Rowan walked to the Dueling Club's first meeting with anticipation and wariness.

  The parchment Professor Hecat had given him specified the seventh floor, east wing. A large classroom converted specifically for dueling practice.

  Iris had been excited when he told her about the invitation, though also worried.

  "You'll be dueling students who've had years more training than you. Won't that be dangerous?"

  "Probably," Rowan admitted. "But it's also an opportunity to learn from people who are better than me. I can read about dueling theory all I want, but nothing replaces actual experience."

  The classroom was larger than he'd expected. Desks pushed against the walls, a long raised platform running down the center. About twenty students were already present. Third years through seventh years, all wearing practice robes and carrying wands.

  Sebastian was already there, leaning against the wall near the platform, looking perfectly at ease despite being surrounded by older students. He caught Rowan's eye and nodded.

  Heads turned as Rowan entered. Several eyebrows rose.

  "Two first years?" a fourth-year Hufflepuff girl asked, incredulous.

  "Professor Hecat's special invitations," a sixth-year Ravenclaw boy said. Rowan recognized him as Alexander Sterling, one of the prefects. "Ashcroft fought off three Slytherins last week. Mulciber ended up in the Hospital Wing. And Sallow..." He glanced at Sebastian with what might have been respect. "Word is he's been practicing spells since he was seven. Family tradition or something."

  The students regarded both first-years with new interest. Some curious. Others skeptical. A few looked annoyed at having their club invaded by children.

  Professor Hecat entered, her robes swishing dramatically.

  "Right, everyone's here. We have two new members. Rowan Ashcroft and Sebastian Sallow, both first years. Yes, they're young. No, that doesn't mean you go easy on them. They wouldn't learn anything if you did." She smiled slightly. "Besides, I think you'll find they can hold their own."

  She gestured to the platform. "We'll start with warmups. Partner up, basic spell exchanges. Shields, disarmers, knockback jinxes only. After fifteen minutes, we'll move to full sparring matches."

  Rowan found himself partnered with a third-year Gryffindor named Cassius Vance, who looked him over with obvious doubt.

  "Ever been in a real duel before?" Vance asked as they took positions on the platform.

  "Does fighting off an ambush count?"

  Vance grinned. "Fair enough. Let's see what you've got."

  The warmup was intense.

  Vance was faster and more experienced, his spells coming in rapid succession. Rowan managed to block most of them, his Shield Charm holding steady, but he quickly realized the gap in their skill levels.

  Still, he learned. He watched how Vance moved, how he chained spells together, how he created openings. And slowly, Rowan began to adapt, his counterattacks becoming more precise.

  "Not bad," Vance admitted after Rowan managed to disarm him on his sixth attempt. "You've got good instincts. Your shield work is excellent for a first year. Better than some of the third years here."

  When the warmups ended, Professor Hecat called for attention.

  "Sparring matches. Full spell repertoire, no dark magic, no permanent damage. First to be disarmed or knocked out of the ring loses. I'll be monitoring and will intervene if necessary."

  She started pairing students off. Rowan watched the first few matches carefully, analyzing techniques and strategies. The older students were impressive. Their spell work was faster, more creative, more fluid than anything he'd seen in classes.

  "Now let's see what our first-years can do," Hecat said, and there was something almost mischievous in her expression. "Ashcroft, Sallow. You're up next."

  A ripple of interest went through the watching students. The two first-year prodigies facing off in their very first club match.

  Sebastian stepped onto the platform, his confidence evident in every movement. Rowan joined him at the opposite end, studying his opponent carefully. They'd never actually dueled before. All their interactions had been verbal sparring, not magical.

  "Don't hold back," Sebastian said, his usual smirk firmly in place. "I won't."

  "Wasn't planning to," Rowan replied evenly.

  At Hecat's signal, both moved simultaneously.

  Sebastian opened with aggressive offense. A Stunning Spell followed immediately by a Disarming Charm, his wand movements sharp and precise. Rowan's shield absorbed the first, and he dodged the second, firing back with a Knockback Jinx.

  Sebastian ducked beneath it and countered with a Leg-Locker Curse. Rowan jumped backward, already casting his next spell. A Tripping Jinx aimed at Sebastian's feet.

  It nearly worked. Sebastian stumbled but recovered with impressive agility, retaliating fast. Stunning Spell, another Disarmer, Knockback Jinx in rapid succession.

  Rowan's shield held against the first two. Barely. But shattered under the third. The Knockback Jinx caught his shoulder, spinning him sideways. He rolled with the impact, coming up already casting.

  "Petrificus Totalus!"

  Sebastian dodged, but just barely. His eyes widened fractionally. Genuine surprise that Rowan had recovered that quickly.

  They traded spells for another thirty seconds, neither gaining clear advantage. Sebastian was faster, more aggressive, his offense relentless. But Rowan's defensive instincts were better, his shields stronger, and he was learning Sebastian's patterns with each exchange.

  Then Sebastian changed tactics.

  Instead of his usual aggressive assault, he feinted. Casting a Stunning Spell high while his wand was already moving into position for a low Tripping Jinx. The misdirection worked. Rowan blocked the Stunner but his attention was drawn upward, and he missed the second spell's trajectory entirely.

  His feet tangled and he went down hard.

  Sebastian was already moving, wand tracking Rowan's fall. "Expelliarmus!"

  Rowan tried to shield from his prone position, but the angle was wrong. The Disarming Charm hit true, and his wand flew from his hand, sailing in an arc across the platform.

  Match over.

  The room was silent for a heartbeat.

  Then Hecat's voice cut through: "Victory to Sallow."

  Sebastian walked over, picking up Rowan's wand and offering it back. His expression held genuine satisfaction but not arrogance. "Well fought. That was closer than I expected."

  Rowan took his wand, analyzing what had gone wrong. The feint had been brilliant. He'd fallen for it completely. "Your misdirection was excellent. I didn't see the second spell coming."

  "You nearly had me twice," Sebastian said. "That Body-Bind was close, and your shield work is better than mine. But I've been training longer." His smile sharpened slightly. "Next time might go differently though."

  "It will," Rowan replied, and meant it.

  As they left the platform, Rowan caught Sterling's approving nod. The muttering from other students suggested both first-years had impressed them. The match had been competitive, well-fought, and would have been respectable even between third-years.

  "Excellent," Hecat said. "Both of you showed strong instincts and tactical thinking. Sallow, your feint was expertly executed. That's advanced technique. Ashcroft, your defensive positioning kept you in the match far longer than most first-years could have managed. You'll both improve significantly training against each other."

  She gestured to Sterling. "Now, let's see how you fare against older students. Ashcroft, you're with Sterling next. Sallow, you'll face Greengrass after."

  Alexander Sterling stepped onto the platform, regarding Rowan with professional assessment.

  "Don't be nervous. I'll hold back enough that you won't get hurt, but not so much that you won't learn anything."

  They took positions at opposite ends of the platform.

  At Hecat's signal, Sterling moved.

  He was fast. Far faster than Sebastian. His opening spell was a Stunning hex that Rowan barely blocked. Then Sterling's wand moved again and a Disarming Charm materialized without a word, forcing Rowan to dodge rather than shield because he hadn't heard it coming. Before he could recover, Sterling had cast a Leg-Locker Curse that Rowan only avoided by jumping backward.

  Rowan fired back with a Knockback Jinx, but Sterling deflected it casually and countered with three spells in rapid succession. A Tripping Jinx, a Stunning Spell, and another Disarmer.

  Rowan's shield absorbed the first two but shattered under the third. His wand flew from his hand, and he stumbled backward off the platform edge.

  Match over in under thirty seconds.

  "Better than I expected," Sterling said, helping Rowan up and returning his wand. "You kept your shield up under sustained assault longer than most first years could. But you're reactive, not proactive. You wait for me to attack, then respond. In a real duel, that'll get you killed."

  "How do I fix it?" Rowan asked, ignoring his bruised pride. Then, because it had been nagging at him: "That second spell. You didn't say anything."

  "Silent casting," Sterling said. "Most sixth and seventh-years can manage it for basic spells. It's weaker than vocalized magic, less precise, so you don't build a duel around it. But it's useful for slipping one past someone who's listening for incantations." He smiled. "Practice, experience, learn to see three moves ahead, like chess. You've got potential, Ashcroft. Keep showing up and you'll improve."

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Rowan watched more matches, absorbing techniques and strategies. Sebastian's duel with Greengrass was brutal. She demolished him in under twenty seconds, her overwhelming offense giving him no time to mount any defense.

  When Sebastian rejoined Rowan on the sidelines, both nursing bruised pride, he muttered, "She's terrifying."

  "Agreed," Rowan said.

  Then Hecat called Rowan up again, this time against Anastasia Greengrass herself.

  Greengrass didn't hold back.

  Her opening barrage was vicious. Five spells in rapid succession, two of them silent and three vocalized, each designed to overwhelm Rowan's defenses. Rowan's shield held for the first three, but the fourth shattered it, and the fifth, a Stunning Spell, caught him square in the chest.

  He woke thirty seconds later with Hecat standing over him, wand raised.

  "Welcome to real dueling," she said dryly. "You held on longer than I expected, but Greengrass has been training for three years. Learn from it."

  The session continued for another hour. Rowan dueled two more times, losing each match but lasting progressively longer. Sebastian's trajectory was similar. He lost to Sterling just as quickly as Rowan had, won against a different third-year, and fought several upper-years with mixed results.

  By the end of the session, both first-years had proven they belonged, though neither had dominated. And when their eyes met across the room, there was mutual recognition: they were evenly matched, with Sebastian holding a slight edge for now. But that could change.

  "Good work tonight, everyone," Hecat said as students began filing out. "Ashcroft, Sallow. A word."

  When they were alone, she regarded them both seriously.

  "You each won one match tonight and lost four others. Does that bother either of you?"

  Sebastian glanced at Rowan, then shrugged. "I learned more tonight than I have in a month of classes."

  "Every loss was a lesson," Rowan added. "Sterling taught me I'm too reactive. Greengrass showed me the importance of overwhelming offense. And Sebastian—" he nodded at his rival "—showed me I need to watch for misdirection."

  Hecat smiled. "Good answers. Many students can't handle losing. Their pride gets in the way of learning. You both have the right mindset."

  She paused, looking between them.

  "The International Youth Dueling Championship is in June. Students from Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, Ilvermorny, and a dozen other schools will compete. Hogwarts will send four students." She gestured toward the door where the older members had left. "Three spots are already secured. Sterling, Greengrass, and Bones have earned their positions through years of dedication."

  Her gaze moved between the two first-years.

  "The fourth spot is open, and I'm holding it for one of you. I want a younger duelist in the field this year. Early exposure to international dueling is worth more than another year of club matches. Consider it additional motivation to improve."

  Rowan's stomach tightened. Sebastian's jaw set, his competitive fire evident.

  "I understand, Professor," Rowan said.

  "As do I," Sebastian added.

  "Good. I'll be watching your progress closely over the coming months. Closer to the tournament, I'll hold an official selection duel to determine who earns that final position." She smiled slightly. "May the best duelist win. Dismissed."

  They left together, an awkward silence between them as they walked down the corridor. At the intersection where their paths diverged, Ravenclaw Tower one way, the dungeons another, Sebastian stopped.

  "Guess we know what we're working toward now," he said.

  "Guess so," Rowan replied.

  "I meant what I said earlier. That match was close." Sebastian's smile was sharp but not unkind. "But I won today. And I intend to keep that advantage. Nothing personal, Ashcroft. Just... I really want that spot."

  "So do I," Rowan said evenly. "And next time, I'll be ready for your misdirection."

  They stared at each other for a moment. Not hostile, but intensely competitive. Two first-years who'd just realized they were each other's primary obstacle.

  "See you Tuesday," Sebastian said finally, walking away toward the dungeons.

  Rowan watched him go, then turned toward Ravenclaw Tower.

  Sebastian had won their first official duel, and that stung. But it had been close. Closer than Sebastian had expected, judging by his expression. And Rowan had learned from the loss, identified exactly where he'd gone wrong.

  That feint wouldn't work on him twice.

  This rivalry was going to push them both to become better duelists.

  Rowan found himself looking forward to it.

  The next few weeks fell into a new rhythm. Classes during the day, homework in the evening, Dueling Club on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and his private practice sessions late at night. He continued pushing his magical reserves to depletion each night, feeling his capacity slowly but surely expanding.

  His dueling improved dramatically. Sebastian's did too. Every session, they both learned, adapted, and grew stronger.

  By the fourth session, both first-years had defeated third years in their matches. By the sixth, both lasted over two minutes against upper-year opponents before being bested. By the eighth, Rowan fought a fourth-year Hufflepuff to a draw, with Hecat calling the match after five minutes of deadlock. Sebastian's match that same evening against a different fourth-year ended similarly. Another draw that had Hecat looking pleased.

  They were still neck and neck, though Sebastian maintained his slight edge. In their practice duels against each other, Sebastian won more often than not. But the margin was shrinking with each session.

  "You're both learning faster than anyone I've ever taught," Hecat told them after one particularly successful session where both had won multiple matches. "Natural talent combined with obsessive practice. It's a dangerous combination. In the best possible way."

  Their rivalry drove them to heights neither might have reached alone.

  His friendship with Iris deepened as well. They studied together most evenings, and she'd begun confiding in him more openly. One night in late October, as they worked on a particularly difficult Transfiguration essay, she looked up suddenly.

  "Can I ask you something personal?"

  "Of course."

  "How do you do it? Stay so calm all the time, never let anything bother you. Even when those Slytherins were harassing you, you never seemed scared or angry. Is that just... who you are?"

  Rowan considered how much to reveal.

  "I practice mental discipline exercises. Meditation, emotional control, organizing my thoughts. It helps me stay focused and avoid letting emotions cloud my judgment."

  "Could you teach me?"

  He hesitated. Occlumency was supposed to be advanced magic, difficult and dangerous to learn. But the basic meditation exercises that formed its foundation were safe enough, and Iris was his friend.

  "I can teach you the basics. It's called Occlumency. The art of defending your mind. The advanced techniques are beyond us right now, but the foundational exercises are just structured meditation. They'll help with focus and emotional control."

  They began meeting early each morning, before breakfast, to practice together. Rowan guided her through the same exercises he'd learned from Moonstone's book. Observing thoughts without judgment, recognizing emotional patterns, building mental stillness.

  Iris took to it quickly.

  Within two weeks, she reported sleeping better and feeling less anxious about classes. Within a month, her grades had improved across the board as her concentration strengthened.

  "This is incredible," she told him one morning after a particularly successful meditation session. "I feel like my mind is clearer and more organized. Like I can think better."

  "That's the point," Rowan said. "A disciplined mind is a powerful tool."

  Edmund and Celeste often joined them for meals in the Great Hall or met up in corridors between classes. Edmund was genuinely happy in Hufflepuff, excitedly describing how his housemates had welcomed him and how they all helped each other with homework.

  "You and Poppy seem to be getting along well in Charms and History," Rowan observed.

  "She's brilliant," Edmund said with characteristic enthusiasm. "Shy at first, but once you get her talking about magical creatures, she lights up completely. Did you know she can identify over fifty species of magical beetles just by their wing patterns? Her grandmother taught her."

  "That's... impressively specific," Iris said.

  "She wants to work with magical creatures after Hogwarts," Edmund continued. "Not just studying them. Actually caring for them, protecting them. She's passionate about it in a way that's honestly inspiring."

  Celeste, on the other hand, remained both amused and exasperated by Gryffindor recklessness, having prevented two major incidents by talking her housemates out of particularly dangerous pranks.

  "Someone wanted to enchant the suits of armor to dance during dinner," she told them one lunch period. "I pointed out that three hundred animated metal warriors in a crowded room with students was a recipe for decapitation. They agreed it might be a bad idea."

  Lawrence Goode had also become increasingly interested in Rowan's theoretical magic discussions. They spent hours debating the mechanics of spell creation, the nature of magical cores, and the possibilities of combining different magical disciplines.

  "What if you could layer runic enchantments over a wand's natural properties?" Lawrence speculated one evening. "Theoretically, you could create custom wands that amplify specific types of magic."

  "That's artificing," Rowan said, intrigued. "Combining wandlore, runecraft, and enchantment theory. I've read about it but never seen it practiced."

  "Because it's incredibly difficult and most wizards specialize in only one discipline," Lawrence replied. "But if someone could master all three..."

  He trailed off. The implications were obvious.

  The idea took root in Rowan's mind. Artificing. Creating magical objects through the combination of multiple magical disciplines. It was ambitious, perhaps years beyond his current capabilities, but it aligned perfectly with his long-term goals. If he wanted to modernize the wizarding world, he'd need to create new magical devices, new ways of applying magic to solve problems.

  But that was for the future. For now, he focused on the present: mastering his classes, improving his dueling, and continuing to expand his magical capacity.

  As October faded into November, Hogwarts underwent its seasonal transformation. The grounds became carpeted with fallen leaves in brilliant reds and golds. The lake took on a gray, stormy quality. The castle itself seemed to hunker down against the coming winter, its stones radiating stored warmth against the increasingly cold air.

  The first Hogsmeade weekend was announced for mid-November, but only third years and above were permitted to go. Rowan didn't mind. He had no interest in the village yet, and the quiet castle would give him more time to practice.

  He did, however, make progress on another front.

  During a particularly heavy rainstorm that kept students indoors, Rowan explored a section of the castle he'd previously overlooked. The sixth floor, west wing. Here, he discovered an entire corridor of abandoned classrooms, most of them locked and forgotten.

  One door, however, was unlocked.

  The room beyond was dusty and clearly unused, but spacious and well-lit by tall windows. Old desks were stacked in corners, and empty shelves lined the walls.

  It was perfect.

  Rowan began using this classroom for his most intensive practice sessions. The room was far enough from the dormitories that no one would hear him casting spells, and isolated enough that discovery was unlikely. He spent hours here, working through spell after spell, pushing himself to the edge of magical exhaustion and then recovering.

  His magical capacity continued to grow. He could now cast perhaps thirty to forty spells before reaching depletion. Double what he'd been capable of when he first arrived at Hogwarts. His spells themselves were also becoming more powerful and precise, his control improving with each practice session.

  He also began experimenting with spell modification. Slightly altering wand movements or pronunciation to see how it affected the results. It was dangerous; Waffling's book had warned extensively about the risks of improper spellcasting. But Rowan was careful, methodical, and always ready to shield if something went wrong.

  One modification proved particularly useful: he discovered that adding a counterclockwise twist at the end of certain spells' standard motions could alter their trajectory. The modified Knockback Jinx, for instance, curved slightly through the air instead of traveling in a straight line. Making it harder to dodge or predict.

  Small discoveries like this accumulated over weeks of practice, giving Rowan a growing repertoire of techniques that weren't in any textbook.

  By late November, as winter truly set in and the first snow began to fall, Rowan felt he'd made substantial progress.

  His grades were excellent. Top of his year in most subjects. His dueling skills had improved to the point where he could hold his own against fourth years and occasionally win. His magical capacity had roughly doubled. His Occlumency had progressed to the point where he could maintain perfect emotional control even under stress.

  And perhaps most importantly, he'd established his reputation. Students knew him as the Muggleborn first year who'd fought off older Slytherins, who'd been invited to Dueling Club despite his age, and who earned top marks in nearly every class.

  Some respected him. Some resented him. But everyone recognized that he was exceptional.

  As he sat in the Ravenclaw common room one snowy December evening, working on a Charms essay while Iris practiced her Occlumency meditation beside him, Rowan allowed himself a moment of satisfaction.

  He'd survived his first term at Hogwarts and established himself as a formidable student. And while Sebastian still held an edge in their dueling rivalry, that gap was closing.

  The selection duel was months away. Plenty of time to even the score.