As Gilderoy approached the seventh-floor corridor, a section of the wall shimmered and shifted, forming a door seemingly out of nowhere. He stepped through, and the Room of Requirement had already taken shape—wide, open, perfectly suited for dueling and movement. Flitwick stood inside, wand at his side, waiting.
"You're punctual," Flitwick said, standing perfectly still, wand at his side. "That will serve you well. Let's begin."
"Direct. Precise. I like that," Gilderoy thought, smiling under his composure. "No nonsense."
Flitwick didn't waste time. "I've seen your duelling reflexes," he said, stepping back. "Amelia trained you well. But chain casting is something else entirely. It's not instinctive; it must be taught. Today, we start there."
Gilderoy raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips. "Chain casting? Always wanted to learn it."
Flitwick's eyes twinkled. "You should know, very few in Britain even train to duel properly. Most wizards rely on single spells in a fight. Hogwarts never included duelling in the standard curriculum—other schools do. Aurors learn a bit, but even they are better than average at best. Only a handful—recently promoted head Auror Moody, for example—really excel. What we're doing here… is rare. You're lucky to have the chance."
Gilderoy's lips curved slightly. Head Auror Moody, huh… Still hasn't become "Mad-Eye" yet. he thought, a quiet smirk tugging at his mind.
Flitwick stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly. "One more thing. Casting isn't just wand flicks. You need to push magic from within, control how much you release, and manage your stamina. Overdo it, and even the simplest spell can tire you. Learn that, and you'll cast longer, faster, and cleaner."
"Close your eyes," he added. "Don't think of the spell itself. Just sense the magic flowing through you and your wand. Feel it, control it."
Gilderoy obeyed, wand in hand, eyes shut. At first, he felt nothing at all. No hum, no pull, no warmth—just the quiet of the Room. Slowly, as he focused, a subtle tingling began in his chest, spreading to his arms, flowing into his fingers, and finally into the wand.
It wasn't strong—barely perceptible unless he concentrated—but it was unmistakable. The sensation shifted gently as he moved slightly, like a delicate current responding to his intention.
Huh… I can actually feel it, he thought, fascinated by the flow of magic. Soft, subtle, but present. I can direct it, release just enough.
Flitwick nodded. "Good. Now channel that into your spells. Don't force it; direct it. That's how duellists last through long fights, and how even complex chains won't drain you."
The first attempts at chain casting were awkward. Flitwick guided him patiently, step by step: timing the first spell, linking smoothly into the next, all while anticipating incoming spells.
"Now, project forward," Flitwick instructed. "Your spells are connected, each one flowing into the next. If you hesitate or lose focus, an opponent will exploit it."
Gilderoy cast a Disarming Charm, flowing directly into a Stunning Spell. Mid-cast, he paused, shifting slightly as a small conjured projectile from Flitwick grazed past him.
"Too slow," Flitwick said, raising an eyebrow. "Again. Think rhythm, not force. Every spell matters. One lapse, even mid-chain, can be costly."
Flitwick's wand flicked in a precise rhythm, and a faint shimmer enveloped Gilderoy—shields layered like invisible armor, capable of stopping even the sharpest spikes or the heaviest boulders Flitwick might conjure in counterattacks.
"These will keep you safe," Flitwick said calmly. "Focus on your spells, your timing, your chains—nothing I throw will hurt you, but it won't make the duel any easier."
Minutes passed. Spell chains became fluid. Gilderoy added micro-adjustments—ducking, sidestepping, shielding, counter-blasting—constantly reacting to Flitwick's spells.
"You're learning fast," Flitwick said, a faint smile in his voice. "But always be aware of your surroundings. One misstep or delayed reaction could be costly."
Gilderoy's eyes followed the moving floor, floating obstacles, and shifting walls. "Watch the surroundings… got it, Sensei."
"A soft gleam in Flitwick's eyes betrayed his pleasure at being called 'Sensei.'"
(small timeskip)
By the last week of October, Flitwick moved to transfiguration and conjuration.
"Now, you'll create and alter objects mid-duel," he said. "Walls, obstacles, elemental changes. Your spells must adapt instantly. Watch me first."
He conjured a small wall of wood. Then, with a flick, it transformed first into ice, cold and slick, then solidified into jagged stone spikes, shimmering with residual magical energy. "See how each transfiguration can serve differently—defence, offense, or control," Flitwick explained. "A wall can stop an attack, spikes can force movement, ice can redirect momentum or slow an opponent. The key is using them purposefully."
"Your turn," Flitwick said, eyes sharp.
Gilderoy raised his wand, focused briefly, and executed the commands. The wooden wall morphed effortlessly to ice, then to stone spikes, the elements shifting mid-air. Flitwick froze for a split second, eyes widening slightly. "That… was fast. You've adapted remarkably."
"Adapted? He has no idea," Gilderoy thought, a small smirk forming. "I've already mastered transfiguration while prepping to be an Animagus…"
Flitwick's voice guided him as he worked. "Now, try chaining them. Wall for defense, then ice to slow an incoming attack, then spikes to counter. Timing is key—don't just create objects; use them purposefully. Adjust constantly, anticipate my movements, respond immediately."
Gilderoy experimented. A conjured wooden plank shot up as a shield, blocking the incoming hex, then with a subtle twist of his wand, it burst into a fiery projectile, hurtling straight toward Flitwick.Flitwick counjoured a wall of fire makring the fireball come in contact with water wall making smoke cover the areaa
Flitwick observed, occasionally giving quick corrections. "Remember, the point isn't speed alone. You must read the duel and predict reactions. Always anticipate how an opponent might respond and use your spells to control the battlefield."
A barrage of spells surged toward him. Gilderoy conjured a wooden wall, stopping them. With a quick flick, the wall shifted into jagged spikes, sending the attack back harmlessly.
"Exceptional," Flitwick admitted as he created a shield to block incoming spikes. "I expected work, trial, hesitation… not instant proficiency. You surprise me, Gilderoy. But don't grow complacent. Each transformation must serve a purpose, and timing is everything."
They ended some drills with brief walks around the room, discussing angles, distance, and strategy. Flitwick offering guidance in between. Small, subtle jokes passing in between them—banter light enough to hint at warmth.
"Wait… he's actually warming up a bit. Didn't see that coming," Gilderoy thought, smiling.
By the end of October, Gilderoy had learned chain casting under Flitwick's direct guidance, felt and controlled the subtle flow of magic through wand and body, mastered transfiguration and conjuration in practice drills, and integrated environmental hazards seamlessly. The subtle warmth from Flitwick—approval, nods, faint smiles, gentle teasing—added a new dimension to their lessons.
Flitwick watched him, calm but approving. His first duelling student was clever, eager, and disciplined. Teaching for the first time, he adjusted each drill, testing what worked, refining methods.
As Gilderoy left the Room, he caught Flitwick's small nod. "He's invested. I'm not just a pupil. That feels… different,".
---
Weekly chapter delivered! As promised. Keep those power stones coming—we still haven't reached our collection goal.
Also, with the current readership, hitting at least 100 stones should be easy, but last week we still didn't cross it, so don't slack on me now.
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