The sessions for the fourth through sixth years finally drew to a close. The moment they ended, I let out a heavy sigh of relief. As I had suspected, these wizards were fragile things. They fared only slightly better than the first-years, but their movements remained riddled with amateur mistakes.
Some lost their balance the moment I stripped the wands from their hands; others hit the floor in disgrace the second I applied a simple clinch. Many couldn't even manage a proper sit-up. It was pathetic. Even with my strength suppressed, a light nudge sent them tumbling.
"What do you think you're doing?!"
"Ah! Please, more!"
"You filthy Squib!"
The insults and pleas flew throughout the training, but I ignored them all. In the end, everyone followed orders, finished their conditioning, and left. That was enough compliance for now. Their bodies were slightly more developed than the first-years—better muscle density and range of motion—but real combat was a different story entirely.
"They wouldn't stand a chance against a Second-Grade Cursed Spirit, let alone a Third-Grade."
They had spent their lives relying entirely on those sticks. When magic handles every detail of daily life, the body inevitably grows sluggish and dull. One look at them told the whole story: their footwork was clumsy, and their grip strength was non-existent. They would be crushed before the fight even began.
"What do you think, Mr. Fushiguro?"
A voice called out, and I shifted my gaze. Albus Dumbledore emerged from the mist as if out for a casual stroll. His silver beard fluttered in the breeze as he leaned lightly on his staff. The old man moved without a sound or a hint of presence—infuriatingly stealthy.
"Drop the 'Mr.' It makes my skin crawl."
"Hmm?"
"Fushiguro is fine."
"... I see. Well then, Fushiguro, how was your day?"
I scanned our surroundings. The stone floor still bore the marks of the session: footprints, sweat, discarded water bottles, and scattered towels.
"Let's see... every last one of them is weak and fragile."
"... I understand."
Dumbledore didn't look bothered; he simply narrowed his eyes and smiled. He didn't deny my claim or support it; he seemed to have known all along.
"Since they are fourth through sixth-year students, their magical prowess is undoubtedly great. However, from your perspective, they remain far removed from the meaning of 'combat'."
"They are entirely ignorant of the reality of fighting. They all harbor the illusion of strength just because they hold a stick in their hand."
"... You seem quite expert in matters of war."
"Of course. It was my job."
Dumbledore merely hummed and stroked his chin. This old man never pried into other people's business, which made him suspicious in a roundabout way.
"But the students' expressions were quite interesting."
"... What?"
"Their faces changed after your class. The boys, specifically, were trembling with fear. As for the girls... they seemed to enjoy themselves."
My eyebrow twitched.
"... What?"
"The Gryffindor girls, for instance—their cheeks were flushed. Even the senior Slytherin students were unusually boisterous."
A sigh escaped me. I had felt their stares throughout the lesson; they were numerous enough to be a nuisance.
"I came here to work as a teacher, not to be a babysitter for women."
"Nevertheless, how others perceive you is not determined by your own decision."
I shrugged indifferently. This old man managed to be provocative with every word he spoke.
"Anyway, do you want something?"
"No, I just came to take a look. I was curious to see how your class would be."
"... And?"
"It was a good lesson. For children who can do nothing without magic, your very existence represents the 'Unknown.' And the Unknown breeds fear. Sometimes... it breeds admiration as well."
"... I don't care about that nonsense."
"It's fine if you don't. You only need to continue in your own way."
Dumbledore leaned on his staff. With a single step, he vanished as if dissolving into the mist. A truly suspicious character.
"... Says whatever he wants and then leaves."
I scratched my head, staring blankly at the sweat and footprints on the stone. The fourth and sixth-year students had prattled on in the beginning—calling me "just a Squib" or asking "how can a teacher not use magic?" But in the end, they all did their exercises.
The reason was simple. When I stare at them seriously, the air around them shifts in an instant.
"Those who rely on wands can't do a thing."
I muttered this and rolled my shoulder until it popped. This was just after one class. Surely, more annoying things would happen in the future.
"... Well, as long as the pay comes through, I'm fine."
I looked up at the sky, where the twilight was staining the castle towers red. Though only a single day had passed, it felt strangely long.
"What a tiring job, this teaching business."
I began walking slowly, already thinking about the next session.
After returning to the castle, I decided to wander around and observe the other classes. The layout of Hogwarts was already imprinted in my mind. The angles of the corridors, the nature of the stairs, the back alleys, secret passages, and classroom distributions—it was an extension of the work I had grown tired of in the assassination business. It was impossible for me to lose my way. I also had the timetable memorized.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts... sounds interesting."
I spoke to myself in a low voice and headed quietly toward the classroom. As I arrived, I heard the sound of wands and tense voices from behind the door. It seemed to be a fifth-year class. Despite being upperclassmen, the atmosphere was lax. Clearly, this wasn't going to be a substantial lesson.
I slipped inside and opened the door as silently as a snake, making no sound and alerting no one. I was an expert in this type of infiltration; in assassination or breaking and entering, my strength lay in "erasing my presence."
At the front, Quirinus Quirrell was delivering the lecture in an unstable voice. His fingertips gripped his wand with a slight tremor, and sweat beaded on his forehead.
"... Today, we will cover the basics of counter-charms ──"
His voice was weak and lacked confidence. I heard some students snickering. By the time they reach the upper years, students realize exactly how strong a teacher is. The room was thick with a sense of disdain.
I sat in a vacant back seat. At that moment, the shoulders of the girl sitting next to me jerked, and she nearly opened her mouth to speak. I put my index finger to my lips.
"Shh."
"Y-yes..."
The student's face turned beet red, and she answered in a voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz. Her reaction was that of a creature facing a predator. Other girls were stealing glances at me, while the boys kept a visible distance.
── As expected, I stood out. In my black shirt and white trousers, I must have looked alien in a room full of school uniforms. But when I kill my presence, being "present without being noticed" was my old specialty.
"So... so, let's apply that practically..."
Quirrell said in a trembling voice, and the students pulled out their wands. A small dueling area was cleared in the center of the class.
"One of you... step forward."
The teacher's voice carried no authority. The students exchanged looks until a Gryffindor boy finally stood up.
"Professor, I'll do it."
His face was confident. He gripped his wand and walked solemnly to the center.
"Ex-... pelliarmus..."
Quirrell waved his wand lightly. The spell that left his wand shook the edge of a table slightly—its power and speed were pathetic. Even the form of the magic was shaky.
"... What was that?" the girl next to me whispered.
"Well... then... you, try the application."
"Yes, sir!"
The student raised his wand high, his voice full of over-enthusiasm.
"Expelliarmus!"
The spell shot from the tip of the wand, blasting the table in front of the teacher's desk with force. Being a fifth-year, the power was decent enough. However—from my perspective, it was still amateurish. A strike full of openings.
"... Heh."
The sound of my mocking laugh echoed strangely in the room. The student turned toward me and glared. His face didn't express anger so much as a desperate attempt to hide his fear.
"What are you laughing at?!"
"Nothing."
When I answered curtly, his face turned red.
"You... you're the gym teacher, aren't you?!"
"Yeah, what of it?"
I said this while sitting in the chair, yawning into my hand. The student's hand trembled slightly, and the tip of his wand wavered. I stood up slowly and took a single, effortless step. With that one step alone, the student's face went pale.
The "aura" I possess—forged by sharpening my five senses to their absolute limit—reaches others far more clearly than any magical power.
"I have no intention of ruining the class. Continue."
I said only that and leaned against the wall by the window.
── I had no interest in such lessons. However, the students' gazes never returned to Quirrell. Everyone was conscious of my presence. I clearly heard the student swallow hard. The girls didn't try to hide their excitement, their faces flushed.
"... Oh my god, he looks even more handsome up close..."
"Don't look... don't look... actually, look!"
Whispers exploded throughout the classroom. The boys moved away as one, while the girls held their breath—this reaction was a daily routine for me.
"Do what you want."
I spat these words quietly and turned my gaze back to the front. The lesson continued, but the star was not Quirrell at all. Just by being there, the air changed completely. To dominate an atmosphere that even the teacher couldn't control just by "standing"—this was the result of how I had lived my life.
"Class... dismissed! What I taught you today is on page 53, make sure to memorize it w-... well!"
... Wait, wait, only half the class time had passed. Quirrell's voice was shaking weakly. Just by me standing against the wall, this colleague had ended his lesson. The students left while looking at me out of the corners of their eyes in a state of tension and excitement. No doubt this was because of me.
The students rose and scrambled out. Their movements lacked any kind of coordination—a mix of tension and exhilaration. The boys looked away whenever our eyes met; the girls, on the other hand, turned back repeatedly.
"... As I thought, the atmosphere got weird."
I sighed lightly.
"M-Mr. Fushiguro... I ask that you d-... don't interfere with my class."
Quirrell was looking at me, his voice trembling. The hand holding his wand shook pitifully.
"... Right, my apologies."
I had no intention of a sincere apology, but I would settle for the words. No wonder he was scared; the previous class was terrible. The application of basic spells looked like child's play to me.
Waving a wand and reciting a charm—those movements themselves were organized, and the accuracy of the spell was undoubtedly appropriate for their age. But the core "power" was missing.
In the world of Jujutsu, lives are lost hundreds of times in that "gap" that precedes the activation of a technique. Standing there with your mouth open in the middle of casting a spell is as good as dying on the battlefield. I had thought magic was something more... primal and innate, but...
"It seems unexpectedly lenient."
I muttered to myself. Jujutsu practitioners and wizards; there are points of similarity. The source of strength is an "invisible power," and the mechanism of outputting it through a medium is a similar concept, even if the directions differ.
But the decisive difference is "speed" and "posture." Jujutsu is refined in a world ruled by life or death, so it is sharp and focused. Magic, however... seems too organized, like a "science." It is too bound by textbooks, rules, and procedures.
"You hold the wand, you recite the charm, and then the strike finally comes... how do you plan to fight like that?"
I felt a slight prickle in my senses. The coldness of the magic waves wrapped around my skin. That charm called Expelliarmus that the student fired was at a level I could dodge with my eyes closed and in total comfort.
If it were a Cursed Spirit, it wouldn't wait for such a slow attack. If I were in its place, I would have crushed his arm the moment he raised his wand.
... No, wait a moment. In other words, combat in this world depends on these "ritualistic attacks" as a matter of course. Therefore ──
"Once I get used to it, hunting them will be easy."
A spontaneous smile formed on my face. A battlefield where the "distance" and "habits" of the enemy are completely exposed from the start is an easy kind for a Jujutsu user.
"W-what... are you laughing at?" Quirrell asked me with a stutter.
"Nothing."
I shrugged. ... In any case, this man called Quirrell really does tremble like a small animal. He was like this even when he sat at the staff table during lunch. He turns his gaze every time he sees my face.
It wasn't just a shy nature. There was a "fear" rooted deep within. Feeling that I am "scary" is natural, but his level of fear was abnormal. Perhaps he isn't afraid of me specifically, but rather fears that I might "discover" something.
... Hmph, fine, there's no reason to delve into his business.
"Mr. Fushiguro, why did you come to watch this class?"
"Just wanted to take a look. I'm no good with those sticks, so I need to understand your way of fighting."
"... F-fighting style?"
"Because I won't be using wands in my class."
Quirrell made a strange sound in his throat. To him, someone like me must be incomprehensible. In a world that takes magical attack and defense for granted, here stands a man with only his bare body and physical strength.
"... So, will you continue to watch?"
"If the mood strikes me."
I stood up from my seat. When I left the classroom, the cold air of the corridor touched my skin. This stone castle loses its heat and cools down at night, as if one were walking inside a cave.
... Even so, it still occupied my mind. The air of this school—I knew the magical power here was dense, but that wasn't all. That "impurity" I had felt during the day was still clinging to the corners of the corridors.
It wasn't at the level of a Cursed Spirit, but it was a sensation of "something" similar. Perhaps I am being oversensitive, but my intuition has never failed me.
"... Well, we'll keep an eye on it." No need to search recklessly now. As long as I'm living in this castle for a while, that "truth" will show its face sooner or later, whether I like it or not.
The lights of Quirrell's classroom faded behind me, leaving only the torches in the corridor to light my way. The shadows dancing on the dark stone walls were strangely familiar. I began walking down the hallway in silence.
── The "air" of this castle is not normal at all. And yet, for the time being, it seems content to hold its breath quietly. Regardless...
"I'm hungry. Let's go eat."
After five hours of evening classes, the sky turned from orange to purple, and the castle walls were dyed in a pale hue. I headed toward the Great Hall, walking through the long shadows stretching across the stone floor. I was tired, but when I'm hungry, I can never be calm.
When I pushed the door open, the warm air and the smell of food hit me.
"... Oh."
The place was already teeming with students. On the long tables lined up for each House, there was meat, soup, bread, fruit... sweet and savory scents blending together. Voices of cheering and laughter, and the clashing of plates and magical utensils—the place was strangely full of life.
I found a vacant table and sat down without hesitation.
── But then, I suddenly realized something.
"... How do I order food?"
There were no plates or menus in front of me, and I didn't know where the kitchen was. In the Jujutsu world, you either cook for yourself or go to a restaurant, but this was a magic school.
"Ah! Mr. Fushiguro!"
A boy's voice I recognized came from behind me.
"Ah! Hey! Harry!"
"Eh! Are you going to sit there?!"
I turned toward the voice. Three boys came toward me, their robes fluttering. The boy with black hair and glasses—Harry Potter; the boy with the annoying red hair—Ron Weasley; and the student with the blonde hair—Hermione Granger.
"Oh, it's you three..."
"Mr. Fushiguro, did you come for dinner?" Harry asked.
"Yeah... but I don't know how to eat here."
"I know!"
Hermione raised her hand boastfully.
"You just have to say what you want to eat, and it will appear on the table! The House-elves in the castle basement are the ones who prepare it."
"I see."
"Really?!" "I didn't know that," Ron said, his eyes wide.
Listening to them, I tried opening my mouth.
"... Steak."
In the next moment, a steaming steak appeared before my eyes. A thick piece of meat with appetizing grill marks, with sauce and side vegetables of potatoes on the edge of the plate.
"... Is this for real?"
The combat in this world might be soft, but the food magic was unnaturally advanced.
"Amazing, isn't it?" Hermione said.
"It's too convenient. You're all very spoiled."
"Eh, are we really spoiled...?" Harry said with an awkward smile.
When I used the knife, the meat juices came out with a delicious sound. The scent that teased my nose stimulated my stomach even more.
"... Not bad."
When I put a piece of meat in my mouth, the tenderness and the delicious taste of the fat spread. The salt was perfect too. In the Jujutsu world, you rarely find food of this quality.
"Sir, your class is amazing, but... don't you get tired?" Harry asked cautiously.
"Of course I get tired. But since you're all so weak, there's no way around it."
"Eeeehh~" Ron recoiled with exaggeration.
"But... it's a bit fun, isn't it?" Hermione murmured.
"Is it now? Fun."
A slight smile formed on my face. Honestly, these wizard children are soft. All of them lose the ability to fight as soon as the wand falls from their hands. But if I torment those bodies a little, their movements will inevitably change. It's just a matter of will.
"Is there strength training tomorrow too?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, no getting out of it."
"Ooooohh..." Ron made a desperate sound.
"Mr. Fushiguro's class is harsh, but I... don't hate it," Hermione said in a low voice.
"I see."
I answered coldly as I chewed the meat. Girls tend to be interested in this kind of "dangerous man." I know those looks well; I used to get them a lot back when I was living off of women.
I looked around and saw other female students looking at me too. Their gazes were loaded with something like heat. As for the boys, they looked away in fear.
"... Stares again."
When I muttered that, the faces of Harry and his companions looked surprised.
"Sir, you are very popular."
"Right, right, all the girls are looking at you!"
"Shut up."
I picked up the spoon and started eating the soup. The taste of the food appearing through magic was unexpectedly delicate. Even the flavor of the broth was clear. It seems the House-elves work hard. In the Jujutsu world, if you wanted to reproduce this taste, you'd have to dismantle a few Cursed Spirits.
"Sir... you can't use magic, can you?" Harry asked.
"I can't."
"Then, how did you become so strong?"
His eyes were full of innocence. In my world, there was no one who looked at another with such eyes.
"I just break everything with this body of mine."
"... Cool."
"Eh?" Harry and Ron said at the same time.
"No, I mean... that dangerous atmosphere... is attractive." Hermione's face turned red and she looked away.
... There it is again. The girls' reaction is very obvious. They are attracted to fear, yet they lack the courage to approach. It's as if they're looking at a wild beast.
"If the wand is the only weapon you have, your weakness becomes exposed to everyone. So I crush that point. That's all there is to it."
"Crushing... the wand..."
Harry's face looked like he was thinking about something complex. Surely such a thought had never occurred to him before.
"... There is only one thing you need to learn in my class." I put down the fork and tapped the table lightly with my finger. "Build bodies that can survive even without a wand."
At that moment, Harry's eyes became a little stronger. Ron looked annoyed, while Hermione looked as if she were expecting something. After finishing the food, I realized the gazes around me were still fixed on me.
... I really don't feel comfortable. When I stood up, several girls quickly looked away. The boys' shoulders trembled in fear.
"See you. You lot, make sure you move your bodies well tomorrow."
"Y-yes, sir!"
"Wow... he's really scary..."
"... I might be looking forward to tomorrow."
It was fun seeing their differing reactions. The dusk had completely turned to night, and the stars in the sky reflected on the ceiling became brighter. I cracked my shoulder and slowly left the hall.
── These children who know nothing but wands, how much will they change through my methods? I was a little curious about that.
Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger returned to the Gryffindor tower immediately after finishing dinner. The common room, where the fireplace was burning, was warm and soft unlike the cold night air. The sound of the old wooden floor creaking echoed lightly, and the tapestries hanging on the walls swayed with the breeze. Inside this stone castle, this room alone smelled of "human life."
The three sat on the sofa, throwing their tired bodies onto it. The smell of burning wood and the crackling sound of the fire created a calm that contrasted completely with the bustle in the Great Hall.
"I didn't expect the first day to be this exhausting..." Ron complained, sinking lazily into the sofa with a scowl. He let his arms hang down, his breathing audible; today's exercises had clearly taken a toll on him.
"You're right," Harry replied with a bitter smile. His forehead still bore traces of light sweat, and his black hair was a bit messy.
"I was really surprised. I didn't imagine a class would require all this physical effort." Hermione had taken off her school robe and placed it on her knees, sitting with a straight back watching the fire. Her breath was also slightly labored, and sweat glistened on her forehead.
"Mr. Fushiguro... is Japanese, right?" Hermione said suddenly.
"Japanese?" Ron raised his head.
"Yes, I read in a book that there's a magic school in Japan called 'Mahoutokoro.' They say their school uniforms are quite wonderful."
"There's a school in Japan too!" Harry voiced his honest surprise.
"Of course, since there are wizards all over the world, it's natural for there to be magic schools," Hermione said boastfully, as she usually did when showing off her knowledge.
As for Ron, he was rotating his shoulders and frowning. "But, strength training? Isn't it strange to have a class like this in a magic school?"
"I don't think so," Harry replied with a serious face. "Because the teacher said the goal is for us to be able to fight even without a wand."
"Without a wand..." Ron knit his brows. "No, no, no, that's impossible. A wizard can't do anything without his wand!"
"But Mr. Fushiguro is strong," Hermione said in a low voice. Harry and Ron exchanged looks after her words.
"When I saw him for the first time, I felt... a bit of fear."
"Me too!" Ron said enthusiastically. "Those eyes... they aren't the eyes of a teacher! They're the eyes of a killer!"
"Ron, that's rude, isn't it?" Hermione said, knitting her brows.
"But just by looking at him, you'll understand! He... has a completely different aura from us!"
"... I understand what you mean," Harry murmured in a quieter voice than Ron's. "I feel like I understand why everyone is afraid of him."
"But some of the girls... seemed a bit captivated," Hermione said listlessly.
"Really?"
"You saw it yourself at dinner, everyone was stealing glances at him."
Ron's eyes widened in disbelief. "I really don't understand girls... do they fall in love with someone with a scary face?"
"Love..." Hermione sighed. "There are girls attracted to men who have a dangerous aura. Anyway... Mr. Fushiguro isn't just a 'scary person.' His movements weren't normal at all."
"His movements?"
"Yes, it's not just about muscles. He's constantly watching something. It's as if... he sees beyond the air."
Harry remembered the training scene during the day after hearing Hermione's words. At that time, Fushiguro wasn't looking at just students. That gaze was like that of someone standing on a real battlefield.
"... That teacher, maybe he's the real deal."
"What do you mean by the real deal?" Ron asked bitterly.
"I mean he's a human from a completely different world than us."
"Harry..." Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly. "But if he were just a scary person, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have hired him."
"That's true too..." Ron sighed, sinking deeper into the sofa. The fire crackled in the fireplace.
"But, there's a class tomorrow too, isn't there?"
"Yeah, he doesn't seem like the type to skip his classes."
"Oh boy... muscle exercises again tomorrow."
When Ron made that desperate sound, Harry and Hermione laughed. "Come on, let's go to sleep. You're tired, aren't you?" Hermione stood up, followed by the others.
As Harry was climbing the stairs, he stopped suddenly. The scene of Fushiguro in the Great Hall came to mind. Sitting in the chair effortlessly, calmer than everyone, and more prominent than everyone.
── Build bodies that can survive even without a wand.
His words kept echoing in the back of his ear. "... Maybe he really isn't an ordinary person." No one heard that murmur. Shortly after, Harry climbed the stairs, and the room's lights went out quietly.
And so, the night at Hogwarts passed, carrying with it a bit of muffled bustle.