Ron watched Karmit walk away with that effortless, infuriating calm.
His teeth nearly cracked from grinding.
'Why? Why does that damned Black get to be this strong? Why doesn't he have that power?'
Ron was exactly that kind of person.
He never considered cause and effect.
He only envied others. And then filled himself with resentment.
Trash belonged in the trash heap.
The ten Slytherins Karmit had practically wiped out instantly were still dazed.
They stared at one another.
"We lost?"
"No, this is ridiculous. That Shield Charm… my dad couldn't cast one that strong!"
"Ten of us attacked together, and he brushed it off like nothing? That's outrageous!"
"So this is the strength of the sole heir of the First Pure-Blood Family?"
"W-We couldn't even force him to draw his wand!"
They shook their heads with helpless smiles.
Gemma looked at the ten who were now doubting their entire lives.
She said, "It's not that you're weak. It's him. He's just too strong. Slytherin might finally be getting a real Chief."
One of the defeated students muttered, "Chief? Can he really do it? He only defeated the ten of us."
Gemma laughed. "But the ten of you are the strongest fourth-years aside from Arabella, aren't you? You know how strong you are together."
At that, the ten fell silent.
Gemma continued, "He's already far ahead. The question now is whether all the Hidden Prefects, working together on the final day, can stop him."
Still, the ten remained silent.
Gemma rolled her eyes. "Come on, why are you all so gloomy? Having a Chief is good for Slytherin. We could have a true Serpent King. If he becomes Chief, it'll only benefit us."
Their eyes lit up.
One asked, "So, Gemma, will you go easy on him?"
Gemma laughed. "Of course not. None of us will. We're Slytherins. Strength is our only pass."
With that, Gemma turned and left the Great Hall.
....
Meanwhile, Karmit had returned to the eighth floor of Hogwarts Castle.
He stood before the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being beaten by trolls.
Karmit recalled the original descriptions.
This should be the place.
So next… walk past three times while thinking about what he needed.
Karmit repeated silently in his heart that he needed a room strong enough to test spells in. Then he walked back and forth three times.
A stone door appeared in the wall opposite the tapestry.
Karmit nodded. "That's right. The Room of Requirement really is convenient."
He pushed the door open and entered.
It was a spacious room. At the far end stood several metal dummies.
They looked like simple tin men on the outside. In reality, their surface was coated in a metal specially designed to minimize magical damage.
It was said that during King Arthur's era, his elite army used armor made from this very metal.
Karmit walked up to one of the metal figures and examined it closely. Just as he expected, there were faint, hidden patterns across its surface.
Magical sigils.
Karmit was nearly certain now that one of the Founders had mastered magical sigils.
Maybe all four had.
The question was whether any record or inheritance of those sigils still existed.
Karmit was deeply interested.
When he had time, he could try asking the Room of Requirement to transform into a place for practicing sigils. There might be unexpected discoveries.
But for now, he needed to test something else.
He raised his wand toward one of the metal figures.
A silent Stunning Spell shot forward.
The metal dummy flew several meters before crashing onto the floor. Karmit noted the distance it was thrown.
Then he pointed his wand at another figure.
This time, Karmit focused intensely. "I want to knock it out. I want to knock it out."
He repeated it several times in his mind.
He adjusted his state to perfection, and to avoid mistakes, he spoke the spell aloud.
°Stupefy°
A bolt of magic shot from his wand.
The metal dummy blasted backward, slammed into the wall, and slid to the ground.
Karmit's eyes widened instantly.
It actually worked.
When he was fully focused, the power of his spell at least doubled.
And Karmit felt he still had room to grow. He glanced at his wand, then at the metal dummy he had just flattened.
A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
So this was why Voldemort, Dumbledore, and Grindelwald stood as the three titans of magical combat.
And now, he had grasped the same ability.
Of course, compared to those three, his development of this ability was still far behind.
Besides training, he also needed to learn from the sources.
Voldemort would be easy enough to approach. Right now, the old snake was stuck inside Quirrell, his mind unstable after splitting his Horcruxes too many times.
Easy to trick.
As for Grindelwald, he was in Nurmengard—also manageable.
But Dumbledore…
He looked like the easiest to reach, yet he was the last person Karmit wanted to deal with. The old honey-bee had terrifying calculation skills.
Karmit wasn't sure he could outplay him.
Even with two lifetimes of experience, if you halved Dumbledore's age, Karmit still owed him decades.
Against that kind of mind, being a transmigrator didn't guarantee victory.
He shook his head. No point thinking too far ahead.
One step at a time.
Food was eaten one bite at a time.
For now, he needed to train until he could cast spells exactly as Flitwick described—where the moment he cast, his intent was already solid and unshakable.
Only then would he truly succeed.
Before this, the spells he practiced were basically off-track. He had relied purely on talent.
Karmit waved his wand, levitating the two metal figures back to him.
He discovered that not just combat spells— even basic spells like Levitation worked better now.
It confirmed what he suspected.
Before today, he had been carried entirely by talent. Strictly speaking, he had never actually learned these spells properly.
Karmit began practicing spell after spell on the metal dummies. It was a long, demanding process.
He immersed himself completely, forgetting time itself.
When he finally stopped, he froze.
He was about to be late.
And this next class… was Potions.
__________
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