Swinging The Great Sword At Hogwarts

Night Wanderings and the Restricted Section

"This sword feels just right," John muttered, his hands gripping the broad hilt.

Basil twisted his round head, as if pondering where John had managed to acquire such a weapon. With a dignified flick of his wings, he pushed away Tom's drooling mouth, perching himself somewhere safely out of reach.

John held the greatsword in both hands; it was a weapon that belonged in the hands of a medieval knight, almost as tall as John's own shoulders. Perhaps, once he was grown, it would fit him perfectly.

He tightened his grip on the hilt, summoning all his strength to lift the massive blade. It was the classic knightly sword, broad as the width of a hand and forged from solid steel. Its weight was considerable, and for someone like John, it was a suitable burden to build his strength.

Using a rope, he secured the sword across his back, then began his workout regimen with push-ups, the sword's weight pressing down on him. Hard work, after all, was always rewarded, and by the next morning, John awoke to find his magical power had risen by ten points.

[Magic Power: Level 2 (20/500)]

[Spells: Alohomora (Level 3), Levitation Charm (Level 1), Transfiguration Charm (Level 1)]

[Skills: Short Weapon Mastery (Level 7), Greatsword Mastery (Level 3), Firearm Proficiency (Level 1)]

[Blessings: Stamina Boost, Speed Attack, Precision, Academic Excellence, Pilot, Long-Distance Runner]

His skill set had changed, with his former proficiencies in heavy and long-handled weapons now replaced by Greatsword Mastery.

"This weapon does meet the requirements for both heavy and long-handled types," he murmured, studying the sword closely.

As he grasped the greatsword, a sudden sense of familiarity washed over him—a natural ease that came from the melding of two former proficiencies, now unified into a single, formidable mastery.

"This weapon does meet the requirements for both long-handled and heavy types," John murmured thoughtfully as he inspected the greatsword. Realization dawned on him—the merging of his former weapon skills had granted him an instinctual familiarity with the blade.

He swung the greatsword in a series of basic strikes, slashes, and thrusts. Despite having only just acquired it, he wielded the sword with such precision and ease that any knight witnessing his skill would be left speechless. His mastery felt as natural as if he'd trained for years.

Skills followed a structure similar to spells.

• Level 1: Novice; enough to hold the weapon and perform basic moves.

• Level 2: Basic; capable of applying what's learned.

• Level 3: Intermediate; skilled enough to handle multiple opponents of similar size.

• Level 4: Professional; comparable to an assassin, wielding the weapon as a true extension of the self.

• Level 5: Teacher; able to teach and impart insights with unique perspectives.

• Level 6: Mastery; a peak level, developing one's distinct style.

• Level 7: Grandmaster; transcends form, achieving such natural skill that even a mere pencil can deliver the impact of a dagger.

With his Short Weapon Mastery at Level 7, John could be considered a grandmaster. He was capable of using a pencil to strike down three flies in under a second. Though his individual weapon skills had vanished, he felt no loss; in fact, his understanding had deepened, blending seamlessly into his new Greatsword Mastery.

The combined proficiency gave him a sense of ease, but he couldn't resist a wry comment. "I'm a wizard. What am I supposed to do with this thing?"

For John, his blessings ranked first, magical power came second, spells third, and weapon mastery fourth. After practicing the Transfiguration Charm for a while, he headed off to class. Activating his Scholar's Blessing, he absorbed knowledge quickly, each lesson a breeze. Later, after another careful inspection of the library's layout with Hermione, he readied himself to put his plan into motion come nightfall.

...

Nightfall in the Fifth-Floor Corridor of Hogwarts

The portraits on the walls were nodding off, and a suit of medieval armor—oddly enough—had somehow armed itself with a stick as a makeshift weapon.

"Lumos."

"Hey!"

"Turn off that cursed light!"

"Oh, hush up!"

The sudden brightness made the portraits grumble with irritation as John passed down the hallway, heading for the fifth-floor library. The library had closed at eight, and by now, only the night owls were likely to linger nearby. Thousands of books filled hundreds of shelves, and narrow aisles stretched out like pathways through a vast sea of knowledge. Deep within lay the Restricted Section, his true destination.

John extinguished the light on his wand as he reached the door to the Restricted Section. The simple latch looked more like a prop than a lock, a mere deterrent for the well-behaved.

Unfortunately for Hogwarts, tonight Mr. John Wick was not feeling particularly well-behaved.

With a soft click, he pulled open the door—it swung freely, hardly secure.

John knew he had to be careful. Unlike Harry, he didn't have an Invisibility Cloak, so he moved with quiet precision. His daily training had paid off, allowing him to enter without a sound. Rows of forbidden books stretched before him, each bound with wards and warnings. These books were not off-limits because they couldn't be learned from—they were locked away because of the dangers they posed. Among them were volumes on dark magic, unsuitable for the students' eyes.

It wasn't impossible to access Restricted Section books through legitimate means. If you managed to get a signed note from a professor, you could check out the books under supervision. But John thought of the headmaster, who often looked at him with an intensity that could squash a fly between his brows, and decided he'd rather rely on his own methods.

After making sure the coast was clear, John lit his wand and began searching through the shelves. He was here for a book on the Disillusionment Charm, but in this vast sea of tomes, it would take some time.

"Powerful Potions?" he muttered, pulling out a book that had caught his eye. Flipping through it, he discovered it covered advanced potions, including Veritaserum and Polyjuice Potion. He put it back quickly—although Polyjuice could transform one's appearance, he wasn't thrilled at the idea of adding someone else's hair to his potion.

Moving on, he came across a black-and-silver-bound book. He hesitated to open it, sensing it might contain curses or dark magic. Better to stick to his mission.

After a thorough search, he finally found a reference to the Disillusionment Charm. It was tucked within Advanced Spellcasting, along with spells like Apparition. Satisfied, he closed the book, preparing to make his way out.

Just as he was leaving, he paused and glanced back at the peculiar black-and-silver book. Curiosity got the better of him, and he cautiously pulled it from the shelf, opening it with great interest...

"AHHHH!"

A piercing scream rang out from the pages. John clapped his hands over his ears and quickly snapped the book shut, but the damage was done. The noise had reached Filch.

Outside, the ever-vigilant caretaker sprinted toward the library, his lantern swinging as he ran, his squib strength honed from years of patrolling the castle.

"I've got you now!" he wheezed, his hooked nose flaring like a hunting hound's. The sound of Mrs. Norris's distant meow echoed through the shelves, and a gleeful grin spread across Filch's face.

Filch and Mrs. Norris shared an unspoken connection as they dashed toward the shelves. The moment Filch disappeared from the library entrance, John stepped out from a nearby shelf and strolled out as if he belonged there. As he left, he gave Mrs. Norris, now elegantly grooming herself on a distant shelf, a thumbs-up. No treat of cat food had been in vain; their distraction tactics had worked perfectly.

...

Back in his dormitory, John eagerly began practicing the Disillusionment Charm. By the next morning, his eyes looked as dark as a panda's from lack of sleep. Three days of relentless practice finally paid off, and he could now see the pattern for Level 1 of the Disillusionment Charm. Hard work always had its rewards.

The following day in the Great Hall, he watched as six long-eared owls swooped in carrying a slender package toward Harry Potter, causing the remainder of Harry's bacon to meet the floor. A soft "ding" sounded as Minerva McGonagall chose not to speak to Harry and instead tossed him a Nimbus 2000. It was time for the Chosen One to enter the world of Quidditch.

Along with the Nimbus came a note from Hogwarts' own "cat-lady" summoning him to Quidditch practice. Though Harry didn't quite understand everything about the game yet, he had a natural talent for flying. Unable to contain his excitement, he shared the news with Ron, who looked on with envy. The best broom Ron had ever touched was his brother Charlie's old Quidditch broom, which, compared to the Nimbus, was practically a twig.

Eager to examine the Nimbus before their first class, Harry and Ron hurried out of the hall, nearly bumping into... trouble. The Chosen One had encountered the bane of Gryffindor's existence: a sneering Draco Malfoy. The self-styled Slytherin prince continued his favorite pastime of baiting his lifelong rival.

John, munching on a bacon pie, glanced over at the commotion. He cared less about the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry and more about the pie's gritty texture; he half-suspected it contained unripe stones.

"So, how much longer are you going to keep freezing them out?" he asked, reluctantly setting the bacon pie aside. Across from him sat Hermione, who had already glanced Harry and Ron's way three times.

"Until they apologize!" Hermione snapped, clearly still furious.

"That might take a while," John remarked, thinking Harry and Ron had probably forgotten what they'd even done to annoy her.

Meanwhile, Neville was once again fussing over his now-glowing Remembrall. John couldn't help but remind him, "Best not to wear pajamas to Charms class, Neville. This isn't a slumber party."