Even Hermione could not come up with any rebuttal to Professor Gray’s example.
She sat back down in defeat, her eyes distracted. At that moment, her entire worldview had suffered a tremendous blow.
Harry, sitting beside her, on the other hand, was listening with shining eyes.
Just as Lynn had said, during last year’s adventure, whether it was sneaking through the castle under the Invisibility Cloak, catching the key that opened the door while riding a broomstick, or even facing Voldemort while he was possessing Quirrell, Harry had not actually used much magic at all.
Defeating an enemy doesn’t necessarily mean relying on incantations.
That idea was unbelievably cool.
Compared to all the spells Hermione excelled at, this kind of "whatever works is valid" style of fighting suited him perfectly.
Harry excitingly turned to Ron, only to find him staring down at his test sheet with a miserable expression.
"What’s wrong, Ron?"
"I think I’m hopeless, Harry." Ron pulled a long face and shifted the paper toward the corner of the desk. "I’m not as agile as you, not as smart as Hermione, and as for charisma... I’m probably not even better than Malfoy. It feels like there’s nothing I’m actually good at."
Just then, Lynn happened to pass by Ron’s desk.
He stopped, and with two long fingers lightly drew out the test sheet Ron had been keeping pinned beneath his hand.
Looking at the string of answers, "D. Hide behind your teammates," "D. Tell your teammates the enemy’s weakness," "D. Persuade someone else", a trace of appreciation flashed through Lynn’s eyes, the kind only an old D&D player would understand.
"Don’t lose your confidence, Mr. Weasley."
Lynn set the test sheet back down in front of Ron and gently patted him on the shoulder, leaving behind a single sentence that Ron would ponder for a long time.
"Charging into the front lines is a warrior’s job. Sometimes, the person standing at the back of the party, reading the situation and directing everyone else, is even more important."
Ron stared blankly at Lynn, gripping the test sheet tightly in his hands. Something seemed to light up in his once-dim eyes.
"All right, that’s the end of today’s lesson."
As the bell rang, Lynn returned to the front of the classroom. While adjusting his cuffs, he addressed the young witches and wizards who were already starting to pack up.
"Before you leave, I have one piece of homework for you."
"When you get back, read Chapter Three of this book carefully: Combat Classes."
His gaze swept across Harry, Hermione, Ron, and even Malfoy, whose expression was rather complicated.
"Based on your results from today’s assessment, along with your own understanding of your talents, each of you is to choose a ’combat class’ for yourself. Then write down why you chose it, and how you intend to develop it."
...
What Lynn had been teaching the students in class was the product of his hard work over the past month in London.
Since he himself could use spells from Faerûn in this world, there was no reason the natives of this world should not be able to do the same. And in fact, after Lynn had shared the casting methods and spell models for a number of cantrips and 1st-level spells with Dumbledore, the towering figure of the wizarding world had learned them very quickly and was able to cast them himself.
So Lynn had organized the knowledge in his mind into a number of books and asked Dumbledore to have them printed in a rush for use as his classroom materials.
Naturally, he had also made some "localized" adjustments.
For example, he had removed the Warlock class entirely, since it required forming pacts with devils, fey, and the like. As for Clerics and Druids, whose power originally came from faith in different deities, he had adapted them into classes rooted in belief in various ideals, or in nature itself.
Based on his practical tests, that approach was entirely workable in this world, where magic was much more concept-driven and idealist in nature.
At that moment, Lynn was sitting in his office with a hamburger in hand, eating while jotting something down on a piece of parchment.
On the parchment were the names of several students he intended to watch closely.
As a veteran player, if he saw promising material and did not plan out a proper class build for them, it would leave him unbearably itchy all over.
Hermione Granger.
At only second year, she already had an Intelligence score as high as 15. And judging by her rate of development, pushing that Intelligence above 17 would be effortless for her.
Without question, the class best suited for Hermione was the same one Lynn himself belonged to: Wizard.
As for her subclass... Evocation, Illusion, or Transmutation would all suit her quite well. The boundaries between schools of magic in this world were not nearly as rigid as in D&D. Lynn himself, for instance, was an Abjurer, yet was proficient in spells from every school.
Harry Potter.
Very high Charisma and Dexterity, with decent Wisdom as well. Combined with his flying talent and his natural gift for offensive magic, the class most suited to him was probably Sorcerer, especially one with access to Metamagic.
Ron Weasley.
None of his scores were particularly high or low, but he trusted his teammates completely, had a strong sense of the bigger picture, was good at chess, and... had fairly good luck. A class like Bard, one focused on inspiring and supporting allies, was probably the best fit for him.
After finishing the hamburger and folding up the parchment, Lynn stretched with satisfaction.
Wasn’t that the real fun of a progression game?
...
After lunch, Lynn decided to head to the Restricted Section of the library to copy down books, both to expand his knowledge and to level up as soon as possible.
His teaching duties were not actually as burdensome as he had first imagined. The only truly troublesome part was the need to tutor the fifth-year and seventh-year students for their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Fortunately, only students determined to become Aurors generally bothered taking Defense Against the Dark Arts as a serious exam subject, so the number of students he needed to coach was not particularly large. With an Intelligence of 20, he could just barely manage it.
Looks like I’ll need to find some way to push for reform in the wizarding world and spread the D&D system.
The corridor was quiet, with only the sound of snoring portraits around him.
When he reached the corner near the girls’ bathroom on the second floor, the edge of his enchanted glasses’ vision caught a faint trace of black aura.
That sort of aura was not something that appeared easily in a place like Hogwarts, which was layered with protective enchantments. Curious, Lynn followed it.
On a dim windowsill sat a small red-haired figure huddled up in the moonlight. A young girl was writing intently in an old black diary, her face pale and her eyes unfocused.
In Lynn’s vision, every stroke of the quill caused a greedy black magic to wind its way along the nib and around her fingers, as if it were feeding on her life force.
He looked at the notebook in her hands, and his divination activated:
[Item Name: Tom Riddle’s Diary]
[Type: Cursed Item]
[Rarity: Legendary]
[Properties:]
[Phylactery] (a soul split through murder is preserved within; while the phylactery remains, the lich cannot truly die)
[Soul Link] (forms a link with the bearer’s soul and can influence them to a certain extent)
[Existence Anchor] (the item’s existence is anchored across multiple souls and cannot be destroyed by ordinary means)
A phylactery... In this world, they’d call it a Horcrux, Lynn analyzed inwardly. The underlying principle is basically the same. Splitting the soul and storing it inside an object. Any human who accomplishes something like that has, in effect, changed their race into one of the undead: a lich. And unless every phylactery is destroyed, a lich won’t die.
Lynn then thought of that Demilich he had farmed for nine years.
Clearly, this diary was one of that creature’s many phylacteries.
He deliberately made his footsteps heavier.
Tap. Tap.
Ginny jumped like a startled rabbit. She snapped the diary shut and clutched it tightly to her chest, staring in terror at Lynn as he emerged from the shadows.
"P-Professor Gray! I... I wasn’t doing anything bad!"
"Good evening, Miss Weasley. There’s no need to be nervous. Writing in a diary is not against school rules."
Ginny’s tense shoulders had only just relaxed when Lynn’s tone shifted, lower now, with a weight behind it.
"However, as your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, I do have an obligation to remind you of one thing."
He bent down slightly, his silver-rimmed glasses reflecting the cold moonlight, his voice boring straight into Ginny’s ears.
"In this world, if something has no brain of its own, yet can think and answer questions like a person..."
"You’d best be very careful."
Lynn watched Ginny’s face turn deathly pale in an instant and said softly, "Because what it wants to take from you may not just be your ink. It may be your life."
Ginny trembled all over and looked at the diary in her arms in horror.
"All right. Off you go."
Lynn’s gentle smile returned, as if the oppressive force from moments ago had only been an illusion.
"It’s windy here. You’ll catch cold. And I imagine your brothers are waiting for you."
Ginny looked as though she had been granted a royal pardon.
"Th-thank you, Professor! Goodbye, Professor!"
Clutching the diary tightly, she stumbled away in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, not daring to look back even once.
Lynn watched the retreating back of the little red-haired girl, thoughtful.
It was not that he did not want to take the diary away, or destroy it, but the properties Soul Link and Existence Anchor made him hesitate to act rashly.
In his memory, the last being who had shared a soul with Voldemort, Professor Quirrell, had ended in complete destruction.
Until he could either destroy the diary completely or confirm a safe way to sever it, forcibly taking it away might only lead to an even more uncontrollable outcome.
Out of caution, Lynn chose to hold his position for now, and he marked Ginny Weasley down as a priority subject for observation.
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