Chapter 169. Rewards and the Instructor
Training over, Wesson flicked his wand and sent the dummies marching neatly back to the corner, then called the students together.
"Looks like I owe two prizes," Wesson said, satisfied, eyeing Harry and Percy, whose robes were spotless.
Harry and Percy's eyes lit up at once.
What would they be getting?
Under their expectant gazes, Wesson took two wooden dummies from his pocket and handed one to Harry and one to Percy.
Everyone else watched, green with envy.
"This is…" Harry looked at the wooden dummy that had gone perfectly still in his hand, a little puzzled.
It looked much like the ones they had just been training against, except that these had roughly carved features on their faces.
"Your prizes," Wesson explained. "The control incantation is—Vivet Effigies! Ah, and remember to point your wand at it when you say it."
Harry and Percy exchanged a look.
Then Harry, holding the wooden dummy in one hand and aiming his wand with the other, was first to call, "Vivet Effigies!"
The wooden dummy twitched its limbs, sprang from Harry's palm, and swelled as it hit the floor.
In the blink of an eye, it was nearly Harry's height, and its face shifted—now it looked like a wood-carved Harry.
Even the lightning scar on its forehead was spot-on.
"What do these dummies do?" Hermione asked from the side, envious. "Are they the same as the ones we fought just now?"
"Yes, more or less," Wesson nodded, and said to Harry and Percy, "They can help you two practise spells, or play Wizard Chess, or else…"
Just then, the wooden Harry's joints gave a soft click; it suddenly bowed gracefully to the group, its movement fluid enough to hardly seem like a puppet.
"Hey, I can control it," Harry said in delight, realising a strange link had formed between his mind and the dummy.
Everyone turned to him in surprise.
"Just like that," Wesson shrugged. "You can control these dummies to take your place for risky things." At this, Percy nodded, copied Harry, aimed his wand at the dummy in his hand, and called, "Vivet Effigies!"
Soon enough, a wooden dummy stood before him too, wearing his own face.
"Honestly… it's a bit odd, looking at another me," Percy said, turning to Wesson. "How did you make it?"
The classroom fell silent at once; everyone stared at Wesson, curious.
"A little magic, and a little imagination," Wesson said with a mysterious smile. "You can study it yourself, Percy."
Percy nodded, thoughtful.
In truth, Wesson had no intention of explaining to the students how the wooden dummies worked—because even for Percy, it would be a bit difficult to grasp.
"All right, that's it for today," Wesson clapped his hands and said to them all. "We'll continue practising the Shield Charm tomorrow at this time. Also, I don't recommend you duel in private or practise dangerous spells—of course, I know most of you won't listen to me. Very well, see you all tomorrow."
Leaving the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Wesson strolled down the corridor humming a tune.
Honestly, teaching students was a cheerful business.
Especially when those lovely students produced a proper Shield Charm under his guidance.
Perhaps he simply had a very strong urge to teach?
Oh, fine—he did have a very strong urge to teach.
He'd known it from the moment he took Harry as a student.
Not that it was a bad thing.
As Wesson passed the courtyard, he suddenly stopped.
The snow in the courtyard lay deep. He saw a figure tramping through it, so short that he was nearly swallowed by the drifts.
It was Professor Flitwick.
"Professor Flitwick?" Wesson called. "What are you doing?"
Professor Flitwick spotted Wesson at once and quickened his pace, wading through the snow until he reached him.
"Oh, I was nearly buried," he panted, his moustache spattered with snow, laughing. "It's quite a snowfall today—I've just come back from Hogsmeade."
As he spoke, he patted his robes, which were nearly soaked through.
"And you?" he asked casually. "I thought you'd gone home. You should have told me you were back sooner; then we could have gone to the Three Broomsticks together."
"I arrived this morning," Wesson explained, then seemed to remember something. "Professor Flitwick, would you be interested in serving as an instructor for a duelling get-together?"
Professor Flitwick frowned. "I believe I said I wouldn't be joining, Lockhart—"
"No, no, no," Wesson said quickly, cutting across him with a wave. "Not Lockhart's. It's a little gathering I'm running myself over the Christmas holidays."
"Really?" Professor Flitwick's eyes lit up at once.
He stepped forward in excitement and nearly vanished into a snowdrift.
"I agree!" he said with a beaming smile. "You should have told me sooner."
Seeing how quickly Professor Flitwick had changed his tune, Wesson couldn't help rubbing the back of his head.
"In fact, we've just had one meeting," Wesson went on. "We'll have a second tomorrow. But it isn't a Duelling Club in the strict sense; we only practise spells one could use in a duel."
At this, Professor Flitwick said, feigning reluctance, "You really should have told me earlier. I taught you quite a few of your spells, didn't I? How could you forget me?"
Wesson could only laugh along.
From Flitwick's earlier lack of enthusiasm for the Duelling Club, he had thought the professor had objections.
As it turned out, it wasn't the club itself he objected to—it was Lockhart.
In short, Wesson's Christmas-holiday gathering had gained a new instructor—Professor Flitwick.
Over the next few days, Professor Flitwick joined Wesson's little meetings.
The students, of course, welcomed him warmly—everyone knew that in his youth Flitwick had been a duelling champion.
And his performance more than matched the title "duelling champion."
With Professor Flitwick's help, Wesson found teaching the students even more effortless.
Meeting by meeting, the students who came showed a clear rise in their duelling ability.
At last, Christmas reached its final day.
In the live-duelling practice of the last gathering,
after George and Fred delivered one last spectacular bout, the room erupted in applause.
Wesson stood in the centre of the classroom, surveying the students around him with a gratified smile. "Today is the last day of the holidays, and the last day of our gathering. I hope you've all had a meaningful Christmas."
Professor Flitwick stood by, eyes crinkled with a smile.
After this stretch of practice, the students who had come to the gatherings had improved enormously. He had seen it with his own eyes.
The classroom rang with vigorous applause.
"Professor Wesson, when will we have the next meeting?" When the clapping died down, Hermione raised her hand.
Every student turned to Wesson; indeed, that was what they cared about most just now.
"All I can say is… look forward to it," Wesson said, winking. "Our gathering isn't disbanded, only paused."
At that, everyone felt a tug of reluctance.
Only they themselves knew how much this gathering had done for their skills.
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