The following days were marked by a relentless pace. Every morning, Aurelian found himself in the dueling classroom before the rest of the castle awoke, ready to face the new routines that Flitwick had prepared. They were exercises in speed, precision, and magical endurance, combined with simulations that forced him to adapt to changing terrain and opponents with unorthodox tactics.
For Aurelian, this was not a burden. For as long as he could remember, or rather, since he had come into this world, training until he exhausted every ounce of his magic had been as natural as breathing. The demands did not intimidate him; on the contrary, they motivated him.
However, Hestia and Flora did not see it the same way.
When they accompanied him to his training sessions, they watched him with a mixture of affection and concern. Their eyes followed his every movement, every spark of magic, every moment when his breathing quickened more than it should.
"I don't like how he overexerts himself," Flora murmured one day, just loud enough for her sister to hear.
"I don't like it either," replied Hestia, clenching her hands on her skirt. "Even if he says he's fine... I don't want to see him collapse from exhaustion."
Aurelian, for his part, noticed those looks, but he didn't interpret them as concern, but rather as a natural extension of the affection they had always shown him.
For him, fatigue was simply part of the path to his success.
For them, it was an invisible wound that they feared would one day open up.
That day, Flitwick had decided to raise the difficulty even further.
With a wave of his wand, the room filled with illusory figures: duelists of different ages and styles, each with their own strategy. Some attacked with quick and accurate spells and curses, others with bursts of spells that sought to wear him down.
"Today your goal will be," announced the professor, "to resist and counterattack for fifteen minutes. Without any breaks."
Aurelian nodded, without a trace of doubt on his face.
The first barrage of spells fell on him like a rain of fire. Moving with surgical precision, he deflected, blocked, and counterattacked without wasting energy. A well-placed shield, a powerful disarming spell, an electric bolt that pierced two illusions at the same time, complemented by a few transfigurations that Professor McGonagall would be proud of.
From the sidelines, Hestia and Flora watched him in silence, but their hands were tense and their lips pressed tightly together.
"It's too much," whispered Hestia, watching as an impact spell struck Aurelian's shield squarely. "He's going to end up exhausted."
"If he keeps this up..." Flora didn't finish the sentence, but her gaze darkened, almost as if she were considering the possibility of forcibly interrupting the training.
Flitwick, attentive to every detail, increased the pace. The illusions coordinated better to launch group attacks, pressing him on all sides. Aurelian barely had a second to breathe before his infinite activated, dispelling a trio of curses that would have knocked out an average duelist.
Sweat began to run down his forehead, but his eyes remained cold, calculating his rivals' next move.
"Five more minutes," Flitwick announced, watching with a tiny smile. "Let's see if you can weather the final storm."
The twins exchanged a glance. For them, those five minutes would be a test of their nerves.
The last part of the exercise was a whirlwind of magic filled with thunderous noise. The illusions were relentless: curses, stunning spells, explosive spells that made the walls of the room vibrate.
Aurelian felt the pressure, but he did not back down. His magic flowed with precision, each spell calculated to neutralize threats without wasting energy. When a barrage of spells nearly cornered him, his infinity activated again, deflecting the attacks at an impossible angle and counterattacking with a series of electric projectiles that made three opponents disappear at once.
"Time!" Flitwick exclaimed, raising his hand.
Silence returned to the room, broken only by Aurelian's heavy breathing. His illusions dissolved in the blink of an eye, and the young man lowered his wand, still maintaining his stance.
At that moment, Hestia and Flora rushed toward him.
"You're drenched in sweat," Flora murmured, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his forehead.
"And exhausted," added Hestia, frowning at him. "And don't say you're not, because I saw it on your face five minutes ago."
Aurelian smiled almost imperceptibly.
"It's part of the training. If I don't push myself to the limit, there's no improvement."
The twins exchanged a glance, the kind of silent communication they had shared since childhood.
"Someday you'll have to learn that you're not invincible," said Flora.
"In the meantime, we'll be here to remind you," added Hestia, hugging him tightly.
Flitwick approached, his expression showing clear approval.
"Excellent endurance and control, Mr. Gaunt. If you keep up this pace, in France you won't just have a chance... you'll be a feared rival."
Aurelian nodded, but his eyes strayed for a moment toward the twins. The fatigue in his body was real, but so was the certainty that his determination would not be broken today or ever.
The last month of classes passed in such an intense routine that it would have been unbearable for any other student. Every morning, Aurelian trained with Flitwick in the dueling classroom, perfecting not only his speed and accuracy, but also his ability to adapt to changing scenarios. Flitwick increased the difficulty each week, incorporating combination spells, illusory traps, and even more opponents, forcing him to keep his mind as active as his magic.
But his day did not end there.
As evening fell, Aurelian descended to the second-floor bathrooms, uttered the words in Parseltongue, and disappeared into the darkness toward the Chamber of Secrets. There, Nythoros greeted him with a slight nod of his head, and Aurelian immersed himself in Salazar Slytherin's hidden library.
Among leather-bound volumes and yellowed parchments, he studied Parseltongue magic techniques that existed in no other record. Some texts described how Parseltongue interacted with magic itself, others recounted historical episodes from Salazar's perspective, revealing details that contradicted much of what the world believed about him.
Hestia and Flora knew about these visits, but they didn't insist on accompanying him every day. Although curiosity always gnawed at them, they understood that, for Aurelian, those moments in the chamber were an extension of his personal training, as vital as the duels he had with Professor Flitwick.
The combination of both types of training forged more than just skill: it was honing a wizard who mastered both modern knowledge and some of the oldest secrets of magic.
One afternoon, with the sun slowly sinking behind the towers of Hogwarts, Aurelian decided he needed a break. He had spent weeks between exhausting duels, studies in the Chamber, and strategic plans for the summer. Even for someone like him, it was overload; his mind craved a moment of silence.
He stepped out onto the flying field with his Noxum in hand, feeling the familiar touch of the polished handle beneath his fingers. With a firm push, he rose into the air, letting the late June wind ruffle his hair.
The feeling of freedom was immediate.
He flew over the black lake, its waters reflecting the last golden glimmers of the day, then circled widely over the grounds. There were no rivals, no rules... just him and the sky as his faithful companion.
As he sped along, his mind drifted away from the present to focus on what he knew was coming.
The next school year would bring with it the arrival of Harry Potter and with him, the beginning of the story he had once read in a different world. And more importantly... it would be the prelude to the return of his father.
Lord Voldemort. Not as the feared figure the world remembered, but as a real threat that he would have to face.
The roar of the wind muffled those thoughts, but it couldn't silence them entirely. High above Hogwarts, he knew that the time of calm was running out. Soon the moment of choice would come: to act to shape the future or to let the past repeat itself.
He clenched his knuckles on the broom, making a decision.
With one last dive, he descended toward the field, ready for whatever fate had in store for him.
The Great Hall was dressed for the occasion.
Garlands of warmth from each house hung from the walls, tables overflowed with delicacies, and the enchanted ceiling displayed a clear blue sky dotted with clouds. The murmur of hundreds of voices mingled with laughter and the clinking of glasses.
At the Slytherin table, the atmosphere was electric. The House Cup gleamed in front of them, recently awarded by Dumbledore after announcing, in that calm voice that always held a touch of mystery:
"And the winner of this year's House Cup is... Slytherin!"
The table erupted in cheers. Hestia and Flora hugged Aurelian with proud smiles, their eyes reflecting the candlelight.
"I knew we would win," Flora said with satisfaction.
"It's not luck, it's just that Slytherin always wins," Hestia added, winking at Aurelian.
Students from other houses murmured among themselves, some with annoyance, others with resignation. The younger Slytherins seemed to look at him as a role model to be emulated, while the older ones avoided meeting his gaze.
Dinner was prolonged with a feast that only Hogwarts could provide, roast chicken, chocolate cakes, pumpkin pies, and glasses of foamy butterbeer for the older students. Between courses, Aurelian couldn't help thinking that this would be the last moment of relative calm before a year that promised to be anything but that.
When dessert was nearly finished, Flitwick discreetly approached the Slytherin table.
"Aurelian," he called softly, leaning toward him. "Remember: I'll be waiting for you on July 22 at the Leaky Cauldron. Don't be late; we'll be leaving directly for France."
Aurelian nodded calmly, though a spark of excitement flashed in his eyes.
"I'll be there, professor."
Flitwick smiled, patting him on the shoulder before walking back to the teachers' table.
As the house cup gleamed in front of them and voices celebrated the victory, Aurelian enjoyed what would be his last year with true peace of mind.
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