Swinging The Great Sword At Hogwarts

The Great Sword and the Ghost

"Mr. Barrow."

As he neared the entrance to the Slytherin common room, John dropped the Disillusionment Charm.

However, rather than feeling caught for his nighttime escapades, John was more curious about what the Bloody Baron was doing here.

Gazing out at the night, the Bloody Baron's hollow eyes seemed lost in thought.

"It's you, the Slytherin who sneaks out."

The Bloody Baron was a terrifying ghost. His gaunt face was framed by hollow eyes, and his robe was stained with silvery bloodstains.

Nearly fearless Peeves was the only one who ever feared this ghost, shaking in terror at the mere mention of his name.

John could tell that the bloodstains on the Baron's robes spoke of a dark past, though his curiosity didn't drive him to pry into another's scars.

It seemed that the Bloody Baron knew someone had been sneaking out frequently, though he didn't know exactly who.

John gave a nod, and the Bloody Baron surveyed him from head to toe, his expression a mixture of something peculiar.

After all, anyone who saw a wizard carrying a great sword on his back would find it strange. The Bloody Baron said, "What are you doing out here?"

"Practicing. I feel like I need to work harder to truly deserve being a Slytherin."

Flattering words are never too many, and John's response caused the Bloody Baron to shake his head. "You're very diligent, but I think you resemble more of a..."

A Gryffindor.

He didn't finish his sentence; it was simply too similar.

The Bloody Baron had lived during the time of the Four Founders. He had once pursued Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, Helena Ravenclaw, but when his attempt failed, he killed her in a fit of rage. Overcome with guilt and sorrow, he chose to end his own life.

He had met Godric Gryffindor during his life, a man who was also obsessed with swordsmanship and battle, so much so that he had the goblins forge a silver sword for him.

However, the sword turned out to be so perfect that it stirred the goblins' greed. This led to a battle between Godric Gryffindor and the goblins. The outcome was clear: the goblins always claimed that Gryffindor had stolen their sword, but no goblin dared come to Hogwarts to reclaim it.

Compared to Salazar Slytherin, John was exactly like a young Godric Gryffindor.

Merlin's beard.

Who knows if that old hat has gone mad, sending a Gryffindor replica to Slytherin?

"I've come to warn you," the Bloody Baron said, "that there are other dangers out at night. Be cautious."

His thoughts returned to the matter at hand, and he hadn't spoken this much in ages.

John's mind raced, and he thought of Quirrell.

From the Marauder's Map, he had noticed that Quirrell often left Hogwarts.

The Bloody Baron was the most unique of the four house ghosts; he had the ability to become invisible. It seemed he had noticed something and had come to give a warning.

"I understand, Mr. Baron. I will be careful."

John did not refuse the ghost's good intentions. Once back in his room, he eagerly pulled out the Marauder's Map.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good!"

The map appeared on the parchment, showing the layout of Hogwarts. Aside from professors like Snape, who were on the lookout for students, John saw Quirrell's name.

Quirrell's name moved past the patrolling professors and Filch, heading outside the Hogwarts castle.

"Where is he going?"

John was puzzled. Why would Quirrell be leaving the castle at this hour?

Unfortunately, the map's range was limited to Hogwarts; it couldn't display locations farther out, like the Forbidden Forest.

"Could he be heading to the Forbidden Forest?"

After thinking for a moment, John felt certain that if Quirrell was leaving Hogwarts, the only place he could be headed was the Forbidden Forest.

The Forbidden Forest was home to many magical creatures, including werewolves, centaurs, and even the pure and elusive unicorns.

"The Bloody Baron said it was dangerous—could he be referring to Voldemort?"

As soon as he thought of Voldemort, John's sense of urgency heightened.

This second Dark Lord may not have had the same influence as the first, whose reach extended across Europe, but Voldemort was a man without limits.

For his own gain, Voldemort would not hesitate to show no mercy, even casting the Killing Curse on infants without an ounce of shame.

Had Voldemort carried even a fraction of the first Dark Lord's dignity, John wouldn't have to be so afraid here at Hogwarts.

"No, it still needs to be stronger!"

Placing his large ears over Tom's eyes, John refused to place his hope in the vague and uncertain prophecy.

Who knew if prophecies were real? Besides, people had died at Hogwarts before.

...

October 31st, Charms class.

The sweet smell of roasted pumpkins filled the entire corridor, and inside the classroom, pairs of students were listening attentively as Professor Flitwick went over the details of the Levitation Charm.

John could clearly see the Adam's apples of Goyle and Crabbe as they swallowed, and his partner for the session was none other than Malfoy. It was a case of "fate bringing enemies together."

This made Malfoy tense up, as if he were afraid that John might suddenly pull out his wand and jab it into his eye.

Professor Flitwick stood atop a stack of books, using his sharp voice to guide the students.

"Alright, don't forget that subtle wrist movement we've been practicing!"

"Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick, and getting the incantation right is just as important. Don't forget the correct pronunciation for Leviosa..."

As the head of Ravenclaw House and the professor for Charms, Professor Flitwick was undoubtedly excellent at what he did.

He was the type of teacher who would break down every little detail of a spell, carefully feeding it to his students piece by piece, making him a very good instructor.

It was also said that the young Professor Flitwick had once won the Duelling Championship, so he was a proven expert.

After Professor Flitwick finished explaining the key points, the students began practicing.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Malfoy's wand was nearly poking John's face, but the feather on the desk remained stubbornly still. John sighed in exasperation.

With a great deal of patience, he softly reassured Malfoy, "Malfoy, if you poke my hand one more time, I'll stick my wand in your ear."

The threat made Malfoy freeze, but his pure-blood pride wouldn't allow him to bow to a "Muggle-born," and he retorted defiantly, "You try it, then."

"Sorry, I really can."

John shrugged, elegantly drew out his wand, and pointed it at the feather on the desk.

With a swish and flick, "Wingardium Leviosa."

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, the feather rose into the air.

Guided by John's wand, it flew gracefully toward Professor Flitwick, landing gently in his hand.

"Brilliant—!"

Flitwick clapped his hands excitedly, his voice rising in pitch. "Look at Mr. Wick, so elegant and perfect in his success, Slytherin earns 10 points!"

On the Gryffindor side, Hermione, who was already confident with the charm, had practiced it many times before.

She was fully prepared to perform the Levitation Charm, but with Ron as her partner, she struggled to endure his wild, uncontrolled flicks. Just as she was about to cast the correct spell, John had already beaten her to it.

Seeing the precise control John had over the feather, Hermione felt a bit disheartened. These feelings had a perfect outlet, and Ron, unfortunately, became her target for all her frustration.

After class, in the crowded corridor,

Ron complained to Harry, "No wonder everyone can't stand her, she's a nightmare."

Hermione overheard this and felt even more upset. She had been trying to help Ron, yet he was ungrateful.

Feeling hurt, she didn't wait for John; instead, she wanted to find a place to cry it out.

As she navigated through the crowd, she bumped into Harry.

Harry noticed the tears in her eyes, and, having already had a change of heart about Hermione, he thought Ron had gone a bit too far with his words.

"I think she heard what you said."

Ron, noticing Hermione's upset expression, felt a flicker of guilt but stubbornly retorted, "So what? She must have noticed. She doesn't have any friends."

"Ron, you shouldn't say that." Harry said seriously, looking at Ron.

With his best friend speaking up, Ron could only lower his head in silence and mumble, "Alright, fine... she does have a friend. John is one."