the first weekend

Ciaran Frémont continued to roam the classroom, guiding this group of second-year wizards.

"Mr. Longbottom, remain composed, don't succumb to anxiety or fear. Stay calm and centred. Only then can you wield magic spells effectively! Mr. Potter, well done," Ciaran commended.

Neville's face flushed with embarrassment. Although Harry felt a sense of satisfaction, he couldn't let it show. He believed he needed to watch over Neville more closely. Holding his wand, he addressed Neville, "Come on, Neville!"

"Mr. Longbottom, give it another try," Ciaran encouraged.

Neville nodded slightly, flicked his wand, and exclaimed, "Expelliarmus!" Harry's wand flew out of his hand.

"Not bad, Mr. Longbottom!" Ciaran nodded approvingly. With a subtle wave of his wand, Harry's wand obediently returned to his hand, which he then offered to Harry.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry expressed his gratitude.

"I did it? I actually did it!" Neville exclaimed excitedly, as if incredulous that he had disarmed Harry.

Ciaran refrained from mentioning that real enemies wouldn't stand idly for disarming spells. Yet, they were still young, and this was merely their first lesson. He intended to continue guiding them towards improvement in future lessons.

"You two continue practicing, taking turns," Ciaran instructed before moving away. A classroom full of young wizards awaited his guidance, and he couldn't afford to devote excessive time to a single group of students.

Time passed swiftly during the class. Ciaran tapped his throat lightly with his wand and invoked a spell, "Sonorus!"—amplifying his voice.

"Excellent work, everyone!" Ciaran addressed the class. All students ceased their activities, setting down their wands and erupting into enthusiastic applause.

"Many of you performed admirably today—Hermione, Harry, Neville, Draco... You all demonstrated exceptional effort, so I've decided to award Gryffindor ten points and Slytherin five points!" Ciaran announced, his voice projecting loudly due to the magic amplification.

The students cheered with excitement.

"Alright, that concludes today's class. For homework... dedicate some time to practicing the disarming spell. At the beginning of our next class, I'll randomly select two students to demonstrate. That's all for now, class dismissed!" Ciaran declared.

Excitedly, the students exited the classroom in small groups, leaving Ciaran behind. He proceeded to prepare for his classes with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff houses.

"Restore to prior state!"

"Reverse petrification!"

...

Ciaran incanted spells to repair and fortify the classroom. Lower-level spells were fine for the younger students, but the older students likely utilized more potent spells. Without protection, the classroom risked being damaged after just a few sessions. He couldn't allow his combat lessons to be undermined.

Meanwhile, the group of young wizards who exited the combat classroom on the sixth floor were abuzz with conversation. They had never experienced such an engaging practical course before. 

This academic year, Professor Lockhart proved to be lacklustre, with most classes being theoretical and lacking practical application. This combat class, however, provided them with an invigorating experience.

"Professor Frémont is truly formidable; I believe he surpasses Professor Lockhart by far," Harry remarked.

"Professor Lockhart has his merits too. Of course, Professor Frémont is naturally adept, but Professor Lockhart isn't incompetent, is he?" Hermione countered. "Consider this—Professor Lockhart has authored numerous exemplary books based on his experiences, though he may be struggling to find his teaching groove. He excels in handling various dark magical creatures."

"Don't defend Lockhart, Hermione," Ron interjected.

"You..." Hermione retorted indignantly, "Professor Frémont will surely write to Mr. Weasley; just wait!"

Ron's expression paled instantly.

"What's the matter?" Harry inquired, perplexed, prompting Hermione to recount the incident in class.

After a moment of contemplation, Harry suggested, "Ron, think about it—it might not be such a bad thing."

"What??" Ron exclaimed incredulously, "Another howler? And it's all because of your wand breaking..."

"But you can't possibly go through the entire second year with that faulty wand, can you?" Harry gestured towards the broken wand protruding from Ron's bag. "If Professor Frémont writes to the Weasleys, they'll surely take it seriously. Once you have a new wand, what's a howler going to mean then?"

"Well, that makes sense," Ron conceded thoughtfully.

"Let's go; we have classes later. No more tardiness," Hermione urged, leading the way out of the sixth-floor corridor, with Harry and Ron following.

Throughout the week, Ciaran taught the second-year wizards diligently. He had classes scheduled every day, with one day even comprising four classes. Fortunately, his proficiency in magical studies enabled him to instruct these future students in Level 1 and Level 2 magic. As an adult wizard, he found it manageable, though he had a full timetable of classes spanning up to five days, not to mention preparation time, leaving him with little leisure time.

It wasn't until the weekend that he could finally take a respite.

However, rest wasn't on his agenda. Since identifying the source of the Force points through the Sorting Hat during the opening ceremony, he had been eager to explore Hogwarts when time permitted. He hoped to uncover some ancient artifacts, preferably those imbued with Force points.

On Saturday night, he strolled leisurely through the corridors of Hogwarts Castle, his eyes scanning the surroundings. Built initially as a refuge to shelter wizards away from densely populated areas and potential threats, Hogwarts held a trove of treasures left behind by the Founders—such as Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets and the basilisk.

The basilisk, being a living creature rather than a magical item, would likely hold no Force points.

Moreover, its gaze could inflict death, and even indirect contact through mirrors or water posed a risk of petrification. With his current Level 4 (Elementary) magical prowess, he deemed it wise to steer clear of the basilisk.

"Fred, hurry! Filch is approaching. Don't let him catch you!" George Weasley's voice echoed down the corridor.

"Don't worry, George; he'll never expect us to emerge from there!" Fred's voice responded with amusement.

"Is everything stashed away in there?" George inquired.

"Absolutely! Filch will never uncover it!" Fred assured.

"Wait, Fred! Look at this name on the map," George exclaimed suddenly.

"Who?"

As the two brothers conversed, they rounded a corner and unexpectedly collided with Ciaran Frémont. Their expressions shifted to ones of slight embarrassment.

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