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"I'm done!"
Edgar slumped onto the ground, face-up, limbs splayed out like a salted fish tossed onto the shore. His expression was the picture of utter despair.
"Is this even training? You're cycling through spells like they're fashion trends! One moment it's Dark Arts, the next it's Transfiguration! Professor Moody only uses the Binding Spell, Stupefy, and Expelliarmus!"
Lynn put away his wand and walked slowly over to him, looking down.
"Edgar."
"What?"
"Haven't you noticed? Your speed and efficiency in dodging spells are already excellent."
Edgar froze for a moment.
He blinked, falling into deep thought.
It seemed... that was actually true?
When they'd first started training, he was hit on average once every three seconds. Later it became five seconds, then ten, then...
He carefully replayed the round of training in his mind and realized he really had dodged quite a few spells. Several times, the spells had practically grazed his scalp, but he'd somehow managed to avoid them.
The look in Edgar's eyes began to change.
From despair to confusion, from confusion to reflection, and from reflection to—hope.
He jerked upright, eyes sparkling as he looked at Lynn.
"It seems... I've made some progress?"
Lynn nodded, his expression as sincere as could be.
"More than just 'some.' Your current spell-dodging level is more than twice as good as when you started."
Edgar's eyes brightened even further.
"Really?"
"Of course it's true." Lynn's tone was incredibly earnest. "See, this is what training gets you. The process is hard, but the results are real. So you have to persevere, Edgar. Keep practicing for a few more days, and maybe you'll get an 'Outstanding' on Professor Moody's assessment."
Edgar's breathing grew rapid.
He clenched his fists, the fire of fighting spirit burning in his eyes.
"Alright! Again!"
He scrambled up off the ground, grabbed his wand, and struck a combat pose.
"Lynn! Let's go another three hundred rounds!"
Lynn nodded with satisfaction.
Just then, a faint sigh came from the side.
William pushed up his glasses, looking at Lynn with an "I really can't watch this anymore" expression.
"Knowing he's not that bright, and you still lie to him."
Lynn's smile froze on his face.
William continued, "Didn't you just go easy on him? How long has he even been training? How could there possibly be that much progress so fast?"
Ollie walked over from the side and added, expressionless, "Teasing a fool."
Edgar: "..."
The wand in his hand lowered as he slowly turned his head to look at Lynn.
That gaze was about as dark as it could get.
Lynn gave a sheepish laugh.
"That... well, there is actually some progress..."
Edgar glared at him.
Lynn sighed. "Fine, fine, let's change the method."
—
A few days later.
In the corridors of Hogwarts, scenes appeared that made the younger students' hearts tremble with fear.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A burst of green magic shot from the tip of a fifth-year's wand, heading straight for the companion facing him.
The companion jumped aside, dodging it by a hair's breadth, then counterattacked with a flick of his wrist—
"Avada Kedavra!"
Two streaks of green light crossed in the air; the scene was absolutely heart-stopping.
A passing first-year was so terrified his face turned white, and he crouched on the ground, head in his hands, shivering.
"Death Eaters! The Death Eaters are attacking!"
"Run! Run!"
Upper-year students calmly hauled him up off the ground.
"What's the panic? It's fake."
"Fake?!"
"Yeah, fake. Doesn't do a damn thing if it hits you."
The first-year was stunned.
He looked up at the two streaks of green light still chasing each other down the corridor, watching the two duelists trade spells with great enthusiasm, his expression thoroughly conflicted.
"Then what... are they even doing?"
"Training. Simulating dodging the Killing Curse."
The first-year fell silent.
After a long while, he managed to squeeze out a sentence: "Hogwarts... is actually like this?"
An older student patted his shoulder earnestly.
"You'll get used to it."
Scenes like this had been popping up frequently at Hogwarts lately.
In the corridors, the courtyards, abandoned classrooms, even by the Black Lake, green spells could be seen flying everywhere. To someone who didn't know better, it truly looked like some kind of Azkaban training academy.
There was no doubt about the cause.
One couldn't say it was entirely his doing, but at least more than half the responsibility fell on Lynn.
To make sure Edgar and the other two trained properly, Lynn had directly modified a Marking Spell he'd come across in the library earlier.
Calling it a "modification" was generous—really, all he'd done was change the color of the Marking Spell.
The original Marking Spell left a silvery-white spot of light when it hit someone. He'd spent an entire night changing that silvery-white to green—the exact same green as the Killing Curse.
Getting hit by it, at most, left a green spot of light; it caused no harm whatsoever.
Using this spell was a bit like using blanks in a military drill. It simulated the effect of the Killing Curse without causing any actual harm, and it wasn't illegal either.
Three birds with one stone.
Oh, right—it could also give the old Headmaster a good scare.
Four birds with one stone.
...
As the holidays ended, the corridors of Hogwarts underwent a complete change of scenery.
Heavy wool cloaks, dragon-hide gloves, and fluffy scarves—the gear that had carried students through the long winter—were all stuffed into the bottoms of their trunks.
In their place came light spring and summer robes, their dark fabric shimmering softly in the sunlight.
The weather grew warmer by the day.
Sunlight spilled through the castle's high windows, casting patches of warm light across the floor. Outside, the Forbidden Forest was lush and green, and the Black Lake's surface sparkled. Every so often, a few fish would leap out of the water and fall back with a splash.
The students' moods brightened along with the weather.
Except, of course, for those still fretting over homework.
And so the days passed, one after another, and in the blink of an eye, it was the last week of May.
That afternoon, the greenhouse was as sweltering as a steamer.
Professor Sprout was leading the students in repotting Mandrakes. The little things wailed as they were pulled from the soil, their piercing shrieks cutting through the thick earmuffs and making everyone's brains ache.
Finally enduring to the end of class, the students felt as if they'd been granted a general amnesty. They pulled off their earmuffs and flocked toward the door, rubbing their ringing ears.
Lynn followed the crowd out.
"Mr. Lynn, please stay for a moment."
Professor Sprout's voice came from behind him.
Lynn stopped and turned around.
Professor Sprout was tidying up her tools, her mud-stained gloves draped casually over the edge of the workbench. She looked up with her usual gentle smile.
"Go to the Quidditch Pitch at nine o'clock tonight."
Lynn blinked.
"The Quidditch Pitch?"
"Yes," Professor Sprout nodded. "Mr. Bagman will be there to tell the champions what the third task is."
Lynn understood.
Time really did fly. It felt like only a moment ago that the second task had wrapped up in such intensity. In the time since, he'd been busy with special training for Edgar and the others, feeding Pet, and finding time to wander around the Headmaster's Office to needle Dumbledore—he'd nearly forgotten about the third task entirely.
"Understood, Professor." He nodded.
Professor Sprout looked at him, seemingly wanting to say something more.
She must have felt such a dry announcement didn't quite suit her, because she added, "Good luck."
Lynn was taken aback for a moment. "Thank you, Professor."
Professor Sprout also seemed to feel her encouragement had come out a bit too brief. She gave a light cough and waved her hand.
"Alright, off you go. Remember to be on time."
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