The sky was gray and oppressive, and not only was the weather unpleasant, but even the ground had turned muddy.
Days of continuous rain had left many small puddles around the school grounds, and as Eda walked along the path, she had to tread carefully to avoid getting mud on her shoes and the hem of her robes.
After breakfast, Eda headed for the Forbidden Forest. She had agreed to meet Dumbledore at 8:30 in the morning, but she didn't want to keep him waiting, so she left the castle early.
Even so, Dumbledore had arrived before her.
From a distance, Eda could already see the headmaster's figure.
She quickly ran over; letting an elder wait for her felt terribly rude, and in most cases, Eda was a polite person.
She said to Dumbledore, who was waiting at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, "I'm very sorry, Professor, I'm late."
"Ahaha~ Not at all, we're still before our agreed time. I just came early," Dumbledore replied, turning to look at her. "I just wanted to breathe in some fresh air from the forest. But since you're here, let's begin early. That way we can still catch the Quidditch match later."
With that, Dumbledore led Eda into the Forbidden Forest. Eda asked, "You're going to watch the match today too? Is it because of what Quirrell did before?"
Usually, Dumbledore didn't attend matches at the pitch. He was the greatest wizard in the magical world, with countless responsibilities. Saying he was busy around the clock wouldn't be an exaggeration.
Eda didn't believe Dumbledore simply wanted to enjoy the game—he must have his reasons.
"You could say that, though it's not quite what you think," Dumbledore said as he walked ahead. "First of all, I won't allow anyone to harm my students. Secondly, I want to provoke Quirrell a little, to let him sense my suspicions about him."
Last time, Quirrell failed to harm Harry, and it's hard to say whether he might get impulsive and try the same trick again. That's also why Snape insisted on serving as the referee—an important precaution.
Dumbledore's appearance, on the other hand, was meant to draw Quirrell's attention, to make him feel that Dumbledore was already suspicious of him, creating a sense of urgency to force a mistake—or force him to act sooner.
Ultimately, the problem was Quirrell's own incompetence.
He neither dared to confess in exchange for leniency nor had the decisiveness to make a clean move. He dragged things out until now.
The corridor on the right side of the 3rd floor had been sitting there for half a term. If Quirrell didn't make a move soon, it would be collecting dust.
With no other choice, Dumbledore had to step in personally—to provoke him, to force him to make a decision. Whether he resisted stubbornly or surrendered, anything would be better than this endless delay.
The two of them soon reached a clearing deep within the Forbidden Forest. Dumbledore casually clapped his hands, and a transparent barrier rose around the edges of the clearing.
Dumbledore took out his wand and said, "This barrier will protect the forest from being destroyed by the two of us. Now take out your wand—let me see what you can do."
So this was Dumbledore's idea of private instruction?
Since when did one-sided beatdowns of students count as "guidance"?
What's more, Eda hadn't even passed Professor McGonagall or Snape's tests yet—now she was expected to challenge someone above their level?
But Eda wasn't afraid. There were many things she might fear, but this was certainly not one of them. Even if Voldemort himself were standing in front of her, she wouldn't be scared. You could feel fear toward an enemy—but only before the battle was decided.
Once the fight began, if you lost your courage, then the outcome was sealed before the first spell was even cast.
Seeing Eda draw her wand without the slightest hesitation, Dumbledore said, "Attack with all your strength—no need to defend."
She had never fought such a luxurious battle in her life. Even when practicing with the trial dummies, it had always been back-and-forth—never a time where she only attacked and didn't need to defend.
Eda attacked with glee, unleashing a flurry of spells one after another. But she wasn't casting spells blindly—every spell she used was carefully considered.
At her command, massive boulders came crashing down from the sky like mountains descending. Dumbledore merely waved his left hand, and the giant stones veered off course, smashing harmlessly into the open ground nearby, kicking up clouds of dust.
These falling rocks were only a feint. The real attacks came from the tip of Eda's wand, which continuously emitted bursts of light—spells lighting up the misty Forbidden Forest.
Dumbledore countered them all with the Elder Wand, blocking each spell in turn. But then he saw a giant made of stone charging toward him. Every step it took made the clearing quake beneath it.
When the stone giant leapt forward to slam into him, the headmaster raised his wand and summoned a protective shield of magic. The moment the giant collided with the shield, it shattered into pieces.
Dumbledore's left hand twitched instinctively, though he refrained from using counter magic—otherwise the shattered rocks would have rebounded straight toward Eda, striking her.
But Eda's attack didn't end there. Hidden behind the destroyed giant was a Stupefy spell gleaming with white light, shooting straight toward him.
The Stupefy spell, enhanced with the Merciful Release effect, finally gave Dumbledore some trouble. He shifted his steps, altering his position to dodge the attack.
His many years of experience told him that this seemingly ordinary spell might be one he couldn't block. He couldn't stand still and neutralize Eda's spell like he had before.
Dumbledore had to dodge—he couldn't take the hit head-on. Even as the greatest wizard, he still had a mortal body—one that could fall ill, feel pain, age, and die.
There's a strange phenomenon in the wizarding world: high offense, low defense. Wizards could possess immense offensive power and destructive capability, but when faced with spells, they remained vulnerable. If a spell broke through their defenses, they would be harmed.
Almost all wizards were like this. Their bodies were no different from Muggles—a little stronger but just as fragile, with only one life to live.
That's why dangerous body transfigurations and even more dangerous Dark magic transformations existed. That's why some pursued immortality.
This was also why Eda was so pleased when her shielding charm evolved into a permanent state. That state gave her a greater margin for error—even if her opponent broke through her defenses, she still had a chance to win.
The training in the Forbidden Forest lasted for two rounds. The first was Eda's offensive. Her assault certainly troubled Dumbledore, but none of her spells could serve as the final straw to break the camel's back.
The second round was a standard duel. But in reality, it was more like Dumbledore attacking while Eda struggled to keep up.
In a head-on one-on-one duel, no one in the world could beat Dumbledore. Perhaps Eda might, someday—but right now, she was still far from that level.
In this round, Eda was completely overwhelmed. Animated trees, wildly growing vines, and spells launched from tricky angles—none of them were easy to deal with.
Faced with such relentless attacks, Eda had no particularly good way to respond. She was usually the one attacking like this, and now that she was on the receiving end, she finally realized just how annoying she must have been to others.
All she could do was keep swinging her wand, not letting the trees "hug" her, not letting the vines strangle her, and most importantly, not getting hit by any spells.
It was hard—extremely hard.
What made it worse was that Dumbledore's attacks were seamless.
Whether it was the rotation of offensive methods or the chaining of spells, Eda couldn't find a single opening to strike back. She could only defend passively.
When Dumbledore finally stopped his assault, Eda sat down against the tree that had just been "chasing" her, gasping for breath. Her yew wand lay beside her hand as she mentally replayed everything that had just happened.
Dumbledore walked over, sat down beside her, and asked, "Did you understand?"
Eda nodded. She really had understood.
"When you attack, you distinguish clearly between primary and secondary attacks, choosing which to emphasize and which to feint. That's a good habit," Dumbledore said.
"But you separate them too clearly. There's no fluidity between the two, so your opponent can easily figure out which one is your real attack."
"Against opponents of a similar level, you can afford to do that. You can even rely on spells alone to win. But once you're up against someone much stronger, you'll find yourself helpless—just like today."
Dumbledore continued.
"When Filius participated in the dueling tournament, there were many competitors whose magical mastery far surpassed his. But in the end, Filius won the championship. Do you know why?"
"Extraordinary talent?" Eda offered. She had once asked the twins a similar question, and when they threw it back at her, this had been her answer.
Dumbledore chuckled at that. After laughing for a moment, he gave his own answer: "Because Filius's attacks were more efficient. He knew that his understanding and control of magic couldn't match his opponents'. Only through more efficient offense could he possibly win."
Dumbledore's words made Eda think again.
Indeed, the headmaster had pointed out real issues—and Professor Flitwick's example from the dueling tournament highlighted flaws in her own approach.
Her attacks lacked efficiency, so she relied on feints to conceal her true intentions. But that brought its own problem: Eda's transitions between attacks were somewhat rigid, and her chaining of spells had noticeable gaps—openings her opponent could exploit.
A thousand-mile dam can collapse from an ant's nest—that's all it takes.
A single flaw can decide the outcome of a duel.
The winner stands, the loser falls.
Dumbledore's private lesson today had been all about pointing out her flaws. Only by correcting them could Eda go further on her path.
Dumbledore didn't try to instruct Eda on how to understand magic itself. Everyone has their own path, and if he tried to force his own philosophy onto Eda, it might backfire—leading her to lose her way even more.
Even in guiding her combat technique, Dumbledore didn't impose his style. Instead, he observed Eda's habits and pointed out where she had gone wrong or come up short—helping her improve in her own way.
"Well then, we should head back. The Quidditch match is still waiting for us," Dumbledore said, pulling Eda to her feet. "And we can also look forward to seeing what kind of performance Quirrell has in store for us!"
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