𝐔𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥

Attack me

It was precisely 7:55 am on Monday, November 2nd, when Blanche stormed out of Severus' chambers to head towards her first class. They had worked and argued all night trying to come up with a solution, or at least a compromise, and in the end, time had escaped them. The daylight didn't reach the dungeons, and only the chatter of the students passing by the door had brought them back to Hogwarts' mundanity. His room felt like nighttime at all hours of the day, giving the impression of an infinite, suspended time at their hands, and Blanche quite enjoyed that. However, its results were impractical, as she hadn't slept at all; and, being so late, she hadn't bothered with changing her clothes, nor with adjusting her hair.

When she threw the classroom's door open with a flick of her wand, she was pleased to see that the third-years were on time, for once.

"Today's subject is Enchanted Barriers. Open your books," she ordered with an imperious gesture, putting her wand away as she strode towards the teacher's desk. A couple of quiet groans reached her ears from the very back of the class, stopping her in her tracks. She turned around, scanning the room with a mortally serious stare. "Any objection will be met with an answer. Speak up, instead of grunting like farmyard animals." Her eyes reached the corner from which the whining ensued, lingering on a frowning Clover. He remained silent, begrudgingly opening his book as the girl next to him tried to hide an amused smile.

Blanche decided to start her explanation with something stronger than usual. She flashed a faint smile in the class' direction, mouthing an inaudible: "Revertere Omnia."

A couple of students squinted, trying to make out her words, but she didn't repeat herself. "I understand your frustration, but I hope that you'll comprehend the importance that Enchanted Barriers hold by the very end of this lesson. They are a fascinating, yet tremendously underrated device, the subtlest category of spells to be cast to one's advantage. Subtlety is key here: you see, many flashy, obvious charms may be more fun or spectacular, but their weakness lies in being way too easy to identify; and as soon as one identifies a spell, it's manageable for them to elude, retort, or even counter it."

She briefly paused, watching the students lazily take notes. All looked not particularly invested yet, but one. Morton was furiously scribbling in her notebook, listening to her every word with obvious curiosity: a pleasant surprise.

"A curated defense, especially if well hidden, is a most lethal attack in disguise. Some may consider it a coward's tactic, but it's not: reckless, improvised bravery has led many remarkable wizards and witches to their graves, turning them into futile, avoidable casualties. Of course, one cannot only fight with a Barrier, as they are a fallback plan; however, being prepared often determines who wins and who dies."

Eric defiantly raised his hand. "How is it not a coward's tactic, Professor?"

"The instant you raise your wand against someone, or attack anything for that matter, you are taking a risk, mister Clover. You can't know what measures were taken on their part, if they were taken, unless they are stupid enough to tell you; by trying to damage them, you are abiding by this rule, even if it's self-defense," Blanche responded calmly, before continuing: "Enchanted Barriers are indirect aggressions; we could very well define them as an effective automated countercurse, if properly adjusted. They will save your life."

The students were captivated by her last words.

Daniel, sat next to Eleanor, raised his hand. "How?"

"Your own spells will not betray you, Mister Canmore. Anyone you trust could turn into an enemy at any moment, in time of need, whereas your magic won't. Anyone can cast a curse, but very few wizards aren't sloppy while doing so: the moment you neutralize a curse, that is when you strike. Unprepared wizards dig their graves, throwing around curses to save their lives without a backup, and don't even realize it until it's too late."

He nodded and lowered his hand.

"The Barriers' great flexibility lends itself well to one's creativity and talent and, while their complexity may be intimidating, their potential is nearly endless," she concluded, turning directly to Nathan. He still looked skeptical. Despite his blatant lack of discipline, Blanche appreciated his critical approach. She smiled kindly at him.

"Attack me."

He looked startled. "What? Me?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, Mister Turner."

Blanche was standing still in front of the teacher's desk, firmly looking at Nathan as he hesitantly picked up his wand; he was visibly nervous, as if he didn't know what to do. The whole class was staring at him, completely astonished by the professor's weird command. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat and pointed his wand at her, slowly raising from his seat. Blanche crossed her arms, waiting patiently.

At last, he eventually found the courage to blurt out a curse. "Petrificus Totalus!"

A bolt of purple lightning left his wand to swiftly dart in Blanche's direction, flashing before the student's horrified eyes as it reached its target. With the great surprise of everyone it dissolved in thin air, mere inches away from her, who stood unfazed. After a split second of general perplexity, a specular green light snapped right back at Nathan, hitting him with full force.