Cassian stared. Suspicious. And utterly confused. Like he missed an entire chapter and was hoping someone had the good sense to summarise it.

It didn’t last though, raising an eyebrow, he leaned back into the chair.

“Well,” he said, teeth flashing. “I assume I am being knighted.”

Lucian scoffed from the window. “You are being paraded.”

Regulus coughed lightly, as if the words scraped his throat. “You did well in China.”

He tilted his head. “Did I?”

Regulus looked at him the way one might regard a confused duck. “Yes,” he said, very reluctant, as if spitting out a bone. “You did.”

Cassian froze, frowning slightly. “That is concerning.”

Regulus ignored it. “Master Ji praised your work. Both of you. Repeatedly.”

Cassian’s brows went up. “He did?”

Magnus made a sound like a very old book being shut. “You’ve no idea, do you?”

Cassian blinked. “Which part? The tea? The praise? The looming sense that I’ve stepped into someone else’s life and they’ve yet to notice?”

Lucian didn’t wait. “He sent letters to Hogwarts.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “Brilliant. You will have to narrow that down. He is a Headmaster, Lucian, of course he sends letters to Hogwarts.”

Lucian continued, “Master Ji sent Hogwarts letters to ask if Dumbledore was willing to allow you and that witch-“

Cassian’s eyes sharpened. “Choose your next few words very carefully, brother.”

Lucian actually gulped.

What in the frozen hells was going on?

Lucian never gulped. Lucian could face down wand-wielding maniacs with a smirk and a half-raised eyebrow. The man probably had duel-stances carved into his bones. But right now, he looked like he just stepped on a rune and didn’t know which limb it was going to explode.

Clenching his teeth, Lucian powered through it. “He asked for you and Professor Babbling to teach in Fenghuang School of Mystic Arts. Dumbledore refused. Repeatedly.”

“Wait, you are serious?” Cassian laughed, full-body, jaw-aching, ugly laugh that nearly had him sliding off the chair. He wheezed once. Wheezed again. Slapped his knee for dramatic effect.

He didn’t even say “this is interesting.” That would’ve been a kindness. This? This was comedy.

Lucian looked deeply uncomfortable. Catherine pinched her lips so tightly they’d gone white. Magnus didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as twitch a grey eyebrow.

Cassian took a deep breath to calm himself, wiping at his eye. “Oh, that is rich. You mean to tell me… Ji Wenqiang, Beard Supreme, Magical Godfather of the East, Terrifyingly Capable, wrote to Hogwarts to ask for me?”

Lucian gave a stiff nod.

“To ask for me and Bathsheda to teach at his school?”

Another nod. Very stiff. Might’ve cracked something in his neck.

“And Dumbledore refused? Repeatedly?” Cassian’s grin stretched wide. “So, let me get this straight. I nearly get cursed six ways to Sunday in a tomb older than iron tools in Britain, dodge international sabotage, decode glyphs while hallucinating temporal loops, and somehow end up with China’s Headmaster Dumbledore sending fanmail?”

Regulus cleared his throat. “They don’t call it fanmail.”

This explained the family’s faces… tight-lipped, twitchy-eyed, like someone had replaced their whisky with vinegar. He was a big shot now. Not just a novelty act at Hogwarts or the family’s pity hire. A proper, globally recognised scholar. Praised by Ji bloody Wenqiang. And not in passing, either… actual letters, actual signatures, actual impact.

Cassian sank in the chair, arms folded, soaking in the silence.

Oh, Lucian must be furious. The throne he’d been polishing for years, with his polished duelling boots and his Ministry smugness, now wobbling under the weight of someone he never even considered competition. Worse… someone he and Regulus had spent half a lifetime trying to shove into usefulness, just to stop the family name dragging through the dirt. Cassian, the reluctant project. The liability.

Now?

Now he was the bloody banner.

He didn’t say any of that aloud. Too much fun watching them squirm.

Regulus still held the parchment like it might curse him. His mouth had thinned into a line Cassian hadn’t seen since the day he brought home a grade lower than an ‘A’ … a ‘D’, no less.

“You are sure this isn’t a misprint?” Viola asked.

“No,” Lucian said, each word like pulling a tooth. “Dumbledore confirmed it. Twice. Apparently Master Ji is… insistent.”

Cassian couldn’t stop the grin. “Must be the beard. Makes people assertive.”

Regulus didn’t rise to the bait. That alone was suspicious.

“Enough,” Magnus said, cutting through the tension like a goblin blade through taffeta. “This is a good thing.”

That was so strange, no one knew what to do with their ears. Because it was… that word. Good. In the same room as Cassian. That hadn’t happened since he once correctly identified a basilisk skull as a garden ornament during a family duel when he was sixteen.

Magnus didn’t blink. “I am proud of you, Cassian.”

The silence that followed could’ve curdled milk. Even the furniture seemed unsure what to do with itself.

“You did well out there,” Magnus continued, “Earning Master Ji’s recognition is no easy feat. He is powerful. And respected. Revered, in places that still matter.”

Cassian squinted at him. “Thanks?”

Magnus gave the tiniest nod. “If you wish to return to China. Teach. Work with their scholars. We will arrange it.”

He said it like one might offer the family vault. They placed him Hogwarts after all. If Cassian wanted to, they could arrange his leave. That was why Cassian was putting up with them. Despite earning recognition at school, he remained at the cursed Rosier Manor, because he knew Magnus and Regulus still held enough influence to drag him back. Just as they had arranged his position in the first place.

Cassian opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“Right,” he said finally. “So. Just to clarify… because I had one too many close calls with possessed sarcophagi this summer, this isn’t a prank? You are not going to clap and say ‘just kidding’ and then push me into a pit of bog-standard Rosier disdain? Well, that is… unusual.”

Viola made a scoffing noise like she was trying to inhale a sneeze. “Let’s not get carried away. One commendation doesn’t erase a lifetime of mediocrity.”

Cassian smiled brightly. “Nor does one career plateau change the fact you retired before they could fire you.”

She bristled. Regulus cleared his throat, ending the fight before it could even begin.

Cassian got up and stretched, arms overhead, daring someone to call it unprofessional. “Right then,” he said. “I will be staying at Hogwarts. Thanks for the offer, Grandpa.”

Magnus gave a nod, ignoring the word Grandpa. Cassian was already walking out, whistling something that might’ve been a funeral march. He smiled at Viola on the way past. She didn’t smile back… her expression stayed locked in that tight, lemon-sucking disapproval she wore like jewellery.

By the time he reached his door, Towel was waiting with his coat. Poor thing looked like he’d aged ten years during the meeting.

“Shall I have dinner prepared, Master Cassian?” the elf asked.

Cassian tapped his chin. “Did you learn how to make yoghurt?”

Towel’s ears perked. “I did, Master Cassian. Even created a few recipes.”

He reached over, gave the elf a light pat on the head. “Good job. Fix me something sweet. But no sugar… use dates, banana paste, cinnamon. A tablespoon cacao, bit of yoghurt. Blueberries on top. Some walnuts, too. Oh, add walnuts after cooling. Gets bitter otherwise.”

Towel beamed like he’d been handed a wand and a vote.

“Right away, Master Cassian.”

He vanished with a crack.

Cassian dropped into the nearest armchair and let his head fall back. He had no idea about the Ji Wenqiang-Dumbledore correspondence while he was trapped in tomb/monastery.

It wasn’t bad. Not remotely. If anything, it was one of the few things in his life that had gone right without his knowledge or intervention.

It meant he couldn’t be Binned from teaching as easily anymore.

That used to be the leash… the quiet threat. Do as the family says, or they would whisper in the right ears, pull the funding, lean on connections until Dumbledore politely found someone more… traditional.

But now?

Now, even if the Rosiers withdrew every galleon and sent a Howler laced with threats, Dumbledore wouldn’t flinch. And even if he did, if he lost Hogwarts tomorrow, there were offers. Ji Wenqiang had made sure of that. One owl from him and Cassian could land in any magical institution from Kyoto to Montreal. He could teach in robes, in research labs, in temples older than some bloodlines.

He was a tool. Then a nuisance. Then an embarrassment. Now?

Now he was leverage.

Ji Wenqiang didn’t need anything from them. He saw Cassian. Chose him.

That rewrote the board.

He heard Towel’s small feet scurry past the door. Something clinked on a tray. That elf was faster than fear when praised.

He entered and placed the bowl in front of him like it was a tribute to some minor dessert god. Cassian stared. Then blinked. Then shed a single, silent tear. The good kind. The kind that said, someone finally understood.

It reminded him, unfortunately, of his own disaster bowl back at his past life. The one he made almost everyday and refused to admit was at best good. It wasn’t even close to this. This was art.

Towel watched with hopeful eyes, swaying slightly on his toes like a very proud sous-chef who killed for this moment.

Cassian took a bite.

He sighed through his nose, leaned back in the chair, and closed his eyes.

“Mother of all flavour, that is insane.”

Towel made a squeaky hiccup of joy and vanished on the spot, either overwhelmed or off to write down the recipe for the next war effort.

Cassian kept eating. Slowly. The yoghurt was cold, perfect with banana and cocoa to not feel cloying. The cinnamon had a little bite. The nuts were roasted. The blueberries hadn’t died in vain. This was… amazing.

(I seriously make this recipe almost every day. It’s not the best, but it’s healthy and delicious. So, maybe try it!)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep