Styx raised his wand.
White light swallowed the classroom.
When it cleared, the first-years stood in a broad clearing ringed by dense trees.
“This is a training ground on the edge of the Forbidden Forest,” Styx said.
“It will be one of our regular locations.” He stood in the shade at the edge of the open ground.
His own shadow stretched and deepened.
Five Shadowkhan rose from it in silence—black-clad, red-eyed, jointed like living nightmares.
“These are Shadowkhan.
Born from shadow.
My summons.
Today they are your opponents.
“Your task is simple.
Last ten minutes against them.
Run, hide, form teams—whatever you choose.
If even one of you is still standing at the end, the class passes.
If you manage to defeat them, both houses receive twenty points, and the best performers will receive something extra from me.
“Begin.” The five Shadowkhan dissolved into black streaks and shot across the mud.
Most of the first-years had never faced anything that moved like that.
Panic hit immediately.
Wands were forgotten.
Formations never formed.
Pure instinct took over—scatter and run.
The first to fall was a Slytherin boy who simply froze.
The Shadowkhan reached him, touched his shoulder, and he crumpled without a sound.
Chaos spread.
One, then two, then more.
The Shadowkhan slipped through the crowd like living ink, emerging from the shadows at the worst possible angles.
Bodies dropped.
The survivors began to understand that running alone only delayed the inevitable.
Harry grabbed Malfoy just as a sweeping kick nearly took the blond boy’s legs out from under him.
“We have to work together or none of us make it.” Malfoy wrenched his arm free, face pale.
Crabbe and Goyle were already down.
He had no one left.
He glared at Harry, teeth clenched.
“Talk, Potter.
And don’t screw it up.” “We can’t outrun them.
Stick together.
Pull everyone still standing into one group.” Three minutes had passed.
Of more than forty students, twenty-six remained.
Hermione was among them.
She had already noticed the pattern: the Shadowkhan moved fastest through shadow.
Open ground slowed them.
Harry and Malfoy herded the remaining fighters toward her.
“We need a plan,” Harry said.
“Running won’t last ten minutes.” Hermione’s eyes were sharp.
“They use shadows to travel.
Get to the open clearing.
Limit their advantage.” By the time the survivors reached the centre of the training ground, Styx had vanished from sight.
High in the branches above, he watched with a faint, satisfied curve to his mouth.
“What now?” Ron asked.
“Try to pin them in place?” Hermione shook her head.
“The clearing is too small.
Even without shadow-travel they can cut us down quickly.
Open ground restricts them, but it restricts us too.” “Then we fight,” Harry said.
He looked at the circle of scared, determined faces.
“Hermione knows more spells than the rest of us combined.
We form a ring around her and buy her time.” The last stragglers outside the clearing were eliminated.
Only the group in the open remained.
Five pairs of scarlet eyes watched from the tree line.
“They’re coming,” someone whispered.
“Ready!” The Shadowkhan charged.
Stones flew.
A handful of half-remembered charms sparked and died.
Most first-years knew almost nothing yet.
The fight was one-sided and brutal.
Students dropped one after another.
Hermione stood in the centre of the shrinking circle, eyes closed, forcing her mind to work through the panic.
“Think,” Harry urged beside her.
“Anything.” Dark creatures.
Shadows.
Light.
Devil’s Snare hated sunlight— Her eyes snapped open.
She raised her wand high.
“Lumos!” Blinding white light erupted from the tip and flooded the clearing.
The Shadowkhan locked rigid the instant the light touched them.
A second later they dissolved into black dust and blew away on the wind.
The light faded.
Nine students remained on their feet, gasping.
The unconscious ones began to stir.
“Well done.” Styx walked out from behind Hermione as if he had been there the entire time.
In the next blink the entire class stood once more in the fifth-floor classroom.
“You exceeded my expectations,” he said.
“I assumed most of you would try to stall.
Instead you chose to fight.
That takes more courage than running.
Thirty points to each house.” He looked over the exhausted faces.
“Hermione.
Harry.
Malfoy.
Ron.
My office.
The rest of you are dismissed.” — Inside the office Styx waved them toward chairs.
“Sit wherever you like.
Rules are relaxed here.
Tea, honey, butterbeer—actually, skip the last one.
If Professor McGonagall finds out I keep alcohol, your final exams will all receive a T.” The small joke landed.
Even Malfoy’s mouth twitched.
“All four of you performed well.
Hermione found the weakness.
Harry pulled people together when it mattered.
Ron and Malfoy—” a brief glint of amusement—”managed not to start fighting each other the moment cooperation was required.
That alone is worth noting.” He leaned back.
“As recognition, return here at the same time tomorrow.
I’ll have something for each of you.” Outside the office the four of them were already buzzing.
“What do you think he’ll give us?” Harry asked.
“A gold medal,” Malfoy said at once, chin high.
“Please.
A full set of Chocolate Frog cards,” Ron countered.
“Don’t let poverty limit your imagination, Weasley.” “You want to go?” “Any time.” Hermione stepped between them.
“Can you two act your age for five minutes?
It’s obviously going to be a rare spellbook.” “Who wants a book?” Ron and Malfoy said in perfect unison, then glared at each other and looked away.
“Fine,” Hermione snapped.
“Don’t even think about copying my notes next time.” She stalked off.
Ron and Malfoy resumed arguing.
Harry walked between them, trying and failing to hide a grin.