Even Hermione could not find a convincing argument against Professor Cromwell’s example.
She sank into her chair with a distant expression, as though the foundations of her magical education had just cracked beneath her feet.
Harry, meanwhile, listened with growing excitement.
During his adventures the previous year, he had rarely relied on advanced spellwork.
He had slipped through the castle beneath the Invisibility Cloak, chased an enchanted key on a broomstick, and confronted Voldemort while the Dark Lord possessed Professor Quirrell.
Defeating an enemy doesn’t always require spells.
That idea sounded incredible to Harry.
Compared to Hermione’s habit of memorizing every incantation and countercurse, Professor Cromwell’s flexible approach suited him perfectly.
It suggested that instinct, courage, and quick thinking could matter just as much as technical knowledge.
Harry eagerly turned toward Ron, expecting him to feel the same way, but his friend was staring miserably at the aptitude test.
“What’s wrong, Ron?” “I think I’m hopeless, Harry.” Ron rubbed the edge of the parchment against the corner of his desk.
“I’m not as quick as you, I’m nowhere near as smart as Hermione, and Malfoy is probably more charming than I am.
It feels like I’m bad at everything.” Leon happened to be walking past their row.
He stopped beside Ron and gently pulled the test from beneath the boy’s hand.
Nearly every answer followed the same pattern.
D.
Remain behind your companions.
D.
Identify the enemy’s weakness and warn the group.
D.
Persuade someone else to cooperate.
A flicker of appreciation appeared in Leon’s eyes—the kind only an experienced D&D player would understand.
“Don’t be discouraged, Mr.
Weasley.” He placed the parchment back in front of Ron and rested a hand briefly on his shoulder.
“Charging into the center of a battle is the warrior’s responsibility.
Sometimes, the person who remains behind the group, understands the situation, and directs everyone else is far more important.” Leon moved on without further explanation.
Ron remained motionless, clutching the test in both hands.
Something new had appeared in his previously dejected expression, as though a small flame had suddenly been lit behind his eyes.
The bell rang a moment later.
“All right, that concludes today’s lesson.” Leon returned to the front of the classroom and adjusted the cuffs of his robe while the students began gathering their belongings.
“Before you leave, I have an assignment.
Read Chapter Three of The Adventurer’s Handbook: ‘Combat Classes.'” His gaze passed over Harry, Ron, Hermione, and even Malfoy, who still wore a conflicted expression after the lesson.
“Using your test results and your own understanding of your talents, choose one combat class.
Write an explanation of why it suits you and how you intend to develop its strengths.” The lesson Leon had just taught represented the result of an entire month of preparation.
Since magic from the Forgotten Realms functioned in this world, there was no reason native witches and wizards could not learn it.
Leon had already shared several cantrips, first-circle spell formulas, and basic spell models with Dumbledore.
The headmaster had understood them with astonishing speed.
After only a short period of study, Dumbledore successfully reproduced several spells without assistance.
His rapid progress confirmed that the two magical systems were different, but not fundamentally incompatible.
Leon therefore organized the knowledge stored in his mind into several introductory books.
Dumbledore arranged for Hogwarts to print them before the beginning of term so they could serve as teaching materials.
Naturally, Leon had been forced to adapt portions of the D&D system for local use.
He removed most of the Warlock material because it required pacts with fiends, archfey, and other powerful patrons.
The Cleric and Druid sections were also rewritten so that students could draw power from strongly held ideals, spiritual traditions, or nature itself rather than Forgotten Realms deities who might not exist in this universe.
After several experiments, Leon confirmed that these changes worked.
The conceptual nature of wizarding magic made it unusually responsive to belief, intention, and personal interpretation.
Later that afternoon, Leon sat behind the desk in his office with a hamburger in one hand and a quill in the other.
A sheet of parchment lay before him, covered with the names and potential development paths of several students who had caught his attention.
As an experienced player, he found it nearly impossible to identify promising characters without immediately planning their builds.
Hermione Granger.
Her Intelligence had already reached fifteen despite her being only a second-year student.
Given her age and rate of development, increasing it to seventeen or higher should be relatively easy.
The Wizard class was the obvious choice for her.
As for an Arcane Tradition, Evocation, Illusion, or Transmutation could all fit her talents.
The boundaries between schools of magic were also less restrictive in this world.
Leon himself followed the School of Abjuration, yet he remained capable of learning spells from every other discipline.
Harry Potter.
Harry possessed high Charisma and Dexterity, along with respectable Wisdom.
When combined with his natural talent for flying and strong instinct for offensive magic, the Sorcerer class seemed ideal.
Unlike a Wizard, a Sorcerer relied upon innate magical power and instinctive control rather than extensive preparation.
That path suited Harry’s tendency to act quickly under pressure.
Ron Weasley.
Ron’s attributes were mostly average, but numbers did not reveal everything.
He trusted his companions without hesitation, possessed a strategic mind, and demonstrated exceptional skill at wizard chess.
He was also remarkably lucky.
A Bard who inspired, coordinated, and supported his allies might suit him better than any direct combat class.
Leon finished the last bite of his hamburger and closed the parchment with a satisfied smile.
Developing young adventurers was far more entertaining than teaching ordinary school lessons.
After dinner, Leon decided to visit the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library.
He wanted to copy as many books as possible, expand his understanding of local magic, and search for a reliable method of gaining further levels.
His teaching duties had proven less overwhelming than the timetable initially suggested.
The only truly troublesome responsibility was preparing fifth- and seventh-year students for their Ordinary Wizarding Level and Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests.
Fortunately, only students seeking careers such as Auror training usually pursued advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts qualifications.
The number requiring personal instruction remained manageable, especially with Leon’s Intelligence score of twenty.
Still, the situation convinced him that the British magical education system desperately needed reform.
If he could spread D&D principles throughout the wizarding world, the overall quality of its spellcasters might improve dramatically.
The castle corridors were nearly silent that evening.
Several portraits had fallen asleep inside their frames, and soft snoring followed Leon as he passed.
When he reached a corner near the abandoned girls’ bathroom on the second floor, a faint trace of black energy appeared at the edge of his enchanted vision.
Such an aura was unusual within Hogwarts.
The castle was protected by countless defensive charms, making it difficult for concentrated dark magic to remain unnoticed.
Curious, Leon followed the trail.
A small red-haired girl sat curled up on a shadowed windowsill.
Moonlight fell across her pale face as she wrote intently inside an old diary bound in black leather.
Her eyes looked unfocused.
With every movement of her quill, strands of hungry dark magic wrapped themselves around her fingers.
The energy resembled thin black vines slowly drawing vitality from her body.
Leon focused on the diary, and his detection magic activated.
[Item: Tom Riddle’s Diary] [Type: Cursed Wondrous Item] [Rarity: Legendary] [Properties] [Phylactery: A fragment of a soul separated through murder is preserved within this object.
As long as at least one such vessel survives, the undead creature connected to it cannot truly die.] [Soul Link: Establishes a connection with the holder’s soul, allowing the intelligence within the item to influence or control them.] [Existence Anchor: The object’s existence is bound to multiple fragments of the same soul.
Ordinary methods cannot destroy it.] A phylactery.
In this world, such an object was apparently known as a Horcrux.
The underlying principle remained nearly identical to the process used by liches.
A wizard committed murder, tore apart his own soul, and placed the fragment inside a vessel.
By doing so, the creator effectively transformed himself into a form of intelligent undead.
As long as one phylactery survived, the lich could not be permanently destroyed.
Leon immediately thought of the creature he had farmed for nine years.
The D&D Panel had identified Voldemort’s bodiless spirit as a [Demigod Lich].
The diary was clearly one of his phylacteries.
Leon deliberately made his footsteps louder.
Tap.
Tap.
The girl sprang from the windowsill like a frightened rabbit.
She slammed the diary shut, pressed it against her chest, and stared at Leon as he emerged from the darkness.
“Professor Cromwell!” Ginny Weasley stammered.
“I-I wasn’t doing anything wrong!” “Good evening, Miss Weasley.
There is no need to panic.” Leon stopped several feet away and offered her a calm smile.
“Writing in a diary does not violate any school rules.” Ginny’s shoulders began to relax, but Leon’s voice soon became quieter and more serious.
“However, as your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, I am obligated to give you a warning.” He leaned forward slightly.
Cold moonlight reflected across his silver-framed glasses, hiding his eyes from view.
“If an object clearly has no brain, yet it can think like a person and answer your questions, you should be extremely careful.” Ginny’s face lost what little color remained.
“Whatever is speaking to you may want more than the ink from your quill,” Leon continued softly.
“It may be trying to take your life.” The girl trembled and looked down at the diary in her arms as though it had suddenly become a piece of burning metal.
Leon straightened, and the oppressive atmosphere disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.
“You should return to your common room.
The corridor is cold, and your brothers are probably wondering where you are.” Ginny released a breath she had not realized she was holding.
“Th-thank you, Professor.
Good night!” She hurried toward Gryffindor Tower with the diary clutched tightly against her chest and did not dare look back.
Leon watched until the red-haired girl disappeared around the corner.
It was not that he had no desire to seize or destroy the diary.
The [Soul Link] and [Existence Anchor] properties simply made immediate action too dangerous.
The last person Leon knew to have shared such an intimate connection with Voldemort had been Professor Quirrell, and his death had been particularly gruesome.
If Leon forcibly removed the diary before breaking its connection to Ginny—or attempted to destroy it without understanding the consequences—the backlash might harm her or create an even more unpredictable disaster.
For the moment, caution was the wiser choice.
Leon decided to leave the diary where it was and place Ginny Weasley under close observation.
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