Read 20+ Chapter's Ahead in Patreon
One quiet afternoon, Kestrel was humming a cheerful little tune as she made her way back to her office, entirely satisfied after "witnessing" yet another mediation fail, her eleventh in a row. But when she lifted her head, her steps faltered.
There, standing directly in front of her office door, was Sargeras.
The warm afterglow from the stained glass windows spilled across the corridor, casting his tall, straight figure into a long, stretched shadow that seemed to cover half the hallway.
And in his hand, pinched neatly between his fingers, was a thick stack of parchment. Across the top of each report, in clear, unwavering script, it read: Witness: Professor Irisa Lumina. And beneath that, stamped without mercy, were the words: Mediation Outcome: Not Achieved.
The corridor was unnaturally still, so quiet that the silence itself felt heavy. The air seemed to thicken, pressing down with an unspoken weight.
Sargeras turned slowly, his cool steel-grey eyes locking on her with pinpoint precision, sharp and unbending.
He said nothing at first, merely lifting the stack of parchment slightly in his hand, a small and measured gesture that was enough to freeze the smile on Kestrel's face.
His handsome features were as composed as ever, showing no trace of anger, only the calm gaze of a man who saw straight through everything.
"Professor Lumina. Our 'best professor at Hogwarts!'" His voice was level and steady, carrying not the faintest ripple of emotion. "Perhaps… you could explain to me…"
He paused, letting his eyes drift over the repeated signatures and unwavering results on each page. "…this rather unique… art of mediation you've been practicing, and the truly 'remarkable' effect it seems to have had on the efficiency of executing the 'Apology Orders'?"
The smile vanished from her lips. In those sharp, fox-like eyes, always dancing with mischief, there flickered a rare flash of startled panic.
The moment she saw Sargeras at her door, she knew without the slightest doubt that the game was over.
All her little tricks, those clever, self-congratulatory schemes she had been so proud of, were useless before someone like him.
"Oh, come on, I was only trying to make sure everyone left happy," she said, spreading her hands wide in a gesture of harmless innocence. Her face lit up with a bright, almost pleading smile. "Just look at them now. Doesn't everything seem so much better? Everyone's in such good spirits! (〜￣▽￣)〜"
"Is that so?" Sargeras replied flatly"Because from where I'm standing, you seem to be the happiest one of all."
"I… I was just trying to help you smooth over their conflicts," she protested, though her words carried less conviction now, her voice softening as if she already sensed the futility of her defense. "And now most of those conflicts are practically gone. Tomorrow… tomorrow I'll make sure every single mediation succeeds!"
Sargeras' brow furrowed more tightly, his eyes sweeping over her face, which was written all over with the words I'm innocent. "You have just as heavy a teaching load as I do," he said, his tone calm yet unyielding. "Even if you don't assign homework, you shouldn't be so… free, should you?"
"Hey—now hold on, I haven't been slacking off on this!" Kestrel straightened sharply, as if someone had stepped on her tail, bristling in immediate rebuttal. "My students are doing wonderfully. Their Shield Charms, their Impediment Jinxes, even a few counter-spells, they are all coming along beautifully. If you don't believe me, you can go and check—"
"I know…" Sargeras interrupted, a faint note of disdain threading through his otherwise even voice. "I know the students have made remarkable progress in defensive magic. But I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about you…"
He paused then, his gaze settling on her with a weight that was harder to bear than raised voices or sharp accusations. At last, he exhaled, a breath so quiet it was almost lost to the stillness between them.
"What about me?" she muttered under her breath, a trace of defiance in her tone. "I'm doing perfectly fine as a professor, and my students are doing perfectly fine as well…"
"You're far too idle," Sargeras said, cutting straight to the heart of it, his voice firm with a decision already made. "As it happens, I have something that needs you."
"What thing?" she asked at once, suspicion flaring as if the words themselves were a trap. "Because I've been really busy lately—"
Sargeras' brow furrowed again. "Didn't you just say that by tomorrow you'd have all the mediations wrapped up? Busy with what, exactly?"
"Uh… oh. Right! I forgot about that."
The change in her tone was so quick it was almost dizzying. In an instant, her expression shifted into that of someone who had decided to play the shameless rogue, adopting the brazen ease of a "dead pig unafraid of boiling water." "Well then, I guess I've got nothing to do right now."
Sargeras paid her performance no mind. His tone was calm, but his words left no room for negotiation. "I want a dueling platform built beside the Quidditch pitch, one large enough to seat the entire school for viewing. When the time comes, you will assist."
"Ah—?" she drew out the sound in a long, drawn, almost whining tone, her face crumpling into a picture of reluctant misery.
"What 'ah'?" Sargeras looked at her evenly, his gaze pressing down with invisible weight. "You don't want to?"
"I do! I do!" she blurted out at once, snapping to attention and plastering on the most exaggerated false smile she could muster. Her tone became absurdly dramatic, dripping with insincere enthusiasm. "I've been waiting for you to give me a task! Couldn't be happier about it!"
"Wait for my notice." Sargeras did not spare her another glance. He turned on his heel and walked away, his movements crisp and decisive, as if her little act had been nothing more than background noise.
————————————————————
Sargeras did not waste his time drafting a lengthy written report. Instead, he went straight to the headmaster's office and knocked on the heavy door.
Inside, Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, holding a small tin of Fizzing Whizzbees. The soft crackle of sugar filled the air, and behind his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes gleamed with their usual sharp, almost playful insight.
"Ah, Sargeras," Dumbledore greeted cheerfully, tilting the tin in offer. "Would you like a sweet? I find they help clear the mind…"
Sargeras waved the offer aside. "Headmaster, I present you have already noticed the rather overzealous surge of dueling enthusiasm in the castle… and the string of disorder that has followed in its wake."
"I have indeed, Sargeras. Quite impossible to miss," Dumbledore replied in his gentle tone. "But is this not precisely what you hoped to encourage and see? And I suspect, no, I am certain, that before you even knocked on my door, you had already prepared a complete plan in your mind."
His eyes twinkled with mischief as he added, "Your idea for the dueling leaderboard and the dueling badges is quite ingenious. Even I, old as I am, could not resist applying for one myself…"
As he spoke, he reached into the pocket of his velvet robe and drew out a plain iron badge. In the glow of the firelight, the metal caught a muted glimmer.
"A most remarkable piece of magical craftsmanship," Dumbledore praised, weighing it lightly in his palm.
"The basic points-scoring function is clever enough, but what truly impresses me is that it can… hmm… vaguely sense the intentions of the wearer. Any act of aggression born from malice cannot hide from it."
"But it still is not enough, Headmaster," Sargeras said evenly, his gaze steady and filled with conviction. "The corridors and abandoned classrooms can never provide a truly safe environment for real combat practice. The students need a dedicated space, fixed, regulated, and designed specifically for dueling."
With that, he unrolled a parchment blueprint and slid it across the desk toward Dumbledore.
The moment it touched the polished mahogany surface, the scroll unfurled of its own accord, spreading wide to reveal an intricate illustration. A vast circular platform hovered at the very edge of the Quidditch pitch, its smooth surface encircling a single, ancient-looking stone stele standing proud at its center. Around it rose tier upon tier of enchanted seats, so tall and tightly packed they resembled spiraling towers of dark stone and magic.
In bold script across the top were the words "Contract Dueling Arena," with neat annotations beside it detailing its design: a powerful and permanent dueling domain, built around the heart of a Spirit Stone of Dueling. Its features were listed clearly:
1. Absolute Protection: Far stronger than any temporary ward, capable of completely absorbing and dispersing the excess energy of spells, ensuring absolute safety for both the audience and the duelists.
2. Environment Simulation: At the challenger's request, the arena can generate simple obstacles or alter the terrain, such as sandy ground, low walls, or shallow pools, introducing real-world variables to each match.
3. Panoramic Projection: Every vivid moment of a duel will be magnified and cast into the air around the arena, allowing spectators, even those at a distance, to see every deft motion and every precise casting in perfect detail.
4. Cheer-Fueled Power Amplifier: By drawing in the roars and applause of the crowd, the arena will convert that wave of excitement into surges of raw energy, granting either duelist bursts of unpredictable, self-generating magical phenomena.
5. Advanced Trial Grounds: The 'High-difficulty Solo Trials' and the 'Ultimate Peak Arena' challenges for progressing dueling badges will be permanently hosted here.
Dumbledore leaned forward, his gaze following each line and curve of the design, fingertips brushing lightly across the parchment's surface as though tracing the very magic woven into it. The room was still for a long moment, the only sound the faint rustle of feathers as Fawkes preened himself upon his perch.
"A magnificent stage, Sargeras," Dumbledore said at last, his eyes bright with both admiration and thought. "It perfectly gives form to your vision. Safety, fairness… and most importantly — visibility. Sunlight is the best disinfectant, and with an open arena and these dueling badges, there will be no place left for ambushes or treachery to hide."
He plucked a glistening sweet from the tin and popped it into his mouth, the sugar catching the light.
"I approve. The arena will be built on the east side of the Quidditch pitch. It must have wide open views, create no interference with regular Quidditch training, and be close enough to the castle to make it convenient for students to come and go."
Lifting his head, he met Sargeras' grey eyes and added, his tone steady with quiet promise, "If you need any assistance during construction, every member of the Hogwarts staff will be there as your solid backing."
Sargeras inclined his head in a small, precise bow and answered simply, "Understood, Headmaster."
**
**
[IMAGE]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Chapter End's]
🖤 Night_FrOst/ Patreon 🤍
Visit my Patreon for Early Chapter:
Extra Content Already Available