Sunday, eight o'clock.
Regulus pushed open the door to the abandoned classroom and stepped inside.
Desks and chairs were stacked along the walls, a clearing left in the middle. Half-erased writing still clung to the blackboard, too smudged to read.
He stood in the center of the room and waited.
The door swung open. Lily walked in.
She wore standard school robes today, none of the deliberate outfit changes from the first two sessions. Classic Gryffindor colors, collar turned out, a hair ribbon tied without fuss, hair pulled back in a ponytail. She moved with a brisk, no-nonsense stride.
She looked good, though. Gryffindor's young witch, every inch of her radiating youth.
Regulus glanced at her and caught something subdued in her expression, a weight pressed behind her eyes that she was actively working to smooth out.
He didn't pry. He greeted her the way he always did, warm, unhurried. "Lily."
Then watched her, giving her time.
Lily lifted her chin, pressed her lips together, drew a deep breath that expanded her chest, and by the time she let it out, a smile had settled into place.
Her voice brightened to match. "Regulus."
The lingering heaviness vanished from her face, swept clean, replaced by eyes sharp with focus.
This was their third session.
The first two times, Regulus had walked her through every one of her foundational spells from scratch. He made her cast each one individually, then let her feel the difference for herself.
The change was obvious.
Before, casting meant straining to concentrate, repeating the incantation in her head several times before her magic would cooperate.
She'd never thought anything was wrong with that. She'd assumed that was what casting was supposed to feel like.
But after Regulus's corrections, the contrast hit all at once. Now a thought was enough. Magic flowed along familiar paths, spells left her wand tip smooth and solid.
It felt like the spells were listening to her.
That sense of effortless control was something she'd only ever experienced making potions.
So she treasured this. Her stance, the way she gripped her wand, the way she looked at Regulus, all of it was serious.
Beneath the seriousness, though, something else might have been stirring. A fear of wasting this chance. A fear that she wasn't good enough. A fear that Regulus would find teaching her boring.
She couldn't have named it herself.
All she knew was that she owed it to him to absorb everything he taught her and practice twice as hard when she got back. Regulus was her good friend, but a good friend's time and energy weren't free. She had to be worth the investment.
She bore down harder.
Regulus glanced at her, read the intent in her bearing, and gave an approving nod.
Lily was an excellent young witch. Professor Slughorn had certified that, called her a potions genius. Her talent was real, and the evidence bore it out.
His help was useful, but not decisive.
None of the spells were advanced. All foundational, straight from the textbook.
Any young witch or wizard with a spark of ambition could, through sheer repetition, eventually find the casting style that suited them best. Start with whatever the professor taught, then try it the textbook way, and the spell would come out.
When it felt wrong, you adjusted. A tweak today, another tomorrow.
The ones with real instinct would keep adjusting until the spell flowed naturally, not necessarily matching what any professor or book prescribed.
Those students were rare. Most cast the way they were taught and left it at that.
The ones with accomplished wizards at home had an advantage. Someone to point out mistakes, to indicate which direction to adjust.
Those without guidance could only drill repetition until their magic memorized the spell's pathway on its own.
The results weren't drastically different, though. These were foundational spells. The ceiling was low. Even perfected, they only went so far.
The applications were rich enough. Master enough basic spells and you could pass convincingly for a proper witch or wizard.
Most young witches and wizards graduated at that level. Foundational spells, a decent job, a life that worked well enough.
But beyond that, foundational spells couldn't carry you. The next tier demanded something different. Drilling basics alone would never get you there.
Lily was different. She had talent, she had instinct. What she lacked were the things no one had given her.
Regulus was filling in the foundation, saving her time. With that settled, they could move forward.
Third year. Time to learn something deeper. Spinning in place on the basics served no one.
Harry Potter had learned the Patronus Charm in his third year. What did Lily lack that he hadn't?
The Patronus wasn't merely an advanced spell, though it was certainly that. Most adult wizards struggled to produce a fully corporeal Patronus. The majority who tried their entire lives managed nothing more than a silver mist. Shapeless, formless, enough to drive back a Dementor, and that was sufficient.
But Regulus believed the Patronus meant something far deeper than whether you could cast it, far deeper than whether it could fight Dementors.
A Patronus wasn't an ordinary product of spellwork. It was the manifestation of a wizard's truest desire and core spirit, a projection of the brightest region of the soul.
Summoning a corporeal Patronus proved that something inside that wizard was steady enough and pure enough to coalesce, to take shape, to exist as a tangible form in the physical world.
The act itself was a moment of lucid self-recognition, a powerful spiritual certification, a profound exercise in self-discovery and self-confirmation.
From a magical standpoint, the Patronus Charm let a wizard experience firsthand how to convert something abstract, emotion, belief, into concrete magical force.
That was one of the thresholds leading to higher magic.
In Regulus's own path, he'd crossed that threshold early. He knew what the door meant.
Those who stepped through it gained a deeper understanding of magic itself, and that understanding couldn't be reached by stacking up more spells.
Lily had the capacity to master the Patronus. But that was the future timeline, not now.
He could accelerate the schedule. And he didn't intend to stop at merely getting her to cast it. He planned to teach her his own understanding of it.
The Patronus had endless applications.
As for why he was doing this, if he needed a reason: Lily was his friend. He wanted her to be strong.
War wasn't far off. Voldemort's forces were expanding. That much was plain to see.
Within a few years, the war would sweep across all of Britain. No one would stand apart.
Some would walk in willingly. Others would be dragged. The outcomes might differ, but being pulled in was inescapable.
Unless you found a hole to hide in, waited for it to end, and let those brave enough or mad enough to fight stand at the front.
Otherwise, the choices available to any individual were slim.
In the current climate, wishing strength upon someone was the most practical blessing you could give.
Especially for a Muggle-born witch. Voldemort's side despised no one more.
Regulus pulled himself back to the present.
"No more foundation work today." He looked at Lily, his tone easy. "Combat test. We spar."
Lily blinked. Then her eyes lit up, the brightness rising from somewhere deep, drowning whatever mood had been there before.
Her grip tightened on her wand. The corners of her mouth climbed. Her whole posture sharpened.
Regulus watched the transformation and smiled. "I'll hold back. Go all out, no need to worry. I want to see how you use what you've learned in a real fight."
Lily lifted her chin, green eyes fixed on him, a note of defiance slipping into her voice. "I don't need you to hold back."
"All right," Regulus said, still smiling.
He stepped back several paces, opening the distance, his wand loose at his side, posture relaxed.
Lily gripped her wand and drew a breath.
She remembered what Regulus had told her. Anticipate where your opponent will be. Don't aim where they are. Aim where they're going.
Simple enough in theory. In practice, another matter entirely.
She read him. His posture was loose, but his weight favored the right side. If she fired left, he'd likely dodge right...
"Expelliarmus!"
Red light streaked toward Regulus's left side. Lily had predicted a rightward dodge, so she aimed left, expecting him to move into the path.
Regulus didn't dodge.
The spell sailed past him, missing by half a foot, struck the wall behind him, and burst into a spray of red sparks, leaving a shallow crater in the stone.
Lily pursed her lips. Why didn't you dodge?
"Good read," Regulus said. "But your prediction assumed I'd move. An opponent doesn't always move. Sometimes standing and taking it is easier than dodging. So you need a second spell ready. The first forces a decision. The second punishes whatever they choose."
Lily listened carefully, then nodded. He was right.
She raised her wand again. New approach this time. A straight Disarming Charm, aimed dead center at Regulus's chest, fast, clean angle.
He still didn't dodge. The spell hit him and burst apart. A flash of silver light rippled across his skin, thin as a film, and then nothing. The spell dissipated without a trace.
Lily's mouth fell open. She stared for a long moment, eyes wide, then looked at Regulus. "What was that?"
He smiled but didn't explain. "You've improved. Faster casting, steadier force. A clear step up from last week."
The tips of Lily's ears flushed. She didn't look away. Green eyes held his, and the smile she was trying to suppress won out.
Then she pushed the feeling down, raised her wand again, and decided that question could wait until after they were done. For now, she kept going.
Regulus had his answer. Lily's casting speed had genuinely improved. Smoother rhythm, more stable magical output. The foundation work was paying off.
Her own talent was meeting the training halfway. The pace was solid.
Regulus raised his wand. Five meters between them. He flicked out a Stunning Spell, deliberately slowed, the trajectory visible, the power moderate, giving Lily plenty of time.
She reacted fast, throwing up Protego. Red light struck the barrier and bounced away. She stood firm, eyes tracking his wand.
His second spell followed. An Impediment Jinx, still slow, still light.
Lily dropped Protego and sidestepped, but the spell came in at an awkward angle and caught her shoulder.
She stumbled back two steps, frowned, and raised her wand again.
"You dropped the shield too early," Regulus said. "The next spell hadn't arrived yet and you'd already pulled Protego down. And your sidestep telegraphed. An opponent reads where you're going before you get there."
Lily nodded hard. "Got it."
She recast Protego, holding it steady this time. Regulus sent another spell into it. The barrier held solid. Lily stood behind it, planted.
He nodded, approval in his voice. "That's right."
Lily let out a small huff through her nose. "I know you're going easy on me."
Regulus raised an eyebrow. Didn't deny it.
Green eyes found his, and she flashed a grin. "But I did block it."
"You did," Regulus agreed, perfectly sincere. "Impressive."
Lily shot him a look, huffed again, and reset her stance.
"Movement next," Regulus announced.
He began to move, steps measured but rhythmic. Lily mirrored him. The two circled the classroom, spells flying back and forth between them.
Lily started to grasp the point of footwork. It wasn't only about dodging. It was about finding angles, reading the gaps between Regulus's casts, slipping an attack into that split second when he transitioned between gestures.
She fired a spell that cut in from the side. Regulus flicked it away, but the angle had been sharp. Genuinely tricky.
"That one was good." He paused mid-step, the praise unguarded. "Timing was right, coming in from the flank. Forces the opponent to take an extra step to block. Keep that feeling. A little faster, a little more precise, and you'd pose a real threat."
Lily's mouth curved upward, her eyes bright, but the next spell from Regulus forced her attention back. She threw up Protego, rocked back half a step, and steadied.