Professor Filius Flitwick was, as always, utterly enthusiastic and warmhearted right from the very first moment. He spoke rapidly, with a wide, toothy grin, waxing poetic about even the simplest Charms like a man in love.
We spent the first half of the lesson reviewing what we had learned last year. The second half was filled with practical spellcasting. They were all simple and rather boring basic spells, but Flitwick celebrated every successful attempt with such excitement you'd think he'd just hit the jackpot on a slot machine.
You simply couldn't get mad at him or feel annoyed. If a master of his craft could find genuine joy in first-year spells, I had enough humility to try my best and avoid acting arrogant or bored.
Another difference compared to Professor March was the incoming points. In this two-hour block alone, both Slytherin and Hufflepuff earned a respectable number of points—with Slytherin, of course, taking the lead once again, and not just because of me. While Hufflepuff had several clever students, such as Jones, Abbott, and Bones, my friends and I handled the tasks without any real trouble.
However, if anyone expected the rest of the Slytherins to fall behind, they would be sorely mistaken.
Zabini, Greengrass, Davis, and Sallow mostly had no trouble either. Slytherin's typical ambition was gradually showing through—even an average student from our house seemed more capable than many of the Hufflepuffs.
At the end of the lesson, Flitwick called out with a broad smile, "Excellent, students, excellent!"
He pulled a handkerchief from his robes and wiped his sweaty brow. With the same handkerchief, he quickly gave his glasses a wipe, then scanned the entire classroom with a sparkling gaze, clapped his hands, and launched into his explanation with satisfaction:
"Most of you have masterfully grasped the first-year material," he stated with a smile. "However, some of you still have gaps you ought to work on."
With a meaningful raise of his eyebrows, yet maintaining a kindly look, his eyes swept over my classmates. He lingered a bit longer on a few of them—such as Goyle, Crabbe, and Fletchley—before continuing:
"This year, you can expect fewer spells, but their complexity will be higher. We will build upon Diffindo, which you already mastered last year, but this time..."
He paused for a moment, laughed delighted, and clapped his hands.
"This time, we shall attempt to improve both its power and precision. Next, we will add Enlargement and Shrinking Charms, with the difficulty gradually increasing according to the size and complexity of the object being modified. Once we perfect the accuracy of the Cutting Charm and master simple enlargements and shrinkings, we shall move on to more complex objects. Such as a box of matches," he announced with an amused smirk.
I had no doubt about the difficulty of enlarging or shrinking a box of matches. I already knew that the key would be focusing not just on the outer box as a whole, but simultaneously and abstractly perceiving each individual match inside without knowing their exact count. While Sallow and Macmillan smirked as if it were child's play, most of us recognized its true complexity.
"From simpler spells, we will progress to freezing, counter-enchantments, the Dancing Feet, and Tickling Charms," he concluded his lecture with a toothy smile, quickly adding in his squeaky voice, "For those who master the second-year material early, more complex objects for enlarging and shrinking will be prepared."
No sooner had he finished his lecture than a loud bell rang, bringing the two-hour class to an end. Everyone immediately began gathering their things to leave, but Flitwick's gaze landed straight on me.
"Mr. Rosier, a word, please."
I quickly packed my Charms textbook into my bag, which Agnes took from me without a word. As the others filed out of the classroom, I walked straight over to the smiling Flitwick.
The professor wasted no time and spoke with a smile:
"We need to discuss the dueling tournament we spoke about at the end of last year." He paused briefly, his gaze turning more serious as he continued: "Headmaster Dumbledore tried to talk me out of reopening it, but with your sponsorship and the expected interest from the students, I see no reason not to host it. That is, if you are still interested?"
"Of course I am, Professor. Nothing has changed on my end." I immediately shook my head. "Honestly, what Dumbledore wants doesn't interest me in the slightest."
"Professor or Headmaster Dumbledore," he admonished me at once, though from his facial expression it was clear it was more out of habit than a genuine reprimand. "In that case, the official start of the tournament could be October first. That gives us enough time to get the term underway, inform the students, and open registration."
I nodded with a satisfied smile.
"I actually wanted to speak with you about the tournament, Professor."
Flitwick nodded and gestured for me to continue.
"I'm curious about how you envision the layout of the tournament. My friends and I are deeply interested in combat magic and train regularly. We are undeniably at a higher level than the other second-years, and I don't think they would offer us much competition."
Professor Flitwick gave me a sharp smirk, so I quickly added:
"Modestly speaking, of course."
"Of course," he replied in his squeaky voice with a broad grin. "So you are interested in fighting upperclassmen, correct?"
"Yes, exactly." I nodded in agreement. "The students in our year don't seem particularly interested in combat magic. Therefore, even if we are at a disadvantage regarding magical education compared to older students, I believe we could compete with them in terms of mobility and spell power."
I paused for a second.
"We are purely after experience. We don't need to win the tournament. If we lose, it will be a valuable lesson."
I certainly had no intention of losing, but I preferred to frame my words more modestly in front of the professor. There was no need to come across as arrogant before the tournament had even begun. However, judging by the sharp glint in his eyes and the combative smirk that revealed teeth sharp as razors, I suspected the professor understood what I left unsaid all too well.
"How would you like to divide the students, then?" Flitwick finally asked after a moment's thought.
"Simply. Nine hundred Galleons for an open division tournament, and split the rest among the remaining year groups..." I shrugged. "I think most of the more confident students will opt for the open tournament, and even the weaker ones will have a chance to win at least a portion of the prize."
"Students will complain that it isn't fair," Flitwick remarked, a spark in his eye.
"Life isn't fair, Professor," I replied with a smirk.
I had no doubt that Flitwick himself, being a half-goblin, understood that better than anyone else. That was why it didn't surprise me at all when, after a moment's reflection, he nodded.
"Agreed, Mr. Rosier."
"Thank you, Professor." I thanked him with a smile and gave a slight bow before turning to leave.
Flitwick truly was my favorite teacher—not just now, but out of everyone I had known in my previous life. You could tell he genuinely enjoyed teaching. He cared about his students, strived to pass on all his knowledge, and was always ready to help. That was precisely what an ideal teacher should be.
I was already reaching for the doorknob when his voice stopped me at the last second.
"Mr. Rosier."
I paused at the door and turned my head.
"I will qualify the winner of the open tournament for the Under-17 International Dueling Tournament."
"Noted, Professor," I replied with a smile over my shoulder.
Then I stepped out of the classroom.
Outside the classroom, a surprise was waiting for me. Standing near Agnes and the rest of my friends was a hissing Styrax, on full guard.
Agnes had two wavy, bloody scratches on her arm, running from her palm toward her forearm. Theo and Draco were laughing lightheartedly at it, while from Agnes's expression it was clear she was seriously contemplating setting him on fire with a spell from the wand in her left hand.
Only Tobias calmly watched the rest.
"Did you try to pet him?" I asked, amused.
Styrax stopped hissing instantly. With a soft meow, he walked over to me, rubbed against my leg, and I began scratching him.
"Yeah, I did," Agnes replied with a scowl, immediately tossing my bag at me.
With a smirk, I caught it before it could hit me in the face.
"Don't take it personally. Styrax is a bit of an anti-social creature," I informed her and the others, continuing to scratch behind his ear.
"Pfft, of course the bastard is yours..." she huffed, stretching her arm toward Tobias. "Could you?"
Tobias nodded at once, drew his wand, and pointed it at her arm.
"Episkey!"
A beam of white light shot from his wand, slowly soaking into her arm. From her forearm down to her palm, both scratches gradually closed up and disappeared.
"You've gotten better," I observed with a nod, picking Styrax up off the ground.
He instantly started hissing at me menacingly, but this time he didn't dare use his claws. He only stopped when I placed him on my shoulder. Once he was free, the little bastard began cleaning the spots where I had just held him.
"How come we're only seeing him now?" Theodore asked, amused.
"He got lost on the train... he really is anti-social." I shrugged and added, "I wouldn't recommend touching him. He doesn't like it."
"Your cat is defective, Patrik," Agnes stated, still frowning. "Are we going to lunch yet? I'm dying of hunger."
"You're not dying of hunger, Agnes... you just want pancakes again," Draco teased her playfully.
"So what? Fire needs sugar!" Agnes retorted defensively, though the corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly.
"It certainly does," I agreed immediately. "Let's go."
And so we set off for the Great Hall for lunch. Styrax perched atop my shoulder like a king inspecting his territory as he eyed everyone along the way.
It didn't take us long to get from the third floor down to the Great Hall. However, even from a distance, I spotted the Weasley twins standing outside the entrance, and I immediately knew why—and it certainly wasn't about the money.
"I'll join you guys in a second," I told my friends, handing my bag back to Agnes with a smile.
Agnes rolled her eyes, but took it and continued into the dining hall with the others while I headed straight toward the Weasleys. Styrax remained calmly perched on my shoulder.
"Your Lordship," the twin on the left greeted me with a smirk, while the other merely nodded in greeting.
"Hey," I returned their greeting, immediately pulling a pouch containing their share from the magical pocket of my robes. "Your cut from Pettigrew." I gestured, handing it to them.
Neither of them reached for the pouch, though.
"We're not here for the money, Patrik," the twin on the right said, shaking his head.
"We need something from you," the second continued.
"I know." I sighed. "Take it first, though. It's yours."
The twins exchanged a brief glance. Then both nodded and turned back to me, completely serious this time.
"You can keep the money if you help us," the twin on the left suggested.
"Why me?" I shook my head. "I understand what you're worried about, but your sister getting sorted into Slytherin isn't my problem. I can't keep an eye on her every day, nor do I plan to. If she's going to have a place in Slytherin, she's going to have to earn it herself." I paused briefly. "Take the money. It's yours."
"We're pretty heavily responsible for why Slytherin hates our family," the twin on the right replied. "And we don't want Ginny to suffer because of our little pranks."
Meanwhile, the twin on the left took the pouch and continued in a more serious tone, "We can't watch over her in your common room."
"That still doesn't explain why me," I answered calmly.
I didn't care about little Weasley, nor did I intend to waste time babysitting her. Even last year, I spent minimal time in the common room, and if something happened to her, they could easily end up blaming me.
At least the sole advantage of her being sorted into Slytherin was that getting to the horcrux would be relatively easy thanks to Agnes.
"Because we know you," they replied in unison. "And we see how the other Slytherins look at you," the twin on the right continued.
"Please," the twin on the left added, with a direct and pleading look that strikingly resembled a desperate puppy.
"Please," the twin on the right joined in. "She's our sister, and we have no problem giving you back that money."
"Meow."
Styrax nudged my cheek with his paw.
The little bastard definitely understands this, I thought with a sigh.
In the end, I nodded.
"I'll keep an eye on her if anyone decides to physically harm her," I promised. "I won't react to insults or gossip, though. She has to learn to defend herself."
"Thank you."
A smile immediately broke across both their faces, and the tension melted away.
"We knew we could count on you. We're in your debt!"
"Naturally," I stated dryly. "But I'm not promising you nothing will happen to her. To be safe, you might want to tone down your pranks a bit."
"We will."
This time they answered in a serious tone, without a trace of their previous smile remaining.
"If that's everything, I'm heading off to lunch, guys."
After their affirmative nods, I headed toward the Great Hall.
"Thanks again, we really appreciate it, Patrik!" one of them shouted after me.
Their only answer was Styrax's calm, "Meow."
I rejoined my friends at the Slytherin table. Styrax hopped off my shoulder and settled comfortably on the bench beside me as if he owned the place.
Before I even had time to serve myself food, questions started raining down on me from all sides. First, they wanted to know what Flitwick wanted and what we had agreed on regarding the dueling tournament. Once I briefly explained our plans, the conversation naturally steered toward the Weasleys.
"So it was about the Weasley girl?" Agnes asked curiously.
I just nodded.
No one was surprised.
The Weasley girl herself was sitting at the end of the table among the first-years. A noticeably large gap was left around her. It wasn't particularly surprising either. Even last night, several housemates in the common room had made it abundantly clear that she wasn't welcome among them. Flint's friend was picking on her the most. Surprisingly, though, he wasn't a member of the Slytherin Quidditch team, but one of his study mates whom I had run into several times in the library.
When I mentioned during lunch that I wouldn't be training with them today, but alone instead, Agnes started protesting right away. She wasn't very convincing, however. She was currently focusing all her attention on her pancakes, while Tobias was tackling the sausages with equal determination. Once I explained that I needed to practice a family spell, none of them raised any further objections.
After lunch, we split up as planned. The others headed to our training room on the seventh floor, while I went with Styrax to the abandoned classroom that Agnes and I had used last year. I planned to gradually secure it with protective wards so I would have complete privacy. It was an ideal place to practice Cruor Flores.
I was firmly determined to master this spell.
It took me a few minutes to clear the room of dust and use Transfiguration to create a simple bed for Styrax. From the remaining wood, I then created several ordinary dummies. I channeled a decent amount of magic into each so they could withstand at least a few hits from stronger Dark Magic. Since they were just transfigured pieces of wood, however, they couldn't regenerate. Fortunately, I had more than enough magical energy.
The next step was creating magical wards for my privacy during training.
The three wards I planned to use were Fastidium Loci, Pelle Praesentiam, and Cave Invictum. Setting them up took me less than an hour and a half, but I was still unsure of their true effectiveness against experienced wizards like Flitwick or Snape. Against regular students, though, I was certain they would be more than sufficient. Still, I had a feeling they were subpar.
Of course, that was just my subjective impression. Maybe I was wrong and those wards were worthy of Merlin himself... though I rather doubted it.
For the next two hours, I attempted to anchor the protective wards onto quartz so I wouldn't have to waste time setting them up every single time I came to train. And the longer I worked at it, the more the whole technique felt like some wishy-washy bullshit based on guesswork and luck. With spells, I was used to understanding the principle, grasping the mechanism, and then mastering it. This, however, was completely different. Abstract, intangible, and incredibly annoying.
After hours of unsuccessful attempts, my temper gave out.
"Fuck's sake... Fucking goddamn anchoring," I growled under my breath, while Styrax slept peacefully in his little bed.
I grumbled for a bit longer, then, my nerves shot to pieces, I turned to the dummies and shouted:
"Cruor Flores!"
A dark, blood-red beam burst from my yew wand, slamming violently into the dummy. There was a loud crack, and the next instant it blew into pieces. The Transfiguration collapsed before a single splinter could hit me.
My shoulders slumped, and I let out a heavy sigh. Out of sheer anger, I had poured significantly more magical power into the spell than I had originally intended.
Fortunately, there were five more dummies standing in front of me.
I gripped my wand tighter and, without further hesitation, continued training.
***
Author's note:
Dumb Dumbledore, right?
A surprise for you all: Ginny is in Slytherin. Thanks, Peter! Did anyone see this coming, or did I manage to surprise you? The twins are still the twins... but when it comes to family, that means everything to them.
And finally, we have the wishy-washy art of barrier anchoring, which is driving our MC absolutely crazy. Abstract magic is proving to be a little more difficult for him. We can blame both his pragmatic nature and his "cold" bloodline for that.
Are you excited for the dueling tournament?
Fun fact: I didn't want to go work out today, but then I remembered my MC, who grinds away like a freaking workhorse, and suddenly skipping it didn't feel like an option anymore... GG.
***
Step into the Restricted Section
The shadows are shifting, and the story goes much deeper... If you can't wait for the next update, Advanced Chapters are already waiting for you.
Enter the Restricted Section here: you-know-what/PatrikWriter
Upcoming Chapters – Already Written(15):
95. Power and Glory
96. Morning Drills and Slytherin Deals
97. Thrill of the Fight
98. Calculated Risk
99. Flight and Fortune
100. Calculated Arrogance
101. GW: A Cunning Kind of Courage
102. GW2: My Best Friend
103. Pride Before the Haircut
104. Fire and Thunder
105. Better to Be Feared
106. A Serial Killer Under the Bed
107. The Legacy of Rookwood Castle
108. Worse Than Horcruxes
109. Cleansed by Fire
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