As the first years dispersed deeper into the hall, I made my way toward the four Heads of House gathered near the outer edge of the chamber.
The atmosphere around them felt calmer now that the demonstrations had ended, though traces of lingering magic still drifted faintly through the air. The runes beneath the dueling ring pulsed softly in slow intervals, restoring the last remnants of strain left behind by the professors' spells.
Professor Flitwick looked thoroughly delighted.
Professor Sprout looked pleasantly exhausted.
Professor McGonagall remained composed as ever.
Professor Snape stood slightly apart from the others, black robes blending almost seamlessly into the shadows near the wall.
As I approached, all four turned their attention toward me.
"Thank you, Professors," I said sincerely. "For the demonstrations. They were incredible to watch."
Flitwick beamed immediately.
"Oh, I think the students enjoyed themselves thoroughly," he said cheerfully. "I certainly did."
Professor Sprout laughed warmly. "It's been years since I dueled properly indoors. I think the hall itself missed it."
My gaze shifted briefly toward the restored platform before returning to them.
"I also have several questions I'd like to ask all of you eventually," I admitted. "So please bear with me when I inevitably start appearing outside your offices."
That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of McGonagall's mouth.
"You are always welcome to ask questions, Alastair," she said.
I inclined my head slightly before asking the real question.
"Are you satisfied with the club setup and rules so far?"
The professors exchanged brief glances.
McGonagall answered first.
"I believe I can safely speak for all of us when I say we are pleasantly surprised by how well you handled everything today," she said calmly.
There was genuine approval in her voice now—not indulgence, not polite encouragement.
Approval.
"The organization was orderly," she continued. "The students were engaged. And most importantly, the atmosphere encouraged improvement rather than hostility."
Professor Sprout nodded in agreement.
"I was expecting far more chaos," she admitted honestly.
Flitwick chuckled. "As was I."
Only Snape remained silent, though the fact that he hadn't criticized anything yet was statement enough.
McGonagall adjusted her spectacles slightly before continuing.
"There is only one aspect of your system that concerns me somewhat," she said.
"The membership evaluations?"
"Yes," she replied. "Is it truly necessary to be quite so strict?"
I answered immediately.
"Professor," I said seriously, "if a student has no desire to improve themselves, then what is the point of joining the club in the first place?"
The hall around us had grown quieter now, most students having disappeared into the branching practice halls beyond the main chamber.
"We are not demanding perfect grades," I continued evenly. "Nor are we requiring students to outperform others."
I gestured lightly toward the dueling ring.
"We're only asking them to improve upon their own weaknesses."
McGonagall listened carefully without interrupting.
"This club exists because too many students become complacent," I said. "Some rely entirely on talent. Others rely on blood status, House reputation, or natural intelligence. But improvement requires effort."
Flitwick's expression sharpened slightly with interest at that.
"If someone spends an entire year inside a club dedicated to study, discipline, and magical refinement," I continued, "yet shows no improvement whatsoever… then either the club has failed them, or they never truly intended to participate seriously."
Professor Sprout folded her arms thoughtfully.
"And you don't believe students deserve more time?" she asked gently.
"I believe they deserve honesty," I replied.
That seemed to quiet the discussion for a moment.
McGonagall studied me over the rim of her spectacles, thoughtful rather than disapproving now.
"You sound remarkably certain for an eleven-year-old," she observed quietly.
Before I could answer, Snape finally spoke from the side.
"That," he said smoothly, "is because Mr. Salvius–P understands something most students do not."
The hall seemed to still slightly.
Snape's dark eyes moved briefly toward the distant practice chambers where students were already beginning to gather.
"Talent without discipline stagnates," he said coldly. "And stagnation breeds mediocrity."
Flitwick gave a small hum of agreement.
"I may not fully approve of the harshness of the system," he admitted, "but the underlying principle is difficult to argue against."
Professor Sprout sighed dramatically.
"Wonderful," she muttered. "Now Severus has started sounding reasonable. Truly troubling times."
Even McGonagall looked faintly amused at that.
After a while, the conversation naturally drifted away from rules and structure into smaller discussions about teaching methods, magical disciplines, and future plans for the club. Professor Flitwick became particularly animated once the topic shifted toward practical spell application, while Professor Sprout began suggesting ways Herbology could eventually be integrated into defensive training sessions.
Professor McGonagall listened more than she spoke, occasionally offering short but precise observations that somehow managed to reorganize entire discussions in only a sentence or two.
Even Professor Snape contributed on occasion—usually in the form of dry criticism whenever an idea became too idealistic.
Eventually, however, reality reasserted itself.
The professors still had duties to attend to, students to supervise, and an entire castle to manage.
One by one, they departed from the hall.
Once the Heads of House were gone, I returned toward the practice areas where the first years had gathered again.
The atmosphere had shifted entirely now.
The earlier awe surrounding the demonstrations remained, but it had transformed into motivation. Everywhere I looked, students were practicing something—wand movements, shield timing, levitation control, basic transfiguration precision.
The dueling hall no longer felt abandoned.
It felt alive.
We practiced until nearly lunchtime.
Most of the first years never even considered leaving the hall during that time. The novelty of the place still hadn't faded—not the glowing runes, not the hidden chambers, not the simple thrill of standing somewhere ancient and secret beneath Hogwarts itself.
Cedric and Blake had already begun stepping naturally into their roles as first-year representatives.
Cedric had gathered a small group of younger students near one side of the hall and was calmly guiding them through spells they'd already learned in class. His teaching style was patient and steady, correcting mistakes without embarrassing anyone.
Students relaxed around him easily.
Blake, meanwhile, stood near one of the side platforms speaking with Fred and George. Judging by the twins' unusually focused expressions, they'd apparently heard about the projection spells she'd developed with Lumos.
That was probably dangerous.
Most of the Slytherins practiced primarily among themselves, though not for the reasons many would assume.
At least, not anymore.
With the exception of Warrington and, to a lesser extent, Montague, most of them had already accepted an unspoken reality:
As long as I remained here, the Study Club would not tolerate division based purely on House affiliation.
The problem was that prejudice did not vanish overnight simply because rules changed.
Gryffindors still instinctively turned their noses up when approaching Slytherins.
Hufflepuffs remained cautious, more nervous than hostile.
And the Ravenclaws—
The Ravenclaws had effectively attached themselves to Cedric and Blake in pursuit of knowledge with near-academic desperation.
Some things, apparently, transcended House loyalty.
I watched the interactions quietly for a while before finally checking the time.
"Alright, everyone," I called across the hall. "It's lunchtime."
A collective groan immediately followed.
Several students looked genuinely offended by the concept of leaving.
"You can come back afterward," I added dryly.
That softened the resistance slightly.
Still, most students remained reluctant to leave the hall. The excitement of the opening ceremony and the professor duels still lingered heavily in the air, and many clearly feared the atmosphere would somehow disappear if they walked away from it.
But once I started toward the exit—and the Slytherins followed behind me—the rest of the students gradually began gathering their things as well.
Conversations immediately reignited as we made our way back through the corridors.
Everyone was talking at once now.
About the duels.
About the hall.
About the club.
About representatives.
About the spells they'd seen.
And most importantly—
About telling the students who hadn't joined.
By the time we reached the upper corridors leading back toward the Great Hall, it was obvious the Study Club's opening ceremony would be the only thing Hogwarts talked about for the rest of the day.