Eating a Big Melon Is a Sign of Civilizational Progress
(Please Read Further!)
"I must emphasize again! The 'Eating a Big Melon' spell is so perfect, it's practically tailor-made for wizards!"
"Stop!" Hermione raised her hand, already exhausted.
"Nobody wants to learn that kind of dark magic—"
"No, no, Miss Granger, you're completely mistaken."
Owen—short black hair, unruly gray eyes, and a permanent smirk—spoke with surprising calm:
"I believe the wizard who invented Avada Kedavra was the kindest wizard in history."
"What?"
The group of young wizards stared at him. After a full week of exposure to Owen, they had grown almost immune to most of his corrupted philosophies…
Almost.
But this one still shocked them:
Someone actually thought the Killing Curse was kind?
"No pain, instant death, one clean strike," Owen continued smoothly.
"Do you know how many people suffering under ancient curses this has spared over the centuries?"
As he spoke, he slowly raised his wand, pointing its tip toward his left palm.
A subtle, invisible aura rippled outward.
A deep violet sheen gathered at the wand's core.
Half a second later, he swung the wand toward a stone behind him.
A streak of violet lightning—snake-fast and silent—shot into the stone.
The rock swelled grotesquely for a heartbeat…
BANG!
It burst apart, scattering fragments that drifted like ash instead of falling like shrapnel.
Harry, Justin, and the others had reflexively raised their arms to shield themselves.
After a moment, they realized nothing had hit them.
"This—" Hermione lowered her arms and stared at the drifting remains.
"Ancient magic, Miss Granger," Owen said, smiling faintly.
"Ancient wizards were far more barbaric than modern wizards."
"The Killing Curse at least leaves behind a recognizable body, doesn't it?"
Hermione opened her mouth to argue—
—but the words caught.
Because she understood exactly what he meant.
In the Muggle world, the death penalty is carried out by firing squad.
Terrifying? Yes.
But still more humane than hanging, dismemberment, or beheading.
By comparison—
The Killing Curse did reflect a sort of "civilizational progress."
Even if it was classified as one of the most evil spells ever created.
"Of course," Owen went on, "with your current abilities, learning the Killing Curse is far too advanced. But if anyone needs it in the future, two Galleons—guaranteed results."
"So what are you teaching us today, then?!" Ron finally exploded.
He had paid for this!
"Rolling!" Owen declared triumphantly.
"Didn't we go over this?"
"Come on. I'll cast spells—you dodge. Simple!"
"Three!"
"Wait—I'm not ready—" Ron yelped.
Too late.
A gray spell whizzed out of Owen's wand and struck him squarely.
"Zero!" Owen shouted, raising his wand again.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
"Stupefy!"
"Glacius!"
"Levicorpus!"
He unleashed spells like a man possessed.
Ron fell first.
Then Justin.
Then Hannah.
Harry lasted longer than expected—
clearly experienced in dodging lethal things.
He ducked and rolled, slipping past spell after spell.
Even Hermione held out for a moment.
She lifted a rock with Wingardium Leviosa, using it as a shield to deflect a stunner.
But only once.
There weren't enough rocks to block a second spell.
A freezing charm hit her leg, followed by a Stunning Spell to the back.
Hermione collapsed, unconscious.
Harry survived two spells longer than her.
"Tsk, tsk! You're the worst class I've ever taught!" Owen said cheerfully.
He flicked his wand.
A warm golden glow washed over the group.
"Finite Incantatem!"
"Episkey Maxima!"
The fallen students revived instantly.
"My class runs for two hours," Owen said with a sweet smile.
"Which means—obstacles galore!"
"Petrificus!"
"Bombarda!"
The entire afternoon, Harry and his friends suffered through every non-lethal obstacle spell Owen could think of.
And that demon kept it up for precisely two hours.
Not one second less.
Naturally, this caught the attention of the professors in the castle.
The noise alone could wake Nearly Headless Nick.
The first to arrive was Headmaster Dumbledore.
The old wizard stopped mid-stride, slightly surprised by the sight.
Just when Harry and his friends thought he'd rescue them—
Dumbledore calmly drew his wand, transfigured a nearby stone into a chair, sat down, and began watching with great interest.
Harry's pleading look only made the old man adjust his glasses.
Professors McGonagall and Sprout soon approached the scene, horrified.
"Albus!"
"Headmaster!"
They moved to intervene.
Dumbledore held up a hand.
"This appears to be a learning exchange among young wizards. We should encourage such… energetic interaction."
Both professors stared at him.
"Is this what you call learning?" McGonagall demanded.
"Is this what you call friendly?" Sprout added sharply.
Hogwarts normally tolerated minor dueling and house scuffles—it was all part of magical education. So long as it didn't escalate into a full Gryffindor–Slytherin brawl, professors rarely intervened.
But today—
Owen had taken chaos to another level.
A sizeable group of students had gathered to watch.
The spectacle was impossible to ignore.
"Patience, Minerva," Dumbledore said softly.
"Watch."
McGonagall looked toward Hermione—
A blazing spell was racing toward the girl.
Hermione flicked her wrist—
A shimmering Protego shield bloomed in front of her, elegant and precise, blocking the spell completely.
McGonagall gasped.
An Armor Charm.
And not just any—this was advanced, clean, and expertly executed.
Most third-years couldn't cast Protego with that level of refinement.
Hermione had been in school for less than a week.
"Look at the others," Dumbledore murmured.
Reluctantly, they did.
Harry, Ron, Hannah, and Justin were moving with startling reflexes.
Their dodging was sloppy but fast—unnaturally fast for first-years.
Harry even attempted a Expelliarmus.
It fizzled, but it was recognizably a disarming charm.
Dumbledore's eyes, hidden behind half-moon spectacles, gleamed with an unreadable depth.
"Perhaps," he said softly, "we have sheltered these children too much."
His gaze drifted toward Owen.
Owen Sanchez.
He spoke the name silently in his heart.
Gellert has indeed raised an extraordinary child.