Nobody moved for a second. Derrick, wand still extended, looked almost as surprised as Bole had.
Derrick didn't understand why his spells hadn't worked. When the first shot struck, he had thought it was a near-hit, a glancing blow off his robes. But the second spell clearly clipped him, yet nothing happened.
"Is that all you've got?" Derrick swallowed hard, straining to hide his panic, though the conviction in his voice had entirely vanished.
"OI!"
Charlie's voice cracked down the corridor like a whip, and all four of them turned at once. He was already striding toward them, prefect badge catching the torchlight, expression somewhere between alarmed and furious.
"What is going on here?" he shouted, closing the distance fast. "Wands out, in a corridor, past curfew— do any of you have any idea how much trouble—"
"We were just playing!" Derrick said quickly, wand already dropping to his side.
"Playing?" Charlie repeated flatly, looking pointedly at Aegeus's unsteady stance, then at Bole's wand still lying several feet away on the stone floor. "And what kind of game is that?"
Bole scrambled to retrieve his wand. Derrick opened his mouth as if to explain but decided against it.
"This isn't over," Derrick muttered instead, low enough that it was mostly aimed at Aegeus rather than Charlie.
Charlie was already herding all three of them back down the corridor with the brisk efficiency of someone who had broken up plenty of these before. "Move."
They went, Bole throwing one last unreadable glance back over his shoulder; the third boy pretty much ran and did not look back at all.
Charlie lingered a moment longer, jaw tight, watching them go before turning back to Aegeus. "You alright?"
"I am fine," said Aegeus.
"You don't look fine."
Charlie exhaled, some of the sharpness draining out of him now that the Slytherins were gone, replaced by something closer to weary concern. "I'll deal with them tomorrow. For now— can you make it back alone?"
"I can manage it."
He mostly could. Charlie stayed close beside him anyway the whole way up, saying nothing further, and Aegeus let him, the book still tucked safely under one arm, entirely undamaged by any of it.
The Fat Lady had already swung open once that night, ten minutes before Charlie finally delivered Aegeus back to the common room— for a second-year Gryffindor named Pratt, who had apparently trailed the whole confrontation from a stairwell landing above, close enough to see wands drawn but too far to hear much of anything.
What made it back to the common room by the time he arrived wasn't a report so much as fragments, breathlessly assembled: Derrick, wands out, right at the base of the tower stairs, Granger leaning against a wall, and Charlie coming to the rescue.
Rosalind had been curled in one of the armchairs by the dying fire since well before any of that, a book open and abandoned on her lap— Aegeus had told her, hours earlier, that he was only heading down to the library to get a book before it closed.
When "before it closed" became well past curfew, Pratt's breathless half-story, arriving before Aegeus did, hadn't told her what happened so much as confirmed that something had.
By the time Aegeus made it three steps toward the boys' dormitory, she was already on her feet.
"What happened?"
"Nothing," Aegeus kept his voice even.
"Why are you walking like this?" she asked, her voice heavy with accusation.
"Like what? I am walking normally!"
Rosalind's eyes narrowed, and she grabbed his arm— not gently— to look him over properly, checking his hands, his face, the set of his shoulders, with particular thoroughness. "Did someone hurt you? Was it Derrick? And who else... Bole?"
"How did you know?" Aegeus asked, surprised.
"Half the school knows by now." She let go of his arm, but didn't step back. "You got cornered by two— maybe three, Pratt wasn't so sure."
"It's not a big deal," said Aegeus, trying to calm her.
Rosalind ignored his words entirely.
"Why did they even do that? I mean— that's not normal."
"I don't know. Maybe jealousy. Or they just hate my guts," he said. "They're Slytherin, we're Gryffindor. It could be anything really," said Aegeus without care.
Rosalind studied him for a long moment, some of the sharpness in her expression softening into worry. "We need to do something about them! Winning doesn't fix it if it just means they try again with more people next time."
"I'm aware."
"Are you?! Because you don't look particularly worried!"
"That's because it's true," he said, meeting her eyes. "I am, however, tired, and I prefer my late-night discussions accompanied by tea and fewer Slytherins. Goodnight, Rosalind."
Marcus snorted. Rosalind did not look remotely amused, but she also came to recognize that she wasn't going to get anything out of him tonight.
She sat back down, pulling her knees up to her chest, though her eyes stayed pinned on him a beat longer than necessary as he finally slipped past her toward the stairs.
"Aegeus."
He stopped.
"You know we got your back, right?" Her voice had lost its edge entirely.
"I know," Aegeus smiled.
"Good," she said, her expression softening just a fraction. "Because next time they try something like that, you won't be dealing with them alone."
"Why wait for next time?" Marcus offered, flexing his hands like he was ready to head straight back down to the dungeons. "We should give them a painful lesson right now!"
"Hold your horses, Marcus."
It was true, too. Aegeus had learned more about real dueling from this single, chaotic clash in the corridor than a dozen drills in Vance's classes could ever have taught him.
If the goal had been merely to win, he could have dismantled them easily enough without touching his wand. But wandless tricks wouldn't carry him forever. Eventually, he would have to learn how to fight like a true wizard. His wandless magic would mean nothing against a genuinely powerful wizard.
The room was dark and quiet. As he reached his four-poster bed and pulled the heavy crimson curtains shut, he laid the book on his nightstand, unbuttoned his collar, and sank into the mattress.
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TO BE CONTINUED
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