𝐔𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥

It was fair

In the narrow window of time before chaos ensued, Daniel barely had time to realize what was going on when Helena, the girl sitting next to Nathan, let out a terrified scream that lacerated the air, tearing the dismayed silence apart. He instinctively turned in her direction, only for his eyes to be met by the ominous view of Nathan's state: he was standing frozen in place, contorted in a petrified cry. His expression was embedded with pure terror as his eyes were still staring at Less' gaze, with a silent, gaping mouth that couldn't let out a single sound; it was a mute and sinister scene that sent a shiver down Daniel's spine, making his heart sink in a puddle of anguish.

The stunned silence that followed was broken by Nathan himself, as he fell back with a loud thud that echoed in the room and the ears of the students. Daniel felt his blood freezing in his veins. That dropping sound reminded him of a corpse hitting the ground: Nathan looked like a living dead, rigidly abandoned on the floor, and his unnatural look was dreadful enough to force Daniel to avert his gaze.

Less' calm voice broke the silence, snatching him from his thoughts.

"Interesting choice, Turner, to say the least."

She looked unfazed, as if it was a routine she'd seen a thousand times before. Eleanor, on the other hand, was the picture of shock. Daniel quickly glanced at her to see her reaction before daring to focus again on the Professor's motionless figure.

The silence quickly turned into utter chaos as the students' voices erupted, overlapping with each other, creating a deafening ensemble that was immediately silenced by Less' authoritative statement.

"Enough."

The classroom was instantly quiet. The Professor stood firm in place, unmoving against the light filtering through the window behind her back; her arms were still contemptuously crossed, giving her a tremendously domineering aura. The woman looked like she hadn't slept in ages, her attire was messy and she overall looked like a lunatic, but her unsympathetic countenance was calm - yet, threatening.

What startled Daniel the most was that she looked almost amused instead of upset, satisfied, even: the woman wasn't sorry, let alone apologetic. She knew what she was doing.

What the hell?

"Miss Thompson, do us all a favor and take Mister Turner to the infirmary. Now," she continued, "this was a factual demonstration of how a Personal Barrier works. Revertere Omnia, to be precise, a spell of my creation; it is spartan, but effective nonetheless. Its purpose is to return any curse to its caster and it has two distinct, fundamental functions: defense and specular attack. Three, if we count teaching you not to cast what you're not ready to risk yourself as one."

As her stone-cold stare scrutinized each remaining student, a devouring apprehension pervaded Daniel's stomach; he couldn't help but notice her eyes lingering on Eleanor for a while longer.

What's that about?

Finally, she concluded: "Don't you ever dare forget that the Dark Arts take no prisoners; this was nothing. You are now dismissed."

As soon as the last word left her lips, the students flocked out of the door in an uncoordinated mob, fleeing the classroom.

Daniel hurriedly gathered his belongings to follow them and turned to Eleanor to check if she was ready to go. To his surprise, she wasn't next to him: her things had been left scattered on her desk, her pen abandoned on her copious notes; the smallest blotches of ink were staining the sheets right where she had put it. His eyes found her standing right in front of Less. She was murmuring words that Daniel couldn't figure out from his position; whatever it was that she was saying, however, painted a hint of satisfaction on the Professor's face.