A day at Hogwarts.

Chapter 644 The activity is legal.
On Wednesday night, Hogwarts Castle was immersed in a deep tranquility. The flickering firelight on the corridor walls cast Filch's shadow on the ancient stone walls. After the shadow disappeared, several dark figures moved silently under the light.

Dressed in uniform black robes that blended almost into the night, and wearing masks that only revealed their eyes, they moved swiftly and cautiously through the corridors like a group of silent ghosts, eventually gathering in unison on the eighth floor opposite the tapestry depicting the giant beating Barnabas.

As if responding to some silent call, the door to the Room of Requirement quietly appeared and expanded on the bare wall, silently welcoming these nocturnal visitors.

The interior had been completely transformed, with a huge octagonal iron cage made of thick iron bars standing prominently in the center, resembling a cold arena.

Several clusters of eerie blue magical flames floated above the cage, burning silently and illuminating every inch of the cage floor and iron bars as bright as day, while deliberately immersing the surrounding tiered seating area in a carefully crafted dimness.

An indescribable atmosphere permeated the air, a mixture of suppressed excitement, tense nerves, and secret anticipation. Dozens of students, all wearing various masks, spoke in hushed tones. Their voices had been subtly altered by some kind of magic, becoming low, hoarse, or high-pitched, making it difficult to discern their source.

Hermione wrapped herself in a noticeably oversized, worn-out black robe, her brows furrowed tightly behind her mask.

Her gaze pierced through the eye holes of the mask, locking firmly onto the strangely familiar figure in the cage.

Ron, dressed in a magnificent crimson robe trimmed with shimmering silver, and wearing only an exquisite mask that covered the upper half of his face, stood tall and proud in the center of the cage, exuding an air of confidence and dominance, clearly the master of the place.

"Welcome! Welcome, brave souls!" Ron's voice, amplified by magic, was loud and inspiring, buzzing and echoing in the enclosed room.

He dramatically spread his arms, like a true gladiator.

"Tonight, in this special place, we will witness together several fair and fierce battles, the resolution of long-standing grievances, and the ultimate triumph of the warriors!"

The audience erupted in suppressed yet enthusiastic cheers and thunderous applause.

Hermione's sharp gaze swept across the crowd, and his heart sank.

She noticed that among the throng of people, there were many familiar hairstyles, from all four colleges.

The underground dueling club organized by Ron has far exceeded her initial expectations in terms of influence and scope of participation.

“First,” Ron announced loudly, surveying the room, his voice carrying an unquestionable authority, “please welcome two gentlemen from Slytherin!”

"They will fight for the coveted position of the Quidditch team's Chaser here!"

Two tall boys wearing silver-green snake masks strode into the iron cage amidst sparse applause, their wands already tightly gripped in their hands, the tips of the wands glowing slightly.

Hermione's heart clenched as she recalled Percy's worried warning in his letter, and Ron's increasingly irritable and easily angered nature, and foresaw even more clearly the disastrous consequences that all of this might bring.

"You seem quite worried." An unfamiliar voice rang in her ear without warning, deep and with a hint of amusement.

Hermione turned her head sharply, forgetting that the other person was also wearing a mask.

"Ouch!"

The familiar hand chop made her realize who the other person was.

Charles had appeared beside her silently without her noticing.

“Charles!” Hermione grabbed his sleeve urgently, like a drowning person grasping at the only piece of driftwood. “You’ve come at the right time. You have to talk to Ron. He can’t go on like this.”

"This is insane! This is too dangerous!"

Her voice became very rough under the mask, like the voice of someone who had been smoking for decades.

Charles merely turned his head slightly, unconcerned by her anxiety, his gaze fixed with interest on the contest taking place in the iron cage. The two Slytherin students had already begun a fierce duel, streaks of red, green, and yellow magical light whistling, crisscrossing, and colliding sharply within the small cage, producing ear-piercing crackling sounds.

“Actually, I think it’s pretty good,” he said casually, as if commenting on Honeydukes’ new candy. “There are clear rules and a magical contract to ensure no permanent damage. It’s much better than them fighting each other in the washroom on the second floor until they’re bloodied and battered. And it won’t scare Myrtle, will it?”

Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief, her breathing quickening beneath her mask, and she said incredulously, "Do you know how serious this is?"

"If Umbridge or Filch finds out, Ron will be fired immediately!"

"Organizing such illegal gatherings and inciting students to fight in private are extremely serious violations of school rules!"

Charles finally turned his head, his eyes appearing remarkably calm in the dim light. He looked directly into Hermione's wide, anxious eyes through the holes in her mask, and said in a lower but still clear voice, "Relax, Hermione, don't think of things as so terrible."

"In the end, these are just students who violated the curfew, secretly gathering together to play around and release their excess energy."

"The most severe punishment would be a few days of solitary confinement and a deduction of a few dozen points from the college entrance exam."

"Believe me, Ron knows what he's doing, he knows what he's doing."

Inside the cage, a successful Leg-Lowering Charm struck one of the duelists precisely in the knee, causing him to fall to his knees in agony, his wand slipping from his grasp.

Referee Ron immediately stepped forward nimbly, raised his arm, and loudly announced the winner.

The audience erupted in even louder cheers and whistles. In the dim light, Hermione could even glimpse Galleons being rapidly passed between several gloved hands—clearly, someone was taking this opportunity to set up a betting game.

Hermione's gaze was fixed on Ron.

He stood in the center of the cage, receiving cheers from the crowd, his face radiating a dazzling confidence and pure joy that Hermione hadn't seen in a long time.

This expression should have brought her genuine relief, but at this moment, looking at that overly flamboyant robe and that commanding aura, a deeper worry, like cold vines, entwined her heart.

“You don’t understand, Charles,” Hermione’s voice was as soft as a sigh, her gaze still fixed on Ron in the cage, as if trying to pierce through his mask, “It’s not just about the possible punishment.”

"It is this feeling of being in control, this feeling of being needed and looked up to by everyone, that is changing him, pushing him little by little toward a place we may not be able to pull back."

“And…” Hermione’s voice became very low, “I suspect he’s researching dark magic.”

Charles was silent for a moment, then gently patted Hermione's hand, which was gripping his sleeve tightly, and said softly, "It's okay, you can try to trust him."

"Hermione, Ron is much stronger and more clear-headed than you think."

Meanwhile, the second pair of test subjects had entered the iron cage at Ron's summons. This time, they were two girls who had apparently gotten into a conflict for some very strange reason.

Ron stood in the center of the iron cage once more, meticulously reading out the rules in his magically amplified voice, and demanding that both parties sign the shimmering magical contract.

Charles looked at the iron cage with great interest and continued, "I am now the honorary president of the Oil Painting Association, and I have recently taken some time to learn about the relevant rules and regulations."

“I reminded Ron, so according to school rules, this is a very normal club activity. The participants are club members who have signed the contract, and the audience are enthusiastic students who are participating in the club activity.”

"So you don't need to worry. Even if you call Professor Dumbledore over, he won't be able to find fault with it."

Hermione was so shocked her jaw almost dropped.

(End of this chapter)