The students stared at the wooden sticks in their hands, completely lost.
They were familiar with wooden sticks. Every one of them owned a wand. But something this thick, this long, this hard-
They had no experience at all.
If they had to compare it to something, the closest answer was a broomstick.
Except there were no bristles.
And more importantly, what were they supposed to do with it?
Full of doubt, they followed Morin down to the fourth floor, gripping their wooden staves. Along the way, portraits reacted in all kinds of ways. Some screamed. Some cursed. Some shouted warnings.
Peeves the Poltergeist appeared as well, just as noisy and irritating as ever. He took one look at the group and inhaled.
"Look at these rude little-"
Morin reached out.
He grabbed him.
No incantation. No wand. No visible spell.
Peeves was at least ten feet away, floating high in the air, yet in the blink of an eye he appeared in Morin's hand, stiff as a board and completely unable to move.
The second-years froze.
They had already spent a full year being tormented by Peeves. To them, this scene was nothing short of a miracle.
"Perhaps you need a bit of help, Mr. Peeves," Morin said calmly. "Let's see... how about ten days of no moving, no blinking, and no talking?"
"Mmph! Mmph!"
Peeves shook violently, eyes wide with pure terror.
He had misjudged badly.
Morin was young. New. Peeves had assumed he would be easy prey.
He had not expected to be neutralized instantly.
The lack of wand and incantation meant there had been no warning at all. By the time Peeves realized something was wrong, it was already over. Even now, he felt that guarding against it wouldn't have helped.
He tried to phase through the force restraining him.
It failed.
Ghosts are made of particles too, Morin thought.
Electromagnetism didn't discriminate.
"Don't cause trouble in front of me again," Morin said, smiling gently. "Understood?"
The smile made several students momentarily dazed.
Then they remembered the rumor.
When Professor Morin looked his most handsome, he was at his most terrifying.
"Mmph! Mmph!" Peeves nodded furiously.
Whether he truly meant it was another matter. But at the very least, until he found a way around Morin's control, he wouldn't dare act up near him again.
"See?" Morin said warmly as he released him. "I'm not some kind of monster. I've left a subtle magic on you. If you try to start trouble near me again..."
Peeves had already fled upward, half his body sinking into the stone ceiling.
It didn't matter.
That invisible, irresistible force wrapped around him again and dragged him straight back out.
"It will be just like this," Morin said softly. "Understood?"
"Understood!" Peeves nodded like a woodpecker.
The message was received.
Without question, Morin's presence in the students' minds became even more fearsome. Some of the sharper ones had already begun examining their wooden sticks, trying to find hidden secrets.
If it were that easy, I wouldn't be much of a wandmaker, Morin thought.
He led the group onward like a procession, arriving at the open space he had requested from Professor McGonagall.
Before martial arts-no, before magic practice-there was one essential step.
The horse stance.
The students lined up by height under Morin's direction. Palms together. Stick resting on their outstretched arms. Knees bent. Squat.
Morin watched, nodding with satisfaction.
A beautiful new sight at Hogwarts.
"For today, five sets," he announced. "One minute per set."
Then he added, kindly, "If the stick falls, that's one extra exam paper."
The students froze.
"!!!"
Before class, they had thought this handsome, charming professor was far better than the stuttering, garlic-scented one. Even if the homework was heavy, it seemed manageable.
Now?
They would rather listen to a stuttering lullaby in a room that smelled like garlic.
Reality was merciless. Resistance was useless.
They squatted.
Arms trembling. Sticks shaking.
One drop equaled one exam paper. Did this man buy exams in bulk? How did he have so many? Many students sincerely wondered.
...
Ten minutes later, bodies littered the ground.
Students lay sprawled without regard for dignity, drenched in sweat, gasping for air. Some were pale, barely able to breathe.
"Stand up," Morin muttered. "Lying down immediately after intense exercise is bad for the heart..."
No one responded.
So Morin lifted them up with magic, one by one, and released a gentle healing aura. Soft green light washed over them, and their expressions slowly improved.
"You need chocolate," Morin said, pulling out a large stash and handing it around.
This time, no one was shocked.
The first time is strange. The second time is normal. Habit was terrifying.
"You may feel sore tomorrow," Morin continued. "That's normal. Your bodies simply aren't used to exercise. It will improve in a few days. Once you adapt, you'll find it easier to concentrate and have more energy, which will increase your spellcasting speed."
Then his tone shifted.
"Now," he said pleasantly, "I will announce your homework."
The students snapped to attention and groaned in unison.
They had been struck.
...
The next day, Hogwarts. Great Hall.
Breakfast was underway. Owls swooped in with letters and packages. The hall buzzed with conversation.
Everything was normal.
Except for one thing.
"Professor Morin" kept coming up.
Morin calmly ate his buttered bread. To the students, they were whispering. To him, it was the same as speaking aloud.
"Have you heard?"
"Heard what?"
"The other Defense professor. The handsome one. Professor Morin. He gave the second-years sticks and made them do a weird pose! Something called the horse stance!"
"I heard that too! The name's strange. And after it, your body aches like you've been beaten!"
"Is it Dark Magic?"
"Of course not! It's an ancient Eastern exercise! It makes your body stronger, spells faster and stronger, and concentration sharper!"
Harry nearly spat out his pumpkin juice at first.
But he couldn't let it go on.
Morin's training was for their benefit.
"I also heard," someone added, "that Professor Morin has piles of exam papers and gives them out at the slightest excuse!"
"I heard sixth-years who score 'Exceeds Expectations' or above get ten Galleons!"
"Ten Galleons?!"
"Too bad we're fifth-years..."
"Don't get excited. Those are N.E.W.T.-level exams. You only got an 'Acceptable' last term. And his homework is terrifying. He measures it by the inch."
"Hiss-"
If Hogwarts had a trending list, Morin was firmly at the top.
And it was only day one.
If this continued, Morin suspected his reputation might one day rival Dumbledore's.
Graduates recalling their time at Hogwarts would first see a mountain of exam papers.
Then his face.
Infamy was still fame.
"Professor Morin," Flitwick said beside him, winking, "you seem quite famous."
"It was inevitable," Morin replied. "They'll thank me later."
"So that training method of yours," Flitwick said eagerly. "Is it real? Can it really increase spell power?"
"Pfft-"
Morin spat coffee and wiped his mouth.
"Sorry. What did you say?"
"That's what the students claim! Double the power!"
Morin paused.
"...That's exaggerated. Doubling is rare unless the foundation was extremely weak."
"Exaggerated?" Flitwick froze. "So it does happen?"
"Of course," Morin said patiently. "People who exercise concentrate better and react faster. You know how much of an advantage that gives in spellcasting."
"...That makes sense," Flitwick murmured.
Morin continued carefully. "This kind of training is best for the young. Their bodies adapt quickly and recover more easily. And posture, force, and breathing all matter. Done incorrectly, it can cause serious injury."
He meant that sincerely.
The thought of Flitwick trying this alone was alarming.
...
"Sherbet Lemon."
The gargoyle moved aside. Morin stepped onto the spiral staircase and entered the Headmaster's office.
"Headmaster, you wanted to see me?"
"Ah, Professor Morin," Dumbledore said. "How was your first day?"
"Quite well," Morin replied easily. "The students just needed some time to adjust."
"I see..." Dumbledore adjusted his glasses and slid a plate of lemon tarts over. "Would you like one?"
"Thank you."
They were excellent.
"I had Minerva observe," Dumbledore said. "Combined with your earlier actions toward a certain governor, this may give him an opening."
"There's no need to worry," Morin said calmly. "Facts will speak for themselves. And the Board isn't immutable."
"Perhaps," Dumbledore said softly.
They exchanged a look.
Nothing more needed to be said.
Find 50+ Advance chapters
And for More Fan fiction
👇
👇
[Support link: pat reon.com/RioRaRyu]
--------------------More Bonus Chapters!!!!
Every 300 power stones = 1 Bonus Chapter