HP: Ashborn

Jasmine and I burst into the classroom with barely a second to spare. Professor Flitwick, ever the gracious man, simply waved us in without comment. We scrambled for the nearest available seats, though Jasmine was far from pleased—half-pouting, half-muttering under her breath about how we'd missed out on the prime spots.

Roll call began, and as expected, my name was first. That's when I noticed something... odd. Due to his, well, modest stature, Professor Flitwick was standing atop a stack of books to elevate himself. That wasn't the strange part—the titles were.

Breaking the Banshee. Travelling with Trolls. Wandering with Werewolves.

All penned by the master of self-promotion, the human-shaped vanity mirror himself—Gilderoy Lockhart. If there was ever a more fitting use for his works than stacking them underfoot, I had yet to see it. And given that Professor Flitwick—one of the most accomplished Charms Masters alive—chose to stand on them rather than read them? Well. That said everything.

When Flitwick reached "Potter," he paused, offering Jasmine a knowing and kind smile before moving on. She straightened a little, but I could tell she was trying very hard to not look pleased.

Five minutes later, with roll call complete, Flitwick cleared his throat and introduced himself.

"My eagles already know me, and for those who don't, I am Filius Flitwick, your Charms professor for the next five years. Together, we will embark on a long journey, studying charms until your OWLs. After that, it is up to you whether you wish to continue to NEWTs or part ways with the subject."

He smiled warmly, his eyes twinkling. A reassuring, encouraging professor through and through.

Not that I was paying much attention. My mind was still stuck on one very important question—how, in Merlin's name, did Lockhart's books end up as Professor Flitwick's personal podium?

Before I could dwell too long on that mystery, a student raised their hand.

"Professor, is it true you were once an internationally renowned dueling champion?"

Flitwick clasped his hands behind his back and gave a small nod. "Yes, I was."

A hush fell over the room. Even the Gryffindors looked impressed.

"So—" the student leaned forward, clearly eager for more, "what was it like? What was your greatest duel?"

Flitwick's smile didn't waver, but there was a distinct twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Ah, well," he said lightly, "I could certainly regale you with tales of my exploits… but that would mean tooting my own horn—something I have no intention of doing at the moment."

I glanced at the tower of Lockhart books beneath his feet.

Oh, the irony.

Flitwick's voice carried a faint note of distaste as he cast a pointed glance downward—right at the books he was using as a makeshift podium. The implication was crystal clear: some people had no issue boasting about their so-called achievements. Achievements so grand, so dazzling, that anyone with half a brain could tell they were about as real as a Leprechaun's gold.

"However," he continued smoothly, "if you're truly interested, you can check out Masters of Dueling: A Century of Champions in the library."

A proper book. One written by actual experts.

And with that, Flitwick clapped his hands together, shifting gears.

"But let's talk about why you're really here." His expression brightened, eyes twinkling. "This is your very first Charms class, and let me be clear—no wizard is truly a wizard if they cannot cast charms."

His tone, which had been light and jovial, took on a new weight—a blend of warmth and authority.

"Now," he continued, "who can tell me the most important factors in casting a spell? Any spell?"

"Wand," someone blurted out. I didn't bother looking to see who.

Flitwick inclined his head. "Yes, a wand." He paused. "But no, I wouldn't count it among the most essential factors for spellcasting. After all, at a very high level, it is possible to cast spells without one."

I raised an eyebrow.

Oh?

Now this was getting interesting.

"Magical focus?" offered another student—another nameless face in the endless sea of first-years.

"That falls under the same category as a wand, Mr. Davies," Flitwick replied smoothly.

"Magical power," one of the Weasley twins chimed in.

Flitwick's eyes lit up. "Yes, Mr. Weasley! One of the more obvious answers—yet, strangely, one that is often overlooked."

I turned slightly and whispered, "Say it."

Jasmine hesitated.

I blinked. What? She knew the answer. She wasn't the type to second-guess herself—so why was she sitting there, lips pressed together like she was debating whether to speak?

God help me, was she actually shy about this?

She flicked a glance at me, then—finally—raised her hand.

Flitwick's attention snapped to her instantly. "Yes, Miss Potter?"

Jasmine sat up a little straighter. "There are three crucial factors to keep in control while casting a spell, Professor."

Flitwick's face lit up with unmistakable joy. He gestured eagerly for her to continue.

"Those would be intent, emotion, and knowledge of the spell being cast."

"Perfectly said, Miss Potter!" Flitwick declared, practically beaming. "Those were precisely the factors I was looking for. Take fifteen points to Ravenclaw!"

From the side, I leaned in and whispered smugly, "Told you. Don't hesitate."

Jasmine gave me a sidelong glance but said nothing. The tiny twitch at the corner of her lips, though? Yeah. She knew I was right.

Flitwick turned back to the class. "Now that everyone knows the three key factors, can anyone guess why these particular ones are the most important?"

I raised my hand without hesitation.

"Yes, Mr. Ashborn?"

I met his gaze and answered smoothly, "Knowledge determines what a caster wants to accomplish while casting a spell. It allows us to prepare and structure magic accordingly to achieve the intended result. Without knowledge, magic would be wildly unpredictable and, more often than not, dangerous."

Flitwick's eyes gleamed with excitement. He gave an eager nod, practically urging me to continue.

I obliged.

"Intent is the clarity of the caster's desired outcome. The more precise a person's intent while casting a spell, the better the results."

I took a breath before moving on to the final factor.

"Emotion adds an extra punch to the power behind spells. A strong emotional state can amplify a spell's power—for example, an angry wizard will cast a much stronger Bombarda than someone who is calm."

A quiet hush fell over the class. Even the Gryffindors—who usually had a chronic case of selective hearing—looked like they were actually paying attention.

Flitwick clapped his hands together, beaming. "Brilliantly explained, Mr. Ashborn! Take thirty points to Gryffindor for such an insightful answer!"

I blinked.

Jasmine turned to me, her face unreadable for a moment before she smirked. "Congratulations... Gryffindor."

I groaned. Right. That little technicality.

Meanwhile, Flitwick turned back to the class and launched into an animated explanation of why these three factors were crucial for spellcasting. Though the lesson was mostly theoretical, he made sure we never lost interest—whether through his witty remarks, enthusiastic gestures, or the occasional impromptu twirl atop his makeshift podium.

And, of course, the highlight of the class: his deliberate, exaggerated stumbles off the stack of Lockhart books, each one more theatrical than the last. The man deserved an acting award. Every time, students gasped—then laughed when he caught himself, grinning like it was all part of the plan.

Before we knew it, only fifteen minutes remained in the lesson.

"I think that's enough theory for today," Flitwick announced, rubbing his hands together. "Let's move on to some practical magic. We'll begin with the most basic and essential of spells—the Wand-Lighting Charm."

Some students perked up, while others murmured excitedly.

"Some of you may have already cast this spell before, as it's one of the simplest charms used by families to check for magical ability in young children." He flicked his wand, and a warm light bloomed from the tip. "The incantation is Lumos—pronounced LOO-mos—and the wand movement is like this."

He demonstrated with a graceful, practiced motion.

I leaned back slightly, exchanging a glance with Jasmine.

(Lumos Wand Movement)

Flitwick demonstrated the movement, and a soft, glowing light bloomed at the tip of his wand.

"Now then, wands at the ready! Give it a try."

As soon as he finished speaking, most of the class eagerly flicked their wands, voices overlapping as they chanted, "Lumos!"

To my mild surprise, most of them actually pulled it off on their first attempt. Tiny glowing orbs dotted the room, casting an almost festive glow over the students. Flitwick, already in a fantastic mood, looked positively delighted as he clapped his hands together.

"Good work, children! Those who haven't quite managed it yet, keep trying until you succeed. And for those who have mastered Lumos, let's move on to the Wand-Extinguishing Charm."

He raised his wand once more, the light still shining at its tip.

"The incantation is Nox—pronounced NOKSS—and the wand movement is like this."

(Nox Wand Movement)

Once again, the students eagerly followed suit, and just like before, most got it right on the first try. The classroom became a miniature constellation of blinking lights as wands flickered between Lumos and Nox.

All around us, excited whispers filled the air. "Look, I did it!"—"That was so easy!"—"Merlin's beard, why won't mine work?!"

Jasmine and I, however, hadn't even moved.

Why?

Because I could already cast it silently.

And so could she—because I had taught her.

I turned to Jasmine with a teasing smile and whispered, "Jasmine, want to play a game?"

The word game immediately caught her attention—just as I expected. Her head tilted slightly, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "What game?"

"We both have ten seconds. Whoever casts Lumos and Nox the most times wins. But there's a catch—you can't cast the same spell twice in a row. Obvious reasons, of course. You up for the challenge?"

She considered it for all of two seconds before smirking. "You're up, Ashborn. You cast first, I'll count. Then we switch. No cheating, and we both count to ten—honestly."

"Fair enough. Ready when you give the signal," I said, already pulling out my wand.

"Alright. Three... two... one—go!"

I moved at my fastest possible speed, flicking my wand with precision, each spell cast silently and flawlessly:

Lumos. Nox. Lumos. Nox. Lumos. Nox. Lumos. Nox. Lumos. Nox. Lumos. Nox. Lumos. Nox. Lumos. Nox.

"And... zero! That's eight Lumos and eight Nox. All silent, fast, and precise. Not bad, Max."

I smirked. "You flatter me, Jasmine. But whether it's good enough to beat you remains to be seen."

She rolled her shoulders like a Quidditch player about to take off. "Alright, I'm ready when you give the signal."

I leaned in slightly and lowered my voice, just to keep things dramatic.

"Three... two... one—go!"

What happened next was humbling.

She didn't just cast Lumos and Nox—she blitzed through them like a human rapid-fire spell turret. My so-called fast casting suddenly felt like a casual afternoon stroll compared to the absolute blur of movement coming from her wand.

In mere ten seconds, she had cast:

Lumos. Nox. Lumos. Nox. Lumos. Nox. Lumos. Nox. Lumos. Nox. Lumos. Nox. Lumos. Nox. Lumos. Nox. Lumos. Nox. Lumos.

When she stopped, her wand remained lit—ten Lumos, nine Nox, all silent.

I stared.

What.

I wasn't the only one. Since we weren't sitting at the front, the rest of the class hadn't noticed—but Professor Flitwick certainly had. His eyes were locked onto us, a look of undisguised shock on his face.

For a second, I thought he might say something, but instead, he simply blinked, schooled his expression, and carried on with the lesson as if nothing had happened.

That said, the intrigued glint in his eyes told me one thing.

He had definitely taken notice.

After our little competition, one thing became undeniably clear—Jasmine Potter was an absolute menace when it came to Charms.

Her natural casting speed was absurdly high. Unfairly high. In a duel, she'd be a terrifying opponent.

And, of course, being the undisputed champion of our showdown, Jasmine was insufferably smug. She leaned in closer, her smirk practically glowing with victory. "Told you I'd win next time, Max. And I did."

I exhaled through my nose. "Yeah, yeah, you won," I admitted, still too stunned to properly argue.

She was about to launch into an extended gloating session—probably complete with a dramatic retelling—when Professor Flitwick's voice cut through the classroom, saving me from further suffering.

"It's wonderful to see that most of you have successfully cast both charms! That's an excellent start."

A ripple of pride spread through the class. Even those who had struggled seemed to brighten at the praise.

"Since today is your first class, I'll be generous—there will be no homework."

A wave of relief visibly washed over the students. Someone actually cheered.

"However," Flitwick continued with a knowing smile, "before our next lesson, I strongly encourage you to give a light reading to The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Madam Miranda Goshawk."

The relief dimmed slightly, but no one dared complain.

"That will be all for today. It's nearly lunchtime, so off you go!"

The moment those words left Professor Flitwick's mouth, chaos erupted.

Students scrambled to pack their bags, gather their books, and bolt for the door like a pack of starving wolves descending on the Great Hall.

But just as the crowd began shuffling out, Flitwick's next words froze everyone in place.

"Oh, and Mr. Ashborn, Miss Potter—please stay back after class."

For a brief second, the entire room stilled. A few heads turned our way, curiosity flickering in their eyes. But when it became clear that whatever this was had nothing to do with the rest of them, the students continued their exodus, chatting about lunch as if we hadn't just been singled out by one of the most respected professors at Hogwarts.

I exchanged a glance with Jasmine. Well. That was interesting.

That said, I had a pretty good idea why we were being asked to stay.

The last student slipped out, and Flitwick turned to us, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"That was some fine silent casting you both displayed—and even better competitiveness. But if I'm not mistaken, Miss Potter won, didn't she?"

Jasmine beamed. I scowled.

He didn't have to sound so amused about it.

Jasmine shot me a smug grin.

I, in turn, very deliberately looked in another direction, refusing to acknowledge it. If I didn't see it, it didn't exist.

Unfortunately, that was all the confirmation Flitwick needed.

"Your casting was incredibly fast, Mr. Ashborn—impressive, even considering it was just the Wand-Lighting Charm. But you, Miss Potter—your speed was nothing short of extraordinary. And to top it off, both of you cast silently, completely ignoring wand movements."

His sharp eyes flicked between us, his curiosity unmistakable.

"Tell me, have either of you had prior training in spellcasting before coming to Hogwarts?"

I answered smoothly, "No, Professor. Just some basic reading on spells."

Jasmine nodded. "None, Professor. Mum didn't even let me touch a wand before I got my Hogwarts letter."

That was clearly not the response Flitwick had been expecting. His eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise—only for the expression to quickly morph into something else.

Delight.

A wide smile spread across his face, his whole demeanor shifting from intrigued to downright elated.

"No training… yet such raw talent." He let out a small, almost gleeful chuckle. "I assume you both heard earlier that I was once a dueling champion?"

We nodded.

"Well, what you don't know is that every dueling champion harbors one great desire—to train a protégé."

His voice carried a weight that immediately commanded attention.

"Over the years, many parents have come to me, offering gold, pleading for me to tutor their children. But I do not take on students lightly. I only consider those with true potential."

His gaze flickered between us, sharp and calculating. "And the two of you… you have the potential to rival some of the greatest wizards ever produced."

I hadn't expected that. But I kept quiet, waiting for him to continue.

"In my years as a professor, I have taught countless students—many of them gifted. But the number who have displayed the same level of raw ability as you two?" He held up both hands. "I could count them on these fingers."

Jasmine and I exchanged glances. Neither of us spoke, but we didn't need to—this conversation had just become far too intriguing to walk away from.

Flitwick leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming. "Whenever I come across such students, I make them a proposition. Would you like to hear it?"

There was only one possible answer.

We nodded.

"Since you're interested, I'll tell you." His tone turned serious, carrying a weight of significance. "At the start of your second semester, on the very first day, you will duel me—individually. If you can last more than three minutes against me, I will take you as my protégés. And in doing so, I will personally train you in dueling—tailored to your own strengths and style."

I widened my eyes. Learning dueling directly from Professor Flitwick—the five-time dueling champion? This wasn't just an opportunity. This was legendary.

"But remember," he continued, his voice taking on an edge of finality, "this is a one-time offer. Once rejected, we will never speak of it again. You are not to mention this conversation to any other students—if I so much as hear a whisper of it from another mouth, both of you will be disqualified. And finally..." His sharp gaze locked onto us. "If you fail to last three minutes, you are never to bring up the idea of becoming my protégé again."

The room felt impossibly still. His words weren't a mere warning—they were law.

I swallowed hard. No second chances. No slip-ups. No hesitation. Either we rose to the challenge, or we walked away forever. My heart pounded—not from fear, but from sheer exhilaration.

Backing down? Never. That would be a disgrace—to my honor, to my pride, and to the name Ashborn.

I met Flitwick's gaze, sharp and piercing, like a predator weighing its prey. He was testing me, waiting to see if I would waver.

I didn't.

"I accept your proposition and challenge," I declared, my voice steady as stone.

Beside me, Jasmine squared her shoulders, her emerald eyes burning with the same fire. "I also accept your challenge, sir. I'll be ready."