Surprise, mother-lurkers. Extra chapter!

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Cassian shoved open the classroom door with his hip, juggling a pile of scrolls and a cup of tea. Inside, the usual suspects were already in their seats, or near enough to count. Gryffindors and Slytherins, fifth-years, a dangerous blend of chaos and ambition. Fred and George had taken over the back row, obviously. Lee Jordan perched sideways in his chair. Angelina, Alicia, and Kenneth had claimed front row. Miles Bletchley had his elbows on the desk. Adrian Pucey and Warrington looked half-asleep.

“Alright, troublemakers,” he said, stepping in and letting the door swing shut behind him. “How was the summer? Everyone survive?”

Lee Jordan grinned wide. “Surprised us too, sir.”

“Barely,” said George, “Almost got eaten by a Sphinx.”

Fred snickered. “He tried to pull its tail.”

George threw up his hands. “Only because you dared me!”

Cassian paused mid-step, set his tea on the desk with a thunk, and gave them both a long, unimpressed look. “Right. Egypt. Sphinx. And your brilliant idea was to yank its tail. What did you think would happen, offer you a riddle and a biscuit?”

George shrugged, grinning wide. “We had an escape plan.”

“Did you?” Cassian asked. “Please tell me it wasn’t ‘run faster than Fred.'”

“Oi! You were going to abandon me?” Fred kicked the leg of George’s chair. “Mine was ‘climb faster than George.’ He’s got heavier feet.”

“That’s muscle,” George muttered.

Cassian rubbed his forehead. “You lot are either brave, reckless, or both. I can’t decide which is worse.”

Angelina leaned forward, already grinning. “We were in Ghana for a bit. Grandmum’s side. Spent a week at an enclave near the Volta—” her hand waved like she was swatting away smoke. “There’s a whole lot more wandless magic over there.”

“Ah, old relative visits. Good old times.” Cassian turned to the Slytherin side, dragging his eyes across the row. “And you lot? Manage to survive your travels without setting yourselves alight?”

Cassius Warrington smirked without looking up. “Didn’t see the need to run off chasing ancient death traps, sir.”

“Miles?” Cassian asked.

Bletchley didn’t even blink. “Stayed home.”

“And what a thrilling tale that must be,” Cassian deadpanned. “You, the couch, and a stack of Quidditch Monthly. Riveting.”

“I like the crossword,” Miles muttered.

Cassian didn’t push. They weren’t exactly the over-sharing type, and to be fair, that might’ve been a mercy.

His eyes landed on Kenneth Towler, who was staring at the blackboard, all serious.

“Kenneth?”

Kenneth blinked, clearly yanked from whatever heroic mental battle he was having with the blackboard. “Oh! Uh, summer was good, sir,” he said, sitting up straighter. “Went to Wales. Helped my uncle mend a roof. Fell off it once chasing a cute cat. Only a little. Landed in a hedge.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “Was the hedge alright?”

Kenneth looked genuinely puzzled for a second. “Think so? It was spiky.”

“Glad to hear it survived the ordeal,” Cassian nodded solemnly, like this was critical information. “Well done, Towler. First near-death experience of the term goes to Gryffindor. Five points.”

Kenneth went pink, but he smiled.

Fred leaned over from the back row. “Professor R, what’s the record for most ridiculous injury before breakfast?”

Cassian grinned. “I’ll take the biscuit on that one, but do your own research.”

The twins lit up like someone had handed them a map to secret tunnels. They were already plotting who to ask by the time he turned to the board.

He flicked his wand, chalk snapping into motion. “Reparo,” he wrote in neat block letters.

“Now,” he said, tapping the word, “let’s talk about one of the most underappreciated spells in this whole bloody curriculum. Should be taught first year, not buried somewhere between O.W.L. stress and hormonal disaster.”

Alicia’s quill twitched over her parchment. Already writing.

Cassian carried on. “Reparo isn’t flashy. Doesn’t make anything explode. No sparks, no big dramatic wand movements. Which is probably why it gets shafted till later. But I’d argue, loudly and with visual aids, if necessary, it’s one of the most important spells ever devised.”

Lee raised a hand, mock-serious. “Because it saves your furniture budget?”

“Because,” Cassian said, pointing at him, “it tells us two things most spells don’t. First, intent matters. You can’t just shout Reparo at a smashed vase and expect it to stitch itself back together if you’re thinking about breakfast. You have to mean it. Picture what it was. Remember the structure. That’s how it knows what to do. Of course magic’s got a way to pull things back together. Bit magical, that. Items have history. Yeah, shocking, I know.”

Fred raised a brow like he was expecting him to admit he was joking.

Cassian started to pace behind his desk. “You cast Reparo, and it doesn’t just guess what something should be, it remembers. The spell pulls on the object’s previous magical state. Doesn’t matter if it’s a shattered plate or a smashed column, if it had a form and a function, magic can recall it.”

He pointed his wand at a cracked teacup on the corner of his desk. A hairline fracture ran down one side.

“Reparo.”

The crack vanished with a soft tick, like something slotting into place.

Cassian leaned against the desk, crossing one ankle over the other and gesturing lazily at the teacup.

“Now,” he said, “who can tell me why it returned to how it was a day before the crack and not all the way back to sand?”

Alicia raised her hand. “Because Reparo restores the object, not undoes its entire existence?”

Cassian chuckled, “That is in the name, good job. Now, does it reverse time or just fix things?”

He didn’t wait for a hand. Just grinned, strolled to the door. “This is my favourite part,” he said. “Children, go nuts. Destroy the classroom.”

Fred and George shot upright so fast, two chairs nearly went flying. Cassian was ninety percent sure they’d trained for this day since infancy.

Unfortunately for them, Alicia caught Fred by the collar before he got further than two steps, and Angelina dragged George back down by his sleeve.

“Destroy?” Lee asked, clearly not sure if it was a joke or a trap.

Cassian nodded. “Go on. Wreck it. Don’t maim each other, but other than that, knock yourselves out.”

Lee still hesitated, then caught sight of the Weasley twins and seemed to accept that if anyone was about to take this too far, it wasn’t going to be him.

Fred was already unbuttoning his sleeves like this was a duelling match. “You’re serious?”

“Always,” Cassian said. “Except when I’m not.”

Angelina glanced over her shoulder. “And the point of this is…?”

Cassian nodded. “Go on. Smash it. Shred it. Drop a desk on your foot, I don’t care.”

They hesitated, just a breath, then Fred flung a chair into the air.

Kenneth yelped and ducked. The chair missed him by a half a room and clattered against the far wall.

Cassian watched it all unfold with the content detachment of a zookeeper who’s finally let the chimps into the gift shop.

George summoned a stack of empty scrolls just to scatter them again.

A blackboard shattered. Someone tried to climb the curtains. A cushion exploded into feathers.

Cassian folded his arms, perfectly calm as the din swelled around him. “For those of you wondering,” he said, over the chaos, “this is what happens when the Ministry funds education. Anarchy and educational violence.”

Watching them a little longer, until Fred tripped over a stool, and George collapsed dramatically onto a pile of parchment like a knight fallen in battle, Cassian finally lifted his wand.

The room began stitching itself back together.

Chairs floated upright. Desks snapped into line. Scrolls rolled themselves back smugly. The blackboard reassembled with a grunt of chalk dust, and the cushions deflated, huffed, and tucked themselves neatly back into their corners.

Even the feathers vanished.

Cassian gave a nod. “Right. Classroom intact. Sanity debatable.”

Fred, flat on the floor and wheezing, pointed a thumb at George. “He broke the chalkboard.”

“You kicked it first,” George gasped.

Cassian ignored the bickering. “Fun’s over,” he said, flicking his wand to lock every desk to the floor. “If you break anything now, it’s your kneecaps.”

A few snorts. One very quiet “fair.”

Once the groans and mutters had quieted down, he pushed off the door and walked the board.

“As I was saying before, does it rewind time? No. Despite the dramatic floating bits slotting back together, it’s not time magic. If it was, none of you would be able to cast it. What it actually does is read the history of the thing and stitch it back to what it knows. Your intent fills the gaps.”

“Reparo pulls from the object’s magical memory. And yes, everything has one. You smash a plate, you can mend it.” He added, pointing at things around him.

He took a slow sip of his tea. “Now, when was it first used? Anyone hazard a guess?”

Lee Jordan’s hand shot up. “Merlin era?”

Cassian smirked. “No, but thanks for playing. That was the century people thought ghosts were a fun parlour trick. Reparo’s older. Much older.”

Cassian tapped the chalk again. “We’ve been over this, every spell, no matter how shiny or flashy it looks now, started with someone having a need. So odds are, some poor sod dropped a plate, heard their mum coming, and accidentally rewrote the laws of physics out of sheer fear of getting their arse kicked.”

Fred raised a hand. “So you’re saying Reparo exists because of domestic terror?”

“I’m saying necessity beats theory nine times out of ten,” Cassian replied. “You don’t invent ‘Accio’ because you’re clever. You’ve heard the pair of smuggler brothers last year.”

Lee grinned. “Egypt’s great inventors.”

“Exactly. Intent and memory. That’s how it works. You think about what it was, what it’s meant to be, and the magic does the rest.”

Angelina raised a hand without looking up from her notes. “What happens if you get the memory wrong?”

Cassian nodded like he’d been waiting for it. “Then you get a teacup with the wrong handle, or a chair with three legs. Doesn’t explode, usually, but you’ll feel it’s off. Magic has a tolerance for human error, bless it. But not much.”

George glanced over. “So if I picture a broken mug as a goblet, can I upgrade my crockery?”

“Only if the mug agrees,” Cassian said. “Magic reads what it remembers. If the object’s got a strong enough memory, you’re not changing it without a fight.”

A few grins. Kenneth nodded like this was genuinely life-changing information.

Cassian straightened up. “And that’s why Reparo matters. Not just because it fixes your messes, which, yes, it does. But because it teaches you how magic thinks. Memory. Intention. Purpose. That’s the backbone of half the spells you’ll ever cast.”

He flicked his wand at the blackboard. The word “Reparo” vanished, replaced by two more, “Magical Memory.”

“Objects remember,” he said. “Places too. Spells leave echoes. Ever wonder why some rooms feel off, even if they look fine? Why you get chills near certain portraits or libraries?”

Kenneth looked mildly alarmed.

Cassian pointed at him. “Don’t worry. It’s mostly harmless. Mostly. Just don’t try casting Reparo on something cursed. It’ll remember the wrong bits.”

Fred snorted. “Bet that’s how we get haunted kettles.”

“Or possessed hat racks,” George added.

Cassian let them spiral a bit before holding up a hand. “Right. Homework.”

Groans rippled across the room.

“Oh, don’t look like that,” he said. “You’ve just had the most interactive lesson in the school and didn’t lose a limb. You’re welcome.”

He gestured toward the far wall, where a box sat beside the door. “There’s a pile of junk in that crate. Find something broken. Don’t ask where I got them. Restore it. Write down what it looked like before, what it became, and what went wrong, if anything. Two feet. Due Thursday.”

Angelina raised a brow. “And if nothing goes wrong?”

“Lie,” Cassian said. “Make it sound impressive. If you tell me it was perfect, I’m giving you detention for being boring.”

The bell rang. Desks scraped. The twins bolted first, followed by Lee, who tried to nick a feather cushion on the way out.

Cassian didn’t stop him. He’d be back when it exploded into glitter.

Alicia passed with a polite nod. Angelina offered a grin. Kenneth lingered, clearly hoping to ask something, then seemed to forget what it was and wandered out after the twins.

Cassian took his tea, now lukewarm, and leaned against the desk.

“Reparo,” he muttered again, mostly to himself. “Someone should’ve cast it on the bloody educational system.”

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