The Dueling Club Reopens Once More (5)

Madara's eyes slowly opened. His scarlet Sharingan shone with a piercing brightness, the two Magatama turning slowly in the depths of his pupils. Though he was half-reclining in his chair, he somehow gave the impression that he was looking down on Dumbledore from above.

He looked at Dumbledore. Dumbledore looked at him.

The two stared at each other for a long time. There were no words, no outward surge of magic, not even a change in the rhythm of their breathing. Yet something in the air had changed. It was like an invisible string had been plucked, humming and vibrating until everyone's teeth ached.

Several Gryffindor students in the front row instinctively shrank back. They did not know what was happening, but they could feel it—the aura given off when two enormous, silent beings at the top of the food chain used their own way to establish each other's place, making people instinctively want to stay far away.

Madara was the first to look away. Not because he had conceded, but because he could not be bothered to keep looking. His gaze moved from Dumbledore's face, over the Gryffindor students in the front row who were desperately trying to shrink beneath their desks, over the pale-faced Slytherin students who did not know whether to stay or leave, and finally over the neat row of teacups on the podium.

He revealed a strange smile, one that made everyone who saw it feel uncomfortable all over.

"What are you all still doing here?" His voice was not loud, yet the entire classroom heard it clearly. Every word seemed chiseled from ice. "The professor does not welcome exceptionally gifted students like us. We would only make his standards look too low."

He did not rise, nor did Dumbledore's gaze change his posture. He