Steve's efficiency could not be underestimated. He had just finished drinking with Kasenhis and Hagrid in the morning, and by noon he had already rushed to Dumbledore's office, wanting to start a courtly fencing club at Hogwarts.
The kind that was elegant yet still powerful. It might not compare to real combat swordsmanship in terms of lethality, but stabbing Voldemort a few transparent holes would still be no problem.
Steve even planned ahead and asked Kasenhis to rush out a few hundred rapiers for the students to practice with.
Then Kasenhis promptly handed this thankless task over to Cedric.
After all, it was just template forging. If Netherite took too long to cool, then just use iron. Nothing wrong with that.
And then Steve, who had gotten wind of it, rejected the idea outright. His reasoning was that if iron rapiers sparred with Netherite ones, it was very likely that a casual flourish of a Netherite blade would slice the iron sword into several pieces.
That kind of situation would be extremely baffling.
What could Kasenhis say to that?
He wasn't the one doing the work, so naturally, he said nothing. As for the one actually doing the work, Cedric…
Unfortunately, the one doing the work had no say. Of course… that's how it was at Hogwarts.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore readily approved and signed off on Steve's fencing club. A club like this was hard to prohibit, and even harder to enforce a ban on.
If the students really wanted a club like this, then no matter how strictly you tried to suppress it, they would still find all sorts of hidden rooms, even places like the Room of Requirement, to run it in secret.
So in that case, it was better to just approve it properly. At least if it existed openly, the school could keep an eye on it.
And the fencing club Steve wanted to establish was exactly that kind of case.
After all, even without knowing what kind of being Steve was, just looking at Kasenhis as a precedent was enough.
Ban it?
That kind of joke was amusing, but beyond that, completely useless.
However, once the fencing club was established, how many students would actually join was another question. After all, Hogwarts was a magical school, and students still believed that a wand was the true mark of a wizard.
But not entirely. Gryffindor students, thanks to the legacy of their founder Godric Gryffindor, who wielded a wand in one hand and a sword in the other, cutting down enemies in the magical world, were mostly very interested in Steve's fencing club.
Even if the club instructor was a skeleton, that skeleton dressed flamboyantly, spoke humorously, and even with a skull face managed to smile all day. No matter how you looked at it, he was more likable than Snape.
Among them, Neville stood out the most…
And that had to do with Neville's own little thoughts.
As Kasenhis's first and earliest student who could be considered a true disciple, dating back to when he wanted to make glasses for Harry in his second year, Neville believed himself to be Kasenhis's genuine senior apprentice.
Then, after the glasses were finally completed, he suddenly didn't know what the point of continuing to study alchemy was. By the time he reached third year, like every other student, he put alchemy as the first choice on his course selection form. He had originally thought that with an extra year of knowledge, he could at least become something like a class representative in alchemy, gain a status that would bring him a bit closer to Professor Kasenhis.
But he still couldn't compete with the Ravenclaw overachievers, or with prodigies like Hermione. Even someone like Draco, as unpleasant as he was, had more talent in alchemy than Neville could make up for with just an extra year of study.
And so, he and his favorite professor slowly drifted apart, like Patrick Star and SpongeBob…
Meanwhile, those who truly had talent in alchemy, like Cedric and the Weasley twins, were already stepping into the inner circle, each having independently learned at least one of Professor Kasenhis's signature techniques. Neville, on the other hand, was still just an ordinary student attending classes.
The only thing he had over others was half a semester of extra tutoring. But given Professor Kasenhis's personality, as long as any student showed interest, he would never refuse them.
Compared to them, it was a bit disheartening. Neville didn't feel he had anything outstanding about him.
Until recently, during Christmas, when Professor Kasenhis had very subtly suggested that one shouldn't waste effort on a subject like alchemy if they lacked talent for it.
That single sentence, spoken without any malice and even with a hint of kindness, had still made him feel down for a long time.
And now, Professor Kasenhis 2.0, Mr. Steve, had established a fencing club.
Neville had a feeling that this might be his last chance to become a student that Professor Kasenhis could be proud of for excelling in something.
And he had a second feeling…
When it came to swordsmanship, he might actually have some talent!
With that thought, Neville picked up a dark, heavy rapier from the rack and followed Mr. Steve in front of him, attempting a sword flourish.
Unexpectedly, when others tried it, there was always a strange stiffness. Many had to twist their bodies awkwardly just to manage it.
Some even fumbled so badly that they ended up sticking the sword into the ground.
Only Neville… it was as if it was ingrained in his bones, like something he hadn't quite forgotten from a past life. He executed the flourish smoothly and perfectly, then instinctively followed Steve's example and sheathed the sword.
Seeing the students making a mess of things, Steve instinctively wanted to laugh. But remembering he was a skeleton and worried about scaring them, he forced himself to hold it in.
Then he began to reassure them, "What I just did was just showing off a bit, playing around and looking cool. It wasn't proper teaching. But honestly, Neville, what you just did was excellent. It's a pity I'm not a professor, otherwise I'd give you points. Have you studied swordsmanship before?"
Neville's face turned a little red as he shook his head. "No, sir!"
"Then you've got real talent. I have high hopes for you, very high hopes." The flames in Steve's hollow eye sockets fixed on Neville as he spoke each word clearly.
"I won't let you down, Pro—sir!" Neville straightened his posture in a fluster, speaking with firm determination.
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