Chapter 67: A Practical Demonstration
The next day, just before the D.A. meeting, Luna found Elian. "Neville can't make it. He forgot to mention it." She explained he'd gone to visit family at St. Mungo's, likely crossing paths with Harry and the others visiting Arthur Weasley.
Elian nodded. It was a minor detail, already part of the shifting tapestry of events.
As they walked to the Room of Requirement, Luna's dreamy voice cut through his thoughts. "Are you going to teach them Kama-Taj magic?"
Elian stopped and turned to her, his expression serious. "Luna, remember what we talked about? You and Hermione are the only ones who know. If word got out…"
Luna blinked slowly. "You'd be in danger. Studied. Dissected, as Muggles say."
"Exactly. So, not a word."
He trusted them. In the darkest hours of the war to come, both Hermione and Luna had proven their steel, enduring torture without breaking. Their secrecy was absolute.
"But what will you teach?" Luna pressed, her head tilted. "You're a first-year. Officially, you barely know any spells."
Elian's smile was a bit tight. Luna had a point. Hermione's "punishment" was a clever one: put the theoretically least qualified person in charge of a room full of eager, older students. She likely expected him to flounder, or for the meeting to dissolve into independent practice—a humorous lesson for crossing her.
He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.
When Elian entered the Room of Requirement, the atmosphere was casual, buzzing with chatter. The D.A. members, mostly fourth-years and up, were lounging, joking. Without Harry's earnest leadership or Hermione's stern oversight, the meeting had the feel of a social club.
"Oi, Elian! Got any secret seventh-year spells for us?" a Hufflepuff called out.
"Don't sweat it, mate," a Gryffindor chuckled. "We know it's Granger's prank. We'll just run drills."
"Did you make the 'head girl' angry, Elian?" a Ravenclaw girl teased. "She's putting you on the spot!"
The room rippled with good-natured laughter. They'd all seen Elian waiting for Hermione and Luna, had ribbed him about being the 'perfect boyfriend.' The dynamic was friendly, familiar. No one expected an actual lesson.
Elian let the chatter wash over him, a faint smile on his lips. He walked to the front of the room.
The conversation drifted to the missing members, to Umbridge, to Malfoy's Inquisitorial Squad. The seriousness of their purpose was momentarily forgotten.
Elian waited. When the noise reached a comfortable lull, he spoke, his voice calm but carrying.
"Alright. Since you're all here to learn to fight," he began, "I assume you're all somewhat proficient with a wand?"
A few nods, some shrugs.
"Good." Elian reached into his robe and pulled out his wand—the unique sandalwood wand with the Zouwu hair core. It felt warm and alert in his hand, humming with latent power.
He grinned, but it wasn't the friendly smile from moments before. It was sharp, challenging. "Then let's have a proper practical lesson. Consider this real combat. Think of me as the enemy. As a Death Eater. And don't hold back."
A stunned silence fell over the room. They stared at him, a first-year, standing confidently before them, wand at the ready.
Elian's gaze swept over them. Underestimating him was their first mistake. He had never relied on Hogwarts' curriculum. The Supreme Mage System and the disciplines of Kama-Taj were his foundation. But that didn't mean he was ignorant of their magic. He had a wizard's core. He had a wand that had chosen a king. And he had observed every duel, every spell cast in this room for months.
It was time to show them the difference between learning a spell from a book and knowing how to use it in a fight.
"Well?" he prompted, his wand tracing a small, lazy circle in the air. "Who's first?"
(End of Chapter)
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