By the time Cassian stepped out of his room, Lucian was already waiting in the hall, arms crossed, looking impatient.

Cassian smirked. “What, no applause? I set a new personal best for ‘Rosier dignity in under five minutes.'”

Lucian didn’t even blink. “Try not to embarrass yourself in front of Grandfather.”

Cassian offered a mock salute. “Oh, I will do my best to live down to expectations.”

The walk to Magnus’s study was quiet. Cassian could feel Lucian’s eyes on him, the same assessing look he always wore, like he was trying to figure out whether Cassian was worth acknowledging today.

Eventually, Lucian spoke. “Where did you read about light?”

Cassian blinked. “What?”

“The way you explained Lumos at the lecture.” Lucian glanced at him, sharp and expectant. “Intent, knowledge, interpretation. That wasn’t from Hogwarts curriculum. So where did you pull it from?”

Cassian exhaled through his nose, stalling for a second. “Books,” he said vaguely.

Lucian scoffed. “You don’t read.”

“That is offensive,” Cassian muttered. “I will have you know I read plenty. Just not the dry, soul-crushing nonsense you lot enjoy.”

Lucian didn’t let it drop. “Which books?”

Cassian could practically feel the noose tightening. “Various ones,” he said, still keeping it as vague as possible. “Picked up bits and pieces here and there. Just because I am not a duelling prodigy like you doesn’t mean I am thick.”

Lucian’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Cassian threw him a look. “What, are you actually interested? Didn’t think you cared about anything outside of hexing people into the floor.”

Lucian ignored that. “If you had an actual source, I want to know it.”

Cassian smirked. “So you can take credit for it?”

Lucian didn’t even flinch. “If it is useful, then yes.”

Cassian let out a low chuckle. “Honest. I almost respect it.”

Lucian stopped outside the heavy oak doors of Magnus’s study. “Don’t waste his time,” he said. Then, after a brief pause, added, “And don’t try your little lecture hall theatrics in there. This isn’t a room of half-bloods hungry for novelty. This is Grandfather.”

Cassian gave a lazy grin. “Aw, you do care.”

Lucian knocked once, then pushed open the door without waiting for a response.

Inside, Magnus Rosier sat behind his massive desk, his silvered black hair neatly combed back, piercing blue eyes watching them the moment they entered. Next to him, Grandmother Catherine sat upright in her chair, her expression as sharp as ever.

Cassian swallowed a sigh. Letting it out would only earn him another lecture on posture or respect or whatever else passed for virtue in this mausoleum of a family.

“Grandfather,” Lucian said smoothly, stepping aside to let Cassian in first.

Magnus gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit.”

Cassian did, slouching slightly just to be irritating.

“Your lecture…” Magnus said, studying him. “… was unexpected.”

Cassian spread his hands. “I like to keep people on their toes.”

Magnus wasn’t amused. “Where did you learn that approach?”

Cassian felt Lucian’s eyes on him again. He shrugged, keeping his expression loose. “Like I told our dear prodigal son, books. Thought I might as well make use of something in this family’s massive library. Didn’t realise we had an inquisition department monitoring my reading habits now.”

Catherine’s lips pressed together. “Don’t be flippant.”

Cassian arched a brow. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Magnus leaned back slightly, still watching him. “You spoke as though you had studied magic beyond your own abilities.”

Cassian’s jaw clenched briefly, but he kept his tone light. “Well, it is not like my own abilities were going to impress anyone. Figured I might as well say something interesting instead.”

Magnus didn’t react immediately. His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of his chair.

Then, finally, he spoke. “You will continue teaching. Regulus has arranged for you to take a position.”

Cassian fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Not like I have other options, right?”

Magnus didn’t acknowledge the sarcasm. “You do not. Teaching history is one thing, but your real task is to find capable young wizards, those who can be shaped and brought into the family’s fold after graduation. You have a way with words… use it.”

Cassian let out a slow breath, fingers tapping against the armrest, syncing with Magnus’. “Right. Recruit impressionable students into the grand Rosier legacy. Sounds like a thrilling way to spend my time.”

“Spare me the attitude,” Magnus said, cool as ever. “You wanted a place in this family. This is it.”

Cassian didn’t bother arguing. He wasn’t stupid. His grandfather wasn’t just throwing him a lifeline… this was a test, another chance to prove he wasn’t completely useless. Or at least useful enough to keep around.

Catherine, who had been watching him with the same mild distaste she always did, finally spoke. “For once in your life, try not to embarrass us.”

Cassian tilted his head. “Will fight for the chance, Grandmother.”

She gave him a sharp look but said nothing more.

Lucian, who had been silent until now, finally moved. “If you are going to be representing the family at Hogwarts, you should at least look the part. I will have the tailors update your wardrobe.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “Fantastic. Can’t wait to be dressed like a proper Rosier puppet.”

Lucian didn’t react, just gave a faint sniff like Cassian wasn’t worth the effort of a response.

Magnus waved his hand, signaling the conversation was done. “You leave in four weeks. Make use of the time.”

Cassian gave a lazy salute. “Understood, Grandfather.”

His grandfather watched him a moment longer, then nodded. “Dismissed.”

Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. He got up and strolled out, Lucian following a step behind.

“You can stop looming,” Cassian muttered as they walked down the hall.

Lucian ignored that. “Do you even understand what is being given to you?”

“Oh, absolutely. The grand privilege of lecturing brats while keeping an eye out for promising blood.”

Lucian’s jaw tightened slightly. “Try not to make a mess of it. You are representing all of us, whether you like it or not.”

Cassian shot him a grin. “And here I thought you didn’t care.”

Lucian said nothing. Just shook his head and walked off, leaving Cassian alone in the hall.

Four weeks. Then he would be shipped off to Hogwarts to play professor.

Brilliant.

The days leading up to his departure were filled with the usual suffocating routine… dinners where his existence was barely tolerated, endless reminders of what was expected of him, and the occasional passive-aggressive remark from Lucian about how not to disgrace the family.

Cassian avoided his family as much as possible in the weeks before he left. His father had handed him a stack of history books… mostly propaganda, rewritten to make the Rosiers and their allies look like untouchable legends. He barely glanced at them before shoving them into a drawer. If he was going to teach history, he needed real books. Ones that didn’t read like a pureblood recruitment pamphlet.

So, he went to Diagon Alley. Flourish and Blotts had the usual drivel, but he managed to find a few decent volumes on wizarding history tucked between the more politically acceptable narratives. That wasn’t enough, though. He spent hours in libraries, digging through anything he could get his hands on… old magical treaties, battle records, even a few dusty scrolls no one had touched in decades.

History had been his bread and butter in another life… lecturing, debating, digging into dead men’s mistakes until even the dullest room woke up. He wasn’t about to half-arse it now just because there were wands involved. Magic left marks… on places, on people, on history itself. Wars weren’t just fought with swords and spells… they were fought over bloodlines, old alliances, curses woven into family trees. This world had a past that most people barely understood, and he wanted to know it.

Not that he had much time for quiet research. His family found plenty of ways to make his life miserable.

His mother, Ophelia, never said much to him, but the few times she did, it was just to remind him not to make a fool of himself. Lucian, as usual, was a constant shadow, watching him with that same cool disapproval, like he was waiting for Cassian to do something ridiculous.

Regulus, at least, was satisfied. Not pleased, but satisfied. That was the best Cassian was going to get. His father had arranged his teaching position, and now it was on him to make it work… or fail and be cast out completely.

When the day finally came, Cassian packed what little he actually cared about… a few books, a decent stash of money, and, for some godforsaken reason, the old Cassian’s wand. He thought about leaving it behind. It wasn’t like it had done him much good. But something about it felt important, like throwing it away would be admitting something he wasn’t ready to face.

Lucian and Damien were waiting by the Floo.

“Try not to disgrace us too quickly,” Damien said, smoothing his robe. “Give it a week at least. Maybe two.”

Cassian flashed him a grin. “Don’t worry, cousin. I will make sure my first scandal is truly spectacular.”

Lucian said nothing, just handed him a small envelope. Cassian opened it and found a simple letter, stamped with the Hogwarts crest.

Professor Cassian Rosier

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Looks official.”

Lucian gave him a long look. “Don’t waste this.”

Cassian met his gaze, something unspoken passing between them. Then he stepped into the Floo, tossed down the powder, and muttered, “Hogwarts.”

The world twisted, blurred, and then…

He stepped out into Dumbledore’s office.

The place was as strange as he expected… full of odd, whirring contraptions, shelves lined with books, and an air of controlled chaos. Behind the massive desk, Albus Dumbledore himself sat, hands folded, blue eyes twinkling with that infuriating knowing look.

“Professor Rosier,” Dumbledore said warmly. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

Cassian shook the old man’s hand, offering a polite smile. “Thanks for the warm welcome.”

Dumbledore’s grip was firm but light, his expression unreadable except for that usual twinkle in his eye… like he was in on some joke no one else knew. Cassian was sure he recognised the name, but the details were a mess. Old Cassian’s memories painted him as a big deal, someone important, but from his own past life? The name barely rang a bell. Just another figure he hadn’t paid attention to.

Dumbledore studied him, that knowing look still in place.

Cassian ignored it. If the old man wanted to play his little games, fine. He wasn’t going to be the first one to flinch.

“So, Professor Rosier,” Dumbledore said, settling back in his chair. “It’s been some time since you last walked these halls.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep