0352 The Demonstration

"But Professor—" Cedric raised his hand eagerly. "How do you define success? I mean, what level of skill do you think we need to attain to prove this course is successful?"

"Hmm, good question, Mr. Diggory—" Bryan stroked his chin thoughtfully, his brow furrowing as he pondered the query. "I think at least being able to defeat a wizard of Professor Black's caliber in a duel would be considered qualified."

"We couldn't possibly!" Harry immediately exclaimed, his voice thick with disbelief, and most of the young wizards wore expressions of amused incredulity upon their faces.

Defeat Professor Black in a duel? Oh, if they truly reached that level, they could probably follow Professor Watson in overthrowing the Ministry of Magic's rule!

"One must have dreams, Mr. Potter," Professor Watson said, his lips curving into an enigmatic smile. "What if you achieved it?"

The young wizards laughed even harder, except for Hermione and Luna, who both sensed that Professor Watson wasn't entirely joking.

"Alright—" Bryan raised his hand in a quieting gesture, calling for silence and quelling the cheerful discussion that had erupted amongst the students. 

"Time is precious, everyone. Now, I will demonstrate the specific content of the second stage of training. By the way, when I was a student at Hogwarts, I also used this method to train myself. Please step back; you won't like the commotion that's about to happen."

The young wizards surged towards the rear of the classroom in a shuffling tide, their backs pressed against the only wall without suits of armor lined against it. They watched with bated breath and mounting excitement as Professor Watson drew a conspicuous red line upon the floor with his wand, their hushed chatter filled the air with a palpable sense of anticipation.

"Simply put—" Bryan turned to face the students. "The goal of the second training is to reach the other end of the classroom by passing through the blocked passage using only your speed and reflexes, without the aid of your wands."

'Passing through a blocked passage?'

The young wizards's gazes were drawn towards the menacing suits of armor again, but how would these suits brought by Professor Watson block the passage?

The students pondered this question while the determined Professor Watson rolled up the sleeves of his robes, tightening the fabric around his forearms in a businesslike manner. He raised his voice, "Watch closely. I won't demonstrate it a second time."

With those words hanging in the air, Bryan suddenly waved his wand, and a shrill, trembling clanking sound erupted throughout the classroom. The suits of armor lining the other three walls abruptly lurched into motion, taking an ominous step forward with their left feet in eerie synchronicity. Their torsos twisted with a groan of protesting metal, and they raised their right arms in a synchronized throwing motion that sent a chill rippling down the spines of the assembled students!

"Look at those armor's hands!" The talented Seeker Harry immediately exclaimed, his cry laced with palpable fear. Heeding his urgent warning, every head turned as one, and with just a single glimpse, they were filled with a collective wave of shock and horror.

"Dungbombs," Fred muttered in a trance-like state. "So that's what they're for—"

Ever since Professor Watson went deep into the depths of the legendary Chamber of Secrets, fearlessly confronting and capturing the thousand-year-old Basilisk unscathed, the young wizards knew that Professor Watson was an exceptionally powerful wizard.

With each incident that unfolded over the past year or so, until Professor Watson obliterated Greyback and his pack of werewolves, his extraordinary strength and prowess had been etched deeper into the collective consciousness of the students, his reputation as a truly exceptional wizard being solidified in their hearts.

However, the young wizards who had witnessed Professor Watson's power firsthand were but a mere handful, their understanding of his true capabilities superficial at best. Now, the scene unfolding before their eyes made them realize how superficial their comprehension of the word "powerful" truly was.

Harry recalled a time back at the Dursley's, where his loudmouthed uncle Vernon had been engrossed in watching a Muggle short-distance race on the flickering television screen. Even as he diligently scrubbed the dishes in the adjacent kitchen, Harry had managed to sneak a few furtive glances, his attention captivated by the explosive speed with which the tall, muscular athlete had burst forth from the starting blocks at the thunderous crack of the gunshot, propelling himself forward with a raw, primal intensity that left the him in awe.

Yet, as he observed the figure of Professor Watson, clad in sports attire, the memory of that athlete's speed paled in comparison, seeming as sluggish and lethargic as a crawling Flobberworm in the face of the Professor's incomprehensible, near-inhuman swiftness.

In the mere blink of an eye, Professor Watson had traversed nearly forty feet, his movements a blur of impossible swiftness that defied the very laws of physics.

Then, without warning, a torrential downpour of dung bombs descended upon them, half of the over a hundred suits of armor lining three walls of the classroom hurling the foul missiles in rapid succession at the sprinting Professor Watson!

These dung bombs were not lazily tossed but rather propelled in straight, trajectories at tremendous speeds, their paths impossible even for the talented Seekers like Harry to pinpoint with precision as they converged from all directions.

"Oh no!"

Hermione unconsciously let out a piercing shriek, her hand instinctively covering her mouth as her eyes widened in horror. In her perception, a whirling vortex of fast-moving shadows had completely enveloped Professor Watson, the flurry of incoming projectiles forming an impenetrable curtain of danger that seemed inescapable. This was no mere exercise or harmless prank – without the aid of magical spell's defenses, even the indomitable Professor might not withstand such a relentless volley and overwhelming force of dung bombs. But the events that unfolded next defied everyone's expectations.

A piercing gleam flashed across Bryan's pale purple eyes. Time itself appeared to slow to a crawl as Bryan heightened his perception and dynamic vision to their absolute peak.

Ducking, twisting, sliding, lunging!

Bryan moved with the fluidity and precision of an exceptional stunt performer, evading the spell-like dung bombs with one unbelievable maneuver after another, his body twisting and weaving through the projectiles as if guided by some supernatural sixth sense.

Bang, bang, bang!

Dozens upon dozens of dung bombs exploded in rapid succession within the classroom, unleashing a miasma of potentially lethal stench that permeated every corner. But the young wizards's attention was hyper-focused, their senses overwhelmed by the breathtaking spectacle unfolding before them, oblivious to the fumes that could knock someone unconscious.

After skillfully evading the initial assault of dungbombs, Professor Watson abruptly altered his tactics, abandoning the straight-line path he had been following in favor of a sweeping "C" shaped arc. This ingenious strategy proved immensely effective, the slower-reacting suits of armor were unable to adjust their aim swiftly enough, so, their second volley missed him by a wide margin. Then, as if the challenge had not been arduous enough, his movements became even more elusive, and unpredictable.

He used feinting maneuvers with the precision and cunning of a seasoned warrior, luring the armor into flinging their dung bombs in the wrong direction while precisely avoiding any that could potentially strike him. Bryan seemed to have eyes all over his body, always able to perceive and evade danger from any direction at the last possible moment.

Before the dung bombs exploding at his feet could splash their juice upon him, he had already swiftly moved away like a phantom on the wind, always just beyond the blast radius.

Swoosh!

In a breathtaking display of acrobatics, Professor Watson leaped into the air, his body arcing gracefully before lightly touching the opposite wall with the palm of his hand, the contact of his hand against the stone serving as a silent signal. Simultaneously, all the armor retracted their left foot in perfect unison, instantly returning to an upright, immobile position.

Simultaneously, several small whirlwinds materialized within the classroom, their swirling vortices carrying the foul, tainted air out through the open windows, purging the space of the fumes. The foul puddles that had formed on the floor seemed to come alive, the liquid seeped into the tiles automatically, leaving the surfaces pristine and unblemished. In an instant, the classroom was restored to its former state of cleanliness and order, as if the chaotic battle had never occurred.

Phew--

Bryan wiped the sweat from his brow, slightly out of breath.

In his younger days, he had indeed invested considerable effort into honing and refining his skills in the dodging spells amidst the close melee combat. However, in recent years, the wizards he had faced had possessed such a vast disparity in ability compared to him that he had grown accustomed to clearing the battlefield with powerful, wide-area spells. As such, these refined skills had grown a bit rusty.

Even after Bryan had returned to the relative safety of this side of the classroom, the group of young wizards remained petrified, their eyes wide and unblinking.

"What's wrong?" Bryan arched an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he stared at the gaping expressions of the awestruck young wizards. "Was my performance not exciting enough for your tastes, or were you all simply overwhelmed by the stench of dung bombs?"

"You seriously think!" Susan Bones exclaimed, with a long braid trailing behind her, trembled slightly. "You think we could ever--"

Susan stammered, the words catching in her throat.

"Do what you just did?!" Parvati Patil interjected, completing Susan's unfinished sentence with breathless amazement. For these young witches, the impact of these dung bombs was particularly lethal.

"Well, of course--" Bryan said with unwavering confidence. "Of course, you'll have to endure some hardship initially. But I don't expect you to withstand the intensity of the exercise I just demonstrated right from the start. In the beginning, I'll lower the intensity of the attacks, probably to about a third of what you saw. Once you adapt, we can gradually increase the speed --"

"We'll never be able to adapt," Parvati Patil blurted out bluntly. Her statement seemed to resonate with many of the other young wizards, who solemnly nodded in agreement.

However, it was far too late for regrets or second thoughts now. Professor Watson had made it absolutely clear at the start of the class that the path to giving up or backing down was closed, leaving them with no choice but to persevere.

"Who wants to go first?" Professor Watson folded his muscular arms across his broad chest, his gaze sweeping over the assembled students. Yet, even Hermione, usually so eager and enthusiastic to participate in class found herself lowering her head, unwilling to meet the Professor's piercing stare.

This was a scenario he had expected, and he didn't feel the slightest flicker of surprise at the students's silence. After thinking for a moment, he had an idea in mind.

"Potter, Malfoy, Diggory, Chang – you four come forward and demonstrate for everyone,"

Unsurprisingly, the four named young wizards simultaneously wore pained, bitter expressions upon their faces, as if they were facing a great disaster– especially Cho Chang who seemed utterly lost.

The remaining students, on the other hand, collectively let out audible sighs of relief, their bodies visibly relaxing as they shrank back against the walls, grateful to have temporarily avoided this trial, even if their turn would inevitably come.

The four named wizards were from Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw respectively, and all were the Seekers of their House's Quidditch teams.

The importance of a Seeker to their Quidditch team was self-evident – the position demanded extraordinary talent, specifically exceptional observation skills, lightning-fast reflexes that bordered on the supernatural, ability to adapt to the ever-shifting tides of the game, and an unshakeable courage that allowed them to hurl themselves into harm's way without hesitation in pursuit of the elusive Golden Snitch. Coincidentally, these were precisely the qualities required in the trial.

The young wizards from the four Houses had never before displayed such unprecedented coordination and unity as they did in that moment, the unselected students instinctively shrank back against the classroom walls like a receding tide, leaving the four reluctant Seekers exposed in the center of the room, their shoulders slumped in resignation as they prepared to face the trial ahead.

"What?" Professor Watson's brow furrowed in displeasure, his face stern as he stared at the hesitant Seekers with disapproval. "Do I need to provide each of you with a broomstick to motivate your efforts?"

If only that were the case – Harry inwardly lamented. If he had his Firebolt gifted by Sirius, Harry was confident he could complete this challenge, undoubtedly outperforming Malfoy.

Regardless of his private daydreams, however, the grim reality was that neither Harry nor any of the others present could defy Professor Watson's will. No matter how unwilling or nervous they might be, they had no choice but to press onward and face the trial at hand.

Perhaps encouraged by this realization, Harry found himself less anxious. After all, no one in this classroom could escape tonight's test – the only difference was how many dung bombs one would endure.

The four Seekers took their positions a few paces from the crimson line that Professor Watson had drawn earlier, serving as the starting point for their test. Except for Cho Chang, who looked utterly miserable with teary eyes, the young wizards were mentally preparing themselves.

Harry took a deep breath, intending to advance a couple of extra steps beyond the starting line before the first wave of dung bombs arrived. Even if he ultimately fell prey to the relentless barrage, he was determined to at least get closer to the finish line than Malfoy.

"Dare to make it a competition, Potter?"

Just as he was mentally mapping out his strategy, Malfoy's irritating voice rang out once more, prompting Harry to immediately turn and face provocatively looking Malfoy's pointed chin and taunting gaze.

"Let's see who can go farther!"

"Mind your own business, Draco--"

Professor Watson's calm but authoritative words made Harry swallow his retort. But they continued to glare at each other, both refusing to be the first to admit defeat or back down from the unspoken challenge.

"Don't worry, Cho--" It was Cedric's voice that cut through the tension, he gave Cho a slight warm smile and said, "Just follow behind me."

"This goes for you too, Cedric," Bryan said with a stern face, "Mind your own business."

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