The moment Harry stepped into the Room of Requirements, he immediately felt the familiar hum of magic in the air. If there was one thing Harry could count on, it was the room's ability to shift and change with whatever their needs were—kind of like an overly organized but slightly chaotic genie. But instead of granting three wishes, it just gave them the training space of their dreams (and nightmares).
"Okay, this is officially cooler than I thought it would be," Logan muttered, his eyes darting around the room like he was trying to find the nearest exit—or maybe just a place to hide a body. Harry wasn't sure, but it was definitely Logan.
The space was massive, like Hogwarts had swallowed a superhero training facility whole. Steel walls, enchanted tech everywhere, and training dummies that looked suspiciously like they'd be willing to throw down at the first sign of a fight. It was like something out of one of those ridiculous action movies Harry used to watch with his mates (before the whole 'I'm secretly a superpowered Kryptonian' thing kicked in).
"You think this place will hold up if I go berserker?" Logan raised an eyebrow, eyeing a training dummy as if it had personally offended him.
"Let's hope so," Harry shot back with a grin. "But if you break anything, you're cleaning it up. Deal?"
Logan didn't answer, but the low growl from the back of his throat said it all. Harry didn't mind—he was used to Logan's… charm.
"Impressive," Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, muttered, hands on his hips, scanning the room like he was preparing for a mission. Which, in a way, he kind of was. "But let's get down to it. Not here to marvel at the decorations."
"Yeah, yeah, we're all tough, Steve," Harry teased. "But you'll be amazed by how much training you can do with a little magic. And some serious magic." He shot a glance at Jean, who was standing by the wall, eyes narrowed in concentration. Her telekinesis had a tendency to get a little out of control when she was distracted.
Jean looked up at Steve with a knowing smile, the kind of smile that made Harry think she might be considering making things interesting.
"I could use some pointers on controlling my more destructive tendencies," Jean said sweetly, her voice deceptively calm.
Logan snorted, crossing his arms, "You mean when you accidentally bring down buildings with your mind?"
Jean didn't flinch, just flashed him a mischievous grin. "More or less."
Harry couldn't help but snicker at the exchange. If it weren't for the fact that he knew Jean could obliterate half of London with a twitch, he'd probably join in. Instead, he just gestured to the rest of the group.
"Alright, enough chatting. You guys are here because I trust you, but this isn't just a show-and-tell," Harry said. "We've got real training to do. Logan, Steve, get ready to show us how it's done. You're gonna teach us how to fight without magic when everything goes wrong."
"Don't worry, kid," Logan said, not looking at Harry but studying the dummies as though they'd personally insulted him. "This is my kind of thing."
Sirius, still standing awkwardly at the door, gaped at the room. "Wait a second," he muttered, blinking in disbelief. "You've been sneaking into this room? I feel like I've been walking through Hogwarts for years, and no one ever mentioned this place!"
"Yeah, you'd think Dumbledore would've made this public knowledge, but nope." Harry shrugged. "It's a secret. The best kind."
Sirius looked around again, clearly struggling to process everything. "This is like… a movie set. Are we sure we're not filming something for the big screen here? I mean, honestly, who needs this much gear?"
"You think I have a movie budget?" Harry said dryly. "If we're filming anything, it's gonna be a blooper reel, not a blockbuster."
Ron, who had been examining the training mats with a suspicious look, perked up. "So, this is what we are doing today? No wonder you've been looking a little… suspiciously smug, Harry." He grinned, clearly proud of himself for throwing in a joke, though he probably missed the fact that everyone else had already caught on to the fact that they would be fighting with their hands today.
Hermione, standing next to Ron with her arms crossed, shot him a warning look. "You're going to get us all into trouble, aren't you?" she said, though her smile said otherwise. "And are you really going to teach us how to fight without magic? Don't we need magic to win everything?"
"Not exactly." Harry's voice went serious for a moment, and the entire room quieted. "You've all seen what can happen when you're caught unprepared, right? No magic, no tricks, just you and your fists. That's what we're training for today. How to hold your own when there's no spell to save you."
At that moment, Luna, who had been staring at one of the dummies with an almost unnerving amount of concentration, piped up. "I wonder if we can summon an acromantula in here to help with reflex training," she mused casually, as if she were talking about the weather.
Hermione immediately shot her a horrified look. "Luna, no!"
"Oh, but they're very effective," Luna said dreamily. "I hear they really teach you to be quick on your feet. Imagine the reflexes we'd have if we could dodge one of them."
Fred and George, who were at the far end of the room trying to figure out how to make the training dummies explode (because, of course), overheard this and nodded enthusiastically. "We'd have to set up a few traps," Fred said. "Maybe a few firecrackers or—"
"—A barrel of exploding slime," George finished with a grin.
Fred tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I like where your head's at, George. Let's save that for later."
Harry rolled his eyes but couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe for next time. We've got to stick to basics, okay? Let's see what Logan and Steve can teach us before we go completely off the rails."
Daphne, who had been sitting cross-legged near the back, raised an eyebrow. "What if I don't want to learn basic stuff?" she asked, her voice smooth like she was considering skipping the lesson entirely.
"Then you can learn how to run away from giant spiders and exploding slime," Harry shot back, grinning.
Logan snorted at that, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Alright, kid. You've got my attention. Let's see what you've got."
And with that, the real training began.
But, as usual, Harry was pretty sure he'd be learning just as much about himself—and the sheer chaos of working with superheroes—as he would about not dying in a fight.
—
Sirius stood with his arms crossed, surveying Harry like he was a painting in a modern art museum. His lips twitched, eyes glinting with the kind of mischief that usually led to something very entertaining—or disastrous, depending on your perspective. Harry could already feel the 'uh-oh' moment creeping up on him.
"So, Harry," Sirius began, with a flourish that suggested he was about to drop a truth bomb, "why exactly are you wearing… that?" He gestured to Harry's workout gear, which—let's be real—was about as stylish as a sack of potatoes. "I mean, didn't I gift you a real superhero suit for your birthday? You know, the one with actual super capabilities?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone a little too playful for Harry's liking.
Harry glanced around, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity in front of the others. Steve, for example, was standing there looking like he'd just stepped off a movie set in full Captain America glory—shield polished, muscles gleaming, and probably ready to take on an army. Meanwhile, Harry? Well, he looked like he was about to hit the gym, not face down any supervillains.
"Yeah, Sirius, I appreciate the gesture," Harry said, trying to keep things light. "But, uh, the suit's a bit—well, it's more ceremonial than combat-ready, you know? Plus," he waved vaguely at the chaos around him, "I like feeling like I can run without needing to take a breath every time I bend down."
Sirius wasn't having it. His finger shot out, pointing at Steve. "And him? Look at Captain America over here, looking like he's about to stop a nuclear missile with just his shield. And you—" He waved his hand dramatically toward Harry. "You look like you're ready to run a marathon or something. That's not the vibe we're going for, mate."
Jean, standing nearby, cocked her head to one side, arms crossed, giving Harry an amused look. "Well, someone's gotta be the odd one out, right?" Her voice was smooth, with that tone of hers that suggested she absolutely knew she had the best snark in the room.
Harry was about to fire back something equally witty when Sirius made his move. He swept his hand across the room with all the grandeur of a man about to announce the next big thing—which, knowing Sirius, probably was.
"Alright, fine," he said, dramatically. "Logan looks like he could stare down a dragon and walk away bored, but that is not the point." He turned back to the group, now raising his hands like he was presenting some grand idea to a room of eager investors. "We're a team, people. If we're gonna train like heroes, we've gotta look the part. So," he said, narrowing his gaze, "you four—" He pointed to Harry, Jean, Susan, and Logan. "Go. Get. Your. Gear. NOW."
"What?!" Harry blinked, eyes wide. "Gear? We're just training for—"
"Nope," Sirius interrupted, like the guy who cuts you off on a race track. "No arguing. The Room will take care of it." He gestured to the side, where, naturally, the Room of Requirement was already doing its thing. Racks of hero-worthy outfits appeared—gear that probably cost more than Harry's life savings (if he had one).
Luna, still staring at some animated training dummy near the back, didn't even look up. She was too absorbed in whatever weird magic she was studying to care. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. You know, all the best heroes have matching outfits. Just wait until I can convince you all to wear feathers."
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Not now, Luna."
Jean gave Harry a wicked grin. "Come on, it'll be fun. You'll look good in whatever they give you. Maybe a cape, huh?" Her voice had that sly tone like she was already picturing him in something dramatic.
"Right," Harry muttered under his breath. "Just… nothing too tight, okay? I don't need to give off the wrong impression." He had a mental image of himself being squeezed into something that could only be described as ridiculous. Definitely not the vibe.
Susan, ever the optimist, winked as she walked toward the changing area. "You'll look fantastic. You've got the whole 'muscle vibe' going for you." She raised her eyebrows in mock seriousness. "And don't worry, Harry, I'm sure your abs will speak for themselves."
"Susan!" Harry groaned, facepalming. "You're terrible."
Logan, ever the loner and not exactly enthusiastic about the whole "team gear" idea, shot Sirius a look that said he was not on board with this. "I wasn't planning on wearing anything 'cute,'" Logan grumbled. "I don't do cute." He crossed his arms, looking like someone who had just been told to wear a tutu to battle.
Sirius shot him a playful look. "Well then, I guess you're stuck with the fluffy version of whatever we give you." He gave Logan a once-over like he was already envisioning Logan in something utterly ridiculous. "I'm thinking something furry, maybe with a touch of rogue charm."
Logan grunted, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "We'll see about that."
With a clap of his hands, Sirius turned to the rest of the room. "Great. Now, once you all get your gear on, meet me out here. And as for the rest of you—" He waved at the others who were still trying to understand the implications of this whole "gear" situation. "You'll get your turn. We'll have a gear-building session later. Everyone's gotta pitch in ideas. Trust me, it'll be… perfect."
"Perfect?" Ron asked skeptically, eyeing the changing area like it might explode. "You mean like the time Fred and George made a flying broomstick that got stuck in the Great Hall ceiling?"
Sirius's grin widened, as if that was the exact point. "Exactly," he said with a wink. "Exactly like that."
The Room of Requirement hummed as the changing area grew more defined, and Harry couldn't help but smile. Yeah, this was going to be a ridiculous day. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized he was kind of here for the ridiculousness. After all, it wasn't every day you got to wear a superhero outfit and train with a bunch of actual superheroes.
Sirius, clearly pleased with himself, rubbed his hands together. "Alright, let's go, team." He grinned like a kid in a candy store. "It's hero time!"
And just like that, the madness of the day was off and running.
—
The echo of boots on the stone floor was a little louder than it needed to be, as Harry, Susan, Jean, and Logan strutted—or at least, tried to—into the Room of Requirement. The place had transformed once again, this time into a wide, open space that looked like it could easily double as a high-tech training facility. The walls shimmered with the faint glow of magic, a good omen for whatever crazy shenanigans they were about to get into.
As they walked in, the team drew some appreciative stares. Not from the Room, but from the others who were already gathered.
Harry, for one, felt like he was walking into the room of an old superhero movie—except this time, it wasn't a movie. It was real. And yeah, he might've been feeling just a bit smug about how good his gear looked. He was decked out in a red and gold bodysuit, looking a little like Iron Man if Iron Man was also half wizard, and maybe just a bit more handsome (according to his totally humble opinion). The black and brown underarmor fit perfectly, and the gold "M" on his chest? Total power move. It stood for 'Marauder,' obviously, but it also had the added benefit of making him look even more official. Not that he needed it.
"Whoa," Sirius called from the center of the room, looking impressed. "Is it just me, or does that suit scream 'hero'?" He raised an eyebrow. "I can already picture it—'Marauder: The Next Big Thing.' You've got the whole look down."
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You know, if I had a Galleon for every time someone said 'you look like a hero,' I'd have enough to buy a whole fleet of brooms."
Sirius threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Fair point. But look at you, mate! If you don't get a comic book deal soon, I'm officially calling foul."
Jean, appearing beside Harry with a smirk that practically screamed I'm way too cool for this, gave Sirius a glance. "Yeah, because that cape really would've elevated the whole thing, right?"
Sirius smirked back, shrugging dramatically. "Capes are iconic. They scream 'I'm here to save the day and look good doing it.'"
Harry snorted. "That's funny, because the only thing they scream is 'watch out for the doorknob.'"
Susan, looking equally impressive in her sleek yellow-and-black gear, chimed in from the sidelines. "I don't know about you, but I feel like I could take on an army in this."
Harry glanced over at her, noticing how well her suit hugged her form, the magical fibers giving off a subtle shine. "Looks good on you. I bet you could take on an army and still have time to sort out your herbology homework." The Hufflepuff pride was strong with her, and it worked.
Susan tossed her hair back with a smile. "And I'd still look fabulous doing it."
Jean, in her own red and yellow gear, raised an eyebrow. "You know, for someone who's practically radiating 'serious hero' energy, you're surprisingly chill."
Logan, who'd been quietly inspecting his own gear—a stark, minimalist X-Men-style uniform, dark and utilitarian—finally spoke up. "Chill is good. Chill keeps people alive."
Harry glanced at him. "You know, for someone who pretends not to care about this 'hero stuff,' you're looking pretty... well, heroic."
Logan grunted. "As long as the suit does its job and doesn't get in the way, I'm good."
Sirius couldn't help himself and threw a thumbs-up. "That's what I'm talking about. I swear, we're all going to be the most dysfunctional superhero team ever, but hey, at least we'll look cool doing it."
Before Harry could add his two cents, he noticed the others crowding around the mirror, all eager to get a look at their new outfits.
"Okay, okay," Susan said with a grin, adjusting her yellow and black suit. "I know I look amazing, but I still think we need a cape. Some statement piece to make it pop."
"No capes," Harry and Jean said in unison. Jean shot him a playful look. "Though I do get why you might want one. They're classic."
"You two are killjoys," Susan shot back. "Where's the fun in saving the world if you can't look fabulous while doing it?"
"Well, we're gonna be saving the world and looking fabulous," Harry said, smoothing his hands over his suit with exaggerated care. "No harm in that."
Sirius grinned. "That's the spirit! Now, how about we see if this fancy new gear works in actual practice? I know I'm excited to see some action."
Jean cracked her knuckles. "Action? You mean no more of that 'team-building' stuff where we all pretend to be nice? I'm ready for the real deal."
Harry shot her a sideways glance, smirking. "Well, last time we tried that, we ended up with half the Room being leveled by an accidental hex. Not that I caused it, but—"
Sirius interrupted with a laugh. "It was definitely you, Harry. But hey, I'm all for chaos if it means we get results." He clapped his hands. "Alright, enough talking. Let's see what you've got. Training time!"
"Ugh, can we just skip the 'I'm-the-mentor' speech and get on with it?" Ron interrupted from the back of the room, arms crossed. "It's like every time you open your mouth, it sounds like you've been reading too many superhero comics."
"That's because I have," Sirius said with a mock-serious expression. "You should try it, Ron. You might learn something."
Ron rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the grin tugging at his lips. "Fine, whatever. Let's get this over with."
"Right," Sirius said, looking each of them over. "No more fun and games. It's time to make sure you're not just superhero-ready, but battle-ready. So, who's up first?"
Harry raised his hand dramatically. "I'll go first. Let's see if this suit can actually handle me without falling apart."
Susan snorted. "Please, Harry. The only thing that's going to fall apart is your pride when I show you up."
Harry grinned back, ready for whatever crazy stunt the Room had in store for them. Hero time, indeed.
—
Logan's eyes locked onto Cedric like he was sizing up a steak for dinner. There was something about the way he stood, arms crossed and that constant scowl plastered on his face, that made the air feel ten degrees hotter and a whole lot less friendly.
"Alright, Cedric," Logan rumbled, voice low and gravelly, like a bear that had just woken up on the wrong side of a cave. "You and me are gonna do a little one-on-one today. And by one-on-one, I mean me kicking your butt into shape. You've got power, kid—don't deny it. But power's useless if you can't control it. And, trust me, you don't want it running wild."
Cedric, who was still trying to shake off his initial hesitation, tried to muster a cocky grin, but it came off more like he was just holding onto a lifeline. "I think I can handle it, Logan. I mean, how bad can it be?" His voice was a little too high-pitched to sound convincing.
Logan's eyes narrowed like he was daring Cedric to test him. "Bad? You're gonna be begging for mercy by the time I'm done. First rule? Don't get distracted. Second rule? Don't die." He cracked his knuckles with a sound that made Cedric flinch just a little. "Let's see what you're really made of, huh?"
Cedric swallowed, giving Logan a wary glance. "Right. Got it."
Steve Rogers, standing just a few feet away, flashed a smile that could've been mistaken for friendly, if it wasn't for the steel edge behind it. "Logan's got the feral stuff covered. He'll show you how to keep those instincts under control. You've got a lot of raw potential, Cedric. But the thing with raw potential is—it's dangerous when you don't know how to handle it."
Steve glanced at the rest of the group, who were still milling about, their energy radiating a mix of excitement and nervous tension. "The rest of you, listen up." His voice carried effortlessly across the room, instantly grabbing everyone's attention. "I'm taking you through drills today. I need to know who's got what and who's still working on it. You don't just get to walk in here and expect magic to do all the work. You need to train your body as much as your brain. Everyone gets a piece of the action."
Fred, never one to pass up an opportunity for a bit of fun, nudged his brother George. "What do you think, mate? You think Cap's got the moves, or do we have to teach him the 'Weasley Shuffle'?"
George grinned. "Well, if Steve can't keep up, we'll have to put him through the 'Weasley Bootcamp.' Just don't expect any mercy, Captain."
Steve, looking very much like he'd heard that same line about a million times, shot them a look that could've frozen a volcano. "Keep talking, and I'll make sure you both get your own private 'lap-time.' You'll be running them for the next hour."
Fred and George immediately straightened up, eyes wide. "Yes, sir," they said in perfect unison, hands snapping to their sides like soldiers on parade.
Ron, still bouncing like a rubber ball on caffeine, was practically vibrating with energy. "So, when do we get to do the fun stuff, Steve? You know, like the combat training or… something where I don't have to be all polite and follow orders?"
Steve gave him a sideways grin. "You'll get your turn, Ron. But first, we're starting with the basics. Focus, precision, and discipline. Let's see if your enthusiasm can carry you through a round of drills without me having to drag you back to the starting line."
Luna, who had been staring off into space as if she were plotting the next intergalactic voyage, suddenly perked up. "Oh! Are we going to face dragons today? Or is that the week after?"
Steve raised an eyebrow, then deadpanned, "Dragons? Next week. But if you see one, let me know. I'll make sure you get extra credit for your dragon-slaying skills."
Luna nodded thoughtfully, as if this made perfect sense. "I'll bring my broomstick, just in case."
"Just don't crash it into anyone," Steve muttered, then turned his attention back to the group. "Alright, people. Time to get to work."
Hermione, ever the voice of reason (and the person who would actually read the instruction manual), raised her hand just a little too formally. "Steve, what about the magical aspect of things? Shouldn't we be practicing spells or—"
"Don't worry, Hermione." Steve's grin was sharp as a knife. "We'll get to that. But first? We need to see what kind of shape you're in physically. Magic doesn't matter much if you can't dodge a punch or take a hit."
"Magic, punching, whatever," Ron quipped. "I just hope we get to practice some of the good stuff soon."
"You will." Steve looked back at him, eyebrows raised. "Eventually."
And then, the action started.
Cedric, now looking like he was regretting every decision that led him to this moment, followed Logan to the far corner of the room. "Ready to show me what you've got?" Logan asked, cracking his neck like a wind-up toy.
"Uh, sure?" Cedric said, though his voice was half an octave higher than usual.
Logan nodded. "Good. First rule of training with me: Focus. Second rule: Don't look at me like that. I'm not going easy on you."
"Do you ever go easy on anyone?" Cedric muttered under his breath, but Logan caught it.
"Nope. Not once in my life. And that's why I'm still breathing. Let's get started."
Meanwhile, Steve had already got the rest of the crew moving. He was barking orders like a drill sergeant on a caffeine binge. Fred and George were already grumbling under their breath, while Ron was practically bouncing out of his skin with excitement.
"Alright, Ron," Steve said, tossing him a shield. "Let's see how fast you can react."
"React? I've got this," Ron said, holding the shield like it was made of feathers instead of steel. But then Steve threw a mock punch, and Ron fumbled the shield, barely managing to block it.
"Not bad, but if that punch was real, you'd be knocked out by now. Focus."
Ron blinked and straightened up. "Okay, okay. I've got it this time."
Luna, already twirling a strand of hair as she watched Cedric and Logan, raised her hand with a dreamy expression. "Are we going to do anything involving time travel today?"
Steve's face faltered for just a second. "No, Luna. No time travel."
"Pity," Luna replied nonchalantly, as though she were disappointed she wouldn't get to save the universe today.
The room buzzed with energy as everyone broke into their training. Harry, standing at the back and watching it all unfold, muttered under his breath to no one in particular, "Good luck, Cedric. You're gonna need it."
The flurry of motion, instruction, and competition kicked into overdrive. Everyone was pushing themselves harder than they had before, whether they realized it or not. And, for better or worse, the next few hours were going to test every one of them—not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, and definitely in ways they hadn't anticipated.
But that was the beauty of training with legends. You either kept up—or got left behind.
—
Logan was eyeing Cedric like he was the last piece of pie at a family dinner—there was a lot of "don't touch" in that look, and maybe a little bit of "I'm going to eat you, kid."
Cedric wasn't sure which part of this was supposed to be training and which part was supposed to be life-or-death combat, but Logan had already made it pretty clear he wasn't here to play nice.
"Alright, kid," Logan grunted, cracking his knuckles like they were made of firewood. "Here's the deal. You've got claws. Big whoop. But if you want to make them worth a damn, you're gonna need more than just something flashy. You're gonna need a brain… or, I dunno, at least something resembling one."
Cedric, looking like a kid who just realized his entire life was a lie, straightened up. He was trying to channel his best "I'm-cool-with-this" Quidditch Captain persona, but it was like trying to look chill while holding a wand and trying not to get eaten by a dragon.
"I'm pretty sure I know how to use them," Cedric said, though his voice had the same shaky confidence of someone who was really hoping that he didn't make a complete idiot of himself in front of someone who could probably rip him in half like a soggy piece of parchment.
Logan raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Show me."
Without waiting for Cedric to catch up, Logan was already moving—faster than anyone had the right to be. Cedric barely had time to blink before a claw came at him, slicing the air with a shwing that made his heart try to escape through his throat.
"Whoa, hey!" Cedric ducked to the side, just missing it, but Logan was already on him. The older mutant's movements were smooth, fluid, and kind of terrifying in how fast they came. "Are you seriously trying to hit me?"
Logan grinned, showing all his teeth like some kind of feral animal. "I don't hit. I teach."
Before Cedric could even think about making a counterattack, Logan's claws were in his face again. Cedric barely swiped them away, his claws scraping against Logan's with a loud screech of metal-on-bone. It was like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle desperately trying to fit together, except one was too big, and the other was already a masterpiece of destruction.
"Nice try, kid," Logan said with a grin that made Cedric feel like he'd just been told his best friend was an imaginary dragon. "But it's not enough. The claws aren't your weapon. They're an extension of you. And right now, you're still too busy thinking, 'Oh, look at me, I've got claws! I'm dangerous.'"
Cedric flinched. He had been thinking that. And now Logan was calling him out on it like a dad who'd just caught him sneaking cookies after bedtime.
"Stop thinking," Logan growled. "You're not gonna outsmart me. You're gonna out-fight me."
With that, Logan took a step forward and slammed his fist into Cedric's stomach with the force of a semi-truck. Cedric gasped, unable to control the wave of pain that suddenly made his vision wobble.
"Ow!" Cedric wheezed, clutching his stomach. "That was definitely... not on my training syllabus."
Logan shrugged, totally unconcerned. "Pain's your friend, kid. It'll teach you things books never will."
"Yeah, right," Cedric muttered, still trying to catch his breath. "Could've fooled me. It feels like my ribs are hosting a one-man concert of 'Breaking News.'"
"Come on," Logan said, cracking his neck like he was about to throw down with an entire wrestling team. "Get up. Don't make me knock you out again."
Cedric, still a little wobbly, got to his feet. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, wiped the mix of blood and drool from his lip, and tried his best to summon what little dignity was left in him. He wasn't about to let Logan and his dumb claws get the best of him.
"You know," Cedric said, his voice taking on a mock-indignant tone, "you really know how to kill a kid's self-esteem, Logan. Have you ever thought about doing stand-up?"
Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused. "You think you're funny, huh?"
Cedric grinned through the pain. "Well, yeah. I mean, I was nervous about this whole thing until you started giving me free pain management advice."
Logan smirked. "Yeah, that's the spirit. Now show me what you've got."
And with that, Logan was back at it, moving faster than a speeding bullet. Cedric barely had time to react, but this time, instead of hesitating, he let his instincts take over. He launched himself forward, his claws flashing through the air, aiming for Logan's midsection.
Logan sidestepped him like it was nothing, grabbed his wrist mid-swipe, and slammed him to the floor with a crack! that made the whole room seem to shake.
"Oof," Cedric gasped as the air left his lungs. "Guess I wasn't fast enough."
Logan stood over him, not even breaking a sweat. "Nope. You were thinking too damn much again. Remember—this isn't about being fast. It's about feeling it. Let your instincts take control. Let your claws breathe, kid. Otherwise, they'll do the thinking for you, and trust me, they don't care if you're ready for it."
Cedric groaned, trying to push himself back up. "Yeah, yeah. Instincts. I get it. But if my claws have a brain of their own, I'm in trouble. I'm not exactly ready for that whole 'wild animal' vibe you've got going on."
Logan snorted. "You've got no idea. But you're getting there. Keep pushing, kid."
Cedric wiped a streak of blood from his lip and stood up a little straighter. "Alright, alright. No more thinking. But if I get a concussion from this, I'm blaming you."
Logan didn't respond. Instead, he just grinned like a maniac and dropped into a fighting stance.
And this time, Cedric wasn't thinking. He was just moving.
And if he could survive Logan's claws, maybe—just maybe—he had a shot at mastering his own.
---
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