As a qualified spectator, Morin decided to share the joy.
Very quickly-and quite "accidentally"-the news spread throughout Hogwarts:
A newly arrived wizard intended to challenge Professor Quirrell for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.
Naturally, questions followed.
"Who is this wizard?"
"Why does he want the Defense Against the Dark Arts job?"
"Professor Morin also teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts. Why isn't he being challenged?"
"That's obvious," someone answered. "Have you ever seen Professor Morin use a wand?"
Silence.
Everyone understood.
The reason the challenger avoided Morin was painfully clear.
He was afraid.
Wandless magic was something only extremely powerful wizards could perform. And since the start of term, Morin hadn't used a wand even once in front of students.
Just imagining what that implied was enough.
Compared to that, the stuttering, eccentric Professor Quirrell was an easier target.
To be honest, many students doubted Quirrell could even finish an incantation. A spell interrupted midway didn't work at all.
Still, there were students-those suffering from prolonged exposure to Morin's endless exams-who secretly hoped the challenger would face Morin instead.
And win.
They truly didn't want to live in exam hell anymore.
Despite the standing ten-Galleon reward, despite Morin's perfect payment record, people were people.
Where there were top students, there were poor students.
And some poor students were just hidden geniuses who hated studying.
In short, top students didn't necessarily love studying.
But poor students definitely hated it.
By now, resentment toward Morin's mountains of exams had reached a near-critical level. Thoughts like that were only natural.
Morin, of course, didn't care.
If students didn't see a teacher as a monster, that teacher probably wasn't doing their job properly.
That might be extreme.
But not entirely wrong.
Few students could judge things objectively at that age.
Few adults could either.
Ideal situations were called "ideal" precisely because they rarely existed.
"Hm... maybe I should buy some snacks and win people over?" Morin thought idly.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Someone was at the door.
"Enter," Morin said, undoing several wards.
Since this was Hogwarts, none of them were lethal-only basic protections. Anti-Allohomora. Anti-Apparition.
Their purpose was simple: slow down students trying to steal exams.
A normal student would need half a day just to open the door.
The real surprise lay inside.
The shelves holding the exams were protected far more heavily than the door itself.
Imagine someone finally forcing their way in, convinced victory was at hand-seeing the pile of "Sources of All Evil" on the shelf-only to discover the real defenses were there.
That would be hilarious.
What Morin found more interesting was the visitor.
Green eyes.
A lightning-shaped scar.
Harry Potter.
Since choosing a policy of non-interference, Morin hadn't actively involved himself in Harry's life after he entered Hogwarts. He didn't even look for updates.
Definitely not because it was troublesome.
Harry remained obedient and hadn't sought him out. Their schedules didn't overlap, and Morin didn't teach first-years.
Aside from brief greetings, they barely met.
So Harry showing up now was interesting.
"Hello, Harry. Long time no see," Morin said, floating a chair over. "Sit down. You look like you have something to ask."
"Yeah... long time no see," Harry said awkwardly, sitting. "It's good to see you, Morin. I do have a question."
He hesitated.
"Have you heard of... wizard duels?"
"Oh?" Morin raised an eyebrow. "You mean the unnamed wizard challenging Professor Quirrell?"
"Yes. That one."
Harry hesitated again.
It was their usual pattern.
If a question felt too awkward to ask out loud, Harry would think it instead-assuming Morin would know anyway.
"Ah. I see," Morin said calmly. "You're thinking about the older form of dueling. Where seconds step in if the primary falls, until one side is completely wiped out."
He smiled.
"Brutal. But real."
Morin wasn't being polite.
If Harry actually asked, he'd just use the usual excuse.
I'm not reading your mind. Your thoughts are written all over your face.
Whether anyone believed it was another matter.
"So," Morin continued, "you've accepted the duel, haven't you?"
"You're preparing to kill someone."
He paused.
"That's faster than I expected. But not unacceptable."
Harry froze.
"But regardless of how the duel ends-or whether it even happens-agreeing to it means you must've thought things through. Right?"
"...I don't understand," Harry said slowly.
"Death," Morin said. "Or injury. At minimum."
"This is Hogwarts. Private life-and-death duels aren't allowed."
"If you really intend to kill Mr. Malfoy, you'd need to erase all traces. Make sure no one knows it was you. Create alternative injuries. Then accuse the deceased of attacking first with lethal intent."
"That's called justifiable homicide."
"If you do it properly, there are no consequences."
Morin looked genuinely enthusiastic.
Like he was helping plan the perfect crime.
Harry's expression froze.
He hadn't thought about any of that.
And another thought followed immediately.
Why does my professor sound so eager to help me kill someone?
"You're mistaken," Morin said, shaking his head. "I don't hold grudges. Very few people are worth that."
"This is your choice. I can choose not to interfere. That's normal."
"As for helping you plan..." He shrugged. "Isn't favoritism normal?"
"What actually matters," Morin continued, "is that you understand this."
"Before you do anything, think it through."
"The whole situation," Harry repeated, still confused.
"Who's involved? What role will they play afterward? What will they do? What consequences follow?"
"That's a leader's mindset."
He waved it off.
"You don't need to go that far. Just think about how it affects you-and a few people around you."
"It won't be perfect. Nothing is."
"But it won't be catastrophically wrong-unless you were manipulated from the start."
He concluded simply.
"Every choice needs a reason."
"It's tiring."
"But it's better than acting like a headless chicken."
"I won't interfere, Harry," Morin said. "From now on, I'll only give advice and hints."
"It's better for your growth."
"Any other questions?"
"No," Harry said quietly. "Thank you, Morin."
He stood to leave, then paused.
"Oh. One more thing."
"I made the Quidditch team. I'm a Seeker."
"Congratulations," Morin nodded. "When's your first match?"
"Wood's been training me, but the match... probably after Halloween."
"November." Morin smiled. "Good. You've got another month or two."
He winked.
"Connect everything that's happening to you, Harry. Then choose what's best for you."
"Do you understand?"
"I think I do." Harry smiled. "Please come to my match."
"I wouldn't miss it," Morin said.
He thought briefly about the original timeline.
Quirrell cursing the broom.
Snape countering it.
Hermione knocking Quirrell over by accident.
But now?
Would Quirrell even attend?
If Quirrell were replaced by Grindelwald-
Morin shook his head.
Grindelwald wouldn't bother with subtle curses.
He'd probably just use Fiendfyre.
...
"Where were you?"
Back in the dormitory, Ron whispered as Harry returned.
"I thought you'd gone to duel Malfoy without me."
"Are we still going at midnight?"
"No," Harry whispered back. "We're not."
"Malfoy can't beat me. That means he can't win."
"So why would he challenge me?"
Ron frowned.
"A trap? Some cursed item from his dad?"
"Hogwarts would never allow lethal traps," Harry said. "Dumbledore warned us about the fourth floor."
"And his father?" Harry shook his head. "If Malfoy killed me, their entire family would be arrested."
"So that's impossible."
"Then why?" Ron whispered.
"He's setting us up," Harry said quietly.
"A real wizard duel needs formal letters. A public setting. A referee."
"Malfoy did none of that."
"He just used the word 'duel' to lure us out."
"And then..."
"He tells a professor-probably Snape."
"We get caught after curfew."
"And lose a ton of points."
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