The feast concluded.
After filling my stomach with a free meal until I was satisfied, I returned to the faculty quarters, showered, brushed my teeth, and threw myself onto the stiff mattress.
Stone walls encased the room, cold clinging to every corner. Due to the exaggerated height of the ceiling, my voice echoed slightly, while the quiet rustle of the night wind crept in from behind the window. A fireplace sat in the room, though heating the entire space seemed like it would take time even after lighting a fire.
"Well, not a bad start for the first day," I muttered softly to no one.
I had been on the move since morning, and truthfully, exhaustion had begun to settle in. Yet, so far, I hadn't been entangled in any "annoying business," and that alone was enough.
"The problem lies in these so-called 'classes' starting tomorrow."
Physical Education Instructor. That was my current job title.
But what exactly does physical education mean for wizards? Was I supposed to teach these kids, who fly through the sky on brooms, a few morning stretches?
"What in God's name am I supposed to do? It's a sport, isn't it? Do I just have them perform random radio calisthenics?"
I imagined the little sorcerers jerking their arms around in disjointed movements without even wearing gym caps... It was a ridiculous thought.
At the same time, I knew that old man—Albus Dumbledore—wasn't naive enough to pay for something like that.
"I doubt he's paying me just for that..."
From the moment he summoned me, it was certain he wanted someone who "knew how to fight." Not as a teacher, but as a soldier.
"Fighting, huh? Should I drop them in the middle of some Cursed Spirits (
Jurei
)?"
I chuckled at the thought.
I couldn't actually do that to students. But—a scene flashed through my mind: those little wizards panicking as Cursed Spirits swarmed them, while I stood aside, coldly smoking a cigarette.
"Now that would be a sight to see."
I exhaled and stared blankly at the ceiling.
Even so, the air in this castle felt strange. That faint "scent of a curse" I had sensed since the feast had gently permeated even the walls of this room.
Perhaps they were merely the ripples of magical energy that characterized the wizarding world, but they felt strangely bleak. They were much lighter and weaker than typical Cursed Spirits. If I had to rank them, they were nothing more than dregs, like common weeds.
"Cursed residue... not a Cursed Spirit itself."
In the world of Jujutsu sorcerers, these traces—Zankon—would dissipate on their own if left alone. I didn't know how these wizards felt about them, or if they even understood the concept of a "Cursed Spirit."
"I wonder if wizards can even perceive them."
I snorted in disdain at the lingering traces in the air, still staring upward. If they "couldn't see" Cursed Spirits, that worked in my favor. If they "could perceive them"—well, that might make things interesting.
"It doesn't matter either way."
In both cases, I could fight. Since I possessed no Cursed Energy (
Juryoku
), I wasn't bound by anyone's Domain Expansion. When the fighting starts, I focus on only one thing—kill or be killed.
"But that old man..."
From our first meeting, he had read my character clearly. He anticipated I would come alone without a guide, and even at the feast, he didn't say an unnecessary word, merely offering a smile.
Dumbledore—the man was no ordinary old-timer.
"Whatever. Time to sleep."
I needed to prepare for my "Hogwarts life," which would truly begin tomorrow. More importantly, lack of sleep dulled focus during combat.
I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes. Behind my eyelids, a dark forest and mist took shape.
The unease that had followed me since my arrival at Hogwarts persisted. I couldn't pinpoint it yet, but—my senses and my skin were ringing an alarm.
There was "something" in this castle. Something that was neither wizard nor Jujutsu sorcerer. I didn't know how it would intertwine with my life, but I was certain it would one day become my "battlefield."
"Dammit, how annoying."
I exhaled deeply and sank into the bed. The stone room was cold, but not enough to prevent sleep. In fact, the environment brought me a sense of calm. This hard, unforgiving space felt closer to a battlefield than a warm bed ever could.
Beyond the dark ceiling, the castle's night air flowed in silence. From afar, I heard the hoot of an owl and the rustle of trees swaying in the wind. It felt as though the entire place was "breathing softly."
I took a deep breath and slowly closed my eyes.
The following day.
Very early in the morning, before sunrise, I rose and prepared quickly. I splashed my face with cold water, brushed my teeth, and ate a steak I had snatched from the Great Hall yesterday, after heating it slightly. The taste of cold meat didn't matter; the point was to fill the stomach.
"Alright..."
A black shirt and wide white trousers—my usual attire. I had no intention of ever wearing those robes; that piece of fabric hindered movement intolerably and would be a nuisance in a fight.
When I left the room, the corridors were devoid of people. Silence reigned throughout the castle, which still held the traces of the night, and the echo of my footsteps rang out with exaggerated force.
"This castle is unnecessarily vast."
My room was on the third floor of the East Wing. To get from there to the staff room, I had to climb and descend stairs several times. It seemed the teachers used a magical transport method called the "Floo Network," but there was no guarantee I could use such a thing.
Cursed Tools (
Jugu
) differ from magical items; the structure and logic are distinct. Being able to handle one didn't necessarily mean I could handle the other, and I had no desire to cause an accident through recklessness.
I descended stairs, crossed a hallway, then climbed more stairs. On the way, a moving portrait stared at me; I returned a sharp glare that sent the figure scurrying away in terror. Just a painting, yet so arrogant.
As I reached the staff room, light began to break over the horizon behind the windows. I pushed the door open to find several teachers already gathered with Albus Dumbledore.
"Good morning, Fushiguro-kun. Have you had breakfast?" the white-bearded old man asked in a calm tone.
"Yeah, ate the steak from yesterday."
"Oh? Yesterday's food?" He raised an eyebrow, then quickly returned to his usual smile. He was an old man whose thoughts were impossible to read.
"Well then, let me introduce him again. This is Toji Fushiguro, who will be taking charge of Physical Education at Hogwarts starting this term."
At those words, the gazes of the teachers in the room fixed on me instantly.
I scanned them. First, the woman with the straight back—Minerva McGonagall. I heard she was the Deputy Headmistress and taught Transfiguration. her features and clothing suggested she was the living embodiment of "order" and "rigor." I don't do well with that type of woman.
Beside her sat a man with a gloomy face—Severus Snape. He was responsible for Potions. An aura of dampness and melancholy emanated from him. His eyes were strangely narrow, giving off a snake-like impression. He had looked at me with suspicion yesterday, and that gaze hadn't changed.
Then there was the man who was trembling beside me yesterday; Quirinus Quirrell. It was obvious he was hiding "something" under his turban. His behavior lacked any stability, much like a small animal.
The short man—Filius Flitwick—taught Charms. His expression seemed bright, and his eyes watched me as if he found something amusing; he looked like the inquisitive type.
The stout woman—Pomona Sprout—taught Herbology. She had a gentle aura about her and seemed the most "normal" of the bunch.
Finally, the woman with short hair—Rolanda Hooch—the flying instructor. Her gaze was sharp; I suspected she preferred direct confrontation. Her face suggested confidence in her physical strength.
I sorted my impressions of them in my head. Wizards, like fighters on a battlefield, often reveal their character through their appearance and behavior; you can tell how an opponent will move just by their stance.
"Fushiguro is a bit of a special case; he cannot use magic. However, he is neither a Squib nor a Muggle."
Upon hearing Dumbledore's words, Snape was the first to react.
"── Hmph. And can such a person fulfill the duties of a Hogwarts teacher?"
His voice was low, and his gaze carried clear disdain. An easy man to understand.
"Hmm, it's natural you'd think that." Dumbledore didn't deny it, offering only a slight nod. He remained an enigmatic man whose depths were unreachable.
I said nothing, merely directing a single look toward Snape.
── For a moment, the air stilled.
Snape frowned slightly. The pressure of a gaze on a battlefield arrives faster than words.
"In any case, he is an important presence for this school. The reason... you will learn later," the old man said, clapping his hands lightly.
The atmosphere returned to normal, and the other teachers resumed their side conversations. I leaned against the wall and watched them silently.
A Deputy Headmistress who worshipped order. A gloomy Potions master harboring a grudge. A cowardly man acting suspiciously. A short man full of curiosity. A kind old woman interested in herbs. And a flying instructor who looked like she enjoyed a scrap.
Though they weren't combat opponents, remembering this information wouldn't hurt. These magic teachers viewed me as an unknown entity.
That was fine. I didn't care about the title of "teacher." I would navigate this castle my own way.
"Well, looks like I'll be working with a troublesome crowd."
No one heard that faint murmur.
Sunlight began to stream through the window. Finally, it was time for my class.
The morning chill in the courtyard was sharp, and I felt the cold seeping through my feet as I stood on the stones. My breath came out in white puffs, and the air was strangely clear and quiet. I arrived a few minutes before class, having already finished the bare minimum of preparations.
I pulled some ropes, wooden swords, and wooden frames to serve as targets from the faculty storage and placed them randomly on the stone floor. Honestly, this was more than enough.
I had checked with Dumbledore beforehand regarding the content of the class.
"Teach them the things a wand cannot solve."
That was all the old man had said with his usual faint smile. In other words—unarmed combat.
This was the reason I was hired. I would suppress situations where magic failed using strength and skill. That was my job, and that was the concept of "physical education" for these people.
After a while, I heard sharp voices and the sound of approaching footsteps. The students had arrived. Today's targets were the first, fourth, and sixth-year students. A bit of a crowded schedule, but far better than assassination missions; not having to see blood was a relief.
The first to arrive were the first-years. They entered the courtyard in rows, their black robes swaying. Some gripped their wands, some fidgeted with their sleeves out of boredom, and others talked loudly for no reason. Little wizards generally lack composure.
"Well, looks like this is them."
There were familiar faces in the group; Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Those little ones I had seen on the train were now standing in their school uniforms. They probably remembered me; they glanced my way and tightened their features slightly. It seemed my aura yesterday had left a decent impression.
"I'm Fushiguro. I'll be teaching you physical education. Alright, line up over there."
When I raised my voice, the first-years made some noise but eventually formed rows. I didn't expect military precision; the important thing was that they stood where they could hear me.
"What we are going to do now is a (no-magic) class."
Cries of "Eh?" erupted from everywhere at my words.
"Isn't this a magic class?"
"Aren't we using wands?"
Questions and protests flew from all sides. A completely expected reaction.
"No need for wands. What I'm going to teach you today is how to defeat an opponent using your (bodies)."
At that moment, a commotion broke out, and some frowned visibly.
"Why should we have to learn something like that?"
The one who spoke up was a boy standing next to Harry, his face bearing the typical look of rebellion.
"Good question." I walked slowly and deliberately until I stood right in front of him. "Anyone who thinks they can do everything with a wand will become helpless the moment they lose it. The moment your wand is taken, you turn back into just an ordinary child."
As I spoke, I flicked a small pebble with the toe of my shoe. The stone flew past the boy's chest and hit the wall behind him with a soft thud. It was a very small display of force, but the boy's face cramped instantly.
"── Just now, you couldn't react at all."
"..."
"There are countless situations where you won't have time to use a wand."
I stood in the center of the stone courtyard and spread my arms slightly. "So, I'm going to teach you how to survive using only your body."
The students' expressions began to change. The looks of suspicion started to gain a hint of resolve.
"Alright, let's start with the basics." I took a step back and pointed to a nearby wooden frame. "To stop an opponent's movement, you don't need strength. Timing and angle—that's all it takes."
I stepped toward the wooden frame and delivered a palm strike (Sho-tei).
── CRACK!
With a dry sound, part of the wooden frame shattered, its balance failing as it hit the ground. The students' faces all contorted at once.
"Something like this is possible even with your light weights."
That was a lie. Of course, this power depended on my muscular build. But the important thing was to plant "fear" in their souls. If they underestimated me, the class wouldn't work.
"Next. One of you, step forward."
Silence fell, and glances darted left and right.
"You, then."
The one I pointed to was, coincidentally, Harry Potter.
"Eh? Me?!" He looked surprised, eyes wide as he took a step back.
"Relax. I'm not going to beat you up." That wasn't a lie... at least not today. "Take a stance."
"Like this...?" Harry raised his arms stiffly, in a stance that showed he was a complete amateur.
"Wrong. Don't drop your arms. Don't tense up."
I gripped his wrist lightly, adjusting his shoulder position and elbow angle. Once I did, the air around him shifted slightly.
"This is the (ready stance). The fight starts from here."
Tension spread among the children. Watching raw, live "reality" before them was far more impactful than just waving magic wands.
"Whether or not you can maintain this stance determines the outcome of the fight," I said, pushing Harry's shoulder with the tip of my finger.
── At that moment, his balance collapsed easily.
"Whoa!"
Laughter erupted from around Harry, who fell on his backside.
"Don't laugh. This will happen to you too." I glared at them all sharply enough to silence the laughter in an instant. "Now, it's everyone's turn."
Whispers and light gasps broke out, but I raised my voice firmly.
"Anyone who can't do anything without their wand will suffer here today."
My voice echoed clearly in the silent courtyard. The atmosphere changed completely. There was no trace of "playfulness" left in the students. At this moment, physical education at the school of magic transformed from a mere class into "survival training."
"Listen well. For every situation, there is a movement that is the (optimal solution)." I walked slowly, scrutinizing the students' faces. "But there are also (movements you must not do). Over-tensing, rushing without lowering your center of gravity... these movements will get you killed instantly."
The tension in the air increased. The children, unused to "no-wand" situations, were in a clear state of confusion.
"So, first, we will build a (body capable of movement in any circumstance). ...In other words, strength training."
"Strength training...?" some whispered.
I remembered the list of strength exercises I had put together yesterday while lying in bed. A list suited for their underdeveloped bodies without excessive pressure—light training that wouldn't hinder their growth. These were the basics of basics derived from my practical experience as a hitman. I wasn't as stupid as the Zenin clan to throw them into a room full of Cursed Spirits.
"I'll only teach you what you can do here and now. Stop talking and try it."
I squatted on the ground, demonstrating a plank, a squat, and some simple bodyweight exercises one by one. No special tools were needed. A body capable of movement is built only through these repetitions.
"── Is there any point to doing this?" a provocative voice came from the back.
I looked up for the source and found him immediately. A boy with blonde hair looking at me with a raised chin, wearing his robes with clear arrogance.
"Ah?" At that moment, the air shifted slightly. "Who are you? What's your name?"
"── Huh? I'm Draco Malfoy! I'm a pure-blood!" The blonde boy—Draco Malfoy—puffed out his chest arrogantly.
Using the term "pure-blood" showed he was a child acting like an aristocrat.
"Pure-blood? I don't know anything about that." I shrugged. "Shut up and just do as I say."
"What?! Huh?! I'm... doing something like this...!" Malfoy's face turned red as he began to shout, causing the children around him to snicker. But I didn't smile.
"Oi." With that one word, everyone's laughter stopped abruptly. "Listen, your lineage and your wands mean nothing here. If the magic fails, you are just ordinary humans."
I looked directly into Malfoy's eyes. "I don't care what family you're from or what blood runs in your veins... if you can't move, you will (die)."
Malfoy's shoulder jerked for a moment.
"Now, begin." I snapped my fingers, and everyone's gaze instinctively turned toward Malfoy. He returned to the line, gritting his teeth, and began to mimic the stance I had shown.
"Your arm is shaking, (Pure-blood)."
"Dammit...!"
The other children began taking the same stances one by one. At first, it was chaotic, but I corrected their positions as I walked among them, and the movements gradually improved.
"Lower your center more."
"Relax your shoulders."
"Keep your back straight."
I barked orders in a dry tone. Physical education is no place for coddling.
After a while, the only sounds in the courtyard were heavy breathing and the scuff of footsteps. Perhaps the load was a bit heavy for the first-years' bodies, but no one collapsed. They tried to complete the training with everything they had. The atmosphere that had started with playfulness had transformed entirely into serious "training."
"Like that... maintain your stance."
"Impossible... I can't go on..."
"It's not impossible. Use your head. Don't rely on muscle alone. Endure with breathing and correct posture."
Every time my voice rang out, the children gritted their teeth to hold their positions. Good. True strength isn't magic; it's something you wring from the core of your body.
"Time's up. Stand up."
The children all collapsed at once as soon as they were allowed to break their stances. Some fell to their knees; others were breathing heavily.
"Phew... haa..."
Their expressions weren't resentful; they were filled with "surprise." They probably hadn't expected to be able to move like that.
"This is the first step." I stood with my arms crossed, looking at them. "Before you wave a wand, take a step with your body. Before you utter a spell, move your body. ── That is the difference between those who survive and those who die."
No one argued with me. Even the blonde Malfoy remained silent, biting his lip bitterly.
"── Alright, next is basic (grappling) drills with a partner."
"Eh?!" "Grappling?!"
Whispers broke out again, but this time, no one said "is there any point to this." The concept of "fighting" without a wand was slowly etching its mark into the souls of the children in this castle.
A while later, the first-year class finally ended.
They all lack physical endurance. Weak. Young Jujutsu sorcerers in Japan know the meaning of fighting far better than they do. Their breath is ragged, their legs are shaking, and their faces say their muscles have reached the limit. And this was just basic training.
"Alright, your lesson for today is over." I raised my voice, looking at everyone. "Return to the castle, stuff your stomachs with chicken and milk in the Great Hall, and then head to your next class. And don't you dare vomit."
"Yes, sir!!!" Their voices were scattered, but everyone replied in the end. Despite their extreme exhaustion and staggering steps, their gazes had changed slightly. At first, they were joking, but now they accepted it as a real "class."
Some were leaning on the ground, breathing hard. Their robe sleeves were stained with mud, and sweat dripped from their foreheads. This was a good direction. The foundation of fighting is made of these tiring, messy things.
Among them, a boy stood out and approached me lightly.
"── O-oh! Excuse me! Fushiguro-sensei!" Black hair and glasses. It was the boy from the train; Harry Potter.
"What is it?"
"Please, teach us again!" he said, eyes shining.
I snorted. "If you don't die first."
"Y-yes, sir!" Despite being out of breath, Harry was smiling. He was a strangely blunt boy.
From behind him, the red-haired boy and the bushy-haired girl—Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger—rushed to catch up, and the three returned to the castle together. Ron looked miserable, saying "I can't move anymore," while Hermione was silent, as if deep in thought. Perhaps my words "without a wand you are just human" had stuck in her mind. Her face looked a bit flushed... maybe it was just my imagination.
"With this, I'll get two million..." I put my hands in my pockets and snapped my fingers instead of lighting a cigarette.
I get paid just for teaching kids strength training. I could hardly stop myself from laughing. Horse racing... it exists in England too. There must be tracks in London or the suburbs.
"Heh... with two million, I can multiply it all at once." It seemed the "money management" I had practiced so much in Japan would come in handy here.
No one was left in the courtyard. Only footprints remained, the echo of children's voices, and sweat and mud on the ground. In that space that regained its stillness, I looked at the sky.
Hogwarts Castle still emanated that bleak aura. But to me now, that didn't matter at all.
"── Next are the fourth and sixth years."
In this world where I feel no Cursed Energy, I stand in the position of a "teacher." It was a strange feeling. I, who used to kill Jujutsu sorcerers, hunt Cursed Spirits, and fight for money—now teaching kids squats and planks.
"Life—you never know what it has in store for you." I cracked my shoulder, then leveled the ground once more. The fourth and sixth years would surely have stronger physical builds. It wouldn't be a problem if I were a bit rough with them.
"I'll teach them that this isn't just a game," I muttered, then stood up slowly.
The day was still just beginning.
A shadow was watching the courtyard from one of the rooms. That person was Quirinus Quirrell, the teacher responsible for Defense Against the Dark Arts.
He gripped the edge of the curtain with his thin fingers and looked out through a small slit. His gaze was fixed on Toji Fushiguro standing in the middle of the courtyard.
"── Who in God's name is that man...!" a ragged voice escaped from deep in his throat.
Immediately after the first-year class ended, the courtyard still smelled of dust and sweat. The traces of the students' exertion were clearly visible on the stone floor. He had been watching that strange training scene through the staff room window the entire time.
"── It looks... like military training." No wands allowed. No magic, no spells. Just using the body and training in silence; the scene was strange and aberrant in this castle.
His palm sweated slightly. If he, a teacher, felt this tension just by seeing the students train, it was because of "something" emanating from that man, Toji Fushiguro.
── That is no ordinary human. He couldn't help but think it.
That man, from the first moment he appeared in the staff room, had completely changed the atmosphere. The room's air, which had been full of laughter and friendly chatter, tensed in a single moment. Quirrell felt as if a piece of ice had slipped down his back. Just one look—a mere glance—made his breathing tighten, and he felt the illusion of his throat being squeezed.
"Why... at Hogwarts of all places..." His lips trembled involuntarily. He tried to clench his hands to stop the shaking, but even as his nails dug into his palms, the tremors didn't stop.
And there—deep in his head. Under the turban, "The Master" moved silently.
『...Quirrell...』 A bone-chilling voice echoed directly in his mind. He felt a disgusting sensation, as if cold fingers were touching the underside of his skin and crawling up his spine.
"Master..."
『What do you fear?』
"── That man, he isn't normal," Quirrell answered, his throat vibrating. "He suppressed the students with absolute force... he's not just a physical education teacher...! That sensation when he looked at me..." The words caught in his throat, and his breathing quickened. The sweat running down his back clung to his skin due to the cold air. "── That man doesn't have any (magical power)... and yet..."
There was no flow of magic, no trace of spells. And yet, he had an overwhelming "presence." An instinctive pressure, like a beast, that made a wizard tremble automatically. "It's as if... I'm facing a (predator) standing before its prey..."
The Master gave a low chuckle under the turban.
『Interesting...』
"── Master?"
『Fear... is at the same time... a new possibility. It can be exploited.』
At those words, a shiver ran through Quirrell's body. He was now terrified of "that man." From the bottom of his heart. But his Master was enjoying it. This strange existence fed on fear to increase its power.
"── As you command, Master..." His muttered voice trembled, but his eyes were filled with as much "anxiety" as they were with fear.
As long as that man was in this castle, his plans would be affected. To achieve his Master's resurrection, he had to be careful. But—at the same time, his Master had shown interest in him.
Quirrell closed the curtain again and exhaled deeply. "── That is him, Toji Fushiguro..."
His pulse was still fast. Just the presence of that man in the castle changed its air. He had a certainty tinged with anxiety that something was about to move—that feeling settled in his heart in an ominous way.