The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was simply suffocating.
The air was stale, tinged with the terrible stench of garlic that permeated the whole room, the smell alone made it the worst classroom I have ever been to.
The smell lingered and got stuck at the back of the throat, later it would hopefully be barely noticeable unless one paid attention to it but now it was all I could focus on.
Students filtered in with the usual mix of curiosity and indifference, voices low but unguarded accompanied by a clear sense of revulsion for the smell. Most Gryffindors spoke louder than necessary, as if the subject itself demanded a certain bravado to be taken seriously.
We Slytherins mostly took our seats with more restraint, watching rather than speaking. Except Malfoy he was equally loud as the Gryffindors were, although his audience was his two bookends and a girl named Parkinson who had taken to following him around.
I chose a seat where I could see the door and most of the room without making it obvious that I was angling to do so.
The professor arrived not long after we were all seated.
Professor Quirinus Quirrell.
He looked exactly as he had at the feast—nervous, uncertain, his posture slightly hunched as if he were perpetually apologizing for taking up space. The turban sat awkwardly on his head, wrapped thicker than seemed necessary, almost as if he had stuffed a few garlic bulbs inside it too.
The students' reaction was as expected.
Some ignored him outright. Others watched with poorly concealed skepticism and a few seemed just disappointed. Me included.
A weak and useless teacher. That seemed to be the consensus.
He began to speak, or tried to at least. He had a really terrible stutter that made his speech nearly impossible to understand. There was knowledge there, buried beneath the stutter, but it struggled to surface and I tried really hard to understand. Concepts fractured under delivery, explanations circling before reaching their point.
Most of the class lost interest quickly.
I too let my focus shift—just slightly—drawing a thin thread of mana toward my eyes. Not enough to strain. Just enough to have a glimpse.
The room changed, as it always did. The charm combined with my mage sight indeed let me see the magical aura and how it interacts with their surroundings.
I looked around the room slowly.
There were faint extensions beyond the bodies of my classmates. Some stronger, some weaker.
Uncontrolled, unshaped. Simply there. With some it was flickering and flailing with their emotions and thoughts. Yet others it was flowing around them sleepily, all similar yet uniquely their own.
As it should be. I let my gaze pass over the class.
Then I looked at professor Quirrell.
And paused. There was… less..less than there should have been.
It was like looking at a shape that had been smoothed down too much, edges worn away until it no longer held definition. Where others pressed outward without awareness, his presence seemed…contained. Flattened. As if something had pressed it inward and kept it there deliberately.
Is it an adult thing? Can all grown wizards control their aura like that? Is it a conscious thing or unconscious?
My mind was buzzing with questions. This was precisely something I have tried to accomplish but haven't really managed as of yet.
I held the sight for only a moment longer before letting it fade.
Neither I nor the professor reacted outwardly to my prying.
Perhaps since I didn't cast anything actively at him he didn't notice? Worth a study at least.
I thought as I rested my chin lightly against my hand, I listened to his stuttering teaching without truly absorbing anything.
Quirrell moved on to explaining the basics of defensive theory. The class followed along in the loose, distracted way of students who had already decided how much respect to give a teacher.
I had already made a decision to stay clear of him.
It was instinct,the same kind that told you not to step where the ground looked unstable, even if you couldn't immediately see why it did.
I let my attention drift, outward this time rather than inward.
Potter sat a few rows ahead. He shifted on his seat, agitated.
Subtle enough that most would miss it. A slight tightening of the shoulders. A brief movement of the hand toward his head before he stopped himself.
Discomfort, perhaps a headache.
I watched it happen once more before looking away.
Malfoy was doodling on a piece of parchment, what was starting to look like a caricature of our teacher. Drawn Quirrell seemed to have garlic stuffed in his nose and from the pose of him in the picture,in a few more uncomfortable spots too.
Someone is pissed about the smell and the teaching quality it seems.
I let out a small amused chuckle,Greengrass along with Davies who were sitting close by, turned to look and from their small chuckles saw what I saw.
Professor Quirrell kept stuttering on. Theoretical distinctions between creatures and beings. How in the coming years we would be armed against all things wishing harm on wizards and witches. Which made it perfect because it was almost verbatim from the book.
Perfect for me to keep mostly ignoring him that is.
So I reached inward—not fully, not like the night before
The darkness was there. The stars with it. I have been trying to figure out what is missing and what should be my next step. Since I was reluctant to just rely on books and wished to try things on my own first.
It was, after all, a very silly thing to do. Outsource your thinking. Dangerous too.
If something could hide like that…If something could reduce its presence to the point where it became indistinct…
If seeing magic and auras of others could be avoided,tricked or simply… denied.
The thought settled heavily down my stomach, not only as fear but as irrefutable fact.
Which means I had been wrong. Not disastrously. Not yet. But wrong nonetheless. I had thought that being clever, sharpening my mind, and growing stronger slowly would be enough. That hiding quietly and staying sharp would somehow keep me safe.
I reflected as the lesson went on to a practical portion and as it was nothing more than wand lighting charm I sank back into my thoughts.
Defense needed to become more of a priority. I need spells that can protect as well as attack if need arise. Once those are done, a few active hiding spells would be a good idea. That elf cloak Tweak spoke of, perhaps. At least it would be a place to start with.
I sighed at the growing list of things to master at the shortest time possible, just to have a modicum of safety.
I straightened slightly in my seat, letting my focus return fully to the present as Quirrell's voice continued its uneven lecture.
The others might dismiss him.They might be right.They might not.
Either way, it didn't matter.
I wasn't interested in what he appeared to be or what he was.
I was interested in what he had already taught me without meaning to do so.
By the time the lesson ended, I had learned very little about defensive theory.
But I had learned that there were things I could not see and as such predict and until that changed—
I would assume they could see me and that is a problem.
It should have been obvious but it still surprised me.
I thought a bit self-deprecatingly
The bell rang and students began their exodus from the class in a slow, uneven tide. Benches scraped, bags were gathered, and the room filled with that restless noise that followed a lesson no one had truly listened to.
I did not hurry.
There was no point in rushing to the next thing when I had not yet decided what that next thing should be.
Defense could wait until I understood what I was defending against.
For now—something simpler.
Homework.
The next two weeks passed in a blur of classes, whispered conversations, and personal practice that stretched from dusk until sleep claimed me.
Making the Predatory Stalking Charm part of my daily routine really made a difference. I could already feel myself being stronger in body as well as magically.
Hogwarts' rich food probably contributed as well, since I could no longer count my ribs as easily as I used to.
The library had also become my usual spot to rush after classes to do my homework. Once homework was finished I studied spells and hexes with defensive and combative uses.
Tweak spent those weeks appearing in increasingly absurd locations to deliver reports she considered "critical intelligence," doing her absolute best to shock me into making a fool of myself.
Lucky for me I haven't dared to keep the charm and mage sight active simultaneously more than a few seconds at the time, or she would have succeeded with that time she jumped out of Goyle's bag in mid class.
The shock factor wasn't just the ridiculous hiding place but the middle of the class part. That and the ever more ridiculous ensemble she was wearing.
One night she had fidgeted nervously and asked if she was allowed to have a proper working outfit for her new duties and I immediately said yes.
Truth be told, I had always found the pillowcase slightly demeaning, but I hadn't dared say so in case she took offense.
So she disappeared and next time I saw her she was wearing black trench coat and black fedora pulled low on her forehead so her nose and smidge of her eyes were only part visible since she had also lifted her collars up and hidden her ears in the jacket.
That time I was lucky to already be in an empty classroom practising my hexes or people would have most certainly asked questions. Apparently she had no real idea what a spy was,sure she knew the word and how it pertained to her but other than that nothing else.
So she did a field trip to London and found the most stereotypical spy depiction imaginable and made a tiny version for herself.
I actually fell to my rear in surprise, when she suddenly rasped from the dark corner about how the "other side is making moves in the dark"
She was happy as a clam for the whole week after that, imitating what she saw in muggle cinema,and was so thoroughly enjoying herself that I just didn't have the heart to tell her that outfit was supposed to make you inconspicuous and not noticeable.
Well she can be invisible so it's no big deal.
Somewhere during all of that, Hogwarts continued moving without waiting for me to pay attention.
It was only when I finally emerged from my own head long enough to properly listen to what people were saying around me.
I realized Harry Potter had somehow become Gryffindor's new Seeker.
Somehow, this was also being blamed on Malfoy, though I couldn't begin to understand how. I had noticed nothing at all during the flying lessons but that might be because I discovered that I was terrified to fly, and most of the time I spent trying my best to control my broom floating a few feet in the air.
To make matters worse, the blond lion wearing snakeskin had then challenged Potter to a wizard's duel, and before Potter could even answer, his redheaded friend had accepted on his behalf.
They were now, allegedly, meeting in the middle of the night to settle the matter.
I stared at the ceiling of the great hall for a long moment.
How on earth did this happen?
So let me see if I understand this correctly," I said slowly. "There is about to be a midnight duel between students whose greatest offensive capability currently is Lumos." I took a last bite of my meal and added
"Though perhaps Mr. Malfoy might know something a bit more dangerous, but the point still stands."
I said to a Second Year girl who spoke about the whole debacle sitting next to me.
To my shock I even recognised her as the same one who almost cornered me the first night networking in the Slytherin common room.
She gave a smirk and nodded " if Mr.Malfoy even intends to go since it's so much easier to just give the location and a hint to the caretaker to get them in trouble" she said with clearly amused air.
"yeah, but still why did the Blond Lion in snake's skin have to do something so foolish?" I blurted out my nickname for Malfoy in hopes of lowering the small amount of respect he had apparently managed to garner in our house, hopefully in a permanent way.
She had just taken a sip of pumpkin juice when I said it and almost spat it out which would have made a hilarious scene.
However she managed to keep it down and looked at me both amused and reproachfully.
" Firstly, that is very apt description of him and second who knows what goes in his head, perhaps he just tries to get him expelled, even though that's never going to happen on the count of something this minor"
She said with a hungry smile that almost screamed she had every intention to spread the nickname far and wide.
I slid a chocolate frog packet to her " I hope you could forget who exactly came up with such a silly name. It is after all harmless fun isn't it?" I asked with what I hoped was a calm and confident smile.
She smiled even wider " Melissa Belladonna, Hawthorn was it? I shall remember the name." She said and pocketed the frog packet in a one smooth motion as she stood up and moved hastily over to a mostly female group of slytherins further down the table.
Tweak had supplied me with such items, and advised me to keep them at hand for occasions such as this. Money of course would be better but I don't have much to spare and I didn't ask where my spymaster acquired the chocolate frogs, which are apparently almost a currency on their own right, here in Hogwarts.
I too got up and moved to go to the Library once more to finish my homework for the day. I wanted to do all of my schoolwork fast and get to practice magic. There has been very little practical work in any subject, so far. Which was very beneficial to me so I could push my own personal practices in subjects I deemed "vital"
I let the corridor fill ahead of me, then slipped into the flow at an angle, allowing myself to be carried along without committing to any particular group. A few Slytherins passed me without comment. One or two glanced, weighing whether I was worth addressing.
Not yet, apparently.
The path to the library was not difficult to follow. Students moved with purpose in that direction—mostly Ravenclaws, with the occasional Hufflepuff and the rare Gryffindor who looked like they had been told, rather than decided, to go.
The doors stood open. Inside, the air shifted immediately.
Cooler and dimmer without somehow making it difficult to read which in my opinion was up there with the most "magical" enchantments I have seen so far. Not that I had any real evidence of it being so but I had simply decided it to be so, so it was until I had evidence on the contrary.
Rows upon rows of shelves stretched outward, each one filled to the point of excess. Books of varying sizes and ages sat in careful arrangement, some worn, others pristine. The smell of parchment and ink lingered faintly, layered over something that smelled to me like beeswax on the wood.
I paused just inside the entrance, taking it in. It felt like home.
I stepped further in moving towards my regular table.
Madam Pince sat at her desk like a sentinel, her gaze sharp enough to suggest that even the thought of damaging a book should be enough to get someone removed. I gave her a small, polite nod as I passed.
She did not return it.
That was fine.
Respect didn't need to be mutual.
I moved between the shelves at a measured pace, not searching for anything specific at first. Letting my presence settle. Letting others notice—if they chose to.
A few did.
A Ravenclaw boy glanced up from a table, eyes flicking briefly over me before returning to his work. Another student—older—watched longer, assessing, then dismissed me just as quickly.
No one spoke.
That was expected.
The library wasn't the common room.
Conversation here had to be worth it.
I selected a table that was neither isolated nor central. Close enough to others to invite interaction. Far enough to avoid being forced into it.
Then I opened my bag.
The homework was straightforward.
Charms first.
Notes from the lesson, copied cleanly. Control was control, regardless of application. I focused on doing it correctly in one go,since I would have to write it again if I made a mistake. mainly because the quills and ink were not easy to erase and I hadn't invested anything in blotting paper so that kinda backfired on me now.
I wrote with steady precision, not rushing, not dragging it out either.
Potions followed.
Even if the teacher seemed more interested in intimidation than instruction.
I was midway through reviewing a section I just wrote when someone spoke.
"Your grip is wrong."
The voice was quiet, but not hesitant.
I looked up.
A girl stood across the table, perhaps a year or two older. Ravenclaw, judging by the colors. Her posture was straight, her expression neutral, perhaps the color of my robes causing her wariness.
"My grip?" I repeated.
She gestured lightly toward my quill.
"You're holding it like a wand. It's slowing you down."
I glanced at my hand.
Then adjusted, slightly.
It did feel… different.
"Thanks, I owe you one," I said. Something I would do my damnedest to never utter to a Slytherin but Tweak and I had come to a decision that owing favors as a Slytherin,would make me more easily approachable and it would net me more contacts in other houses.
She nodded once, as if that concluded the interaction, then turned to leave. Posture straight as an arrow.
"Wait," I said, before she took more than a step.
She paused.
I didn't ask her name. She would have given it if she wanted me to know it.
"There was third stirring pattern in today's potion," I said. "Clockwise, then counter. Why?"
She studied me for a moment.
Just… measuring. Then she got this slightly eager expression as she began to explain.
"Stabilization," she said. "Prevents separation after the infusion stage. It's basic."
"I prefer not to ask questions that I can find answers later on my own," I replied.
A faint shift at the corner of her mouth. Almost knowing not quite a smile.
"Or ones that cost more than they are worth asking?" she said.
I inclined my head slightly.
"Something like that."
She held my gaze for another moment, then gave a short nod.
"Fair."
I gave a polite smile "Thanks again,my name is Alexander, keep it in mind if you find anything a first year could help you out with, do not hesitate, I do not much like owing others."
She nodded with an actual smile and left without another word, returning to her own table a few rows away.
I watched her go briefly, then returned to my work.
I adjusted my grip again, letting the quill move more naturally this time leaning against my index finger.
Cleaner and more effortless to hold and much easier to control.
Two weeks of writing like a moron and a single pointer made the whole process so much more painless.
I thought
I continued working until the assignments were complete, then remained seated a moment longer, reviewing what I had written.
There was no point in having knowledge if I couldn't use it.
Around me, the library had filled out a bit with noise, quiet conversations turning pages.
Occasional movement.
I closed my school books and placed them back into my bag.
This would do for now.
As I stood, my gaze drifted once more across the room.
Different houses and different motivations, yet all would come to the library at times.
I hadn't taken more than a few steps toward the exit when a quieter cluster near the side tables caught my attention.
Not because they were loud simply because I recognised them.
Two girls sat across from each other, books open, notes scattered between them. Hufflepuff colors. Their posture was relaxed, but not careless—focused in a way that suggested they actually intended to finish what they had started.
Susan Bones.
The name had come up often enough already, usually spoken with a certain weight behind it. Family mattered here, and hers carried more than most. The other—Hannah Abbott, if I remembered correctly—leaned slightly forward, quill moving steadily as she wrote.
They weren't talking.
Working hard as Helga had hoped from her students.
I adjusted my path just enough to pass their table without making it obvious that I had intended to stop there. A glance. A pause—just long enough to notice something.
Susan's notes. She was working on a Potions assignment.
Neat. Structured. But… incomplete.
I stopped next to their table.
"Did Snape mention the temperature adjustment after the third stage," I asked quietly, "or was that implied?"
Both of them looked up.
Hannah first—surprised, but not guarded.
Susan a fraction later—more measured.
"…Implied," she said after a moment. "He doesn't usually bother saying it outright."
I nodded once, as if confirming something I already suspected.
"That's what I thought."
Silence lingered for a second.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… open.
Hannah glanced between us, curiosity winning out over hesitation.
"You're in Slytherin," she said, not quite a question.
"I am."
"And you're… asking about Potions?"
There was something almost amused in her tone, like the combination didn't quite fit her expectations.
"I prefer to understand what I'm doing," I replied simply. "Even when it's straightforward."
Susan's gaze sharpened slightly at that.
Not hostile.
Interested.
"You didn't ask in class," she said.
"Neither did you," I returned.
A small pause.
Then—
Hannah smiled.
Not wide, not overly friendly, but genuine enough to shift the tone of the table.
"That's because asking Snape questions feels like volunteering for execution," she said under her breath.
A corner of my mouth lifted slightly.
"No executions are usually fast and permanent, in his case pain is slow and repeatable as often as possible."
Both girls giggled at that
"He expects you to already know," Susan said. "Or at least to figure it out quickly."
"Which isn't unreasonable," I replied. "Provided the consequences for failure aren't… excessive."
That earned a faint huff of amusement from Hannah.
Susan didn't laugh.
But she didn't disagree either.
There was another brief pause, then she shifted one of her notes slightly toward me—not offering it, exactly, but not keeping it back either.
"You missed a step," she said. "After the initial infusion. The stirring pattern matters more than it looks."
"I was told," I said, adjusting my quill grip unconsciously. "Clockwise, then counter."
Hannah blinked.
"You were told?"
I nodded
Susan watched the adjustment of my hand, then the notes, then me.
"You adapt quickly," she said.
It wasn't praise.
It was an observation.
"Quick is good, quick keeps mice alive," I replied with Mary's immortal sayings she liked to repeat every time she didn't move according to her expected speed.
Hannah leaned back slightly in her chair, studying me with open curiosity now.
"You don't sound like the other Slytherins," she said.
I met her gaze briefly.
"Hmm I might be my fault, since I try to communicate without the sneer of death Mr.Malfoy apparently perfected since birth or so his father apparently says"
Girls gave a small giggle at that too.
Susan recovered quickly.
"You came here for homework, are you done already?" she asked.
"Yes."
I inclined my head slightly.
"It seemed practical to get it done as fast as possible."
Another bout of silence.
Hannah glanced at Susan, then back at me.
"You can sit, you know," she said. "If you're going to hover there and ask questions anyway."
I considered it for half a second.
Then I took a seat at their table, dropping my bag next to my chair.
"Thank you."
I took out my writing implements and asked them questions. I mostly knew the answers already, but it didn't harm to be thorough and see if I missed anything. I wrote down their answers
Hannah spoke more, filling the silence when it stretched too long. Susan corrected her at times, precise in a way that suggested she valued accuracy and wasn't afraid to correct her friend.
Between the two of them, the gaps in my notes closed quickly.
I also learned how the two Hufflepuffs worked.
Hannah was open, conversational, quick to trust but not careless.
Susan on the other hand was more measured, observant, less inclined to speak unless there was a real reason.
At one point, Hannah glanced at my notes again.
"You write like you're expecting someone to read over your shoulder," she said.
"I am," I replied without looking up.
She blinked.
"…Right now?" She asked and glanced behind me to see if there was anyone lurking there.
"Eventually."
She seemed to accept that answer after a moment, though I wasn't entirely sure she understood it.
Susan did.
Or at least, she understood enough not to question it.
Time passed without feeling wasted.
When the work was done, I closed my book and gathered my things.
"Finally done, it's more efficient to work here than in the house common room, there's too much noise in there." Hannah said, sounding faintly pleased with the outcome.
"It was," I agreed. The efficient part,not so much with the noise.
Susan nodded once.
"You ask the right questions," she said. "Most people don't even realise to ask"
"Most people ask too many and mostly off topic," I replied with an uncharacteristic yawn.
"If I need clarification again," I added, "would this be a good place to find you two?"
Hannah opened her mouth immediately.
"Usually—"
"Yes," Susan said at the same time.
Hannah blinked, then laughed quietly.
"Yeah. Here."
I inclined my head once more.
"Good to know."
I collected my stuff, packed them and got up.
"Ladies" I said without thinking, turning quickly and stepped away from the table.
I kept my face straight and hoped I didn't blush as much as I felt I did. It was an instinctive response. I used it all the time at the Leaky Cauldron.
Let's hope it's as normal a thing to say here as it was there.
Most students had already returned toward their common rooms, or like I was just now. We're still in the library studying.
The late evening quiet of Hogwarts had begun to settle in properly now. Torches burned lower. Footsteps carried further.
I adjusted the strap of my bag and continued walking at an unhurried pace.
The Room of Requirement had become less of a mystery and more of a habit over the last few days. Not fully understood—far from it—but understood enough to trust within reason.
Practicing in abandoned classrooms had started feeling increasingly stupid recently.
At first it seemed like a clever idea. Empty rooms. Forgotten corners. Spare corridors. Somewhat giving me room to explore too.
Then I realized something obvious.
I had no idea how to secure them.
No sound warding or proper concealment charms. No way to know if someone was listening behind the door or watching through some portrait I hadn't noticed.
Which meant all it would take was one curious student and I would suddenly have a great many uncomfortable questions to answer. Not to mention if I wanted to be known about something, abusing random patches of wall with spells practice wasn't it.
So the Room of Requirement it was.
I passed the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls ballet the first time thinking about a practice room and slowed slightly.
There was smoke drifting near the wall.
I stopped, then blinked once.
Tweak was leaning against the wall beside the tapestry with one foot propped behind her against the wall, one arm in a pocket her ever present fedora sat low over her eyes.
Between two fingers of her other hand she held what looked suspiciously like a burning cinnamon stick wrapped in parchment.
She inhaled deeply from it.
Then blew out smoke in a slow stream toward the ceiling making it form a way too huge cloud of smoke to not be magically aided.
"…Tweak."
She tilted her head upward slightly without moving from the wall.
"Master Alexander," she rasped dramatically. "The night grows dangerous."
I stared at her for several long seconds.
"…Why are you smoking?"
She looked down at the little burning stick in confusion.
"I am conducting espionage aesthetics."
"…I see." I said without actually seeing anything since the hallway was filled with smoke now, that smelled pleasantly of cinnamon.
I activated my mage sight to see in the smoke.
She nodded solemnly.
"It improves secret meetings."
The smell of cinnamon drifted all around me.
Well It smells better than Professor Quirrell's classroom at least.
"Tweak," I said carefully, "where exactly did you learn this?"
"Cinema." she said with her raspy voice.
"…Of course you did." I sighed and started to pace again to open the door.
She pushed herself off the wall with exaggerated smoothness and fell into step beside me.
Invisible now mainly because of the smoke, though I could still hear the tiny swish of her oversized coat every few steps.
The quite huge cloud of smoke still lingered in the hallway hiding us both. I hoped no one would come and witness this no doubt bizarre scene.
"I have important intelligence," she whispered, not looking at me.
"You usually do." I nodded trying to focus on the room I needed.
"There is a hit ordered on you." she rasped gravely.
That made me glance slightly toward her voice.
"Explain."
"Marcus Flint spoke with two third-years after dinner," she said promptly. "He told them to hex you a little."
"…A little." I asked, half amused.
"Yes." she confirmed
"That is reassuring."
"He said you were becoming 'too comfortable at the place of your betters'."
I hummed quietly.
So Flint had finally grown tired of uncertainty. The mere possibility of me being the kind he hated was already enough justification in his mind. So he did something about it. Not personally of course that would require effort.
"Where?" I asked and made a last turn to walk once more by the tapestry
"The lower corridor near the unused Charms storage rooms," she said. "On the path back toward Slytherin."
I considered that for a moment.
"Did Flint say why?"
Tweak snorted softly.
"He said if you are muggleborn then you should learn your place early."
So exactly what I expected then. Not strategy or politics.
Just stupidity dressed as tradition. I exhaled slowly through my nose.
"Do they know I know?"
"No Master, how could they?." she scoffed.
"Good." I nodded and turned toward an empty stretch of wall.
A door appeared.
Tweak made a wondering sound beside me despite having seen this several times already.
I opened the door and stepped inside.
The room answered my needs immediately.
Wide open floor and stone walls reinforced with layered enchantments I could feel when I put my hand near the wall. Practice dummies standing along one side. Shelves of books near the back. Targets painted against distant walls.Soft floating lights overhead.
The room was safe,quiet and most importantly private.
Tweak wandered further inside with visible delight.
"It looks like a villain's headquarters."
"…That is not the impression I was hoping for." I muttered
"It has an atmosphere." Tweak insisted.
I set my bag down near one of the tables and drew my wand.
"Show me the dueling book again."
Tweak immediately dug through her coat somehow producing a worn thin volume nearly half her size.
I still had no idea where she kept finding storage space inside that coat.
The book landed on the table with a dull thump.
Practical Defensive Casting for Young Duelists.
A surprisingly sensible book overall.Most of the spells inside focused on: movement, disruption, deflection, distance.
Not power.Which made sense. Dead duelists rarely improved. I flipped through several marked pages before stopping.
Orbis Reflecta.
The notes beneath it were short.
Creates a temporary reflective magical field on the tip of the wand capable of redirecting or glancing away incoming spellwork. Ineffective against sustained or highly powerful curses. DO NOT CALL IT SWATTING! SPELLS ARE NOT FLIES!!
Exactly what I needed. Apparently the author was mad about people calling his technique, spell swatting.
I get it, it sounds less dignified. This was more of art for not just brute shield so in my opinion it deserves some dignity.
I stepped into the center of the room.
Raised my wand.
"Orbis Reflecta."
The wand movement curved outward in a half-circle.
A faint shimmer flickered into existence around the tip of my wand, ironically it was quite big which according to the book was a mark of an amateur.
A master duelist's Orbis was supposedly almost invisible and small enough to escape notice entirely. That was the beauty of the art. It consumed far less mana than a true shield charm and, with enough skill, could redirect spells back at the caster with nothing more than a flick of the wrist.
I frowned slightly trying to picture a smaller Orbis and more clear and see through.
Again.
"Orbis Reflecta."
This time the shield held longer.
A curved transparent bubble the size of an apple around the tip of my wand.
Not stable yet but present.
I stepped sideways experimentally while holding it.
I let the spell collapse.
Tweak clapped enthusiastically from sitting on the shoulder of a practice dummy.
"Master is becoming terrifying." She said with a wide smile.
"Not really." I said with a smile
"Moderately concerning then." She continued with the same wide smile, ears flapping as she kept nodding.
"That sounds more accurate." I acquiesced
I moved on to the next one.
The Tongue-Tying Hex came easier than expected.
A quick precise spell.
"Langlock" I cast with a quick flick towards a dummy that had its mouth open and tongue visible and immediately as the tongue hit the roof of the puppets mouth, there was a ding sound and a green flag rose atop its head.
The spell proved disturbingly easy to learn. Especially useful since most witches and wizards apparently couldn't cast wordlessly. Fortunately, Finite Incantatem happened to counter it quite nicely and most of last week went to mastering that one spell to such a degree.
I was admittedly proud of that one. The foundation I had built within my mind was probably the only reason I possessed enough focus and will to pull it off at all.
I moved on to the next jinx I had picked out for practice a few days earlier.
False Burning Jinx Incantation: Ardens
A minor sensory jinx commonly used in introductory dueling. Causes no true injury, but induces a brief burning sensation accompanied with a illusionary red hot welt emanating smoke. Based on the victims own memories about burning themselves and thus very effective.
Useful spell. Especially against wand hands.
At first, I had assumed it was simply a minor fire Jinx. The word false in the book had faded badly enough that I hadn't even noticed it.
It took several castings before I realized I wasn't doing the spell incorrectly.
There was simply no actual fire involved at all. The spell produced a visual effect of smoke and fiery red marks on the affected areas. Later inspection though showed no damage done. Afterwards I went and read the spell description more thoroughly and found out the truth.
I have come to learn that combat casting was exhausting in a way ordinary magic wasn't.
Not physically but mentally. Something about the fact that I have to be quick or else makes the casting ten times harder.
Everything required intention and precision. Speed of wand arm, prediction on where the enemy is going to be as the spell hits and sharp intent to make the magic happen as intended precisely when and where needed not a second earlier or later. It was nerve wracking and I was only practising with walls and puppets so far.
No wonder duelists in the book looked so tired. The amount of mental gymnastics they go through in such a short time is staggering.
I slid my wand back into its holster without a second thought and rolled my shoulders a few times.
"Tweak."
"Yes Master?"
"Tell me exactly where they're waiting."
The lower corridor was dark enough that most students avoided it at night.
Which made it ideal for an ambush.
Or for avoiding one.
I slowed near the corner before the corridor opened fully ahead.
Low voices muttering and whispering sounding utterly bored.
"…taking forever." said one voice
"He'll come." hissed the other.
I glanced toward Tweak standing invisibly beside the ceiling somehow upside down.
She pointed helpfully downward.
Right.
I slipped quietly along the hidden corner cutter passage instead. There were quite a few such hidden passages whose sole purpose seemed to be to avoid intersections such as this.
The Predatory Stalking Charm had long since made my steps nearly silent whether I consciously focused on stealth or not.
Now I was focused.
I had pulled my robe hood over my head and moved in the shadows slowly getting close to them from behind.
The older students stood near the corridor intersection ahead. They were sneaking glances to the corridor I should have been arriving by peeking from the corner.
They had their wands out and other than their peeking they looked utterly relaxed.
Neither looked behind them just down at the hallway and hissed at each other.
Mistake.
I drew my wand silently. Aiming at the closer ones back.
For a brief moment I hesitated, this was completely different from practice.
Different from target dummies or walls that I drew targets with chalk.
"Petrificus Totalus." I cast before I would ruin the element of surprise.
The spell struck cleanly and the boy stiffened instantly and crashed sideways onto the stone floor.
The second spun around immediately. He was Fast,too fast. A flash of light erupted toward me.
"Reflecta" I gasped and swatted at the incoming spell on an instinct alone.
The shield shimmered violently as the curse came into contact with it and I felt my grip almost slip from my wand as the momentum of the spell turned me and directed the curse sideways into the wall.
The impact nearly broke my concentration immediately.
Merlin!That hit harder than expected.
The older student's eyes widened comically. Not sure if it was at my feat of accidentally batting away his curse or just..
At me. about the fact, I had attacked first without asking any questions.
Good.
Confused people made mistakes.
I snapped my wand downward.
"Ardens!" I cried out
The Jinx struck his wrist.
He yelped violently as heat burst across his wrist. Red angry looking welt accompanied with a thin line of smoke and smell of frying bacon had him whimpering and immediately his wand clattered onto the floor as he clutched his wrist.
Before he recovered—
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The second body locked rigid and he too toppled backward, landing luckily on top of his friend.
Silence returned immediately.
I stood there breathing harder than such a short confrontation had any reason to cause.
My heart was hammering frantically,hands slightly unsteady.
Too easily and far too close for comfort,if even one thing had gone differently...
I stared at the two frozen boys for another moment.
Then I adjusted my tie, slid my wand in its holster and turned to walk further away before I lowered my hood.
It's not hard to figure out who attacked them but still.
I thought as I straightened my sleeves and calmly walked deeper down in the dungeons
Slowly my breath calmed down.
"Tweak." I whispered
"Yes Master?" came her voice from the ceiling still.
"Let's return, we have a performance to participate in."
She appeared beside me again, fedora tilted low.
"The enemy has been neutralized." She rasped the parchment wrapped cinnamon stick between her fingers again.
"…Please never say that again." I sighed slightly amused none the less
"No promises." she said more cheerfully and added" you planning on acting all innocent and ignorant master?" She asked eagerly
I simply nodded. " Best plan on such short notice" I said.
The corridors felt quieter on the way back.
I walked at an even pace beside Tweak, forcing my breathing to steady completely before we reached the dungeons proper.
The adrenaline had begun fading now. My hands were shaking now more and more, so I shoved them in my robe pockets
The duel—if it could even be called that—kept replaying in my mind in uncomfortable fragments.
The speed of it,the panic. The way the shield had almost failed immediately. Most importantly,how easily things could have gone wrong.
If the first spell had missed,if the second boy had reacted faster. If I had hesitated even a few seconds longer.
I disliked how many versions of that encounter ended with me on the floor.
Useful lesson no doubt.
Tweak walked beside me invisibly for several steps before speaking.
"My master handled the ambush like a proper sneaky Slytherin." She praised and ate the cinnamon stick she had been smoking.
"It was nearly a catastrophe." I said through my gritted teeth, angry at my own weakness.
"You won." She said simply.
I guess she has a point.
We rounded the final corner leading toward the Slytherins "entrance". I had taken to using it most times. No real reason but seeming less informed seemed like a good strategy to stay a few steps ahead.
Slytherin House seemed to become more active the later it got.
I slowed slightly before the entrance wall as Tweak gave me a jaunty salute and vanished.
The common room beyond was alive with low conversation and firelight when I stepped through.
Students clustered in their usual territories around the room study corners and armchairs around the fireplaces, small political ecosystems pretending not to be just that.
No one paid immediate attention to me, and I was even lucky that Flint and his crew were far too invested in their conversation to notice me arriving.
Good, this is good.
I moved toward one of the quieter sections near the edge of the room and reached automatically for a book from my bag mostly to complete the illusion of normalcy. I also spread some homework parchments and quills near me to sell the illusion of time spent here.
That was when Malfoy's voice carried across the room.
"All I had to say was, 'I heard some Gryffindors planning on thrashing the trophy room at midnight' and he was rushing to oil his shackles he always brags about with manic glee" he was saying smugly. "Honestly, Potter is practically walking himself out of Hogwarts with this stunt."
A few students nearby chuckled.
Crabbe and Goyle looked particularly delighted despite clearly not understanding half the story or why would any of it matter.
I remained where I was, outwardly uninterested, staring at the randomly chosen book and turning the page whenever my eyes reached the bottom. All the while, I listened carefully.
"They actually went?" one older Slytherin girl asked genuinely bewildered."Do they even know any magic?" She added
"Of course they did," Malfoy said with a dismissive scoff. " Weasley accepted the duel before Potter could even think about it. We only had to mention the trophy room and let stupidity handle the rest." He said amused by his own brilliance"Honestly Weasley might know a spell or two,but I doubt it, and about Potter.. he's as muggle as they come" he spat out.
So he hadn't even intended to show up,predictable.
The older girl shook her head in disbelief of the Gryffindor duo's stupidity.
Parkinson giggled nearby.
"Is Filch really allowed to use the shackles on students?"
Malfoy's expression soured slightly.
"Apparently not," he admitted. "Though not from the amount of trying to get the old punishment back what I heard."
That regained some approval around the room.
Not because they liked Malfoy.
Because successful humiliation was respectable currency here.
"Honestly," Malfoy continued with exaggerated boredom, "it was barely worth the effort. Potter looked terrified during flying lessons already. He practically shakes every time someone challenges him."
Interesting.
That sounded less like confidence and more like someone reassuring himself.
It seems Mr.Malfoy has a chip on his shoulder for some reason.
Across the room, Marcus Flint barked a short laugh from near the fireplace and turned toward Malfoy
"You first-years are getting soft," he said loudly. "Back in my first year people actually got hexed during midnight duels every other week"
A few older students laughed.
The two third-years from earlier were still absent.
Hopefully still lying on the hallway floor considering their life choices.
A small vindictive smile passed through my face at that thought, luckily my face was hidden mostly behind.. What book was it?
I glanced at it" thousand magical herbs and fungi"
Oh, well herbology it is then
Flint noticed it too..eventually.
His eyes swept the room once. Looking for either then or me.
Then again. This time more sharply studying every shadowy figure around the room.
Slight annoyance crept into his expression.
I lowered my gaze back toward my open book before he could look in my direction too long and notice me.
The trick now wasn't victory but normalcy.
Tweak appeared briefly beside the armchair opposite mine, invisible except for the fedora she had apparently forgotten to hide.
She gave me a dramatic thumbs up before vanishing again.
Merlin help me!
I thought with a small smile at her shenanigans.
Across the room Malfoy's voice rose once more.
"…Father says people reveal themselves the moment pressure is applied."
"And what do you reveal?" a lazy older voice asked from somewhere near the fireplace, the speaker was but a shadow against the firelight but he had quite a following surrounding him so Malfoy had no choice but to answer politely.
Probably the fact he quieted the nearby conversation completely cued Malfoy in too.
Malfoy hesitated.
"So far?" he said carefully, bravado recovering quickly. "Good judgment."
A few approving murmurs followed. The boy in the armchair by the fire said nothing.
Malfoy was performing and somewhere along the way he had started believing the performance himself.
I leaned back slightly in my chair, watching the firelight shift across the room.
Slytherin House really was divided strangely.
The loud students believed influence came from being seen.
The quiet ones watched everything and committed almost nothing to words.
And the dangerous part?
The loud ones rarely realized the quiet ones were letting them speak.
I remained in the common room long enough to be remembered and that leaving wouldn't look suspicious.
Most people there were too focused on their own conversations, alliances, and quiet little wars to pay much attention to one first-year sitting with a book near the edge of the room.
Eventually the room began thinning.
Older students disappeared first.Then the more social first-years.The fireplaces burned lower.
That was my cue.
I closed the book, returned it to my bag. Then I packed the rest of the scenic designs I had added to make it look like I had spent hours sitting here.
No one stopped or even bothered me.
Though I did catch Flint watching me briefly as I crossed the room. He looked a bit confused.
Trying to fit pieces together.
I gave him nothing to work with and continued toward the dormitory stairs.
The mirror entrance shimmered softly when I tapped it with my wand.
Then I stepped into my room and sealed it behind me.
Silence settled immediately.
Real silence.
I exhaled slowly.
Only now realizing how tense my shoulders still were.
The room looked… different.
I stopped just inside the doorway.
"Tweak."
A proud little pop sounded somewhere to my right.
She appeared standing atop a chair with all the dignity of a royal architect unveiling a masterpiece.
"Master has returned to headquarters."
I glanced around properly this time.
Several narrow shelves had appeared along the far wall beside the desk, now holding neatly organized stacks of books instead of the increasingly unstable piles I had been making on the floor.
Not a random organization either.
Charms together. Theory texts grouped separately. Practical dueling books lower down for easier access.
Even the borrowed library books sat in their own precise section.
"…You reorganized everything."
Tweak straightened proudly beneath her oversized trench coat.
"Yes."
"It actually makes sense." I continued
"Yes."
"That's quite a feat from you." I got out
She ignored that entirely and pointed dramatically toward the opposite wall.
"Behold!"
I followed her gesture.
A small glass-fronted cabinet stood there now.
Dark wood,polished carefully to a dull gleam. Tiny brass accents and hinges. Few snake motifs.
A plaque sat proudly near the top.
"Victories in the Shadows"
I stared at it for several seconds.
Then slowly walked closer.
"Tweak."
"Yes Master?"
"…Why do I have a trophy case?"
"Because secret victories still deserve recognition."
I pinched the bridge of my nose briefly.
Then I looked inside properly.
There were already three objects displayed carefully within.
The first was a bent spoon.
I blinked once.
"…Explain."
"That belonged to Mister Goyle," Tweak said immediately. "He bent it trying to open a pudding tin during dinner." She said with emphatic nod
I stared at her.
"That is not my victory." I pointed out
"You witnessed it successfully." She said with another nod
I moved to the second object. A folded bit of green fabric.
Recognition came immediately.
"…Is that from your spy outfit?" I asked
Tweak nodded proudly. "The original collar."
"Why is it in the trophy case?" I asked even though I was almost certain I didn't wish to know.
"First successful infiltration attire."
"…Successful?"
"I startled Master Alexander so badly he fell over."
That…I guess could be counted.
I sighed quietly and moved to the third object.
A wand.
No.
Not a wand.
One of the cheap imitation ones students sometimes bought for practicing motions without risking their real wand.
Burn marks blackened the center.
I frowned slightly.
"That's not mine."
"No," Tweak agreed cheerfully. "It belonged to the third-year who tried to ambush Master."
I looked at her slowly.
"…You stole his practice stick." I asked amused
"It was unattended in his pocket so I liberated it as he slept in the hallway."
"That is not better."
I stared at the cabinet again.
Then despite myself—
A laugh escaped me.
Tweak immediately looked unbearably pleased with herself.
"I knew the Master would appreciate the atmosphere."
"That word has lost all meaning around you." I muttered
I loosened my tie and dropped my bag beside the desk before lowering myself onto the edge of the bed.
The room felt… lived in now.
Not just occupied.
The shelves, the books, even the ridiculous trophy case. The faint smell of parchment and cinnamon lingering from Tweak's fake smoking habit.
A strange feeling settled in my chest.
Not safety exactly,but something adjacent to it.
Tweak climbed onto the chair beside the desk and crossed her legs importantly.
"Master Alexander now has a secret headquarters,a spy network, combat victories, and an intimidating reputation."
She said with a proud smile
"You are becoming a proper mysterious Slytherin." She added.
I leaned back slightly against the wall behind the bed.
"…I think I'm becoming sleep deprived."
"That too," she admitted.
I closed my eyes briefly.
Then opened one again toward the cabinet.
"The spoon." I started
"It remains." Tweak said immediately with finality.