Eventually, it was Professor Filius who broke the silence in the common room.
His high-pitched voice still carried undiminished excitement, but there was also a hint of hesitation. "Well… at least in terms of teaching results, there's no denying the effect is astonishing."
He added, with some excitement, "The students' spell-casting speed and accuracy have improved by at least twenty percent this week, especially with defensive spells."
"Astonishing results, but at what cost, Filius?"
Professor McGonagall's voice was stern. "Are we teaching students how to survive, or are we pushing them into an abyss? Sagres's phrase 'won't talk back'… think about what that means."
Professor Sprout also looked troubled. "The source of those memories… I'm afraid they all come from the souls of those he defeated."
"And is this really right? I fear that when those children leave the arena, their eyes will hold not just determination, but also… an awakened ruthlessness."
"The pressure of survival naturally strips away innocence, Pomona."
Snape joined the discussion, his tone carrying his characteristic sneer. "Would you prefer they walk into their graves with their innocence intact? Dark Wizards won't bow to them before killing them. Sagres's method may be crude, but it forges weapons that can survive. As for the source of the memories…"
He let out a short, cold laugh. "I believe the 'copyright' concerns of those gentlemen lying in Azkaban or their graves can be set aside for now. It's far too trivial."
"Severus!" Professor McGonagall warned sharply.
"I'm stating facts, Professor McGonagall. Emotional indulgence is a luxury—or do I need to remind you of Trelawney's prophecy?"
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
Snape's black eyes swept over everyone. "The Dark Lord is returning, and Sagres's 'material library' may be the most practical defensive measure in this castle right now."
Professor Lupin, who had remained silent, finally spoke, his voice gentle yet heavy. "I understand Professor Greengrass's approach. I truly do. But we must also remain vigilant. Will exposing students to such boundless malice too early distort their souls? Do we need to set some… boundaries?"
"Boundaries?"
Snape scoffed. "Those who want to kill them won't observe any boundaries."
"Precisely why we must uphold our own bottom line!" Lupin insisted, his tone uncharacteristically firm.
"So… have you already forgotten how Auroris Alk died?"
Snape's tone turned dangerous. "Or does his death not awaken those of you who insist on pretending to be asleep?"
Just as the argument seemed to reach a stalemate, an old voice sounded slowly from the doorway.
"Perhaps," Dumbledore said as he walked in, his gaze serene, "the focus of our debate should not be limited to whether Professor Greengrass's method is right or wrong."
He moved to the center of the room, the firelight dancing in his deep blue eyes.
"He has opened a door we never considered, or were unwilling to open. What lies behind it is unsettling, yet real. The question now is no longer whether we should close it, but on which side of the door we, as teachers, should stand. Because curious students have already rushed in, and they have indeed grown stronger because of it."
He looked at each professor in turn.
"Filius, are you willing to let your projection not only demonstrate the power of magic, but also the wisdom and restraint in its use?
Pomona, can your projection, while showcasing the deadly nature of dangerous plants, also convey the wonder of life and the value of protection?
Minerva, can your mirror image, while demonstrating the powerful offensive and defensive capabilities of Transfiguration, also uphold the standards of discipline and precision?"
"Sagres provides the battlefield, but what fills it… is cold 'material' born from his own understanding."
Dumbledore said softly, "And if we take part, then what we place within it will be our experience, our ideals, and what we hope our students can still uphold in the face of desperation."
"What we must do is not close that door, but light a few lamps for the students who pass through it, so that when they witness darkness, they do not forget the shape of light."
He finally looked at Professor McGonagall.
"As for the ethical concerns, Minerva, your worries are entirely valid and necessary. I will speak with Sagres personally about the boundaries of 'material' sources. But before that, I suggest we first consider how to use our own projections to balance and guide the power he has unleashed."
…
…
Headmaster's Office.
Dumbledore stood before the arched window, his aged fingertips pressed together.
In the distance, a flash of green light flickered once more on the floating dueling arena before fading away.
"Alas—"
A long, heavy sigh broke the silence.
The portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses lining the walls had long since grown restless, each shifting uneasily within their frames. Some adjusted their collars, others coughed theatrically, all murmuring among themselves.
"Albus!" Dilys Derwent was the first to lose patience. She leaned forward gracefully, her tone edged with urgency. "Don't just stand there sighing at the window as if we're mere decorations. What's happening outside? Tell us!"
"Exactly. That boy's methods are becoming more frightening by the day; even the Church wasn't this sinister back then." Another red-nosed former Headmaster grumbled, swirling his wine glass.
Dumbledore turned, his gaze sweeping over the portraits, all of whom were craning their necks. After a moment of silence, he spoke slowly.
"He is using fierce fire, in the most extreme way, to forcibly forge a suit of armor for the children."
"Is that so? That's excellent!" Phineas Nigellus Black immediately interjected shrilly. "If someone had given me a set of 'armor' like that when I was a student, I wouldn't have only lived to seventy-something!"
"This armor can indeed protect them, Phineas," Dumbledore said softly, "but it will also inevitably change them. If you throw a piece of pig iron into a furnace, will it retain its original shape when it comes out?"
"Tsk, as if we haven't changed students before!"
Phineas waved his hand dismissively. "Strict teaching forges strong souls. What's wrong with that? Must it be like you, wrapping students in marshmallows?"
Another former Headmaster, Iosha Sakendunberg, interjected uncharacteristically, "Phineas, you can't support everything that boy does just because he helped clear your great-grandson's name…"
"Why not?"
Phineas cut her off. "Isn't this exactly what you all go on about—repaying kindness?"
"You're being illogical!" Edessa Sakndenberg snapped. "When in Hogwarts history have we ever openly brought those filthy Dark Arts onto school grounds?"
"I'm being illogical?" Phineas Black sneered. "Out of everyone here, who doesn't know a few Dark Arts spells? This is called adapting to the times, understand? Smart people do that."
As if that weren't enough, he added, "You can't do it because you're too foolish, and foolishness is a moral flaw. A fool can never be truly kind, because foolishness itself is an incurable evil!"
Edessa Sakndenberg was instantly enraged. She stood up and stormed into Phineas's portrait, the two of them brawling shamelessly.
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