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Chapter 94: An Unexpected Attempt at Dark Magic
'This classroom should be fine—'
William compared the two practice classrooms assigned to him and finally made a choice.
Unlike the other classrooms, these two had been magically reinforced. They were well-stocked with protective equipment—mats, thick blankets, and even protective goggles of the kind often used in the greenhouses.
William rummaged through a cabinet beneath the lectern; inside, he found hemostatic herbs like Dittany, as well as bottles for potions.
'Hmm, this is Skele-Gro, this one's an anti-emetic, and this one treats comas—how come they don't have any labels?'
Muttering about the previous professor's unreliability, William used magic to label the bottles before closing the cabinet door.
Although he was here to experiment with magic, this classroom wasn't his private training ground. The students would be using it for classes in the future, so he had to inspect the facilities first.
"The potions are fine, none are expired. The mats need to be aired out—I'll have to ask the house-elves for that. But there's no rush; I have no plans for any practical combat lessons for the time being anyway."
Once he had confirmed that all preparations were in order, William magically pulled a dummy over to himself—it was for testing the power of his spells.
---
"Hey, you think anyone will actually go to Lockhart's club?"
Ron asked his two friends in a school corridor, having just finished a morning of classes.
"They probably—will, right?"
Harry replied hesitantly, sounding a little uncertain.
"He's come up with a new gimmick besides his dramatic performances—you don't think he wrote all those letters to himself, do you?"
"Impossible, Ron—"
For once, Harry contradicted Ron. "I spent an entire evening writing replies; those letters came from all over the country."
"Yeah—all over the country. Maybe my mom contributed one too," Ron replied irritably. "But I hope it wasn't a Howler."
Mrs. Weasley was a fan of Lockhart; Harry had known that since the summer. He wanted to laugh, but then he remembered that Howler and held it in.
"By the way, Hermione, what about you? You're not going to join that club, are you?"
Ron asked curiously and was met with silence.
"You're going to join?"
His voice rose involuntarily.
Then, the three of them were startled when the door of a nearby classroom swung open.
As their eyes turned toward it, all three of them instinctively took half a step back. Though they recognized the person who emerged, for some reason, he currently projected an unapproachable aura.
The man was surprised to see them. He gave them a slight nod, locked the classroom door, and walked away without a backward glance.
The trio didn't let out a sigh of relief until the man was far down the corridor. They exchanged glances, relaxing only when they saw the same relief in each other's eyes.
"Just now, was that Professor William?"
Although they often saw him in the Great Hall, and Hagrid had even introduced him, Ron still couldn't help but ask.
"Yes, that's right, it was him."
Hermione nodded heavily. This professor was the second-most unpleasant professor she had ever met at Hogwarts. For some reason, he was like a completely different person today.
---
Back in his office, William scarfed down two Chocolate Frogs before collapsing into his chair and letting out a long sigh.
'That was terrifying. Was that person just now really me?'
William raised his arm, looking at his wand, which had just offered him one of his few remaining comforts, and used it to summon a blue flame in mid-air.
Tossing the flame into the fireplace, William dragged his chair over and began to recall the training session.
His training in nonverbal spells had gone very smoothly. After reading a sufficient amount of material, his once-lacking knowledge base allowed him to overcome his previous hurdles with little effort. He completed the task he'd set for himself far ahead of schedule.
So, he began unplanned training.
As a professor of a course on wizarding self-defense, regardless of what he called it, his lesson preparation was bound to touch upon dark magic. After all, if he didn't understand it, how could he possibly teach how to counter it?
He already knew some dark magic, but how could that compare to the vast library of Hogwarts?
As a professor, William had access to all the library's resources without needing anyone's permission. In the course of his lesson preparation, he easily memorized the dark magic spells one was meant to defend against.
After finishing his originally planned spell tests, he swapped out the training dummy and began to practice the dark magic spells one by one.
To his surprise, it wasn't just that he could perform the simple dark spells with ease; even the ones he struggled to comprehend posed no difficulty during practice. It was as if his body remembered and understood this magic before his mind could.
Even though he remembered that dark magic should never be abused and that every casting was a trial for the mind and soul, and despite stopping well ahead of time with great restraint, the accumulated negative feedback still gave him a completely new and unsettling experience.
'Was it the foul weather putting me in a bad mood? That sudden bout of jealousy this morning? Or was I under a curse?'
Warming himself by the fire, William mulled over why he had slightly lost control, despite stopping his training so early. In that state, he'd felt himself become exceedingly calm yet arrogant, his entire personality turning contradictory.
He even felt as if he were watching himself from a third-person perspective. The sensation was like having a god's-eye view; it was unsettling, yet he felt the urge to sink deeper into it.
'I need to pause my practice of dark magic. I must consult more resources before I can resume my daily training. I experimented with eleven spells just now, so in the future, even in a fight, I can't use more than... hmm, more than eight dark spells at once!'
Lying in his office, William silently set a rule for himself and added a warning: for the next week, it was best not to touch dark magic at all.
After mulling it over for a while, warmed by the flames, he finally began to feel the heat return to his body. The icy, unapproachable feeling was thoroughly purged from his mind.
'Wizards who research this stuff day in and day out must all have something wrong with them. These spells are either astonishingly powerful or have bizarre effects that normal magic can't replicate, but prolonged exposure to them is no less corrupting than that hellhole Azkaban. Wait... is the effect on me so great because I've been in Azkaban?'
William speculated.
Knock, knock.
A knock came from the door. "Professor, it's me, Bart—it's lunchtime. Are you going to the Great Hall to eat, or should I bring it to you?"
(end of chapter)
'This classroom should be fine—'
William compared the two practice classrooms assigned to him and finally made a choice.
Unlike the other classrooms, these two had been magically reinforced. They were well-stocked with protective equipment—mats, thick blankets, and even protective goggles of the kind often used in the greenhouses.
William rummaged through a cabinet beneath the lectern; inside, he found hemostatic herbs like Dittany, as well as bottles for potions.
'Hmm, this is Skele-Gro, this one's an anti-emetic, and this one treats comas—how come they don't have any labels?'
Muttering about the previous professor's unreliability, William used magic to label the bottles before closing the cabinet door.
Although he was here to experiment with magic, this classroom wasn't his private training ground. The students would be using it for classes in the future, so he had to inspect the facilities first.
"The potions are fine, none are expired. The mats need to be aired out—I'll have to ask the house-elves for that. But there's no rush; I have no plans for any practical combat lessons for the time being anyway."
Once he had confirmed that all preparations were in order, William magically pulled a dummy over to himself—it was for testing the power of his spells.
---
"Hey, you think anyone will actually go to Lockhart's club?"
Ron asked his two friends in a school corridor, having just finished a morning of classes.
"They probably—will, right?"
Harry replied hesitantly, sounding a little uncertain.
"He's come up with a new gimmick besides his dramatic performances—you don't think he wrote all those letters to himself, do you?"
"Impossible, Ron—"
For once, Harry contradicted Ron. "I spent an entire evening writing replies; those letters came from all over the country."
"Yeah—all over the country. Maybe my mom contributed one too," Ron replied irritably. "But I hope it wasn't a Howler."
Mrs. Weasley was a fan of Lockhart; Harry had known that since the summer. He wanted to laugh, but then he remembered that Howler and held it in.
"By the way, Hermione, what about you? You're not going to join that club, are you?"
Ron asked curiously and was met with silence.
"You're going to join?"
His voice rose involuntarily.
Then, the three of them were startled when the door of a nearby classroom swung open.
As their eyes turned toward it, all three of them instinctively took half a step back. Though they recognized the person who emerged, for some reason, he currently projected an unapproachable aura.
The man was surprised to see them. He gave them a slight nod, locked the classroom door, and walked away without a backward glance.
The trio didn't let out a sigh of relief until the man was far down the corridor. They exchanged glances, relaxing only when they saw the same relief in each other's eyes.
"Just now, was that Professor William?"
Although they often saw him in the Great Hall, and Hagrid had even introduced him, Ron still couldn't help but ask.
"Yes, that's right, it was him."
Hermione nodded heavily. This professor was the second-most unpleasant professor she had ever met at Hogwarts. For some reason, he was like a completely different person today.
---
Back in his office, William scarfed down two Chocolate Frogs before collapsing into his chair and letting out a long sigh.
'That was terrifying. Was that person just now really me?'
William raised his arm, looking at his wand, which had just offered him one of his few remaining comforts, and used it to summon a blue flame in mid-air.
Tossing the flame into the fireplace, William dragged his chair over and began to recall the training session.
His training in nonverbal spells had gone very smoothly. After reading a sufficient amount of material, his once-lacking knowledge base allowed him to overcome his previous hurdles with little effort. He completed the task he'd set for himself far ahead of schedule.
So, he began unplanned training.
As a professor of a course on wizarding self-defense, regardless of what he called it, his lesson preparation was bound to touch upon dark magic. After all, if he didn't understand it, how could he possibly teach how to counter it?
He already knew some dark magic, but how could that compare to the vast library of Hogwarts?
As a professor, William had access to all the library's resources without needing anyone's permission. In the course of his lesson preparation, he easily memorized the dark magic spells one was meant to defend against.
After finishing his originally planned spell tests, he swapped out the training dummy and began to practice the dark magic spells one by one.
To his surprise, it wasn't just that he could perform the simple dark spells with ease; even the ones he struggled to comprehend posed no difficulty during practice. It was as if his body remembered and understood this magic before his mind could.
Even though he remembered that dark magic should never be abused and that every casting was a trial for the mind and soul, and despite stopping well ahead of time with great restraint, the accumulated negative feedback still gave him a completely new and unsettling experience.
'Was it the foul weather putting me in a bad mood? That sudden bout of jealousy this morning? Or was I under a curse?'
Warming himself by the fire, William mulled over why he had slightly lost control, despite stopping his training so early. In that state, he'd felt himself become exceedingly calm yet arrogant, his entire personality turning contradictory.
He even felt as if he were watching himself from a third-person perspective. The sensation was like having a god's-eye view; it was unsettling, yet he felt the urge to sink deeper into it.
'I need to pause my practice of dark magic. I must consult more resources before I can resume my daily training. I experimented with eleven spells just now, so in the future, even in a fight, I can't use more than... hmm, more than eight dark spells at once!'
Lying in his office, William silently set a rule for himself and added a warning: for the next week, it was best not to touch dark magic at all.
After mulling it over for a while, warmed by the flames, he finally began to feel the heat return to his body. The icy, unapproachable feeling was thoroughly purged from his mind.
'Wizards who research this stuff day in and day out must all have something wrong with them. These spells are either astonishingly powerful or have bizarre effects that normal magic can't replicate, but prolonged exposure to them is no less corrupting than that hellhole Azkaban. Wait... is the effect on me so great because I've been in Azkaban?'
William speculated.
Knock, knock.
A knock came from the door. "Professor, it's me, Bart—it's lunchtime. Are you going to the Great Hall to eat, or should I bring it to you?"
(end of chapter)
