Steelalbatross5000: Originally, I planned that if the number was odd, there would simply be three of them in one room. But now that you've suggested it…
soufianeaouad1: Hah, this isn't Naruto. Maybe I'll start writing Naruto someday.
CreativeWalrus: Thank you :).
***
I have to admit, the first two weeks were utterly boring. Honestly, I thought we'd be brewing potions and transforming objects—even if just a match into a needle—right from the very first classes... How foolish I was.
Instead, we dealt with pure theory. In Charms, we analyzed the success and failure of spells, or how to recognize how much magical power a specific formula requires. I grant you, determining energy consumption is important, but for me, it's incredibly tedious. Deep down, we all long to summon fiery infernos, drown cities, or hurl lightning with a single flick of a wand.
The theory behind it is quite simple: if you are young and weak, don't attempt spells with an "extraordinary" effect. Theoretically, if a first-year attempted the Avada Kedavra—assuming they found enough hatred and a genuine desire to kill within themselves—they would likely kill not only the target but themselves as well. The spell would suck out all their magical power first, then their blood, and finally their life. Magic, you see, is an exchange business.
Neutral spells are safer in this regard. But with White and Black magic, where emotions are the fuel, it's all too easy to convince your own body that it's a matter of life and death. One then blows themselves up quite stupidly. Hogwarts' seven years are structured for exactly that reason—so that the magical core builds up gradually.
Transfiguration was similar to Charms. McGonagall did wow us on the first day by transforming from a cat into a human, but the rest was just another heap of theory. That was when I decided I'd find out how to become an Animagus... but I digress. Again, it was all about how much magical power is needed for what. At least with Transfiguration, it's hard to kill yourself—you feed the energy into the spell gradually, not in one sudden "magical blast."
I won't even mention Defense Against the Dark Arts. I expected more from Voldemort, but Quirrell was one massive disappointment. In class, he just stuttered through explanations of I don't even know what; it was unbearable to listen to, so I preferred to read my own books.
Potions relatively disappointed me too. I was hoping for practice, but instead, we were grinding basic concepts: slicing, crushing, measuring... and especially how ingredients in symbiosis amplify the effect or when an explosion is imminent. I must admit, Potions as a field didn't appeal to me, but I had business plans. With a fat-reduction potion, I'd be the richest person in the world. And what if it worked on Muggles too? I need to find that out.
As for Snape's legendary strictness, I understood him. One mistake and we all blow up. And with Gryffindor full of naive, black-and-white-seeing children, I don't even blame him for docking points just for breathing.
The only subject where the endless theory suited me was Herbology with Professor Sprout. Honestly? Messing around in the dirt didn't interest me in the slightest. I probably carried that resentment from my past life, where I was an allergy sufferer. Just the sight of soil and fertilizer made me want to sneeze.
History of Magic with Professor Binns was fine only because I could do my own thing during it. It didn't disappoint me; although the Goblin Wars could be interesting at their core, Binns delivered them so boringly and disinterestedly that I once again reached for my own reading.
However, I made a promise to myself: I'll find proper books on history in the library. History has its charm if presented correctly. Next time, I'll use a Muffliato or a silencing charm on Binns so I don't have to hear him at all, and I'll focus on self-study.
Regarding student relationships, it was the classic setup. Malfoy hated Potter and Weasley. Sallow hated practically everyone in Slytherin but kept to himself in a very Slytherin way. Nott was friends with Tobias Yaxley, while Zabini spent time mostly with the girls—with Daphne Greengrass and her friend whose name I've already managed to forget. Bulstrode wouldn't unstick herself from Parkinson. Malfoy surrounded himself with Goyle and Crabbe, while constantly throwing looks of interest and curiosity my way. He was, however, incredibly annoying. His eternal "wait until my father hears about this" was already legendary, and even older students laughed at him behind his back.
Agnes DeMille, however, had a real problem. She became the target of bullying for a large part of Slytherin. In the common room, they'd regularly pour ink over her essays, a Diffindo spell would periodically slash her bag, and her hair was constantly changing color. On top of that was a ton of insults about her being a blood traitor and how she should just die. Honestly, it was truly cruel.
I calmed myself with the thought that these things were for Snape to handle. It shouldn't be my concern, even though my classmates were acting like total idiots. After all, no one is responsible for the actions of their father.
As for me, from the first day, I spent my time in an abandoned classroom completely alone. It probably won't surprise anyone that the first spells I tried with my wand were dueling ones.
First, I chose Flipendo. I aimed at an old chair and imagined the force throwing it away from me. I wasn't surprised that I succeeded on the very first try. Magically, it wasn't demanding, and the theory behind it was quite straightforward.
I did, however, notice an interesting detail: when increasing the magical power, the beam was faster and brighter in color. On the first attempt, it was pale blue, but with a more significant "push," it changed to deep blue. It was a simple spell, but with added power, it became dangerous. If I threw someone hard and sharply against a wall, the impact could easily kill them.
The next spell I learned was Petrificus Totalus to freeze an opponent. The beam was white, and I had no problem casting it either, but I didn't know how it would work in a duel. It didn't work on chairs.
Later, I started experimenting with a combination I derived myself from the Charms textbook. Although the spells weren't near each other in the chapters, they made perfect sense to me.
Levioso—a spell to lift an object or a person into the air, followed by a lightning-fast Descendo to slam them violently to the ground. I could imagine that with a healthy dose of power, I could break an opponent's bones this way. The problem with this combination, however, was how easily it could be countered—Levioso is easily cancelled with Finite.
Of course, everything depended on the invested strength. The beams of both these spells were yellow.
I devoted most of my time, however, to the Expelliarmus spell. I only knew it from theory and movies, but in practice, I struggled with it for two whole days until I was satisfied with its speed and shade. I found that with enough pressure, the spell doesn't just disarm, but throws objects back similarly to Flipendo. Its beam was deep red by default, and the demands on the magical core were significantly higher than with the previous spells. That was when I fully appreciated my wandless training—my core was ready. I had more than enough magic.
However, I ran into the same problem as with Petrificus Totalus—I had no one to test it on. My antisocial behavior was starting to work against me now; I needed a training partner.
The next spell I decided to master was Protego. I knew that theorists couldn't agree on whether it was White or Neutral magic. To cast it, a sincere desire to protect—oneself or others—was necessary. It is a shield that, depending on the amount of invested power, can deflect almost anything, with the exception of the Unforgivable Curses.
Even on the first try, I felt that the demands on basic power were more intense. The shield was initially almost transparent; only a slight ripple of the outlines could be seen. It drew magic constantly, though at its base, it was a negligible amount. With an increased investment, however, it began to take on a bluish tint.
What if I were under a real attack? What spells would this basic shield deflect? And how much magic would it absorb when colliding with something stronger? These were the questions that bothered me. If I used Protego in a duel and it failed, it would end catastrophically.
"I need a partner. Immediately; yesterday was already too late," I concluded in my mind.
While waiting to find a suitable partner, I used the time to test elementary spells.
Incendio. The difference between casting it with a wand and without was like night and day. With a wand, it was magically much easier, although I didn't feel ready for a real inferno in the room just yet. I created small snakes out of the flames in the air; it was good training and quite fun.
Ventus. The air spell was equally effortless with a wand, but it wasn't my cup of tea. I am an Aquarius, an air sign, but I had no affinity for this element.
Fulmino. Here, I felt in my element. A bolt of lightning shot from my wand. It was tiny because I put only a minimum of power into it—I wasn't a total idiot, after all. I was intrigued that no thunder was heard upon casting, but as soon as the discharge hit the wall, there was a sharp, distinct crack. Magically, it wasn't demanding. Did I perhaps have an affinity for lightning? That could be a problem; lightning cannot be controlled; it is a pure, unrestrained discharge of destruction. The fact that this spell exhausted me less than Incendio or Ventus confirmed my theory about an innate predisposition.
"Fulmino!" I cast it again, this time with a larger investment of power. The lightning was stronger and faster. It fascinated me that although it was incredibly bright, it didn't cause my eyes pain and I could follow it without issue. The spell sliced through the air and slammed into the wall with a deafening crash.
"This is how real magic should sound," I thought with a satisfied smile.
The next elementary spells in line were Terra and Aguamenti. Summoning earth in the middle of the castle on a stone floor would be possible, but I'm not an idiot—I left this spell for later.
Aguamenti. As soon as I uttered this formula, I understood where my true affinity lay. The demands on magic were minimal. From my yew wand, even with a slight impulse, a stream of water shot out so strong it was as if it were spewing from a fire truck. I immediately cut the spell. A wave of dopamine and endorphins flooded me; I felt happy and intoxicated by that pure power. Water was incredibly versatile—ideal for both defense and attack.
"Okay, one more time and with a bigger investment," I decided. "But then I have to vanish from here. A flooded classroom would cause me unnecessary trouble."
"Aguamenti!" This time I put substantially more strength into the spell. Not a stream, but literally a massive wave erupted from the wand. I felt a direct connection with the conjured mass of water. With my mind, I forced it to form into a protective dome around me. Controlling such an amount of liquid was exhausting, and I knew I couldn't hold it for long.
"I am Poseidon, Lord of the Waters," I smiled, letting myself be swept away by the feeling of godhood for a moment.
Although the wall of the water dome was relatively thin, it consisted of hundreds of liters. My core began to drain rapidly, so I ended the spell. The water hit the floor with a loud splash.
The classroom was successfully flooded, and I, completely exhausted, made a quick escape toward the Slytherin common room.
On the way, I had time to think. Water is not magically demanding, yet at the same time, it can be incredibly treacherous. I can handle a few liters without a problem, but hundreds of hectoliters? That would require an extraordinary intensity that currently exceeds my present power. The more water there was, the harder it was to control and maintain in the desired shape.
"Practice, practice, and more practice," I thought with a smile as I contentedly threw myself onto my bed. The others already had their curtains drawn, so I had returned at the eleventh hour.
***
The next morning, I woke up pleasantly rested and, with an atypical smile on my face, headed for breakfast. However, I constantly had to think about a suitable partner for magical training. I needed one desperately.
"Nott and Yaxley might be suitable. They look considerably more studious than the others," I pondered while helping myself to breakfast.
Like every morning, hundreds of owls flew down to the students today. To my unpleasant surprise, one of them descended directly to me. I had expected mail in the first week, but when it didn't come, I started hoping that no letter would arrive at all. Reality, however, caught up with me.
A black, elegant owl landed right in front of me and, with aristocratic confidence, offered me its leg. Attached to it was a letter with my name written in calligraphy and the seal of my house. The problem was that I hadn't mastered any detection spells yet. I didn't know if some nasty curse was waiting for me inside. I quickly aimed my wand over the parchment and, with a significant investment of power, uttered: "Finite!" It was a risk, but I had no other choice.
Under the surprised gazes of my classmates, I opened the letter with undisguised distaste and began to read.
"Dear nephew,
Imagine my surprise when I learned of your existence from my cousin Narcissa Malfoy. At first, I thought you were just some Muggle-born with our noble name, but it was Ranrok who informed me that you are the son of my brother. This gave me incredible joy—I feared our line would die out with me.
However, he also informed me that you forbade him from telling me about your existence. We will definitely discuss that in person when I stop by for a visit during the first open house for families, which is about a week away. You are certainly not going back to the Muggle world. It will be necessary to teach you pure-blood manners worthy of your status and our house!
I am concerned that you didn't write to me of your own accord, as well as by your antisocial behavior at Hogwarts. Alliances with other houses are important, and you must be extremely careful. Our house was in great danger without an heir, and we still are while you are young and inexperienced. Be especially wary of the Mulciber family and its allies. I would tell you more, but it will be safer in person.
With love, your aunt Vespera Rosier."
On one hand, I was pleased that I wasn't completely alone in the world, but on the other, it infuriated me that Vespera was treating me like a stupid child—like some old, annoying hag. She did, however, warn me about the Mulciber family. What could they want from us? Property? Influence? I didn't learn more from the letter, but I knew one essential thing: there was one Mulciber right here at Hogwarts. A fourth-year. If my aunt writes about danger, this boy might know more.
I felt Malfoy's gaze on me. He undoubtedly knew who I received the letter from. I couldn't blame him for his curiosity, but I just raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. What did he actually want? What was he expecting? If he's interested, he can come and introduce himself to my face. I had not the slightest interest in contact with "Daddy's boy," even though we were essentially cousins.
When he noticed my look, his face turned slightly pink, and he began to pretend he was concentrating on his food.
It wasn't my problem. I had only another boring school day ahead of me, which I had to somehow endure until I could return to my own studies.
***
The school day was, understandably, boring, although in Charms, we finally moved on to practice. The first spell was Lumos. I mastered it on the first try, earning ten points for Slytherin. I couldn't have cared less.
Professor Flitwick, however, gave me a special instruction: I was to try adding and subtracting power to learn how to precisely control its flow. Granger clearly started considering me competition after this success, judging by her envious look. The rest of Slytherin was satisfied; they took my success as a house victory, which I found strange to say the least.
In Potions, Gryffindor lost points because Potter, according to Snape, was "breathing too loudly." I must admit, the professor's sarcasm occasionally amused me; he had a real talent for it. Snape treated me similarly to Malfoy—with a certain degree of tolerance. I didn't question it; he was likely a friend of my father's in their youth.
Fortunately, the day ended with a boring History class with Binns. At least I had time to think about my real problems. Aunt Vespera, finding a training partner, the hostile Mulciber family and their allies... I have to take it one step at a time.
After school, I decided on a well-deserved, lazy, hot bath. Each room had its own bathroom, and I must admit, it was truly perfect. Spacious, with a constant stream of hot water—I enjoyed every minute and felt like I was in heaven. In that warmth and silence, my thoughts finally calmed down.
***
After the relaxing bath, I entered the common room. It wasn't completely full, more like two-thirds occupied. I saw Malfoy sitting with Crabbe and Goyle, but also with Parkinson and Bulstrode. Pansy was saying something with a mocking smirk; I assumed she was targeting either Muggle-borns or Potter and Weasley. Further away, Nott and Yaxley sat at study tables—apparently working on a Transfiguration essay. I, of course, had it finished since History class. I was just considering approaching them and proposing the training when the silence was pierced by a hateful scream.
"You filthy blood traitor! You shouldn't even be here. You'd be doing the entire magical community a favor if you threw yourself off the Astronomy Tower!" Rookwood roared at Agnes DeMille in the area designated for spell practice. I didn't understand her. She knew how Slytherin perceived her, and yet she stayed right in their sight. Classic. Rookwood and his gang. Coincidentally, Alexander Mulciber was standing there too. Everyone watched the spectacle with interest, but no one stood up for Agnes. Even the prefect, Gemma Farley, who was supposed to oversee order, just sat there silently.
It was truly annoying. An eleven-year-old girl under the fire of the entire common room's hatred, and above her, fourteen or fifteen-year-old boys bullying her. I knew it wasn't my problem and theoretically, I shouldn't intervene... but a question gnawed at my mind: could I live with myself if I stayed silent and the girl actually committed suicide? I felt pure anger toward Farley and Snape for not stopping this filth.
The message from my aunt, the soul-crushing boredom at school, the threat from the Mulcibers, and the frustration that my magical progress was being stalled by the absence of a partner... it was too much for me. When I added this pathetic, long-term bullying that everyone just idly watched, something inside me snapped. I made an impulsive decision.
"Stop it, Rookwood," I said coldly, heading toward them with a firm stride.
My voice carried strongly through the entire common room. A graveyard silence fell. I felt dozens of curious gazes on me—from first-years to seventh-years.
Rookwood looked at me with undisguised contempt. "You should be standing here with me, Rosier. Her father betrayed your family too... or are you a blood traitor as well?" he asked mockingly, spitting out the last words with disgust.
"Unlike you, I'm not a total fool, and she isn't responsible for her father's actions. Either leave her alone, or I'll make you," I replied with an icy gaze fixed directly into his eyes. I already gripped my wand in my hand and stood in a firm stance. I was ready for a magical conflict. Truth be told, I craved it.
"Make me? How are you going to make me, little firstie?" he asked mockingly, gesturing for the others to step back and create space. He pulled out his wand but just waited for now, confident in his three-year advantage.
With a smile on my face and undisguised anticipation in my voice, I snapped back: "Let's go, Rookwood."
"Expelliarmus!" Rookwood shouted. The red flash didn't surprise me at all; I simply twisted my shoulder out of its flight path. I watched him with growing contempt. He was an amateur. Who in a real magical duel waits to see if their spell lands instead of immediately following up with an attack? Either he didn't want to hurt me, or he was simply incompetent.
"Is that all you can do?" I asked mockingly. I really wanted to see more.
"Everte Statum! Expelliarmus! Flipendo!" he escalated. I didn't know Everte Statum, but it wasn't a problem. I dodged his spells with such ease it was embarrassing. Flipendo flew at least a meter away from me.
I suppose I expected too much from him. The air in the common room was heavy with silence, interrupted only by Rookwood's attempts and my quiet footsteps.
"Diffindo! Accio!" he tried again. I avoided the Severing Charm without trouble, but Accio surprised me. My own shoes started pulling me toward him. I just barely managed to cast an overpowered Finite on my feet. The game was over.
I started taking it seriously.
"Flipendo! Expelliarmus! Petrificus Totalus!" I finally moved to the offensive. My aim was precise. At the last moment, Rookwood cried out with fear in his voice: "Protego!" A hard thud echoed; the spells didn't penetrate, but his shield vibrated under the onslaught of my magic.
"Interesting," I thought, not waiting even a second.
"Flipendo!" I put substantially more power into it. I hit him square in the chest. A crack was heard, and Rookwood was thrown violently backward. He stayed down on the ground, but I waited.
Rookwood struggled to his feet. "Diffindo! Stupefy! Flipendo! Diffindo!" he began firing while still kneeling. I avoided the first three, but the last Diffindo was aimed perfectly. "Protego!" I shouted. The spell silently disintegrated against my shield. I felt relief that the spell succeeded, but also anger that he had surprised me. I could feel, however, that he was running out of steam.
I struck for the last time. I unleashed a storm he wasn't prepared for.
"Flipendo! Expelliarmus! Levioso! Descendo!"
He managed to dodge the first Flipendo in desperation, but that only exposed him to the next strike. Expelliarmus ripped the wand from his hand with uncompromising force; it flew past my head with a hiss. I hadn't practiced catching wands mid-air, so I let it fall somewhere behind me.
Before he could recover, two yellow spells hit him in succession. Levioso yanked him off the ground, leaving him hanging helplessly in the air. Immediately after, my overpowered Descendo slammed him against the stone floor with inhuman force.
A crack echoed, and I knew something of his had broken. In visible agony, Rookwood began to rise from the cold ground, his shaking fingers of his right hand clutching his left forearm, which hung at an unnatural angle. In his eyes, there was no more mockery, only pure, unadulterated shock and pain.
"Is that all, Rookwood?" I asked mockingly. He no longer had a wand, and not a shred of pride remained in him. I enjoyed the sight of his undisguised fear.
A graveyard silence reigned in the common room. I felt hundreds of eyes on me, but I wanted to end this duel spectacularly. I pointed my wand at him and watched his pupils dilate in agony and terror.
"Please... I yield," he sobbed, and nothing of that arrogant fourth-year remained in his voice.
I'll give Slytherin credit for one thing: no one was brave enough to stand up for Rookwood; they cared most about their own necks.
"Fulmino!" I shouted.
A blinding blue discharge erupted from my wand. Frightened screams erupted from those present in the common room. With a smile, I watched as the lightning flew right past his body—I took care not to hit him directly. With a loud explosion, it slammed into the stone wall, which shook under the onslaught of magical energy.
Silence fell again. Rookwood just knelt there with his eyes closed, shaking uncontrollably.
"Watch who you challenge, Rookwood," I declared into the freezing silence. "Next time, I won't have any mercy." It was a clear warning to anyone who might think for even a second that I was a weak link.
With a focused thought, I slid the wand back into its holster and, without a single look back, left the common room with a brisk step. I headed for my abandoned classroom, while a single sentence echoed in my head.
"Practice, practice, and more practice," I thought with a smile. "That is my new motto now, and it's possible that Agnes will soon join me."
***
So, we've got our first magical duel and the somewhat boring beginning of Hogwarts. What's your opinion on the duel — did it work, or would you suggest any improvements? What do you think will happen with the Mulciber family in the future? I'm assuming that Batman (Patrik) will get a new Robin (Agnes).
Going forward, I'm planning to set up a Discord, mainly so we can discuss the story, but also to share good fanfiction we've enjoyed. Yesterday, I spent two hours just trying to find something good to read. :D
If you like the story, I'll be grateful for every comment, like, or discussion. Your interaction is what motivates me most to continue creating! :)