Next morning, Cassian stepped into the classroom and stopped just inside the door, dragging a sigh.
"Right. O.W.L. level History. All houses together. Oh joy."
A few chuckles rolled in, mostly from the Gryffindor end. Fred and George perked up immediately, throwing on their best fake-serious faces.
Cassian gave them a flat look and headed to his desk. He swung one leg over the edge, sat, and waved his wand lazily. The blackboard behind him shifted with a soft clack, lines sketching themselves into place.
"Let's go easy this week. Ease into it. Do you all still remember the Confundus Charm you learned last year?"
Most nodded. A few looked like they were pretending to remember and hoping he didn't call them out.
"Good. This one's a mess. One of the interesting ones, though." He flicked his wand, his mug appearing in his hand. "As you've heard me say a thousand times, spells are born from need. And they usually evolve in a straight-ish line. Tweaked, refined, polished over generations. But Confundus... Well, no. Confundus couldn't be bothered to follow the rules."
He leaned back slightly. "Because the reason you Confund someone can be anything. Win a match, dodge a curse, rob a bank, avoid awkward conversation... Possibilities are endless. And because of that, the spell's changed a lot. It branched. Keeps branching."
He nodded at Cedric, who was flipping his quill between his fingers. "You ever heard of the Colchis?"
Cedric blinked. "Er, no, sir?"
"Didn't think so. Most haven't. They were a northern tribe that lived halfway up the southern cliffs of what's now Georgia, country. Early users of water-aligned magic. Used Confundus-style charms not to confuse people. Their version of Confundus wasn't about confusion, it was about shifting intent."
He grinned as he got up. "Right then. Anyone want to guess why and how and earn an early twenty points?"
A handful of hands went up. He pointed at Kenneth because, bless him, the boy's brain ran on something entirely its own, and Cassian secretly loved the chaos of hearing his attempts.
Kenneth sat up straighter. "Well... intent's sort of the spine of spell‑casting, isn't it? So if someone can nudge intent, even a little, then the spell you cast comes out cleaner. Almost like... adjusting the aim before you actually fire it?"
The class stared.
Every single one of them.
Even Cassian's jaw dipped for a second.
Fred shot to his feet, arm outstretched like he was accusing a dark wizard in court. "Who are you?"
Every head turned.
George stood too, eyes wide with mock horror. "Polyjuice. Someone's nicked our sweet Kenneth!"
Cassian glared at them, deadpan. "Sit down."
The twins collapsed back into their seats, grinning. Kenneth blinked at them, still chewing the end of his quill, completely unaware he'd been replaced.
Cassian shook his head to get himself moving again. "Well. Twenty points to Gryffindor."
Kenneth beamed. "Yay."
Cassian took another look, mildly unsettled. "Where was I? Colchis. They used water‑aligned magic for everything. Drinking, rituals, fishing, petty arguments. If it involved water, they tried a spell on it."
He stepped out from the desk.
"As I said earlier," He went on, "they didn't want to tangle thoughts. They weren't trying to make someone forget what they were doing. They wanted to nudge intent. Tiny shift. Barely a push. All so they could teach intent to the younger ones."
He paced the aisle, hands in his pockets, eyes sliding over a sea of frowns.
"Yup," he said, popping the 'p.' "That is the great, noble origin of the widely‑used menace people abuse nowadays. It started as a teaching tool. For children."
A few students blinked. One Slytherin mouthed 'What' at Pucey.
Cassian pointed at them. "You see, like I've said far too many times, and as Mr Towler added before I could get there, intent is the backbone of working magic. If you don't know what you mean, magic doesn't care how pretty your wand movement is. Nothing happens. Maybe a spark. Maybe it kicks back. Usually embarrassment."
Fred saluted him with his quill.
"Now picture the Colchis," Cassian said. "Lived up cliff faces. Spent half their time dangling over rivers or arguing with currents. Their spellcraft was all about directing flow. Shaping it. Matching it. But their kids..." He flicked his wrist. "Hopeless. Because, shock, they'd never seen what the spells were meant to do out in the wild. Hard to mimic a tide shift when the only water you know is whatever's boiling in a pot."
Alicia snorted quietly.
Cassian pointed the chalk at her without looking. "Correct reaction. Their elders agreed. So one of the chiefs, bit of an inventor, bit mad, comes up with a plan. 'What if,' he says, 'I can tweak their intent before they even cast? Carve the right instinct into their heads. Give them a safe version of the danger first.'"
He paused, letting that hang.
Cedric raised his hand halfway. "So... they cheated at teaching?"
Cassian snapped his fingers at him. "Precisely. Brilliant... and disastrous."
He let the class enjoy the paradox then waved two fingers at the board. It started writing Colchis‑Variant I - Pre‑Intent Adjustment.
Roger Davies squinted. "Why isn't this one taught anymore, sir?"
Cassian sighed, started pacing again. "Because it made learning effortless for the wrong reasons."
"You lot think easy equals good. It doesn't. One day, when you're older and one of you's trying to raise a half-feral goblin of your own, you'll learn, making things easy for kids isn't the same as raising them right. Challenge, hardship, and a bit of healthy failure, that's what sticks."
Angelina muttered, "My mum says that about chores."
Cassian nodded. "Your mum's right. Tell her I said so."
More than a few snickers rolled through the class.
"The Colchis meant well, but they ended up creating a shortcut. Something that nudged intent before the caster even formed it. Without struggle, or build-up, just a ready-made instinct slapped in their skulls."
He flicked his wand, and the chalk written and underlined, Spellcraft Dependency.
"That shortcut..." He pointed at the words. "It worked. Too well. Kids learned faster, sure. But when they tried to move beyond it, they hit a wall. They'd never actually learned how to control their own intent. Just how to mimic what the spell wanted them to feel."
Miles looked baffled. "But couldn't they just stop using it?"
Cassian raised both eyebrows. "You ever try unlearning a habit your brain thinks is helping you? Go on, spend a month walking with your knees locked, then tell me how fun stairs are."
Alicia made a face. "Sounds like a curse."
"Worse," Cassian said. "It's a bad habit with a wand. There's nothing more dangerous."
"Fast forward a few centuries. Colchis dissolve, their cliffside magic dribbles into Eastern Europe, a few Slavic communities pick it up, polish it, tweak the edges, and suddenly we've got a Confundus Charm that can knock someone's thoughts loose just long enough to convince them they've already had the conversation."
He then waved his wand, and a string of illusions unfurled above the desks, soft, floating scenes shifting like pages turning in mid‑air. People from all over the world appeared in quick flashes, a shepherd on a hillside muttering at a rival, a street market in old Samarkand where two boys tried to cheat a trader, a Venetian gondolier flicking his wand at a rich couple, a group of witches arguing over fishing rights somewhere damp and cold.
Cassian jerked his chin at the moving scenes. "As I said at the start, once that well‑meant Colchis variant left its cliff and travelled, every place it landed twisted it. Tribe to tribe, village to village, then cities. Most of them used it to nudge, confuse, distract... some to cheat. Others to win fights they shouldn't win. A few, obviously, got creative in the deeply stupid way."
One of the illusions showed two wizards shoving each other on a bridge, one of them clearly far too amused as the other spun the wrong direction and fell into a canal.
Pucey winced. "Bit harsh."
Cassian pointed the wand at the scene. "This? This is the polite end. Some groups used it in feuds. Some in interrogation. One lot in northern Italy used it to convince rivals their own shadows were talking back to them. Took them two decades to get them to stop."
Cedric rubbed his forehead. "Sir... how do people even stop a spell like that spreading?"
"You can't. They didn't," Cassian said. "Too versatile. Too tempting. And half the communities convinced themselves their version was harmless. Spoiler, none of them were. Because once you've got a spell that lets you twist what someone's trying to do, it's only a matter of time before some bright spark decides it's the perfect shortcut to something worse."
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Once a spell spreads this far, the only thing you can do is legalise it and teach people how not to be menaces. Same as knives... Can fill your stomach, can empty your neighbour's. Depends on who's holding it."
A few quills scratched faster.
"Confundus is the same. You can twist someone's aim, or you can keep a kid from hexing their own foot off. Up to you. Violence, punishments, threats... I am not fan, bu they make people think twice. Sometimes that's enough. Be decent human beings, yeah? Try not to ruin anyone's life for a laugh."
Fred mouthed something at George.
Cassian clapped his hands lightly. "Two feet on alternative applications of Confundus. One foot on why you shouldn't use it for selfish nonsense."
A soft groan rolled through the room.
"Dismissed."
Chairs scraped. Bags zipped. Cedric lingered like he wanted to ask something, then thought better of it. Roger nearly walked straight into the doorframe because he was still reading his notes. The twins tried to synchronise a salute but gave up halfway.
Cassian stayed where he was, perched on the desk, watching them spill out.
Kenneth paused in the doorway. "Sir? Can you teach me the Colchis one?"
Cassian snorted. "Absolutely not. Get out."
Kenneth left cheerfully.
Cassian flicked his wand. The illusions shivered and dissolved.
"Troublesome menaces." He snorted. "Should teach all years early. I feel it might come in handy."
(Check Here for the Author Notes please.)
(Check Here)
If there was a library somewhere filled with the things people almost said. It'd be on fire.
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