At the staff table, the professors were also discussing things in low voices.
At the other end of the table, Hagrid was chatting with Madame Maxime.
The gamekeeper's voice was particularly booming that day, and his face bore a heartfelt pride, entirely unlike his usual awkwardness around the Beauxbatons headmistress.
"Sometimes, Madame,"
Hagrid gestured with his enormous, fanlike hands.
"all the fancy spells in the world can't beat one good, solid hit! Douglas calls it... er, Point-to-Surface! He says I'm well suited to it. If I run into a Dark Wizard, one slap will settle it!"
Madame Maxime elegantly dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin, keen interest showing in her azure eyes.
"Point... to surface?"
"That's right!"
Hagrid nodded excitedly, struggling to explain a theory he only half understood himself.
"It's like cracking a really hard dragon egg! You've got to find the weakest spot, then put all your strength into it-bang! The whole shell cracks open! That boy Neville's finally found the right path!"
As Madame Maxime watched Hagrid, the expression on her face changed for the first time from a polite smile to genuine, appraising surprise.
She realized that the magic contained within this ancient castle seemed even more... savage and ancient than she had imagined.
The students' discussions were in full swing, and Neville Longbottom had become the center of everyone's attention.
A crowd of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students surrounded him, his face flushed bright red.
"Neville! Tell us! What secret techniques does the Swiftwind Sword Club have?"
"Yeah! How did you train for that sword strike? Do you have to take some special potion?"
Honest, straightforward Neville was so overwhelmed by the questions that he stumbled over his words, unsure how to explain the complex principles behind the sword formation.
Just then, the