## Chapter 245: Muggle Weapons Class
Professor Abigail paused, then asked, "What agreement?"
"I know!"
Hermione quickly raised her hand and said, "In 1876, Hogwarts' caretaker, Rancorous Carpe, tried to use various modern weapons to drive Peeves out of the castle. As a result, Peeves wreaked havoc in the school for three full days. He even shot at windows, nearly injuring the school's teachers and students."
"That's right, that's right!"
Peeves, floating in the air, nodded repeatedly, proudly declaring, "In the end, Carpe got kicked out of school, and I'm still here!"
"The headmistress at the time, Madam Moore, reached an agreement with Peeves."
Hermione continued, as if setting Peeves up for a punchline, "Peeves was allowed certain mischief-making privileges in the school in exchange for him putting down his weapons and letting order return to the school."
"Exactly!" Peeves chimed in. "See? These things are useless against me! But if you want to fight me again, I'm more than welcome."
He sat astride the barrel of a cannon, provocatively eyeing the new professor, as if eagerly anticipating another major conflict.
"So that's how it is."
Professor Abigail looked at Peeves with some surprise.
Before today, Peeves' attitude towards professors had been relatively respectful; he merely seemed a bit more lively than other ghosts. Thus, Professor Abigail hadn't yet discovered his destructive power.
However, from the tone of his voice and the expressions of the students, Professor Abigail could guess what kind of character he was.
She didn't understand why a powerful Wizard like Dumbledore would allow such a mischievous ghost to remain in the school. But since the headmaster hadn't said anything, Professor Abigail naturally wouldn't interfere.
"You've misunderstood, Peeves," she calmly explained. "I'm going to use them to teach my students a weapons class."
After speaking, she ignored the uninvited guest and turned to the students in front of her.
"Since you're here, help me notify your respective houses. Tomorrow afternoon at four, we'll have a Muggle Weapons Class on the south lawn."
A hand shot up from the crowd.
"Lisa?" Professor Abigail called her name.
"Professor," Lisa said somewhat timidly, "but... shouldn't this be content for third-year Muggle Studies? We haven't reached third year yet..."
"You're wrong," Professor Abigail said directly. "Do you think we only need to guard against Dark Wizards and dangerous creatures to ensure our safety?"
"Completely wrong!"
"I'm telling you, throughout history, many Wizards have been captured or even killed by Muggles they looked down upon!"
"Of course, Wizards have killed far more Muggles without restraint. For example, decades ago, your Voldemort here in England..."
Most of the students instantly turned pale, as if they wished they could plug their ears.
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named... Professor, we usually don't say that name directly..." Anthony said, gathering his courage.
"Fools!" Professor Abigail reprimanded him unceremoniously. "Didn't Dumbledore teach you? Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself! What's more, Voldemort is already dead. You don't even dare to say his name?"
The Young Wizards exchanged glances, and most lowered their heads.
They didn't want to admit they were cowardly, but they also wouldn't call out that person's name as the professor suggested.
Although Voldemort had disappeared by the time these Young Wizards had their first memories, his influence lingered to this day. For many, he was still synonymous with "terror."
Professor Abigail was somewhat disappointed, but then she noticed that some students still had their heads held high, their expressions fearless, their gazes unwavering.
Like Wade and Harry.
And some others were clearly afraid, but their expressions also held something else—a mix of cowardice and bravery.
Professor Abigail smiled and didn't force the students against their will. Instead, she said:
"To properly use some Muggle weapons, the Headmaster needs to temporarily disable certain parts of the school's protective system. Doing so for too long or too frequently could threaten the school's safety. Therefore, all four houses in the same year will have class together."
"Second-years' class time is Friday afternoon at five. Gather on the lawn by the Forbidden Forest. Remember to arrive early."
...
Friday arrived quickly.
Wade and the others had no classes that afternoon. After lunch, they went to the Umbrella Room to finish their weekend homework. When the time was right, they all walked towards the lawn.
They were the first year to have the weapons class, and some students from other years also came to watch out of curiosity. They even arrived earlier than the students attending the class, forming a circle on the lawn.
Everyone was familiar with each other. They stood in small groups, examining the weapons on the lawn—some ancient, some brand new—with curious eyes.
The weapons were protected by a Spell, so students couldn't get close. They stood on the periphery, discussing their methods of use and their power.
"I know, that's a Landmine!"
A Gryffindor boy declared confidently, "My dad accidentally stepped on one when he went traveling. The Muggles with him thought he'd be blown to bits and ran away crying. My dad used an Shield Charm to counter the explosion's force. When he went back, he saw those Muggles already preparing his funeral!"
Everyone burst into laughter.
The laughter contained disdain for foolish Muggles and a sense of superiority as Wizards.
Suddenly, a student felt a tap on their shoulder.
"Excuse me, could you move?"
"Hey, go find somewhere else!"
The student impatiently shrugged their shoulder, trying to dislodge the hand.
But they didn't succeed; the grip on their arm tightened severalfold instead.
"I... said... please... let... me... pass!"
The person repeated, their voice cold and emphasized.
The voice sounded somewhat familiar.
The tone seemed very displeased.
The student turned around and saw Professor Abigail's dark, grim face. For a moment, they almost hallucinated Professor Snape.
"P-Professor!"
They cried out, and many students hastily made way.
Professor Abigail walked in like Moses parting the Red Sea, followed by a string of second-year students.
—They had arrived just in time but were also stuck on the periphery.
As the crowd reached the center, curious eyes frequently scanned the well-designed, imposing modern weapons. However, after Professor Abigail entered, she first picked up a crude Stone Axe.
"Does anyone know what this is?" she asked.
"Pfft!"
Among the students, someone let out a chuckle, seemingly finding the professor's question foolish.
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