The morning sun slanted through the high, enchanted windows of the Charms classroom, scattering golden light across rows of polished desks.
The room smelled faintly of parchment and chalk dust, and a chorus of murmuring voices filled the air as the first-year Gryffindors filed in—half excited, half terrified at how they were told the classes would be like from their seniors.
Cassius had arrived early.
He sat neatly at the back-row the seat of the near-do-wells, slacker central, except that his quill was poised and parchment unfurled, waiting as Professor Flitwick arranged a stack of books taller than himself at the lectern.
He'd already memorized the schedule and all the standard book of spells during his time training under Grindelwald, however even then he'd only actually experimented with spell up to the 3rd grade.
Still, there was a hum of curiosity within him—the thrill of beginning something officially.
The first real class of his first real year at Hogwarts.
And getting tutored in charms by a seasoned professional duelist.
Grindelwald was great no doubt about it but his skill in charms was limited in comparison to his skills in dark magic, and transfiguration.
As the Gryffindors trickled in, several shot him cautious glances.
Some looked curious, others uncertain.
A few—looked faintly unnerved, as though the boy who'd been chosen by a ghostly founder might breathe fire if provoked.
The last of the Gryffindors stumbled in—Ron Weasley, yawning, his robe askew and tie half undone.
He blinked at Cassius, gave a scowl, and made straight for a seat in the front row.
This wasnt strange, in fact even with his plants within the school they didn't know who he 'cassius' really was, they only knew that like them he was a member of their growing group, though they just assumed since none had approached him it was because of the higher ups orders, a form of collective ignorance, since the new entrants watched the seniors but the seniors made no move so they themselves would not as well.
Which worked out in Cassius's favor since he wasnt one for Social interaction if he could help it.
Professor Flitwick cleared his throat, the sound sharp and cheerful.
"Good morning, class!" His voice was bright, the energy of a much younger man shining through his tiny frame. "Today marks your first step into the grand and wonderful world of Charms! You'll find that much of what you do as witches and wizards relies on precision, patience, and understanding the nature of magic itself."
He waved his wand, and the word Lumos appeared in white letters on the blackboard, along with a diagram of a wand and other text describing the spell.
A bit lacking honestly as this is just information right out of the book none of the teachers own insights involved.
"Today, we'll be starting simple. A spell to be used when you need a source of light: Lumos. Used to produce light from your wand tip—a wizard's best friend when navigating dark corridors or dusty basements."
A few students chuckled, the cocky ones who ridiculed the lesson, a mere light, when we want 'MAGIC'.
One or two already had their wands out, eager to begin.
"Now, now!" Flitwick raised a hand. "We'll get to practice in the second half of class, I promise. But first—understanding."
Cassius listened attentively, hanging on every word from the professors mouth hoping he'd unleash some seriously profound knowledge, but sadly this was still an unreformed hogwarts, and this was infact the level required to teach students who've never been formally trained before.
Ron Weasley yawned loudly in front of him.
After nearly an hour of theory, Professor Flitwick clapped his hands.
"Right then! Wands out, everyone. Let's see some light!"
A flurry of movement followed—students fumbling for their wands, some accidentally tapping desks, a few muttering under their breath.
The room filled with the scent of ozone and the occasional spark of errant magic.
Cassius waited a few moments, watching, gauging.
Seamus Finnigan's lit for half a second before sputtering out in a puff of black soot, before then causing an expected explosion, on the other side of the room.
Ron's wand emitted a faint fizz and nothing more.
Cassius raised his wand, exhaled softly, and—
'Lumos'
The tip glowed instantly, bright and steady, a perfect sphere of white-gold light that filled the room.
No flicker, no flare—just pure, clean illumination.
The nearest Gryffindors turned to stare.
Flitwick beamed, the light glinting off his spectacles.
"Excellent work, Mr. Snape! One point to Draconis!"
The name rolled through the room like a ripple.
A few students exchanged wary glances.
Ron muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, 'Figures.'
Cassius extinguished his wand with a quiet Nox and inclined his head politely.
He wasn't trying to show off.
But the silent execution—the deliberate control—had come naturally.
This spell, at least, was child's play compared to what he'd practiced in solitude.
"Remember, class," Flitwick continued, pacing along the rows, "wand movement is important, yes—but intent is key. Too much force, and your wand will flare; too little, and you'll get a spark at best. Try again!"
The Professor kept glancing over at this genius student of his, but rather than discourage the others by exposing Cassius's chantless casting, he instead focused on them to keep the lesson alive.
Ravenclaws might be insighted to do but seeing just how far ahead a peer was, but Griffindors?
That would just insight them to put the poor boy into a sack later on.
The classroom filled with murmured incantations.
One girl managed to get her wand to flicker a few times before going out, and Flitwick awarded her a point as well.
Seamus's wand sputtered again, this time with a faint pop! that sent a shower of sparks across the table.
Ron cursed under his breath, shaking his wand like a malfunctioning torch, more a menance than any other kid as his patience had already long worn out.
Cassius watched quietly, then turned to the boy nearest him—a small Gryffindor struggling with his grip.
"You're holding it too tightly," he offered softly. "Loosen your wrist. Let it flow."
The boy looked up, startled, then frowned.
"I don't need your help, Snape."
Cassius blinked once, then simply nodded and turned back to his own parchment.
So be it.
He wasn't here to win friends.
He was here to learn—and to prove himself worthy of the name that had chosen him.
And just as it was for Hermione it looked like it was the same for him, Griffindors were stubborn, they didnt like failing, but they also didnt like getting help from anyone except the teachers.
So if their stubbornness meant their adequateness, then so be it.
The practical section had only been going on for a half hour now, but Cassius was more than bored, he still had another 30 minutes to go, with nothing to do.
Sure he could endlessly cast Lumos over and over but why?
His proficiency was already more than a pass, with Lumos Maxima capable of being cast at this time.
And his idle slots were busy working away training at his overall skill levels rather than spells.
So rather than doze off or waste his time, why not try to alter the lumos spell instead?