The Ravenclaws had erupted into a storm of whispers by the time Flitwick managed to regain control of the class.
Pride and panic mixed like sparks and gunpowder, the very air charged with competitive fire.
Cassius, however, remained utterly calm.
His wand twirled between his fingers, eyes half-lidded as if the entire matter barely warranted his attention.
"Mr. Snape," Flitwick finally managed, voice both weary and wary, "while your confidence is admirable, I must caution against—"
But before the professor could finish, Cassius rose smoothly from his seat, wand twirling once between his fingers. "Professor," he said softly, "I'm sorry but it is their right to challenge me, and my own right to accept, sadly... there is nothing you can do at this point to stop the contest."
The tone was polite.
But beneath it lay something else — a quiet certainty that sent a ripple of unease through the Ravenclaws.
Flitwick blinked, stepping back slightly on his book pile.
"Oh dear," he murmured under his breath.
Cassius lifted his wand.
No words escaped his lips.
Yet, from the air itself, light bloomed.
One sphere — golden and soft — rose from the wand's tip, hovering before him like a miniature sun.
Then, with a thought, another joined it.
Then another.
Then another, until five perfect orbs floated freely, their glow pure and steady as candle flames.
A murmur spread through the class.
"He didn't even say the incantation…" whispered one boy.
"That's impossible! First-years can't cast silently!" hissed another.
Cassius ignored them.
His concentration was total.
With a flick of his wrist, the orbs spread outward, evenly spaced in an elegant spiral.
Then — impossibly — they began to shape themselves, each unraveling to become a different looking fairy creature with a different coloring, dress sense, and haircut.
In but a moment his one Light fairy had been joined by five others.
They spun around him like a constellation in motion.
Each one a tiny humanoid form with near invisible wings, radiating a soft light from their forms, as they zipped around, at first around cassius, before taking off in all directions.
Gasps filled the room.
"Fairy lights," someone breathed. "He turned them into fairy lights!"
But Cassius wasn't done.
The Fairies responded to the flick of his finger, darting about playfully.
Two began chasing one another in lazy circles.
Another dove behind a student's inkwell, vanishing entirely before peeking out again, mischievous and giggling in soundless mirth.
One even swooped low enough to land briefly on a Ravenclaw's quill, making the boy freeze like a statue.
The fairies flitted, laughed, danced — alive.
They weren't mere magical constructs in the students eyes... they were alive; creatures summoned out of thin air.
Even the Ravenclaws, so haughty in their intellect, were struck silent.
Their blue-and-bronze pride wilted in the glow of pure genius.
Cassius settled into his chair once more, continuing to maintain the spell while the fairies whizzed about before all coming together with two each coming to rest on his shoulders while another two nestled into his hair.
Silence.
Then — tap tap tap — Professor Flitwick's small hands clapped once, twice, then broke into delighted applause.
"Marvelous! Absolutely marvelous!" he squeaked, his voice several octaves higher than usual. "Controlled multi-source luminescence, silent invocation, independent construct animation— and all perfectly stable! Mr. Snape, that's N.E.W.T.-level artistry if ever i saw it!"
The class stared in stunned disbelief.
Cassius merely inclined his head modestly. "Thank you, Professor, but it is still just Lumos in the end."
'Just Lumos.'
The Ravenclaw students couldnt help but gulp at his words, the challenge had already been lain they couldnt take it back now.
Flitwick, however, could not hide the twitch of nervous amusement tugging at his lips.
"Never tickle a dragon," he muttered quietly, shaking his head.
He had seen it now — the danger of Ravenclaw pride.
His students, brilliant though they were, had provoked something beyond them.
Cassius Snape wasn't merely talented.
He was formidable.
And when a dragon was challenged, it didn't roar — it demonstrated just why it was the mightest being.
The tension broke a few seconds later as whispers erupted like wildfire.
"He did all that without speaking—"
"How's that even possible?"
"I thought silent casting wasn't until fifth year!"
"No, no, that's not just silent casting — that's control."
Flitwick raised his hands for silence, though even he couldn't entirely suppress his grin.
"Well then, class, I suppose we've all been given a demonstration of what dedication and discipline can achieve. Perhaps, rather than seeking to oust our guest, we might learn from him, hmm?"
There were a few reluctant nods.
But others — especially Chambers and Stillton — were too far gone to back down now.
"We'll still win," Chambers muttered, his pride unwilling to bend. "He's just showing off."
Cassius turned toward him, his expression unreadable. "Showing off would imply effort."
The boy flushed crimson.
"Enough," Flitwick said quickly, stepping between them.
Cassius obeyed, sitting smoothly, folding his hands before him.
Choosing to relinquish his spell as the fairy girls all faded away into sparkles of light before disappearing entirely.
Flitwick returned to the lesson, voice slightly higher than before. "Now, everyone, continue your Lumos practice. Focus on clarity, not power. Remember — consistency over spectacle."
It was sound advice.
But no one was listening.
All eyes kept darting toward Cassius, the quiet boy in the corner who could summon life from light.
When class ended, the Ravenclaws left in small, unsettled clusters.
Some whispered about him with awe; others, with envy.
But all agreed on one thing — they had challenged a dragon.
And dragons did not play fair.
Flitwick lingered behind as Cassius gathered his things. "Mr. Snape," he said softly, tone now thoughtful. "May I ask something of you?"
Cassius looked up. "Of course, Professor."
Flitwick clasped his small hands together. "You seem to possess an innate understanding of the underlying structure of magic — particularly charmwork. Most first-years barely grasp wand movement, yet you… sculpt spells as though they were clay."
He hesitated, eyes curious but cautious. "Would you be willing to demonstrate again — for the advanced class? I suspect my seventh-years would benefit from seeing such a practical display of wandless finesse."
Cassius considered, then nodded once. "If you believe it would help them, I'd be glad to."
Flitwick smiled, both delighted and vaguely terrified. "Excellent! Excellent indeed. But—" he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "perhaps next time… let's avoid triggering existential crises in the younger years, hmm?"
Cassius's lips curved faintly. "No promises, Professor."
Flitwick laughed outright at that, shaking his head. "Just as I thought. Never tickle a dragon, indeed."
That evening many first years tried to get personal tutoring from seventh years in the dormitory, only to be rebuffed after recounting the tale from the classroom.
Every senior student declared to rise above someone who already was at a level of creating a false life form from light along was beyond that they could manage in a mere three months, it was clear cassius had been studying hard since before coming to hogwarts in their eyes.
Meanwhile the stubborn few resisted giving up diving into their studies even harder to prove everyone wrong.