The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on the third floor had been empty for a long time, but when Alister walked in, it was already buzzing with energy.
The room had been stripped of the usual clutter of dark detectors and strange artifacts left behind by previous professors. Instead, it was immaculately clean, the desks arranged in wide, spacious arcs that focused entirely on the large space at the front of the room.
Alister bypassed his own housemates without a glance and made a beeline for the Ravenclaw side of the room, sliding smoothly into the empty seat beside Cho.
She bumped her shoulder affectionately against his as he sat down, though her eyes stayed fixed on the door. Across the room, the Slytherin second-years were shuffling in with dragging footsteps and hollow eyes.
"Why do they all look so gloomy?" Cho leaned in close, gesturing subtly toward a very pale, very defeated-looking Warrington. "They look like they're marching to the gallows."
A dry smile touched Alister's lips. He set his bag on the floor and leaned back in his chair.
"Severe emotional whiplash," he murmured. "Professor McGonagall informed us about the new assignment structure this morning."
"Ah." Cho nodded. "The monthly Arcane Network thesis."
"Exactly. But she didn't simply tell us." A trace of amusement crept into his voice. "First, she announced that traditional weekly homework was officially canceled for the rest of the year. The entire class erupted. Some Gryffindors actually cried."
He let the pause breathe for a moment.
"She let them celebrate for a solid ten seconds before dropping the guillotine, one comprehensive, uniquely assigned research thesis. Every single month."
Cho couldn't hold it in. She burst into breathless laughter, her face flushing pink. Behind them, several Ravenclaws who had clearly been eavesdropping broke into snickers and giggles at the Slytherins' expense.
"That is incredibly cruel," Cho laughed, wiping at the corner of her eye. "Professor Flitwick just told us at the end of Charms. He squeaked excitedly about embracing the future of the magical world and handed out the syllabuses. No drama whatsoever."
"That's because Professor Flitwick is a decent person," Alister said, watching a cluster of Slytherins rest their heads despairingly on their desks.
Before Cho could reply, the heavy door at the front clicked shut with a soft, definitive snap.
The laughter died instantly.
Professor Lucid Drake stood at the front of the class. Up close, without the vast distance of the Great Hall separating them, his presence was even more striking. He wore a perfectly tailored suit of dark charcoal rather than traditional robes, and his raven-black hair was neatly swept back.
His face broke into that same warm, disarming smile he had shown at the feast.
"Good morning, class," Professor Drake said, his rich baritone voice echoing off the stone walls. "Wands away, please. We won't be needing them today."
The class stared at Professor Drake, momentarily thrown off balance by his command. Defense Against the Dark Arts without wands? Even Ravenclaws were exchanging confused glances.
"Welcome," Professor Drake began, stepping out from behind his desk and pacing slowly before the rows of students. "I am your professor Lucid Drake. And for the duration of this year, we will be exploring the absolute extremes of magical capability."
He paused, resting his hands casually behind his back. The black eyes sweeping over them.
"Many of my predecessors," Drake continued, "have focused entirely on the 'Defense' aspect of our curriculum. They teach you shields. They teach you disarming spells. They teach you to run."
A few students followed along nodding in agreement.
"And while those skills are necessary," Drake's smile faded, replaced by a sudden, intense seriousness that sent a chill through the room, "they are fundamentally flawed if you do not understand the nature of the attack. You cannot defend against a sword if you do not know how sharp it is. You cannot block a fire if you do not know how it burns."
He stopped pacing, standing dead center before the class.
"To truly defend against the Dark Arts," Drake stated, his voice ringing with absolute conviction, "you must first witness them. You must understand the cruelty, the intention, and the sheer malice required to cast them."
With a flick of his wrist a small, transparent glass container materialized on his desk. Inside, a tiny white field mouse was frozen in terror, its nose twitching frantically against the glass.
Cho stiffened beside Alister along with her, Several girls in the front row gasped.
He reached out and tapped the top of the glass container making the lid vanish.
"The Dark Arts are defined by their intent to harm, to control, or to destroy. We will begin with something simple. Something designed not to kill, but to inflict unimaginable pain."
He extended his hand toward the open container, his palm facing the trembling mouse.
"Witness," Professor Drake commanded softly.
A tendril of pure, inky blackness slid from Professor Drake's outstretched fingertips.
The moment the shadow touched the white mouse, the creature froze.
It didn't squeak and bleed. But its tiny body contorted violently, arching backward in a silent, agonizing scream. The black tendril wrapped around it, sinking into its fur. Dark veins pulsed visibly beneath its white coat, and the air inside the container warped from the sheer intensity of the magic.
A collective gasp swept through the classroom. Beside Alister, Cho instinctively gripped his forearm, her nails digging into his robe as she turned her face away. In the front row, Ravenclaw girls let out muffled sobs.
Even Slytherins, who usually postured about the supremacy of the Dark Arts, looked distinctly green.
After five agonizing seconds, Drake casually closed his hand into a fist.
The black tendril evaporated into smoke. The mouse collapsed to the bottom of the container, twitching weakly, its fur now stained a dull, ashen grey.
As Drake slowly lowered his arm and turned his abyssal eyes back to the class. The terrifying aura vanished, instantly replaced by the warm, compassionate professor who had introduced himself in the Great Hall.
"Cruelty," Professor Drake said softly into the silence. "That is the foundation. To cast a true Dark curse, it is not enough to simply say the words or wave a wand. You must actively desire to cause suffering. You must feed the spell with your own malice."
"Many of you," he gestured toward the Slytherin side of the room, "have been raised to believe the Dark Arts are just like other spells but they are not.
"When using the Dark Arts, unlike standard magic, the mana that flows within your own body becomes hostile and aggressive. The malice required to cast the spell taints the well it is drawn from. It fights you, making it incredibly hard to control the spell. And in the worst cases," Drake paused, his abyssal black eyes sweeping over the silent room, "the caster himself dies, consumed from the inside out by his own corrupted, feral magic."
A cold hush fell over the students. Alister, however, sat perfectly still.
He thought back to himself practicing the magic recorded in Secrets of the darkest art.
Yet, he had never once felt his magic turn against him. He had never experienced that internal burn, that feral resistance Drake was describing.
He realized that it's not that the books were wrong, or that the curses were weak. It was due to his Perfect Magic Control.
His absolute grip over his own mana pathways had completely bypassed the fundamental, fatal danger of the Dark Arts.
Drake continued speaking, transitioning smoothly into how to recognize the signs of a degrading dark wizard, but Alister tuned him out completely.
With a simple mental command, the translucent blue interface of the Arcane Network flared to life in his vision.
He opened the private channel, completely ignoring Cho, who was diligently taking notes beside him, and the rest of the captivated class.
Alister: Old Man. Wake up.
A few seconds passed. The typing bubble appeared, bobbing rhythmically.
Gellert: I am not a house-elf at your beck and call, Alister. I was reviewing the latest structural theories from Uagadou. What is so urgent that you need to chat privately with me?
Alister: My new Defense professor just gave a lecture. He claims the primary danger of the Dark Arts is the internal mana becoming aggressive and consuming the caster. True or false?
Gellert: A rudimentary explanation for schoolchildren, but essentially true. The Dark Arts require malice, and malice taints the vessel that channels it. It is why so many dark wizards go mad or physically degrade over time. The magic becomes a parasite. Why do you ask?
'I need to make up an excuse about my perfect mastery of mana circulation'
Alister: I have been using the mana circulation method which the Architect made for a long time. It made me proficient enough to maintain it passively while casting. I noticed that using Dark Arts with and without this mana circulation produces entirely different results.
Alister: Using the circulation method while casting Dark Arts suppresses the aggressive magic power. It forces the tainted mana to flow smoothly along predefined pathways, effectively neutralizing and countering the backlash before it can seep into the body.
For a long, heavy moment, the typing bubble on Gellert's end didn't even appear.
When the reply finally came, it lacked Grindelwald's usual aristocratic drawl. It was rapid, sharp, and laced with naked astonishment.
Gellert: I tried it although its faint due to my lack of mastery the mana circulation method really did suppress the runaway magic.
Alister: Why didn't anyone else find it? I don't see a single article about it in the forum.
Alister typed the message while his eyes simultaneously scanning a translucent, scrolling feed of the Arcane Network forums that only he could see. There were hundreds of new threads on dark magic but nothing about its relation to mana circulation.
Gellert: It must be due to the harsh requirement of high mastery. Even I have just noticed that the mana circulation method does not merely increase magic capacity; it actively forces an evolution in magic control.
Gellert: Consider the variables, Alister. Although the number of wizards using mana circulation are high. Of those, the number who try to achieve the requisite level of absolute mastery to passively maintain it is minuscule. And even if someone has met that harsh requirement... they do not necessarily practice the Dark Arts.
Alister read the text, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face.
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(END OF CHAPTER)
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