With a graceful flick of Moriarty's wand, the four neat rows of classroom chairs vanished, transforming the room into a spacious dueling field.
Professor Flitwick, ever enthusiastic, clapped his tiny hands and called out, "All right, children, what are you waiting for? Let's begin practicing!"
A chorus of "Immobulus!" rang out through the classroom, icy-blue jets of light crisscrossing the air. Stray spells ricocheted off chandeliers, sending swinging shadows dancing across the walls.
Penelope Clearwater, standing nearby, surveyed the magical chaos with a wry smile. "Good thing it's still morning. Otherwise, there'd be dozens of ghosts drifting about."
Moriarty gave a noncommittal hum and turned to her. "Would you rather start with freezing an inanimate object or a living one?"
"Dead objects first, obviously," she replied confidently, raising her wand. "I'm ready. Please conjure the target."
"The first target," Moriarty said, casually flicking his wand again. The vanished chair reappeared two meters in front of Penelope with a pop.
Penelope glanced at Moriarty from the corner of her eye. It was her first time practicing spells beside him, and her nerves were tangled with excitement.
"Penelope?" Moriarty prompted gently, noticing her hesitation.
"Oh! Sorry—I'll start now!" she stammered. She pointed her wand at the chair. "Immobuius!"
A blue bolt shot from her wand and hit the chair, which shattered with a sharp crack, splintering apart.
That clearly wasn't the correct effect of the Freezing Charm. She had failed.
"Oh no! I didn't mean to!" Penelope looked horrified at the damage. Her upbringing made her feel guilty for damaging school property, and worse—she feared disappointing Moriarty.
Without missing a beat, Moriarty repaired the chair with a smooth wave of his wand.
"Try again, Penelope," he encouraged. "Your pronunciation was off—it's Immobulus. You have to pronounce the final 'l' properly. Try once more."
Penelope nodded, determined. "Right."
She took a deep breath, gripped her wand tightly, and focused. "Immobulus!"
This time, a small streak of icy magic shot out and struck the chair, partially freezing it.
"Better," Moriarty said, restoring the chair again. "Now, improve your control."
Encouraged, Penelope smiled. "Let me try again. Immobulus!"
"Well done. See? With focus, it's not so hard," Moriarty praised, transforming the chair into a much larger target—a plush sofa. "Try it on this big fellow."
Penelope practiced diligently, slowly mastering the technique on inanimate objects. Eventually, she moved on to living targets—enchanted spiders and birds Flitwick had released for this purpose. After multiple castings, she began to tire.
Noticing her fatigue, Moriarty gently pulled her down onto the transfigured sofa.
She sat tentatively beside him, barely occupying the edge, hands primly on her lap—like a nervous, well-behaved student.
It was endearingly awkward.
"Do you plan to rest while perched like that?" Moriarty asked, half-amused. "Sit properly."
Penelope shuffled, unintentionally bumping his arm. Like a startled rabbit, she flinched and slowly leaned back, clearly trying to get comfortable without appearing improper.
Moriarty gave her a long, thoughtful look. Her cheeks flushed scarlet, and she stammered, trying to shift the subject. "It's... October now. Getting cold already."
The moment the words escaped, Penelope's eyes widened. Merlin's beard, why am I talking about the weather?
Desperate to recover, she fished for a better topic—something intellectual, something impressive.
"Moriarty... do you remember the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw scuffle during the Quidditch trials? Why wasn't I affected by Dracula's spell?"
Moriarty looked at her seriously. "Dracula's magic infects weak minds. But those with strong willpower, pride, and clarity of purpose—people with something or someone they deeply believe in—they resist it."
"Oh," Penelope murmured. "I think I get it. I was focused entirely on joining the team. Maybe that protected me."
"Exactly," Moriarty nodded. "I noticed Oliver Wood wasn't affected either. He was so focused on Quidditch that Dracula couldn't break through."
Penelope smiled, hiding her true thoughts. It wasn't Quidditch. I had someone else I was focused on...
Still, she kept the topic light. "Quidditch has its perks, I guess. The team will begin selecting new players mid-October. I hope I make it."
Moriarty thought for a moment. "The new broom model won't be released until November at the earliest. If you make the team, I'll have one ready for you."
"I don't want it," she said quickly.
"Why not?" he asked. "Working to afford one would be exhausting."
Unlike his wand set project, Moriarty had no intention of making the new broom affordable. It was a luxury—powerful and profitable. He knew Penelope's background wouldn't allow her to afford it easily.
Penelope lowered her gaze and whispered, "I don't want to spend your money. Who am I, really?"
Moriarty didn't catch her final words. "Don't want to spend my money?" He shrugged. "It's not my money. I developed the broom. Why would I need to buy it? Do I spend money on it?"
"Pfft." Penelope couldn't help giggling. "Your arrogance is showing."
She immediately flushed again. That had sounded way too familiar.
But Moriarty didn't comment. At that moment, Professor Flitwick waved his wand, sending a burst of celebratory sparks into the air. The class's chanting of "Immobulus!" ceased, the final few spells fizzing out.
"Excellent! I bet none of you even noticed the time," Flitwick said cheerfully. "That's how you know it's a good lesson. Clean up, and class is dismissed!"
The students bustled to restore the room. Objects were vanished or returned. Moriarty conjured back all the original chairs with an effortless spell.
"Impressive," Flitwick praised. "Not that I'm a Transfiguration professor, but I'm tempted to award extra points."
"Professor!" Penelope called out. "We successfully froze living creatures!"
"Marvelous! One point to each of your houses."
"Professor! Our group did too—oh! It's so cold!" a boy's voice called from across the room.
Everyone turned. A Ravenclaw boy stood there, his feet frozen to the floor, frost creeping up his legs. Lilith stood nearby, her expression neutral.
"He volunteered," Lilith said calmly. "Claimed my magic wasn't strong enough to affect him."
"Quite right," the boy added through chattering teeth. "Said I could resist her spell. It's fine, totally under control!"
He tried standing on tiptoe. Crack! The ice snapped, taking part of his shoes and trouser legs with it.
Laughter erupted.
Flitwick quickly waved his wand, restoring the boy's attire. The boy, still shivering, cheekily asked for house points. Lilith, unimpressed, walked away.
"Poor Karls Rocco," Penelope muttered, shaking her head. "He thought he could flirt with a rose, but didn't realize this rose had thorns—and might be poisonous too."
"Hah, glad you noticed that too." Moriarty chuckled. "I might have to revise my opinion. Hogwarts girls might be smarter than the boys."
Jericho's voice chimed in from behind. Moriarty turned to see him grinning.
"That boy—Kars or whatever—clearly thought he could score with a pure-blood princess. What a joke."
Moriarty raised a brow. "And your companion? That Ravenclaw girl you were charming?"
Jericho gave a lazy wave toward the girl, who smiled back. "We're headed to the library together. You two want to join?"
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