Rowan didn't waste time. "Velocitas." His movements accelerated, reactions quickening. Then "Mens Acuta." The mental enhancement settled over him, the world sharpening into crystalline focus.h
He opened with his fastest combination, the one that had won him matches in the tournament. "Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Flipendo!" The curved Knockback Jinx followed the Disarmer. "Petrificus Totalus!" All in under two seconds with Velocitas active.
Hecat's shield absorbed the first two, deflected the third, and she simply stepped aside from the fourth, her movements economical and precise despite his enhanced speed. Her counter was instantaneous.
Three spells Rowan had never seen before, all cast without a word. He'd faced silent casting from upper-years often enough, but Hecat's were different. Full strength. No loss of power at all. The pattern gave him no time to respond even with Mens Acuta's enhanced perception. He managed to raise a shield, but whatever Hecat's first spell was, it shattered his Protego like glass.
The second spell, some kind of binding charm, wrapped around his legs. The third struck his chest, and suddenly he couldn't move at all. Couldn't speak. Could barely breathe.
His wand was still in his hand, but his fingers wouldn't respond. The enhancements were still active. He could feel them, could perceive everything with perfect clarity. But it didn't matter when he was completely immobilized.
Hecat flicked her wand and the spell released. Rowan gasped, stumbling.
The entire exchange had taken maybe seven seconds.
"Again," Hecat said.
This time Rowan tried a different approach. "Protego!" A spherical shield to buy time, sustained with every bit of focus Mens Acuta provided. Then he launched the modified curse pattern that had worked against Apolline Beaumont. "Stupefy!" curved left while "Flipendo!" came from the right, his Velocitas-enhanced speed making the combination nearly simultaneous.
Hecat walked through his defenses like they weren't there. A spell that made his shield evaporate despite his enhanced focus. Another that seemed to pull his wand hand off-target even with his improved reactions. A third that hit him before he even saw it cast.
He was frozen again. Helpless. The enhancements still active but useless.
She released him.
"Third time," Hecat said calmly.
Rowan tried everything. Speed casting enhanced by Velocitas. "Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Flipendo! Impedimenta!" His Mens Acuta-sharpened perception tracked every angle, but every spell was vocalized, every incantation a tell that Hecat could read. Nothing worked. Hecat anticipated every strategy, countered every combination, and ended each exchange in under ten seconds regardless of his enhancements.
After the fifth attempt, Rowan was breathing hard, his magical reserves depleted from maintaining both spells throughout multiple duels. Hecat looked barely winded.
"That's enough," she said, lowering her wand. "Sit."
Rowan sat on the edge of the platform, his pride bruised but his mind racing with analysis.
"You're incredibly skilled for a twelve-year-old," Hecat said, sitting beside him. "The best I've ever trained at your age. Your silver medal was earned through genuine excellence. Those enhancement spells of yours are impressive. Most adult wizards can't maintain even one for more than a few seconds in combat, and you kept both active throughout five duels."
She paused, letting that sink in.
"But there's still a fundamental difference between you and a fully-trained adult witch or wizard. You felt it, didn't you? Even with your enhancements, you couldn't match what I was doing."
"Magical power," Rowan said. "And your silent casting. Every spell I threw announced itself. You could read everything coming."
"Both," Hecat agreed. "Your core is still developing. Won't reach full capacity until you're seventeen or eighteen. And you already know the problem with silent casting at your age. The power loss. For now, vocalizing is the right choice." She paused. "But it does mean I can read your every move."
"Am I always going to be at that disadvantage?" he asked. "Until I'm older?"
"Against opponents like me? Yes. Against most adult wizards?" Hecat considered. "Most adult wizards are mediocre duelists. You could beat them now through superior technique. Against trained adults, skilled adults, adults who know what they're doing. You'll struggle until your magical core finishes developing."
She stood, offering him a hand up.
"You're exceptional, Rowan. You need to understand your limits. Overconfidence against the wrong opponent could get you killed."
"I understand, Professor."
"Good. I'll continue training you privately, and you're welcome at dueling club. I'll start participating in your matches occasionally to keep you sharp. You need opponents who can actually challenge you."
After Hecat dismissed him, Rowan made his way back to Ravenclaw Tower slowly, his mind working through the problem.
He'd known, intellectually, that adult wizards were stronger. Experiencing it directly, Hecat dismantling his best techniques in seconds, was different. His magical core wouldn't reach full strength for years. Maybe there was another way.
When he reached the common room, it was nearly empty. Iris looked up from her homework.
"How did it go?"
"She destroyed me. Five times in a row."
"Ah." Iris set down her quill. "And now you're spiraling."
"I'm thinking."
"That's what spiraling sounds like when you do it." She closed her book. "Rowan, you spent a week trying to relax. Flying. Playing cards. Being our age. One bad duel and you're already planning something."
Rowan sat down across from her. She was right. The Flamels had told him. Build a life, not only a mission.
Hecat had just made all his training look like nothing.
"I know," he said quietly. "I know I'm doing it again. Obsessing. Looking for ways to get stronger faster."
"And?"
"And the Flamels have centuries. I don't." He met her eyes. "They're right about balance, about pacing yourself. But they're also immortal."
Iris studied him for a long moment. "You're going to do something reckless."
"I'm going to research first."
"Research that leads to reckless things." She sighed. "Promise me something. Whatever you find, whatever you're planning. Tell me before you do it. Let me try to talk you out of it."
"I promise."
She gathered her books. "I'm going to bed. Try not to stay up all night reading about dangerous rituals."
After she left, Rowan sat alone in the common room, staring at the fire.
The week of balance had been good. Flying with friends, wasting afternoons by the lake, playing cards in the evening. The Flamels were right about building a life alongside the work.
Then Hecat had shown him what a year of training looked like against real strength. She'd dismantled his best techniques in seconds. Made his silver medal feel small.
His magical core wouldn't reach full capacity until he was seventeen or eighteen. Five more years of being fundamentally weaker than trained adult wizards. Five years of being vulnerable.
There had to be another way. Some method, some technique the modern wizarding world had forgotten or dismissed. Ancient rituals, accelerated development, something that could close the gap faster than natural growth.
He wouldn't do anything reckless. Not immediately. But he could research. Understand what was possible.
And he knew exactly where to start looking.