“Sir… what about Mrs Norris? Could this spell have done that to her?”

“No,” he said after pausing. “This spell isn’t strong enough for that sort of work. What happened to the cat… that is a whole different kettle of fish.”

He set the chalk down, brushing the dust from his fingers. “All right. I want three historical examples of immobilisation spells in use outside combat. Off you go now.”

Cassian watched the last student slip out, the door clicking shut behind them. He slumped back into his chair, rubbing at the corner of his eye.

He didn’t have the faintest idea what had done that to Mrs Norris. Or to Creevey, the poor kid. Petrification was one thing, he could rattle off half a dozen spells and creatures capable of that. But the specifics… the cat’s stiffness, the frozen terror in Colin’s face, the sheer silence of it all… none of it fit neatly with what he knew.

And that was the problem. His knowledge of magical creatures wasn’t exactly stellar. He’d been filling in the gaps since taking this body, sure, but there were only so many hours in a day. Hogwarts had a habit of throwing curveballs at the worst possible moment. There wasn’t enough information yet. He didn’t like making guesses without facts to back them. But facts were thin on the ground.

Cassian ran a hand down his face and let out a long sigh. “Bloody hell,” he muttered to no one. “Why does everything in this castle have to be a riddle wrapped in a marvel?”

He dragged himself out of the chair and gathered up the last few stray parchments on the desk. He shoved them into his bag with a little more force than necessary, muttering under his breath as he worked.

“Diary’s gone, students are turning to stone, and Lucius Malfoy’s still swanning about like he owns the bloody world. Lovely little hat trick we’ve got going.”

“Right then,” he muttered. “Let’s see how many more fires have started while I’ve been teaching charm history to children who think beads on a string will save them.”

***

Early in December, Flitwick sent Cassian a note asking if he could drop by for tea. Cassian didn’t mind, he liked Flitwick. The man had a way of balancing cheer and razor-sharp competence that made for decent company. Cassian hadn’t been planning on much more than biscuits, a chat about term papers, and maybe a bit of gossip about Sprout’s Mandrakes. What he walked into instead was Lockhart halfway through an enthusiastic retelling of how he’d personally defeated a Dark Lord in East Asia.

“…and with nothing but a willow wand and sheer determination, I disarmed the Dark Lord. He wept, of course. Most Dark Lords do when they meet me. I had to comfort the poor man after… told him it wasn’t his fault I was so brilliant.”

Cassian stopped dead just inside the doorway. He let out a long sigh. One of those that started in his boots and carried straight out the top of his head. By the time Lockhart was winding up his tale, Cassian was still sighing.

Flitwick looked up from the tea tray, beaming as if he hadn’t noticed the sound of Cassian’s soul leaving his body. “Ah, Professor Rosier! Come in, come in. You’re just in time for a fresh story.”

Cassian stepped forward. “Oh joy!”

Lockhart, undeterred, waved a hand dramatically. “Ah, you jest, Rosier. But one day you will be grateful to have heard these tales first-hand. They are an education in bravery. I was just telling Filius about my duel with the infamous Feng Shui Marauder.”

Cassian’s brow ticked upward. “Feng Shui Marauder?”

“Yes, frightful chap. Very big on rearranging bodies and furniture.”

“Mm.” Cassian slid into a chair, fixing Lockhart with a look. “Sounds like a menace to interior design. Glad you set him straight.”

Flitwick hid a smile behind his teacup as Lockhart puffed up even further, clearly not catching the tone.

“Tea, Cassian?” The Charms Professor offered brightly.

“Yes, please. The stronger the better, unless you’ve got something stronger than tea stashed in your cupboards.”

Lockhart raised his own cup, “You’re in luck then, Rosier. Filius makes an excellent blend. Just the thing to loosen up a fellow and get him ready for a bit of fun.”

Cassian leaned back, one brow still raised. “I’m afraid to ask, but what sort of ‘fun’ are we talking about?”

Flitwick poured him a cup, handing it over. “Professor Lockhart had an idea for a new extracurricular activity. Thought you might want to join.”

Cassian accepted the tea, cradling it in his hands. “Did he now,” he said, taking a sip. “Pray tell, what does this extracurricular activity entail?”

Lockhart puffed out his chest, beaming heroically. “Why, I’ve decided to reestablish the Duelling Club!”

Cassian deadpanned, looking between two of them. “Come again?”

Lockhart leaned forward, clasping his hands as though he was about to unveil a masterstroke. “The Duelling Club! With recent events in the castle, what better way to teach the students to defend themselves?”

Cassian took another sip of his tea before muttering, “Right. Maybe it’d patch up what they should’ve learned in classes.”

Lockhart, blissfully oblivious to the jab, ploughed ahead. “Of course I shall be one of the teachers. I asked Filius if he wanted to join me, but he refused… claimed he was busy. Said you might want to lend a hand.”

Cassian’s brain skipped a beat. He slowly turned to Flitwick and shot him a look of pure betrayal. The Charms professor very deliberately avoided his gaze, suddenly fascinated by the ceiling.

Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Wonderful. Because what this castle really needed was first-years hurling jinxes at each other for sport.”

Lockhart, oblivious, sparkled. “Exactly! Builds confidence, discipline—”

“—and hospital wing occupancy,” Cassian added, turning to his left.

“Let me guess. You pitched it to him as a golden opportunity to inspire young minds while dazzling them with tales of your own duelling glory?” He asked Flitwick, who laughed innocently.

Lockhart gave a hearty laugh, throwing his hands out like a man used to applause. “Naturally. I am the most qualified wizard in the castle when it comes to duelling. My record speaks for itself.”

“Mm.” Cassian leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Well, it’s true your record speaks. Mostly in footnotes and corrections, but still, words on parchment.”

Flitwick’s moustache twitched as though he was fighting down a laugh.

Lockhart either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it. “I know what you’re thinking, Rosier, but believe me, this will be good for the students. They’re nervous. They need guidance, strength, someone to look up to in these troubled times.”

Cassian dragged a hand over his face. “Oh, I don’t doubt you’ll make a fine figurehead, Lockhart.”

Lockhart laughed like Cassian had handed him a proper compliment. It was almost impressive how the man’s ego could take a battering and still come up shining. Cassian leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly as he turned the idea over.

Duelling Club.

On the one hand, it sounded like a disaster waiting to happen, the club was closed for a reason… students throwing hexes at each other while Lockhart posed in the background like a peacock in silk robes would not end well. On the other hand…

He could embarrass Lockhart in front of the entire school. Publicly. Thoroughly. That alone made it tempting.

And if he played it right, he could use this as a chance to actually teach the kids something useful. He’d been barred from teaching practicals. Honestly, he hadn’t been keen on doing it back then, not when he wasn’t good with most of the standard curriculum charms. But now he was already proficient in nearly all of them. And this wasn’t class. Teaching duelling meant practical magic, proper stuff. The more he taught, the sharper he would get himself. He could polish his own skills while drilling them into the students. It was too good to turn down.

“All right,” Cassian said finally, swirling the tea in his cup. “I am in.”

Lockhart’s grin widened dangerously. “Marvellous! I knew you would see sense, Rosier.”

“Oh, I see something,” Cassian murmured, setting the cup down.

Lockhart stood, looking very pleased with himself. “We shall hold our first session this Thursday. I will handle the arrangements, the venue, the invitations, the grand opening speech.”

“Of course you will.” Cassian ran a hand down his face. “Just keep me out of your heroics. I will stick to the part where I stop students losing limbs.”

“You will see, Rosier.” Lockhart pointed a finger as if making a solemn vow. “It will be a roaring success. Parents will thank us.”

Cassian watched him pace around. “I doubt that,” he muttered. He looked at the two of them. “You do remember why this practice was cancelled, right?”

Lockhart’s grin never wavered. “Cancelled? My dear Rosier, I hardly think of it that way. I prefer to say… postponed, until a man of my experience was available to handle it. Duelling is the noblest of traditions! We cannot deny this art from our students.”

“Mm,” Cassian muttered, “noble until someone lost an eyebrow, an arm, or half a classroom. Last I checked, Madam Pomfrey wasn’t crying out for more business.”

Lockhart was too lost in his own words to notice Cassian’s expression. “Hogwarts hasn’t had one in years,” he went on, “not since… well, I forget, but it’s been dreadfully long.”

Cassian squinted. “You might’ve forgotten, Lockhart, but I haven’t.” 

Flitwick chuckled quietly into his cup. “There were… incidents. Students tended to get overzealous.”

“Overzealous,” Cassian repeated flatly. “That’s the polite version. The impolite version is, some bright spark decided to try a Blasting Curse indoors and Hogwarts hasn’t had symmetrical windows since. Should I name that bright spark or are we still censoring since he was a war hero?”

Lockhart waved a hand, unconcerned. “Exaggerations, surely. A well-guided lesson in my hands will be entirely safe.”

Cassian was deadpan. “Exaggerations? Lockhart, I don’t know if you are making light of the situation or you seriously forgot. You were Fifth Year, right? It’s impossible for you not to remember.”

Lockhart blinked, for once at a loss. “Well, it has been some time, and there were a lot of—”

“You don’t forget that sort of thing,” Cassian said, voice cold. “Not when a duel in the Great Hall ended with someone launched through a stained-glass window. Not when the hospital wing had to be expanded.”

Flitwick’s hands stilled over the teacups. His smile faded, replaced by something far older. “Cassian…”

Cassian didn’t look at him. “You remember too. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

There was a beat of quiet.

“I was there,” Cassian said. “First year. Bright-eyed, stupid. Thought Duelling Club was the most magical thing in the world. Until it wasn’t.”

Lockhart let out a light laugh, uncertain. “Surely you’re being dramatic—”

Cassian’s eyes cut to him. “I watched James Potter take down a Slytherin half-blood with a charm no student should’ve known. And I watched the professors lie about it when the poor bloke was bleeding on the ground.”

Not a Spoiler, Just an image! ↓

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Author Rant ↓ 

Spoiler

I asked for questions once. The silence made eye contact. It was awkward. I might’ve felt things.

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