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Chapter 101: Helpless Interruption
🕑 Added 2025-04-08 11:16:18 +0000 UTC
Wizards often dream of things related to themselves—especially things they'd rather not see.
This phenomenon is a peculiar trait tied to the growth of magical power. Noah wasn't entirely sure how it worked. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had a dream.
That didn’t mean he was unaware of the phenomenon. Over time, he had gathered information through various sources. For instance, during his summer vacation in his first year, he encountered exorcists in the United States—an enlightening experience.
Noah had read that exorcists were an evolved form of demon hunters, and there was a reason why the term "exorcist" eventually replaced the older title.
Demon hunters were originally a group of emotionally-suppressed individuals—ordinary people who had undergone a strange ritual. The nature of that ritual was lost to history; even the system library held only vague information. It seemed that demon hunters had emerged from nowhere, without warning or explanation.
Back then, wizards didn’t interfere with them, mostly because magical society was still disorganized and fractured.
Everything began to change when a demon hunter adopted a Squib.
To wizards, Squibs were often seen as useless—born into magical families, but without any magical talent. But to the demon hunters, they were something else entirely. The Squib this hunter took in showed tremendous potential.
Squibs possessed innate magical energy—just enough to avoid the agonizing side effects of the hunter's ritual, but not enough to cast spells. This subtle power helped them adapt to the role of demon hunters more effectively. Moreover, they retained their emotions, which allowed the profession to shift from heartless mercenaries to individuals who could distinguish between right and wrong.
This shift sparked a renaissance for Squibs. Discarded by wizarding society, they found new purpose as exorcists.
Whether exorcist, witcher, or wizard—they all wielded magic far beyond that of ordinary people. Magic was the common thread connecting them all. And magic, in its purest form, was always mysterious.
Noah couldn’t help but wonder: were exorcists and their predecessors—witchers—actually connected to Ciri?
In Noah’s world, such professions had no history. But Ciri was different. Her power allowed her to traverse infinite timelines and dimensions. One book even claimed she had visited Italy before the Renaissance.
What if she had come to this world and left behind a legacy?
It would explain a lot. Geralt of Rivia, a famed witcher, was known to possess the ability to foresee dreadful dreams—a trait not too far removed from what magicians like Snape were now experiencing.
Ciri, the only known female witcher, had likely inherited and mastered this ability—and perhaps she passed it on when she crossed over into other worlds. Over time, this power evolved: from witchers to exorcists, from exorcists to modern-day mages. Exorcists might be descendants of Squibs, and their children might one day become full-fledged wizards.
“Great... If Snape’s dreaming about this stuff, what about the other professors?” Noah muttered, brows furrowed. “Are they dreaming about me too?”
He wasn’t in the best of moods. If Snape’s dreams were anything like Geralt’s prophetic nightmares, then that meant the professor could potentially know his exact level, magical tendencies—and worst of all, his weaknesses.
Taking a few careful steps back, Noah adjusted his position, creating distance. At the same moment, both he and Professor Snape turned in unison. Their wands glowed faintly.
Snape’s wand shimmered with silver light. Noah’s, on the other hand, pulsed with a soft gold hue.
“Expelliarmus!”
Just like when he dueled Gilderoy Lockhart, Snape’s casting was swift, clean, and efficient. The Disarming Charm shot out like a bolt of lightning.
“Protego Maxima!”
But Noah was no Lockhart. He wasn’t caught off guard by basic spells. His experience in countless real battles had sharpened his instincts to a razor’s edge. As the silver light approached, a distortion rippled through the air in front of him—a shield of reinforced magic.
The spell dispersed harmlessly, and both combatants raised their wands again, casting simultaneously.
Silver clashed with gold.
Snape's spell—an advanced version of the Shadowless Curse, a weakened derivative of the Avada Kedavra line—clashed with Noah’s Wind Blade, a slicing arc of elemental magic.
The impact ignited a storm.
A violent gust swept through the classroom, flinging papers and knocking over desks. Students were thrown backward from the force. The worst off was Lockhart, who was blasted off the stage like a rag doll, landing with a loud thud.
“Merlin’s beard—was that Noah?!”
“He’s holding his own against Snape? Is that even possible?”
“No way… He’s our age! Isn’t he just a second-year?”
The crowd of students stared in awe. Shocked silence filled the room. To them, Noah was just another student—until now.
“Didn’t Professor Flitwick say he could’ve skipped straight to fifth year when he was a first-year?”
“We’re witnessing a legend in the making.”
As the whispers spread, Ravenclaws quickly gathered near Evan and the others—Noah’s inner circle.
Since they were all Ravenclaws, they shared a natural bond, and students began asking excitedly about Noah’s strength, background, and magic.
Evan and the rest weren’t fazed. They had grown used to this. If anything, they were a little annoyed the fight had been interrupted. They knew how Snape fought in the Room of Requirement—and he never pulled his punches there.
Still, they kept their answers casual, feeding bits of information to the curious onlookers without revealing anything too critical.
Students from other houses soon joined in.
Well, all except for Slytherin.
None of their housemates were in Noah’s group. They awkwardly stood at a distance, unsure whether to approach or stay silent. The exclusion stung, but they couldn’t do much about it.
"It seems our duel must come to an end,” Snape said calmly, lowering his wand. “A shame, Mr. Finnel.”
Noah followed suit, wand pointed vertically—a sign of a formal end to a wizard’s duel.
“Still,” he grinned, “this is the first time I’ve matched you in a real battle, Professor.”
“Oh?” Snape’s eyes narrowed. “How far did you get with the version of me in the Room of Requirement?”
Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… you started casting Unforgivable Curses, and I responded with my strongest elemental magic. In the end, I lost—my magic reserves were completely drained.”
“You forced me to use an Unforgivable Curse?” Snape blinked, then nodded. “Impressive, Mr. Firney.”
“Thank you, Professor. Every time I was about to die, I made the Room disappear. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing here.”
“You didn’t have to go that far,” Snape said, a rare smirk flickering. “But I must admit… you’ve surprised me.”
Noah laughed, then looked toward the students again. He noticed how they had swarmed Evan, Ron, and the others. Even Ron, once known for running his mouth, was holding back now. Noah could see it in his eyes—he now truly considered himself part of the Mage Alliance.
“It looks like your little group is thriving,” Snape observed, his voice dry.
Noah nodded with a smile. “They’re strong. I’m proud of them.”
“Even Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter?”
“Yes. They’re improving quickly. Of course, they still have their… biases. But I think we’re making progress.”
“I see. One last question,” Snape said, his gaze sharp. “Do you have a problem with Slytherin?”
“A misunderstanding? No, Professor. If I did, I wouldn’t hold you in such high regard.”
“Then why are there no Slytherin students among your group?”
Noah shrugged. “Because they’re all too scared.”
He paused, then added with a smirk, “But now, they have a reason to be braver.”
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