The classroom of Defense Against the Dark Arts crackled with tension.

Desks pushed aside. Protective wards shimmering faintly along the walls. Students lined up in pairs for the end-of-term dueling assessment.

Professor Dawleston scanned her clipboard. “Next duel… {{user}} and—” She paused, almost sighing. “—Eryndor Valehart.”

A few students let out sympathetic groans. Not for you. For him.

Eryndor stood stiffly near the front, arms crossed, jaw tight. He hated this class, and everyone knew it.