Bryan sipped his tea with calmness, waiting for the group of young wizards to declare their stance, but the silence stretched on for a long time.

The terror of the Dark Lord was something these pure-blood descendants from noble families understood far more deeply than children from ordinary wizarding households. They couldn't casually speak of opposing the Dark Lord.

"Well?" Bryan asked with obvious disappointment, having received no response for so long. "Can no one think of a plan? Should we perhaps wait until the Dark Lord dies of old age before pursuing our goals?"

He paused, letting the absurdity of that suggestion sink in, watching as several students exchanged uncomfortable glances.

"Or should we abandon this unrealistic objective entirely and choose a more achievable ideal?" Bryan continued, his voice carrying a tone of sarcastic amusement that made several students flinch. "Perhaps we should content ourselves with winning house cups and achieving outstanding O.W.L.S results?"

The passionate atmosphere that had filled the room just moments before vanished as silently and completely as a dream upon waking.

Bryan could see the uncomfortable emotions across the faces of these children who had sworn loyalty and allegiance to him with such enthusiastic conviction just minutes earlier.

"We're not afraid of fighting..." Blaise began, his voice starting strong before trailing off into uncertainty. He swallowed hard, before forcing himself to continue. "...the Dark Lord, sir."

The words came out in a rush, as though he was afraid that if he spoke them slowly, he might lose his nerve. "We're willing to follow behind you, no matter who stands in our way."

"Your courage brings me comfort, Blaise," Bryan said, his tone warming slightly with what appeared to be approval. "I also believe the Dark Lord isn't particularly frightening. I don't think I would lose to him in a direct confrontation.

Moreover, we can make use of Dumbledore, can't we? Despite his old age and perhaps questionable judgment in some matters, he has always firmly resisted the Dark Lord. If Dumbledore and I were to join forces, I believe the Dark Lord wouldn't accomplish much of anything."

Bryan's gaze swept across the students, taking in their various expressions of hope, fear, and understanding.

"And you—" Bryan's voice dropped to a whisper, forcing them all to lean forward slightly to catch his words. "You'll assist me in dealing with the Dark Lord's loyal Death Eaters, won't you?"

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and at that moment, he wasn't the only one avoiding Bryan's gaze.

Ghostly pale green flames radiated waves of cold air in all directions. The chains hanging from the ceiling made clicking sounds, rather like the tooth-grinding noises of ghouls that liked to hide in old furniture.

The shadows of those chains fell across the students—Draco saw that a rope's shadow had fallen perfectly across Nott's neck opposite him, swaying back and forth as if it might hang him. Nott's face was indeed quite pale.

"I'll speak plainly—" Professor Watson's ice-cold voice fell on Draco's ears, making him shiver, and these words chilled him to the bone. "I intend to oppose Voldemort. This is easy to understand, isn't it? Power recognizes power, and I can't allow him to steal all the glory for himself, to claim dominion over a world that has so many... possibilities.

But I'm facing certain... difficulties... in this endeavor,"

He continued, his tone taking on a straightforward tone.

"The Ministry of Magic refuses to acknowledge that Voldemort has returned. They prefer their comfortable delusions to harsh realities, which means I can't borrow the Ministry's considerable power and resources to oppose Voldemort's growing forces. Dumbledore also has only some old, weak, and infirm followers left, they can't match the deadly Death Eaters."

"Perhaps," Bryan said thoughtfully, as though the idea was just occurring to him, "after training you for so long, I've finally made you look... presentable. Perhaps you can help me deal with the Dark Lord's Death Eaters. Can't you?"

A suffocating silence fell. Among these Slytherin students, some looked terrifyingly pale, but Professor Watson's cold voice didn't stop.

"I believe that after my training, you won't be much inferior to the Dark Lord's Death Eaters in actual combat," Bryan continued. "Your spell work has improved dramatically, your reaction times are excellent, and you've learned to fight as a coordinated unit rather than a collection of individuals. As long as you unite as one, as long as you press forward courageously when the moment comes—"

He paused, and in that pause, the other shoe dropped with devastating force.

"Of course, there are certain... difficulties... that will need to be addressed," Bryan said with apparent reluctance, as though he regretted having to mention such inconvenient details.

"Some of you will need to directly confront your own relatives. Parents, uncles, family friends, people you've known and looked up to your entire lives. But I believe you're willing to cast aside such ridiculous family bonds for our common ideal, aren't you?"

Draco, Nott, Blaise, Bryan saw their clenched fists loosen, their palms trembling slightly. Their pupils contracted to the extreme, fear showing in their eyes.

Fighting his own father? Draco's gray eyes trembled minutely, cold sweat streaming down his forehead.

This wasn't something that had never happened before. His father had dueled with him countless times in training exercises designed to test and improve his abilities, and his skills had indeed shocked him, earning rare expressions of approval and even pride.

Draco had always had complex, contradictory emotions toward his father, a mixture that was equal parts fear and admiration.

The fear came from the strict education he'd received since childhood, while the reverence came from his father's exceptional magical power, his praiseworthy shrewd mind and wise insight, and also from stories he'd inevitably heard about his father's youthful experiences, his "struggle" to restore pure-blood glory under the Dark Lord's leadership.

He longed to surpass his father. He knew his father seemed to be among the earliest followers of the Dark Lord, deeply trusted by him. His presence here today, before Professor Watson, was partly motivated by the desire to surpass his father in this regard, to follow a new legend and become a key figure.

But to kill his own father just to achieve those ambitions?

Just the thought made Draco's legs go weak. How could he do something so cruel and unconscionable?

Bryan observed these reactions with satisfaction, pleased to see the extreme reluctance and growing horror in these children's eyes.

If anyone here had been truly eager to try, if any of them had shown the same passionate willingness as someone like Barty Crouch Jr., ready to commit patricide to prove their devotion then he would have genuinely had to consider "cleaning house."

Such fanaticism was as dangerous as it was useful, and he had no intention of creating monsters he couldn't control.

"It seems you're unwilling to turn your blades against your own relatives to fulfill my ideals?" Bryan asked, his voice losing its icy edge as he leaned back in his sofa.

His expression began to soften again, purple eyes warming as he spoke in a much lighter tone that seemed to lift some of the oppressive weight from the room.

"But do you know something? This is exactly what the Dark Lord has always demanded of his Death Eaters, to abandon emotion, to abandon their own will and individual thoughts, to abandon their dignity as human beings, all in service to his own cruel dreams and twisted vision of perfection."

Draco opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. For the first time in his life, he began to feel something approaching pity for his father.

"What I want you to understand," Bryan continued, his voice taking on an almost parental tone that was completely different with the intimidating figure he had been just moments before,

"is that you should be more independent-minded than that. You should have your own pursuits, your own dreams and ambitions, your own moral compass that guides you toward something worthwhile.

You shouldn't sacrifice your precious lives, shouldn't sacrifice your precious wealth, and by wealth, I mean the love you possess, the connections that make life worth living to fulfill someone else's cruel ideology or twisted fantasies of power."

As he spoke, Bryan waved his hand in a complex gesture, muttering an incantation under his breath. The oppressive magical atmosphere he had constructed began to dissipate.

The sickly green flames flickered and died, replaced by warm, natural sunlight that streamed through the windows as the curtains pulled themselves back with soft whooshing sounds.

The temperature began to return to normal, and the hanging chains stopped their ominous swaying, falling still and silent once more.

Dazzling sunlight once again bathed this group of innocent children. The warm golden light seemed to wash away some of the lingering shadows from their eyes, though the memory of what they had just experienced would clearly remain with them for a very long time.

"At the same time, I must tell you something important," Bryan continued, his tone becoming more serious again as he prepared to lay his cards on the table completely.

"I do indeed intend to oppose the Dark Lord. That much of what you heard was absolutely true, and I won't pretend otherwise. I'm not particularly impressed with the current Ministry of Magic or with the current state of the wizarding world in general."

He stood up from his seat so that he could look down at these children with a calm, gauging expression.

As for his followers..." Bryan voice trailed off thoughtfully as he looked down at these children with a calm expression. "If they repent and reform, redemption isn't impossible. But if they resist stubbornly and persist to the end, they might not even get the chance to enter Azkaban."

Draco's face turned white as snow. He knew why Professor Watson was saying this.

"As for what you said about wanting to gain power from me," Bryan said, his expression brightening as he shifted to a lighter topic. "Haven't I been teaching you how to arm yourselves all along? Every lesson, every exercise, every challenge I've put before you have been designed to make you stronger, more capable, more able to defend yourselves and others when the time comes."

He gestured around the classroom.

"I can assure you that I've held nothing back from you. I've taught you all the magic that young wizards your age can safely master without risking permanent harm to yourselves or others. Honestly, if I were your age again, with only the knowledge and skills I possessed at fifteen or sixteen, I probably couldn't beat your dueling squad in a fair fight either.

As for more advanced magic well, we'll have to wait until you're in advanced classes and have developed the maturity and judgment necessary to handle such power responsibly," Bryan concluded with a slight shrug.

"Professor Watson!"

After Bryan had finished speaking and was clearly preparing to leave the classroom, the youngest member of their group, Astoria Greengrass, suddenly stood up from her seat. Her movement was so abrupt and decisive that several other students jumped slightly, startled by the sudden action.

She appeared seemingly calmer than the boys around her. Unlike Draco, Nott, and several others, her parents weren't Death Eaters. However, they did agree with some of his philosophies regarding blood purity and the proper order of wizarding society.

Astoria breathed slightly rapidly as she looked into Professor Watson's bright eyes. "Do you really intend to oppose the Dark Lord? You—you know he's called the most evil wizard in history. Many wizards who tried to resist him over the years didn't end well."

"He wants to turn everyone into his slaves, Miss Greengrass—" Bryan said with a smile. "Unfortunately, I'm not fond of bowing to others. Between death and submission to a tyrant, I would choose death without hesitation, every single time. But I don't intend to die, Miss Greengrass. I intend to win, completely and permanently."

As he reached the doorway, Bryan turned back one final time, his expression lightening considerably as he remembered something.

"Oh, and remember to finish what's on the table before you leave, waste is shameful."

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