McGonagall set down her teacup and stressed her point.
"There is no war."
Her voice was hard.
"No one is fighting a war, Douglas. Voldemort is lying low, and the Death Eaters are on the run. You cannot use a threat that has not yet materialized to-"
"War is happening where we can't see it."
Douglas spoke.
He did not turn around.
"And it will be here soon."
McGonagall opened her mouth, then closed it again.
It was not that she opposed Douglas; she simply felt that this time, events had gone beyond their control.
Dumbledore had gone off to arrange the reemployment program. All that remained was to wait for the training institute to begin classes at Easter.
Douglas turned around and leaned against the windowsill.
"Professor, you said Harry's bird had no soul. You were right. During those three minutes he spent drawing the force diagram, he did not spend a single second imagining a bird in flight."
"But let me ask you something."
"If one day a Death Eater fires a Reductor Curse at him, how much time will he have to think?"
McGonagall said nothing.
"No time to think."
Douglas spoke.
"The time a Reductor Curse takes to travel from wand tip to target depends on the distance and the caster's magic frequency. At a distance of five meters, he has no time to think."
"He has no time to close his eyes and feel the pulse of life. No time to imagine the texture of feathers. No time to let his soul take part in anything."
"He has only one choice."
"To let his body decide for him."
McGonagall's fingers clenched beneath her robes.
"This is not something he should be forced to learn."
Her voice was very low.
"They are still children."
"Children."
Douglas