"But are you really confident? There are seven pure-blood wizards from the sixth and seventh years led by Yaxley, and their strength is quite formidable—nothing like those younger students," Higgs reminded him, his worry still evident.
"I've collected no less information about our own house than you have, and I'm already prepared to deal with them. For now, you and Vivian just need to keep a low profile; they still wouldn't dare to do anything too excessive within the school," Alan said.
"Also, if possible, I hope you can join my training plan. After all, sufficient strength is the true capital in this world. What do you two think?"
"Your training plan? Just like Charles?" Vivian asked curiously.
"Yes, yes! You don't know how powerful the effects are until you've seen it in battle. I've only been at it for a year!" Charles chimed in, trying to sell the program to the others. Secretly, he thought he couldn't let them escape; he couldn't be the only one to suffer through such hardship.
Recalling the skill Charles had just displayed, both agreed to join. Charles leaned over eagerly. "Let me handle the instruction; I want to help too."
"Alright, then you'll be in charge of guiding the basic training, starting officially tomorrow." Alan nodded, agreeing to Charles's request.
After sending the others away, Alan returned to his room and breathed a sigh of relief. He had finally managed to keep the group stable; he couldn't let them mess things up. How could he let the pure-bloods stop their posturing now? The bigger the fuss they made, the better. It would give him the opportunity to seek the greatest benefit.
He didn't know what Dumbledore was planning; it seemed the Headmaster was being deliberately lenient with the pure-blood faction, but this was exactly what Alan wanted.
The campus life that followed seemed unaffected, unsettlingly calm, until Alan attended his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the semester. In the classroom, Alan and Vivian saw the worried young professor they had noticed at the opening feast. Now that the term had begun, there wasn't a trace of joy on his face.
"Hello everyone, I am your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year, Guillaume Gentil. Although it's just another continuous and boring day, I still have to meet you all to earn a living. In short, let's get started with the class quickly."
Professor Gentil delivered his opening remarks with a blank, negative expression. He noticed that the students were all staring at him in shock.
"What's wrong? Is there something on my face?" he asked, puzzled.
"Uh, Professor, you look like you're in a bad mood. Would you like to ask Professor Snape for a Euphoria Potion? That might help you," a female student kindly suggested.
"Is that so? Although I know in my heart it's useless, I still have to say thank you. After all, this is simply the way of the world," Professor Gentil said numbly. The student who had spoken could only offer an awkward chuckle.
"Professor, would you like me to cast a spell on you? I know one that can make people laugh!" another student offered.
"Ah, you're talking about the Cheering Charm, aren't you? Unfortunately, I must tell you that learning such magic is a waste of time. A person's emotions will not be truly affected by such things. When there is no happiness in your heart, forcing a laugh is an even more terrifying torment," Professor Gentil said.
The classroom instantly fell silent. Seeing everyone so quiet, Professor Gentil forced a grim smile. "How about this? Let me teach you a more powerful magic."
"Okay!" "Really?" "What magic?" Upon hearing this, the students became enthusiastic again.
Professor Gentil chuckled. "It is the magic that will prevent you from becoming like your professor in twenty years. Speaking of which, your attitude of feigning interest while merely accommodating me will be very useful when you seek employment, so cherish it."
The air in the classroom became heavy again.
"Alan, our new teacher seems a bit off," Vivian whispered.
Alan nodded. Not just a bit; the professor's negative aura was almost contagious.
The next two hours felt incredibly long. Professor Gentil narrated the textbook content in a listless voice, occasionally blurting out despairing remarks.
"Alright, today's class ends here. Finally, I can get off work. After all, every minute that passes brings us closer to death, and it truly impresses me that you can face that fact so calmly. Go back and write a two-foot-long essay. Although I won't read it—and I don't know what good it does to assign such life-wasting homework—since all professors do it, I'll follow the crowd. After all, isn't it human nature to compromise oneself for survival?"
He finished the lecture listlessly and announced the end of class. Walking out, Vivian couldn't help but shiver. She felt nearly driven to depression. Even Alan felt a heavy weight of suppression.
In the evening, Alan finally adjusted his mood, packed his belongings, and prepared to attend the first Charms Club meeting of the year. Upon arriving at the gathering place, many senior students were already discussing the new professor.
"Did you have Defense Against the Dark Arts yet? That new teacher is terrifying. Taking his class is like being subjected to a spell of despondency. I think I'll have nightmares tonight," a seventh-year student said