The class had just settled back into their seats when Flitwick clapped his hands. "Alright, wands away for now. I want you to listen."
That got their attention. Flitwick never made them put their wands away unless something important was coming. The usual rustling and chatter died down as he looked over the class, his expression thoughtful.
"I imagine," he said, "that all of you have been paying attention to what's been happening outside these walls."
Silence.
"The World Cup. The Dark Mark in the sky."
Harry and Ron exchanged curious glances.
Flitwick didn't elaborate. "I've been watching, not just the news, but you. The way you're reacting. The way you're thinking. And I've decided, it's time for a different kind of lesson."
He let that sink in for a second before continuing.
"Up until now, you've been learning spells that are useful. Practical. You can summon things, repair things, float things. That's good magic." Flitwick paused, looking over the class. "But let me ask you something, what's the most important spell you know?"
Hermione frowned slightly, clearly thinking. Harry shifted in his seat. Even Malfoy, who usually had something to say about everything, stayed quiet.
Flitwick let the quiet stretch for a moment longer, then nodded as if he had expected this.
"You don't know, do you?" he said, voice calm. "Because there isn't just one answer."
He swung his legs slightly where he sat. "Magic isn't about memorizing a list of 'most useful spells. It's about imagination. Adaptability. The wizard who can take what they know and reshape it for the moment, that's the wizard who survives."
He flicked his wand at his desk.
Immediately, the wood twisted and folded, reshaping itself into a perfectly detailed wooden hawk. A few students gasped. Then, with a second flick, the hawk fluttered its wings once before taking off, swooping over their heads.
"That was Transfiguration," Flitwick said. "But this," He gave a subtle twist of his wand, and the hawk executed a tight, controlled loop before landing neatly on his outstretched hand. "This is Charms."
The students watched the hawk closely, eyes wide. It wasn't just a wooden shape anymore, it moved like it was real.
"Transfiguration changes an object," Flitwick continued. "Charms refines it. Controls it. Pushes it further."
With one last move of his wand, the hawk glided back toward his desk and seamlessly shifted back into polished wood.
"Charms aren't just for everyday tasks," he said, scanning the room. "They can shape the world around you. They can turn the tide of a battle."
Then, as if flipping a switch, he clapped his hands and grinned. "And with that in mind, let me tell you a little story."
As Flitwick let his words settle, the classroom buzzed with quiet energy.
Harry turned toward Ron, about to say something about Flitwick's hawk demonstration, but his words stalled when he caught a snippet of Blaise Zabini's voice from the Slytherin side.
"…it's never just about knowing spells," Blaise Zabini was saying. "That's what my mum told me. A real duelist masters one approach. There are only a few real paths in dueling, and once you go down one, that's it."
Harry turned his head slightly, pretending to adjust his sleeve so he could listen without being obvious.
Theodore Nott nodded, looking thoughtful. "My cousin told me something similar. That's why high-level duels are impossible to predict. No two duelists fight the same way."
"She never told me the details," Blaise admitted, tapping his wand lightly against his desk. "Just that duelists have their own distinct styles, and the best ones? They never fight how you expect them to."
Harry frowned slightly. He glanced at Ron.
"What do you think?" he muttered.
Ron shrugged, looking contemplative. "Yeah, I reckon that's true. Even Bill told me something like that once."
Harry blinked.
"Bill?"
Ron smirked slightly. "Before he went off to Egypt to be a Curse Breaker, he wanted to see if he could make it as a duelist. But he didn't have the spell mastery to qualify for the UK team."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "It's that hard?"
"Obviously," Ron said. "But Bill never actually wanted to be a duelist. He just wanted to see what it was like. And he got what he wanted."
Harry tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
Ron leaned forward slightly. "Bill was never about reading the opponent. That's the key to real dueling, figuring out what your enemy's gonna do before they do it. But Bill? He was always more about understanding spell patterns. That's what made him such a good Curse Breaker. It's basically dueling, but against ancient magic instead of a person."
That actually made a lot of sense.
Before Harry could reply, Flitwick's voice cut through the low murmurs.
"Oh? Discussing dueling, are we?"
Flitwick turned toward Blaise and Theodore, his eyes twinkling with interest. "Your mother taught you about dueling mastery, did she?"
Blaise, caught off guard gave a slight nod. "She told me a few things, yeah. Not details, just.." He hesitated, then continued, "She said the best duelists all follow a specific path. They master one way of fighting."
Flitwick tapped a finger against his chin. "Yeah, she'd be right about that. I'd know, I was a dueling champion. And because of that little conversation, I've decided to change the story I was gonna tell you. Instead, I'm gonna show you three techniques that take years to master, most duelists only ever commit to one. I mastered two during my time competing. The third? That was a personal challenge I set for myself long after I left the dueling circuit. Because learning magic?" He smiled. "That never stops."
Before anyone could react, he hopped off his desk, wand already in hand.
"Watch closely."
And just like that, the lesson wasn't a lesson anymore.
Flitwick twirled his wand between his fingers, pacing slowly.
"Now, let's talk about a situation every duelist faces. No time to dodge. No time to shield. Spells coming at you faster than you can react. What do you do?"
The class was silent.
Flitwick smiled. "If you're skilled enough, you don't dodge. You don't block. You take control."
He smiled at students. "Alright. I need two volunteers to cast at me. Nothing too dangerous, of course. Just a simple jinx or hex."
"Gladly," Blaise Zabini said smoothly, already pulling out his wand. Next to him, Theodore Nott smirked, clearly game for the challenge.
"Excellent," Flitwick said. "Fire when ready."
For a second, neither of them moved. Then, Blaise sent a Stinging Hex straight at Flitwick's chest, while Theodore followed up with a jelly-legs jinx.
Flitwick didn't move. Not until the very last second.
Tap.
At the very last second, his wand barely skimmed the incoming hex, and the air itself seemed to twist. The spell bent unnaturally mid-flight, veering harmlessly to the side before fizzling out.
The Jelly-Legs Jinx shot forward right after, faster than the first. Flitwick twisted his wand, just a fraction, the jinx snapped sideways, missing him by inches before dissipating.
The room was dead silent.
"What" Daphne Greengrass started, then stopped.
Flitwick let out a small chuckle, tucking his wand away as he strolled forward. "Gets them every time."
"Now, let me explain. What you just saw is called spell deflection. No shields, no barriers, just pure magical control."
He came to a stop in the middle of the room, looking over his students.
"To do it, you need to awaken your magical core."
That got their attention.
"Your core," Flitwick continued, "is the well of magic inside you. Every spell you cast draws from it, whether you realize it or not. Most of you cast instinctively, channeling magic without much thought to the energy behind it. But a wizard who truly understands their core?" He smiled. "They can refine that energy, control it, wield it in ways most can't."
He raised his wand again, holding it up for emphasis. "That's what I did just now. The moment a spell is about to hit, you match its energy with your own, just enough, no more, no less. And with that, you can push it aside."
A few students were still staring at the wall, as if expecting the deflected spells to be lingering somewhere.
Pansy Parkinson raised a hand. "But how do you know how much energy to use?"
"Ah," Flitwick said, tapping his nose. "Now that's the tricky part. You need to be as close as possible to the amount of magical energy in the spell you want to deflect. Too much, and you could overpower it, causing an explosion or worse, a backlash. Too little, and the spell breaks through."
"So how do you figure it out?" Theodore Nott asked, clearly intrigued.
Flitwick's grin widened. "That, my boy, is something you'll start learning in your sixth year."
A collective groan swept through the class.
Flitwick laughed. "Don't look so disappointed! You'll get there soon enough. For now, let's stick to the basics. Any other questions?"
Almost immediately, half the room started talking at once.
Flitwick held up a hand, grinning. "One at a time, one at a time!"
The chatter died down just enough for Daphne Greengrass to speak first. "Professor, you said duelists can deflect spells by matching their energy, but… how do you train something like that? Do you just keep trying until you get the balance right?"
"A good question, Miss Greengrass!" Flitwick nodded approvingly. "Training for spell deflection requires precision. It's not just about raw power, it's about control. You start small, learning to adjust your magical output in tiny increments. Most wizards never even realize how much they overshoot their spells." He smiled. "It takes years of practice, but once mastered, it becomes second nature."
Theodore Nott leaned forward, arms crossed. "So it's not something you can just learn from a book, then?"
"Ah, exactly!" Flitwick beamed. "You can read all you like about the theory, but no amount of studying will replace hands-on experience. It's like learning to balance on a broom, you don't master it by reading about Quidditch, do you?"
A few students chuckled at that.
Seated a few rows back, Pansy Parkinson frowned. "But what happens if you get it wrong?" she asked. "You said too much energy can cause an explosion. Has that ever happened in a real duel?"
"Oh, yes. And the results can be… spectacularly messy."
A ripple of unease passed through some of the students.
"Luckily," he continued, "most skilled duelists avoid overloading a spell entirely. The real danger is underestimating your opponent's magic. If you don't put in enough energy, the spell punches right through your wandwork and…" He clapped his hands sharply. "Boom."
"Brilliant," Blaise murmured, half to himself.
From the Gryffindor side, Lavender Brown raised a hesitant hand. "Professor, um… is this something Aurors learn?"
Flitwick nodded. "Some do, yes. Aurors who specialize in combat magic train in deflection techniques, though most rely on shields first and foremost. Spell deflection is advanced, not many wizards can do it mid-duel."
Then, from the back, Malfoy drawled, "Alright, but what about wandless magic? If it's all about controlling magical energy, couldn't a real master do it without a wand?"
Flitwick chuckled. "Ah, now that… that is a fascinating question." He folded his hands behind his back, his eyes twinkling. "Wandless deflection is possible. But it is beyond difficult. Even the most gifted duelists, those who can cast simple spells without a wand, struggle to control raw energy in the air. A wand focuses your magic, gives it direction. Imagine trying to catch an arrow mid-flight with only your fingertips."
A few students looked properly impressed at that.
"So it's impossible?" Malfoy pressed.
Flitwick smirked. "No. Just… highly impractical."
That seemed to satisfy Malfoy, who sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful.
Flitwick clapped his hands again. "Alright, I think that's enough theory for now! Let's move on."
Flitwick rolled his shoulders.
"Now, that was the first technique," he said casually. "But real duelists? They don't just react. They shape the battlefield."
A flick of his wand and an enchanted dueling dummy appeared. Unlike the stiff, wooden models they had used in past lessons, this one moved. Its limbs adjusted slightly, its carved fingers flexing around its wand. It was waiting.
Flitwick took a step forward. "Spell chaining," he said, "is one of the most versatile techniques in advanced spellcasting. If you're creative, the sky's the limit."
And then he moved.
A pulse of raw, unseen energy erupted outward as Flitwick's wand cut through the air.
Harry felt it. The heat, the static, the invisible force pressing on them like the room itself had shifted.
A golden shimmer burst from Flitwick's wand. Birds, dozens of them, wings gleaming like firelight as they shot toward the ceiling.
Harry focused on them immediately, trying to follow everything at once. The way their wings beat in unison, the way they turned sharply at the peak of their ascent.
They pivoted.
With a move of Flitwick's wand, the golden birds twisted midair, diving toward the dummy like a pack of hunting hawks.
Another spell.
Heat rushed against Harry's skin as the birds ignited, their feathers turning to fire. The temperature in the room actually changed. The rush of air sent a tingle across his arms.
The dummy reacted, a shield flashing in front of it, glowing blue.
Harry leaned in, watching intently, eyes locked on the scene but then he glanced at Flitwick and the view has shocked him.
The same professor who charmed desks to dance, who squeaked excitedly when students got a spell right, he was also this. A man who had stood in dueling rings, faced real opponents, fought with this same calm precision.
Harry had never thought much about it before, but now, he couldn't unsee it.
This was a warrior.
His expression was one of total focus, his body loose but ready, moving with instinct, not thought. And beneath the discipline, the control he saw…
Joy.
Pure joy.
The magic poured off him like heat from a fire, effortless, natural, like he was made for this.
Harry had never seen him like this before.
A shiver ran up his arms. The heat in the room should've been overwhelming, but it wasn't. If anything, it barely registered now. Something else had taken hold.
It started in his hands, a faint tingling, his wand buzzing lightly against his palm. Then deeper, a pull in his chest, tight and electric, like something inside him was waking up.
For a second, he swore he could feel it, magic thrumming under his skin.
Ron shifted beside him, leaning in slightly. "Mate, you alright?"
Harry blinked, barely turning his head.
His voice came out quiet, almost unsure. "Can you feel it?"
Ron frowned. "Feel what?"
Harry glanced back toward Flitwick. He gestured vaguely.
"This," he whispered. "This power. This magic. You don't feel it?"
Ron's brows knitted together. He looked between Harry and Flitwick, then shook his head.
"No."
Another spell.
The air collapsed inward, the heat, the fire, all of it suddenly compressed, dense.
The firestorm melted.
Molten gold collapsed downward, swallowing everything beneath it.
The dummy's shield flared brighter, struggling, then splintered like shattered ice.
A beat later, the molten gold punched through.
Flitwick barely moved his wand. The molten gold twisted midair, folding in on itself, then collapsed downward in a perfect, devastating strike. The shield shattered, the dummy swallowed whole. The air vibrated with the aftershock of spent magic.
And just like that, it was over.
The room was dead silent.
The molten gold shimmered, cooling rapidly as Flitwick gave the smallest twist of his wand, dissipating the spell. The only sound was the faint crackle of heat against stone before it, too, faded into nothing.
"Bloody hell," Seamus muttered.
That seemed to break the trance. A ripple of whispers spread across the room, hushed but frantic. Students exchanged wide-eyed glances, some leaning toward each other, others just staring at Flitwick like they'd never seen him before.
Harry barely noticed. His hand was still tingling.
Flitwick dusted off his robes casually, as if he hadn't just turned a classroom demonstration into something straight out of a war story. "And that," he said, voice light, "is the power of spell chaining."
"Professor," Hermione blurted out, eyes still fixed on where the dummy had been, "that wasn't just chaining spells together. You transfigured them mid-cast, didn't you?"
Flitwick's grin widened. "Ah, Miss Granger, you catch on quickly. Yes, spell chaining isn't just about rapid casting. A true master blends multiple disciplines into one seamless attack." He turned slightly, gesturing to where the gold had hardened into harmless stone. "Transfiguration. Elemental magic. Charms for control. The more fluidly you combine them, the more unpredictable and devastating your magic becomes."
The bell rang.
Flitwick twirled his wand once before tucking it away. "No homework," he said, "but do take a moment to reflect. Magic isn't just spells, it's how you wield them."
Chairs scraped against the floor as students slowly began packing up, still dazed.
Flitwick was already gathering his notes when he added, almost as an afterthought, "As for the third technique… another time."
The last students trickled out of the classroom, still murmuring about the lesson. Harry slung his bag over his shoulder but didn't follow Ron and Hermione toward the door. Instead, he hesitated, glancing at Flitwick, who was tidying up his desk with casual flicks of his wand.
Ron stopped when he noticed. "You coming?"
"In a bit," Harry said. "I just want to ask Professor Flitwick something."
Ron looked curious but shrugged. "Alright. Meet you at lunch?"
Harry nodded. He waited for the door to close behind them, then turned back toward Flitwick.
"Ah, Mr. Potter," Flitwick said, turning to him with a bright look. "Something on your mind?"
"Yeah," Harry admitted, shifting his weight slightly. "It's about…er.. well, two things, actually."
Flitwick's expression didn't change, but something in his blue eyes ignited with interest. "Go on."
Harry exhaled. Might as well start with the simpler one.
"Professor, I wanted to ask about Luna Lovegood."
Flitwick blinked, clearly not expecting that. "Miss Lovegood? What about her?"
"It's just…" Harry hesitated. "Ginny Weasley mentioned she's been acting a bit off lately. Keeping to herself more. And I know Luna's always been, you know… different, but I just thought,since you're her Head of House, you might be able to check on her?"
Flitwick studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Miss Lovegood is indeed a rather unique young witch, but she's stronger than people give her credit for." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "That said, I will, of course, make sure she's doing alright. You care about your fellow students, Mr. Potter. That's a good quality."
"Thanks, Professor."
Flitwick waved a hand. "Think nothing of it."
Harry shifted again. The easy part was over. Now for the part he wasn't sure he could even explain properly.
"There was… one more thing."
Flitwick arched an eyebrow. "Yes?"
Harry hesitated. How was he even supposed to word this?
"During the lesson," he started slowly, "when you were demonstrating spell chaining… something weird happened."
Flitwick's expression sharpened. "Weird?"
"I don't know how to explain it," Harry admitted. "I just.. I felt something. In my chest, in my hands. Like my magic was," He gestured vaguely, struggling for the right words. "moving on its own. Like it was trying to wake up."
Flitwick didn't immediately respond. He just watched Harry closely, his Ravenclaw mind clearly dissecting every word.
"Fascinating…"
Harry shifted on his feet. "Professor, is that normal?"
Charms Professor tilted his head. "Well… it's not unheard of, but it's certainly not common."
Harry frowned. "What does that mean?"
Flitwick gave him a considering look before hopping up onto his desk, legs swinging slightly. "Magic is a curious thing, Mr. Potter. Most wizards learn to wield it externally, spells, charms, incantations. But magic is not just something we cast." He tapped his chest lightly. "It is something we are."
Harry stayed silent, listening intently.
"Some witches and wizards," Flitwick continued, "form an especially deep connection with their magic, stronger, more instinctive. This can manifest in different ways. Some find themselves casting without a wand in moments of extreme need. Others develop an intuitive grasp of spells beyond their years." He leaned forward slightly. "But what you're describing? Feeling your magic before you even call upon it? That suggests something else entirely."
Harry swallowed. "What?"
"It suggests that your magic is starting to pay attention to you, Mr. Potter."
Harry blinked. "What does that mean?"
Flitwick chuckled. "It means you should start paying attention back."
Harry nodded slowly. That wasn't exactly a full answer, but he'd take it for now.
Flitwick smiled. "Now, if that's all, I believe you have a lunch to get to."
Realizing how much time had passed, Harry quickly slung his bag over his shoulder. "Right. Thanks, Professor."
Flitwick waved him off cheerfully. "Anytime, Mr. Potter. And if you ever feel your magic speaking to you again… don't hesitate to let me know."
As Harry left the classroom, he had the oddest feeling that Flitwick wasn't just being polite.
He actually meant it.
By the time Harry got back to the Great Hall, lunchtime was in full swing. Students were crammed onto the benches, the clatter of plates and silverware mixing with loud conversations. The smell of roasted chicken and warm bread filled the air, but at the Gryffindor table, Ron and Hermione weren't paying much attention to their food.
Ron was stuffing his face without really tasting anything, and Hermione was flipping through her notes between bites. They both looked up as Harry dropped into his seat.
"Where'd you disappear to?" Ron asked, mouth half-full.
"Went to talk to Flitwick," Harry said, grabbing a roll.
Hermione's brow furrowed. "Why? What happened?"
Harry tore off a piece of bread. "Ginny thinks something's wrong with Luna. Says she's been acting off but won't talk about it. I figured since Flitwick's her Head of House, he might know something."
Ron frowned. "And?"
"He said he'd check on her, but he didn't seem too worried. Said Luna's always been… well, Luna."
Ron snorted. "Yeah, that sounds about right."
Hermione, however, still looked concerned. "If Ginny noticed something, though… maybe keep an eye on her, just in case."
Harry nodded but didn't dwell on it. Instead, he turned to Hermione.
"Actually, I wanted to ask you something."
Hermione perked up. "Oh?"
"Can you help me with Arithmancy?"
She blinked. That was clearly not the question she was expecting. "Arithmancy? Why?"
Harry sighed, setting down his roll. "Remember those books from Sirius? Broken Mind, Broken Body? I finally started trying to decipher them, and I spent four hours the other day just figuring out one sentence."
Ron nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. "Four hours?!"
"Yeah," Harry muttered. "And that was just one line. I asked Madam Pince if there were any books on ciphers, and she took one look at it and said the whole thing is encrypted using Arithmancy."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh! That actually makes sense. Arithmantic encryption is incredibly complex,way beyond simple letter shifting." She sat up straighter. "But, Harry, you don't take Arithmancy."
"Yeah," he muttered. "That's the problem."
Ron leaned on his elbow, looking skeptical. "So let me get this straight,you have to learn an entire subject just to read some book?"
"That's what it sounds like."
Hermione, however, was already deep in thought. "Well… you wouldn't need to learn everything. If it's encrypted with Arithmantic principles, then it's likely based on magical sequences and numerical substitution. If we focus on just that, you could probably learn enough to start deciphering it properly."
Harry exhaled in relief. "That's what I was hoping. I don't have time to learn Arithmancy like a normal student."
Hermione tapped her quill against her parchment, already making a mental plan. "If we start today, I could teach you some of the basics during Free Period."
"Brilliant," Harry said. "Can we go after lunch?"
Hermione nodded. "Of course. The library should be quiet enough."
Ron groaned. "You lot are actually choosing to spend Free Period in the library?"
Harry smirked. "You're just mad because you'll be stuck in the common room with nothing to do."
Ron gave him a flat look. "Nothing to do? Mate, I'll be playing Exploding Snap and actually relaxing while you two fry your brains over numbers." He shook his head. "Mental, both of you."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Enjoy your highly productive Free Period, then."
Ron grinned. "Oh, I will."
The rest of lunch passed quickly, with occasional grumbling from the Gryffindor Quidditch team about the pitch still being closed. Once they finished, Ron headed back to the common room for a round of Exploding Snap, while Harry and Hermione made their way to the library.
It was time to crack this cipher properly.
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