This classroom should be fine…
William compared the two practice classrooms assigned to him and finally made a decision.
Unlike other classrooms, these two had been magically reinforced. Inside, there were plenty of protective tools; mats, thick rugs, and even goggles commonly used in greenhouses.
He rummaged through the cabinet below the podium and found herbs like Dittany to stop bleeding and bottles for storing potions.
Hmm, this one's Skelegro, this one's an anti-emetic, and this one's for treating unconsciousness. Why aren't there any labels on these?' While complaining about the unreliability of the previous professor, William used magic to mark the bottles properly before closing the cabinet.
Although he was here to experiment with magic, this classroom wasn't his private practice space. Eventually, students would use it for lessons, so he needed to ensure everything was in order.
The potions are fine, not expired. The mats need airing out; that'll have to be done by the house-elves. But it's not urgent since I don't plan to hold practical lessons just yet.
After confirming that everything was in good shape, William used magic to drag over a dummy; designed for testing spell power.
***
"Hey, do you think anyone will actually join Lockhart's club?"
In the school corridor, Ron, having just finished his morning classes, posed the question to his two companions.
"Probably…?" Harry responded hesitantly, uncertain.
"First it was theatrical performances, now he's pulling another stunt. What if those letters were ones he wrote to himself?"
"That's impossible, Ron," Harry countered for a change, disagreeing with Ron's theory. "I spent an entire evening responding to letters. Those came from all over the country."
"Exactly—from all over the country. For all we know, my Mum might've sent one in too," Ron replied sarcastically, "though I doubt it was a Howler."
Ron's mother was a fan of Lockhart. Harry had learned that during the summer. He wanted to laugh but held back when he remembered that infamous Howler.
"By the way, Hermione, you're not planning to join that club, are you?" Ron asked curiously, only to be met with silence.
"You are joining?" His voice rose a little in disbelief.
Then the three of them suddenly saw the door to the classroom by the side of the road swing open.
As they turned to look, all three instinctively took half a step back. Although they had seen the person before, for some reason, at this moment, the person gave off an unapproachable aura.
The newcomer glanced at them in surprise, then gave a slight nod. After locking the classroom door, the person turned and walked off without a word.
It wasn't until the person had walked far away that the three of them sighed in relief. They exchanged looks, and once they realized they all felt the same, they finally regained their composure.
"Was that Professor William just now?"
Although they had seen him around the dining hall, and Hagrid had even introduced him, Ron couldn't help but ask.
"Yes, that was him."
Hermione nodded heavily. This professor was the second most unpleasant one she had met at Hogwarts. Today, for some reason, he seemed like a completely different person.
***
Back in his office, William swallowed two Chocolate Frogs and slumped into his chair, exhaling deeply.
That was terrifying. Was that really me just now?
He raised his arm and looked at the wand that had given him some warmth earlier. Using it, he summoned a blue flame into the air.
Throwing the flame into the fireplace, William dragged his chair over and began to reflect on the training he had just completed. The training for the silent spell had gone smoothly.
After reading enough material, he easily overcame the difficulties he had faced earlier due to a lack of knowledge, completing his self-assigned task much earlier than expected. So, he moved on to training that wasn't part of the plan.
As a professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, no matter what he called the course, his preparation would inevitably touch on dark magic. How could he talk about defending against it without understanding it first?
He had already known some dark magic, but those were nothing compared to the vast Hogwarts library.
As a professor, William had unrestricted access to all the library materials, and during his preparation, he easily noted down various types of dark magic that had been targeted by different sources.
After completing the scheduled magical test, he replaced the practice dummy and began to experiment with dark magic one by one.
To his surprise, those simple dark spells were easy to perform, but even the more difficult ones he had initially found troublesome were also effortless during the test; like his body had a memory and understanding of the spells before his mind did.
Even though he reminded himself that dark magic should never be used recklessly, and every spell cast was a test for the mind and soul, he exercised great restraint and stopped each time. The accumulated negative feedback gave him a completely different experience.
Is my bad mood caused by the terrible weather? Is the sudden jealousy I felt this morning because of a curse?
As he sat by the fire, William pondered the reason why he had lost control slightly despite stopping his training well in advance. In that situation, he had felt an overwhelming sense of extreme calm mixed with arrogance, making his entire personality feel at odds with itself.
He even felt as though he was observing himself from a third-person perspective; like he had gained a god-like view of himself, which was uncomfortable, yet he still wanted to sink further into it.
I need to pause the dark magic practice. I have to review more material before I continue with my daily training. I experimented with eleven different spells just now, so even in combat, the amount of dark magic I use should not exceed... hmm, eight at a time!
Lying in his office, William silently set rules for himself and then warned himself that, for the next week, he should avoid dark magic entirely.
After some time, as the warmth from the fire enveloped him, he finally began to feel warm again. The cold, distant feeling that had pushed him away from others was completely expelled from his mind.
Wizards who spend all day studying this stuff must have mental issues. These spells are either extraordinarily powerful or produce effects that normal magic can't replicate, but if you're exposed to them long enough, they're no less mentally distorting than being in Azkaban. Wait... is it because I've been to Azkaban that I'm more affected by them?'
William made a guess.
Knock, knock.
There was a knock on the door. "Professor, it's me, Bart. Lunch time has arrived. Are you going to the dining hall, or should I bring it to you?"
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