0346 Subsequent Impact

In the aftermath of the intense duel between the Sirius and Snape, those with foresight could have effortlessly predicted the rippling waves of change that would soon engulf the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

These transformative undercurrents manifested themselves most prominently among the young wizards from the rival houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin. The deep-seated rivalry and longstanding animosity that had long simmered between these two factions now erupted into open hostility, an unrestrained bushfire of mutual disdain and suspicion.

Whether within the Great Hall, the corridors that snaked through the ancient castle, the verdant courtyard, or the classrooms, the students from these rival houses barely communicated, their gazes locked in a constant state of guarded vigilance, ever watchful for the slightest hint of treachery or attacks from the opposing faction.

This atmosphere of mistrust and wariness was not born of mere paranoia or unfounded speculation. During this time, Harry himself had encountered numerous pranks and attacks on his way to and from classes. Although there was no evidence proving it was Malfoy, Harry was certain that one afternoon, someone hiding around a corner of the stairs had secretly tripped him, and after he fell, threw a Dungbomb at his head – that person had to be Malfoy.

While Harry's suspicions pointed an accusatory finger squarely at Draco, the young Slytherin's actions were undoubtedly irrational, as he seemed to have forgotten that when it came to the sheer quantity and potency of Dungbombs, he was hopelessly outmatched by the mischievous twins of Gryffindor, Fred and George Weasley. In fact, the very Dungbombs that Malfoy had used in his pranks might have even been sold by Fred and George themselves.

One evening in mid-March, after the Slytherins finished Professor Sinistra's Astronomy class, as they descended the Astronomy Tower and crossed the inner courtyard to return to the main castle, intending to use the underground passage beside the entrance hall to reach the Slytherin common room located underground. However, as they crossed this open expanse, the enticing aroma wafting from the Great Hall proved an irresistible distraction for the ever-gluttonous Crabbe and Goyle, momentarily diverting their attention from their intended path.

What happened next needs no explanation.

When Filch arrived, attracted by the enraged roars and desperate cries for help, the flickering Great Hall was filled with the unbearable stench of Dungbombs, causing him to vomit immediately. Despite Filch's herculean efforts to eradicate the foul odor throughout the night, his labors proved futile, as the air remained tainted by the lingering stench, a stinking reminder of the audacious prank.

Needless to say, the heads of all four houses were furious. They promptly ordered their prefects, Head Boys, and Head Girls, ordering them to strengthen the night patrols and maintain a vigilant watch over the castle's corridors. Furthermore, They personally interrogated the portraits that hung near the walls of the Great Hall, seeking any clues or insights they might possess regarding the identities of the students who had dared to orchestrate such a daring and unruly prank.

Alas, their inquiries yielded no useful information, as the culprit seemed to possess a keen awareness of counter-surveillance tactics and had left no discernible trail to follow.

"It truly puzzles me, Headmaster Dumbledore," Snape said to Dumbledore while summarizing the limited information they had gathered, his dark penetrating eyes fixing upon Sirius with undisguised suspicion, "Who in this school excels at evading pursuit and concealing their tracks?"

"If you ask for my opinion, Severus," Dumbledore calmly replied, his voice a soothing balm amidst the tension that permeated the air as he gently set down his silver fork, "from what I know, Bryan possesses quite a formidable skill set in that particular area."

"Speak from the heart, Headmaster," Bryan responded with a dismissive roll of his eyes, his tone laced with playful sarcasm. "Your expertise in this area is unmatched by any wizard."

"Are you suspecting me, Snape?" Sirius met Snape's accusatory gaze unflinchingly, refusing to be intimidated by Snape's thinly veiled taunts and implications.

"I am not accusing anyone," Snape countered smoothly, his lips curling into a serpentine smile that showed no hint of the malice that simmered beneath the surface. "I am merely reminding everyone present that last Halloween, a beast also managed to sneak into this school unnoticed."

"If you want to know the answer," Sirius replied, his voice laced with icy contempt, "I can tell you that I detest that Malfoy boy, just like his father, with their minds full of schemes. However, I did not throw a Dungbomb at his head like he did to someone."

"For heaven's sake, you two!" Professor McGonagall interjected, her stern features knotted into a mask of barely contained fury as she glared at Snape and Sirius. "Can't you refrain from arguing during meals? Haven't you noticed that the students are watching you?"

This impending confrontation, which threatened to escalate into a full-blown altercation, was swiftly defused by Professor McGonagall's forceful intervention before it could reach its climax. As the meal drew to a close and the attendees prepared to depart, Dumbledore issued a solemn warning, his words carrying the weight of his position as the Headmaster, as he expressed his fervent hope that the tense atmosphere that had enveloped Hogwarts Castle over the past two weeks would finally dissipate, restoring the sense of tranquility and harmony.

"I indeed didn't take action against that Malfoy boy," Sirius confessed to Bryan as they ascended the zigzagging staircase to the third floor, his solemn expression transforming into a triumphant, smug smile that showed the mischievous delight he derived from his scheming. The office they were headed towards had once belonged to Remus, and it was within these familiar confines that Sirius felt reassured to reveal the true extent of his involvement. "I just gave the Weasley twins and Harry some pointers. To pull off a prank without getting caught– they need to be wary of those portraits that like to snitch."

"Please, don't cause me any more trouble," Bryan said, his grim expression showing no surprise at Sirius's admission of participation in the recent incident. A hint of annoyance tinged his voice as he spoke, his words carrying an undercurrent of exasperation. "It was me who got rid of Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, as well as the stench of dung bombs in the Great Hall!"

Undoubtedly, Dumbledore had issued a private warning to Snape, urging him to exercise restraint and refrain from further escalating the tensions that had gripped the school. Sirius, too, had toned down his aggression after Bryan's persuasive words, recognizing the need to avoid fanning the flames of discord any further.

Regardless of the individual motivations, to a certain extent, the palpable atmosphere of hostility that had simmered between the houses of Slytherin and Gryffindor had somewhat subsided.

However, this school faced more than just one issue. Bryan's physical education class had an undeniable impact on the teaching of various professors at Hogwarts.

Although Bryan had made targeted effort to schedule his classes in the early morning hours, thereby avoiding any direct conflict with the established academic timetable, the endurance of the young wizards was finite, their physical capacities were exhausted by the demands of his rigorous curriculum.

Rousing themselves from the warm, enveloping embrace of their four-poster beds while the world outside was still cloaked in the inky darkness of pre-dawn, and venturing forth onto the Quidditch pitch before 6 a.m. without breakfast, proved an arduous trial for even the most dedicated students.

Now, with the exception of Professor Binns's notoriously drowsy History of Magic lectures, even in the classes taught by Professor McGonagall and Snape, some young wizards struggled to stay awake.

"Perhaps you could schedule your classes in the evening like Aurora does, Bryan," Professor McGonagall finally confronted Bryan in his office, her voice raised in exasperation. "Look at the situation now; this morning, at least a quarter of the fourth-year Ravenclaw students were dozing off in my class!"

"Only a quarter, Professor McGonagall," Bryan responded with a sly smile. "That proportion isn't too high, is it?"

"That's because there are only a quarter of the fourth-year Ravenclaw left who are still attending your Physical Education class compared to before!" Professor McGonagall said with a grim face.

Indeed, her assessment was accurate. Within the first week of Bryan's class commencing, approximately one-third of the young wizards had already abandoned and most of them were from Ravenclaw; mostly girls. They had no interest in this Muggle sport that offered no enjoyment. They were the ones who gave up the class the most among the four houses.

Bryan didn't mind this at all. As he had said before, he had anticipated this situation.

The remaining young wizards also found the course tiring and boring, but they persisted for various reasons. It was estimated that after a month, fewer than fifty young wizards would remain.

Neville might have been the only student genuinely enjoying the class.

*Gryffindor Common Room*

"This class is very simple—"

Neville said in the gloomy common room on Friday evening, as the young wizards who had persisted until now would have to continue rising early the next morning, completely undermining the purpose of the weekend.

"I mean, it doesn't require much thinking, you know, and that's what I'm afraid of!"

For the rarely optimistic Neville, the others didn't know what to say anymore.

"And besides," Neville added, rising from his seat and patting his belly with an impish grin, "I can guarantee that my grandmother will be utterly surprised when I return home for the summer holidays. She's tried so many ways to help me lose weight."

Neville's light-hearted joke, however, failed to elicit the desired humor from his companions, whose expressions remained somber and pensive in the face of the mounting pressures they all endured.

It was Ginny who finally broke the contemplative silence.

"Today, I ran into Percy in the library. He told me that Penelope has decided to drop Professor Watson's class because she dozed off in Professor Snape's Potions class and failed to handle the splashing potion from her cauldron in time, resulting in a large boil on her nose. This really upset Percy."

"Oh," Hermione frowned, her brow furrowing as she pondered the implications of Ginny's words. "So, what is Percy going to do? Will he drop the class too?"

"I think he'll stick with it," Ginny replied, her delicate fingers absentmindedly twirling a strand of her vibrant red hair as she spoke. "Of course, he shares our view that we're not Muggle athletes, so why should we expend so much effort on physical training? But you all know that he plans to ask Professor Watson for a recommendation letter. If he drops out of this class, he won't feel right going to Professor Watson for that. Anyway, he's graduating in a few months."

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