The first Defense Against the Dark Arts class for the fourth-year students was scheduled for Thursday.
Over the next two days, Hogwarts remained entirely peaceful.
If there was any major development, it was that Kyle had personally sought out Professor Moody in private, introducing several dark spells into the curriculum so that the students could attempt to counter them.
Spells like Phantom Binding, Shadow Burn, Agony Unbound, and Chaotic Rending...
To both Moody and the little Demon Lord, these dark spells barely registered as entry-level, but for students who had yet to graduate from magic school, they posed extreme threats and dealt massive damage.
The first to fall victim to this were the graduating seventh-year students.
Serving as Moody's teaching guinea pigs, they suffered merciless whippings during their second Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the term.
After all, these dark spells were far too dangerous; if even seventh-year students couldn't handle them, rolling them out to younger years would be completely out of the question, and Dumbledore would never agree to it.
Dumbledore himself now maintained an exceptionally open mindset, letting Moody and Kyle toss things about as they pleased.
Hearing of the seventh-years' tragic ordeal, the Hogwarts students instantly lost any remaining enthusiasm for Moody's classes.
On Thursday afternoon, following lunch, based on their usual excitement toward new Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, students would normally show up looking quite eager for their first lesson.
They would usually wait outside the classroom long before the class was even scheduled to begin.
Yet on this particular afternoon, the fourth-year little Lions and Badgers dragged their feet, lingering until the very last second before the bell rang before timidly shuffling into the classroom.
The atmosphere inside the classroom was exceptionally solemn. Having heard tales of Moody's fearsome reputation from the older students, they didn't even dare to breathe too loudly as Moody thumped his way into the room on his wooden leg.
Only Kyle remained entirely unfazed, casually lounging with his legs crossed in his preferred spot at the very back row by the window.
Even when Moody stepped up to the podium and glared in his direction with his ferocious Magical Eye, Kyle showed no intention of sitting up straight.
Hermione beside him, however, looked somewhat intimidated, her spine held rigidly straight.
Scanning the copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection resting on every student's desk, Moody's gruff voice echoed through the room.
"Put those away," he said, his tone dripping with utter disdain. "This is a practical class—you won't need textbooks."
Upon hearing the words "practical class," the students in the room looked even more terrified.
They were well aware of how badly the seventh-years had been tormented.
Although Kyle—serving concurrently as teaching assistant, healer, and master of dark arts defense—ensured that they suffered not a single physical injury, instantly healing any accidental mishaps—
The psychological trauma left behind was something even Kyle couldn't fix.
When the last student finished responding, Moody began.
"I received a letter from Professor Lupin detailing the progress of this class. It appears you've already acquired quite a foundation in dealing with dark creatures."
At this point, Moody changed his tune.
"When it comes to dealing with curses, however, you have a great deal left to learn."
A cruel smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Therefore, I am going to give you a taste of what true dark magic looks like. I have a whole year to teach you how to counter it."
"Kyle Grindelwald!"
Moody suddenly called out Kyle's name.
This came as no surprise to Kyle whatsoever.
Acting as Moody's semi-official assistant, regardless of the year level, Moody always liked to have this renowned son of the Dark Lord come up and demonstrate during the first lesson of Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Observing Kyle as he unhurriedly walked up to the podium, Moody felt a complicated mix of emotions.
He had spent his entire life battling Dark wizards and had lost count of how many he had put away.
Yet he had genuinely never encountered anyone like Kyle, who brazenly mingled within Dumbledore's ranks under the identity of a Dark wizard.
This fellow was not only Grindelwald's son, but also—fucking hell—Dumbledore's cherished adoptive son.
If Kyle possessed only the former identity, it would be easy enough for Moody to make a move.
Yet precisely because the boy also carried the identity of Dumbledore's son, Moody—as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, the secret front line against Voldemort—found himself deeply troubled.
Ah, I really want to arrest him, but I can't.
Stepping onto the platform, Kyle spread his arms wide, and the space within the classroom felt as though it fell under his direct control.
The floor and walls automatically expanded outward, while the desks and chairs carrying the seated students rapidly retreated from the platform, expanding the room's volume by more than double in an instant.
When the spatial tremors subsided, the platform beneath Kyle and Moody had transformed into a spacious dueling arena.
A shimmering, nearly transparent barrier materialized between the stage and the students below.
Upon closer inspection, one would notice that this barrier wasn't merely a flat wall; it extended along the floor and walls in a rectangular or coffin-like shape, enclosing Moody and Kyle entirely within it.
Only by taking such precautions could the students—or more accurately, the castle itself—be protected beyond any margin of error.
"Ready?" Moody croaked with a raspy chuckle.
Seeing Kyle nod, Moody continued, "I'll count to three, and we begin... Three!"
Before the word even fully left his mouth, a brilliant flash of sickly green light pierced the air like an electric arc, hurtling straight toward Kyle.
Faced with this sudden ambush from the old schemer, Kyle showed not a trace of panic; he merely tilted his head slightly, perfectly dodging Moody's Killing Curse.
He was already thoroughly familiar with this old bastard's tricks.
While tilting his head, he even had the leisure to instruct the students below the podium.
"When facing an enemy, never trust a single word they say."
While Kyle was speaking, a Crucio curse shot toward him like a bolt of lightning. Only then did Kyle draw his wand from his sleeve and flick Moody's curse away.
He continued unbothered, "This is the first rule you must learn in your Defense Against the Dark Arts classes this term."
Having parried three consecutive curses from Moody, Kyle looked toward the former Auror with an annoyed expression.
"Professor, are you an Auror or a Dark wizard?"
The spells Moody had cast on him were either Unforgivable Curses or downright vile dark magic.
And he called himself an Auror?
He was even darker than an actual Dark wizard.
Though Kyle was labeled a Dark wizard, he rarely ever cast actual dark magic in his daily life. As an Obscurial relying on his immense reservoir of magic power, he could easily upscale a simple Expelliarmus into a fatal blast. For Kyle, those flashy dark spells were far less practical than simply bludgeoning opponents with raw magic power.
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