the bronze ring on his index finger.
Dumbledore's hands trembled slightly, and he quickly recognized the ring. A flicker of understanding crossed his face; he seemed to grasp the truth without further explanation from William.
To be honest, this look from the Headmaster had once amused William in earlier loops, but by now it was nothing short of terrifying.
Dumbledore was terrifying.
Robert had just died, and the discovery of Professor Tywin's body might not even have happened yet, but with just a few words from William, Dumbledore could instantly piece together the truth.
It was as though Dumbledore knew everything.
Yet, he was stuck in the loop just as much as everyone else, without any memories carrying over.
William even suspected that Dumbledore might have had some inkling about Tywin's fate before his death but had chosen to let events play out, waiting for the end.
Conversing with someone so intelligent was convenient, but caution was needed. Dumbledore's true danger lay not in his magical strength—which was formidable enough—but in his intellect.
After a moment's silence, Dumbledore finally asked, "What will you do next?"
William thought for a moment. "According to my plan, I'm to study Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall this afternoon."
"I'll speak to Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore nodded.
He was due at the Ministry of Magic and would not be able to stay at Hogwarts, while Professor McGonagall would be handling school affairs in his absence. Without a direct word from Dumbledore, there was no chance she'd teach William Transfiguration under such unusual circumstances.
As William turned to leave the classroom, Dumbledore's voice called after him.
"William, I believe I've told you this before, haven't I?"
"Every single time, sir. 'For the greater good!'"
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