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As consciousness gradually returned from a state of chaos, Dweller groaned.
"Ouch!"
A throbbing headache pulsed through his skull.
Frowning, he pressed a hand to the side of his face.
"Damn it, I'll never mess around like that again. This magic depletion feels like losing half my life."
He vaguely recalled going with Professor McGonagall to a secret chamber and foolishly overextending himself by activating all the stone pillars—completely draining his magic.
Huff~
He took a deep breath, feeling the pain in his head lessen considerably. Only then did Dweller start paying attention to his surroundings.
Blinking blankly, he looked up.
"Where am I?"
The question popped into his mind.
He noticed the tranquility surrounding him.
The air carried a faint herbal scent—Dictamnus—a smell so unique that Dweller immediately recognized it.
This was the Hogwarts Hospital Wing.
Above him was a pure white ceiling, and around him, neatly arranged rows of hospital beds.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, adding a gentle warmth to the space.
"Professor McGonagall must have sent me here, right? By the way, what time is it?"
Dweller breathed a sigh of relief.
Suddenly, he remembered that he was supposed to have a class in the afternoon.
He quickly raised his hand to check the time.
Oh no.
He had missed it.
It was already close to five o'clock. Classes would be ending soon.
Rubbing his forehead, he sighed.
Today's class was Charms, and he had been quite looking forward to taking upper-year courses.
"Oh well. Since my magic is depleted, I'll just rest a bit longer."
Thinking this, Dweller lay back down and closed his eyes.
Thump!
A loud crash echoed from outside the door.
Dweller immediately sat up, instinctively reaching for his wand—only to realize it wasn't at his waist.
He then heard hurried footsteps and a commotion outside.
Several people rushed in.
"Professor, my hand hurts so much! Flint burned me with fire!"
"I didn't do it on purpose! I don't know why my wand suddenly shot out green fire!"
Leading them was the Ravenclaw Head of House, Professor Flitwick.
With him were two students.
One of them, a Gryffindor, had a severely charred hand—Percy Weasley!
The other was someone Dweller recognized as his own prefect, Marcus Flint.
Just then, Dweller suddenly remembered he still had a purple entry copying opportunity unused today.
Without hesitation, he immediately took an entry from Professor Flitwick.
[Ding!]
[Loading copied entry: Duelist (Purple)...]
[Copy complete!]
...
[Duelist (Purple): Possesses a powerful combat instinct, almost invincible in one-on-one duels!]
...
Success!
In an instant, countless duel scenes flooded Dweller's mind.
He suddenly felt like a battle-hardened super duelist!
Excitedly, he realized that this was an experience-based entry—he had inherited much of Flitwick's dueling experience!
Which meant...
[Ding!]
[New spell successfully added to the database!]
[New spell successfully added to the database!]
[New spell successfully added to the database!]
Dozens of commonly used dueling spells surged into his memory.
He felt incredibly powerful!
Dweller almost reflexively wanted to cast a Disarming Charm on the spot—
Only to remember, once again, that he had no wand... and his magic was still depleted.
Meanwhile, Madam Pomfrey had hurried out to receive the injured student.
Upon seeing Percy's hand, her expression darkened.
She began scolding sharply.
"I told the Headmaster not to allow any Dueling Clubs! And now look what's happened! Filius, where is he? I heard him calling me—he sent you here and left? Without telling me what spell was used? Irresponsible!"
Dweller had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing.
He saw Professor Flitwick awkwardly raise his hand.
"Um... Poppy, I'm right here."
Madam Pomfrey looked down, finally noticing Professor Flitwick standing nearby.
Her face flushed red, but she quickly turned her attention back to Percy's injury.
"Oh! Thank goodness, Filius, you're here. Quickly tell me what spell this child was hit with. It looks serious—this hand might be unsalvageable!"
Flitwick immediately explained.
"The student appears to have been hit by some kind of Dark Magic. I tried several fire-extinguishing spells, but none of them worked. In the end, I had to use the counter-curse to Fiendfyre to suppress it."
Dweller noticed Madam Pomfrey's face darken even further upon hearing "Dark Magic"—
And when Flitwick mentioned Fiendfyre, her face twisted into horror.
"What?! You actually allowed them to use Dark Magic in class—and Fiendfyre no less?! Quick! Otherwise, this hand will be beyond saving!"
Without another word, she pulled Percy deeper into the Hospital Wing—probably to Hogwarts' equivalent of an operating room.
"Fiendfyre?"
Dweller frowned.
He remembered Fiendfyre from the seventh book of the original series—it was a deadly, powerful Dark Magic spell, capable of destroying Horcruxes.
Marcus had used it?
Recalling how Marcus had been seen moving numerous Dark Arts books from the Restricted Section, it didn't seem impossible.
Dweller turned his gaze back to the scene.
Marcus, looking panicked, tried his best to explain to Professor Flitwick.
"Professor, I swear I didn't mean it! I only intended to use a regular Fire-Making Spell. I don't know why green flames came out!"
Flitwick sighed.
"Marcus, I believe you. You clearly chanted a Fire-Making Spell—I saw it myself. But, out of responsibility, I have to confiscate your wand for now. You won't be participating in the Dueling Club until further notice."
Flitwick tiptoed to reach Marcus's waist and gently took his wand.
Marcus looked heartbroken and walked away from the hospital wing in a daze.
Flitwick shook his head slightly, watching the boy leave.
At that moment, a voice startled him from behind.
"Professor, what exactly is this Dueling Club?"
Turning around, Flitwick saw Dweller standing there, smiling.
Of course, Dweller already knew about the Dueling Club.
In the original timeline, Lockhart had started one when Voldemort returned.
Clearly, Dumbledore had revived the club earlier this time—likely due to recent events.
"It's you, Dweller," Flitwick said, smiling.
"The Dueling Club was Professor Dumbledore's idea. He wants to teach students basic combat skills, starting with fifth-years and above first. Later, it will open to lower years as well. After what happened last weekend, he decided it was necessary to prepare everyone earlier."
Flitwick sighed again as he finished.
Dweller's eyes gleamed with excitement.
As he had expected, Dumbledore was moving to strengthen students' defensive capabilities.
"Professor, I'm already taking fifth-year classes now. Can I join the Dueling Club next time?"
He had been eager for actual combat practice—and these upper-year students made perfect sparring partners.
Flitwick chuckled.
"Of course! But I'll inform the others not to be too rough with you."
Dweller beamed with anticipation.
Suddenly, Flitwick's expression grew cautious.
He glanced toward the door and tiptoed over to Dweller's side, whispering (actually, at Dweller's chest height):
"Dweller, do you know who those two gentlemen outside the door dressed like medieval knights are?"
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