Julian brushed his awareness lightly over the magic around Neville and frowned. The reaction he felt from the wand in Neville's hand was unmistakable. It was rejecting him.
He cut off his magical sense and walked over, expression serious.
"Is that a legacy wand?" he asked quietly.
"Y… yes, it was my dad's," Neville stammered, already anxious from his failures.
Julian sighed. "The wand is sabotaging you," he said plainly. "Your pronunciation and wand movement are both correct. The problem is that the wand is refusing to channel your magic, so you are struggling when you should already be getting a result."
Neville's shoulders hunched a little, but he listened.
"I suggest you get your own wand as soon as you can," Julian added, voice softer but no less firm. Then he left Neville to think about that and moved over to Ron, who was still having a rough time.
"Relax a bit and ease up on your wrist," Julian said. "You are flicking too far forward."
Ron took a deep breath, adjusted his grip, and tried again. "Lumos!"
This time, the tip of his wand lit properly, a small but steady beam of light shining out.
Julian nodded once and walked away to help someone else, but he still heard the muttered "Thanks" from Ron's direction. He just waved a hand lazily in response without looking back.
Next on his list was Pansy Parkinson, who was moving her wand with the same kind of aggressive overkill Ron had been using.
She saw him coming and curled her lip into a sneer. "Bugger off, mudblood. I do not need your help," she spat.
Julian did not even blink at the insult.
"If you say so," he replied calmly, then turned to the next Slytherin nearby, who was much more willing to accept advice.
Flitwick saw the exchange and his face pinched. He promptly deducted points from Slytherin for foul language in the classroom.
After that, none of the Slytherins dared insult Julian openly during the lesson. They just stiffly told him they did not require assistance whenever he came near.
Julian did not bother to push the issue. He focused on the students who actually wanted help and made sure they outperformed the ones too proud to accept it. Watching others surpass them with his guidance was insult enough to that carefully polished Slytherin pride.
By the time they were nearly done, a good third of the Slytherins in the room were quietly fuming, watching their classmates succeed where they were still floundering.
No one from Julian's little group had any trouble with the basic Lumos, and on top of that he had given them a brief extra lesson on his own starlight combo. Tracey was the first to manage it, followed by Harry, and then Daphne, who pouted when she ended up last among the three.
Jealousy rippled through the room when the trio cast the combined spell, even though their version was not as grand as Julian's original. The floating starfield was smaller and less dramatic, but still beautiful enough to draw plenty of stares.
Hermione looked like she was about to keel over from sheer frustration. She kept trying to replicate the combo based solely on Julian's earlier demonstration, but it refused to work for her.
She was excellent at rote learning, but this was not a spell you could brute force by copying movements. She did not see that the key to the whole thing lay in the name he had given it in his head: the Starlight Dirge, the final song of the stars. The magic followed intent, not just motion.
...
Soon enough, it was time for lunch. The students drifted toward the Great Hall to refill their energy before heading back to Charms for the afternoon session.
Apparently Malfoy could not resist the urge to make a scene. He stepped right in front of Julian in the hallway.
"Oi, mudblood!" he shouted, loud enough that heads turned immediately.
Julian sighed and turned to face what he mentally labeled the walking daddy complex.
"Did your parents never teach you that it is rude to insult someone you are trying to get attention from?" he asked, voice dry. "Honestly, you must be the shame of all purebloods."
Malfoy visibly flinched at that. Julian had managed to hit him from several angles at once: his manners, his parents, his pride, and his precious blood status, all in one short sentence.
"You will pay for that, mudblood. Expelliarmus!" Malfoy snapped, yanking out his wand.
Julian did not even move. The spell flew past him uselessly, missing completely.
"You should stop before you embarrass yourself further," Julian said, sounding bored.
Anyone who was really watching would have seen that Julian's eyes never left Malfoy and his hand hovered very close to his wand. He was not careless, just confident.
"Shut up!" Malfoy yelled, furious, and tried the same spell again.
This time the red bolt flew straight toward Julian. He simply took a single step to the side and let it pass by, as if he were dodging someone's careless elbow rather than a disarming hex.
Before Malfoy could try for a third attempt, Flitwick caught up with the group. His expression was thunderous. He firmly deducted points from Slytherin on the spot, ignoring Malfoy's protests.
"My father will hear about this!" Malfoy snarled before spinning on his heel and storming off down the corridor.
Flitwick looked as though he wanted to say something, but Julian cut him off gently.
"He is not worth the effort, Professor. Let him go," Julian said, voice serious.
The Charms master exhaled slowly and allowed his shoulders to untense. "You are quite right," he agreed. "His behavior is still absolutely appalling, though," he added, clearly upset.
Julian could not argue with that.