The pained cries of a wizard and the sharp scolding of a witch echoed through the corridor.
It was a classic Hogwarts portrait performance. Sir Cadogan, ever the reckless knight, often chased his pony into the nuns' frame, startling them into shrieks. The nuns, fed up, had learned from a Gryffindor witch's portrait to wield their weapons and teach him a lesson.
"Impudent fool!"
It wasn't yet curfew, and the nighttime corridor buzzed with activity.
Harry and Hermione kept their heads down, hurrying past to avoid wounding Sir Cadogan's fragile ego. They knocked on the Muggle Studies office door, ready for tonight's tutoring session.
No sign of Malfoy this time, thankfully.
Hermione glanced around the room as they entered.
Hogwarts offices followed a similar layout: an inner area with a bedroom, storage, and utility rooms, closed to outsiders, and an outer space for work and visitors.
She'd noticed before that Professor Levent's setup had a strong Muggle vibe. A record player sat against the wall, a magical mirror rested on a shelf—basically a Muggle living room with a TV.
The sofa and coffee table were there, but no snacks this time, just a torn piece of parchment on the table.
"Welcome to Levent's after-hours tutoring," Melvin said, smiling at the two students. "Over the past few days, I've gone through the Examination Authority's archives and Professor McGonagall's records, getting a rough sense of Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching…"
Hermione sat on the sofa, tilting her face up attentively, quietly pulling out paper and a quill from her bag, ready to take notes.
Harry caught her movements from the corner of his eye and patted his pockets, realizing he'd come empty-handed—no notebook, not even a quill. Was this the difference between a top student and a slacker?
He stared at the torn parchment on the table, hoping the professor wouldn't notice.
"I checked the second-year curriculum. It's simple: ten chapters, three on forest creatures, three on swamp creatures, two on fish, and two on birds. Not complex. You can memorize Percy's notes for that. I won't go into detail.
"For weekend tutoring, I'll teach you some special-effect charms, then move to spells beyond the textbook, paired with dueling practice. The pace might be fast.
"First, let's cover charms for forest creatures, like Cornish Pixies. Pay attention to the spell's stress and rhythm."
Melvin watched their reactions, noting Hermione's note-taking and Harry's lowered head. He didn't mind; this was hands-on teaching, and notes weren't critical.
He gestured for them to draw their wands. "Repeat after me: Peskipiksi Pesternomi…"
"Peski… Piksi Pesternomi…" Harry and Hermione stumbled through, struggling with the fast-paced lesson.
"Again, Peskipiksi…"
The tongue-twisting spell was tricky at first, but it was just a second-year basic charm—no need for complex intonation. A few repetitions, and they got the hang of it.
The Binding Charm, an improved version of the Levitation Charm, acted like an invisible lasso, trapping the target and moving it with the wand's motion.
Melvin demonstrated the hand and wand movements. "Mimic the Levitation Charm: point at the target, then lift."
Harry and Hermione followed suit.
"Exactly. Don't overcomplicate it. The challenge in practice is that Cornish Pixies are pack creatures. In the wild, you'll face dozens at once.
"Don't panic. Stay calm, try a few times, and you'll succeed. Don't get greedy—deal with them one by one, tossing them back into their burrows until they're dazed.
"This spell works on any tree-dwelling creatures," Melvin concluded.
Hermione was still adjusting to this teaching style, but Harry loved it, eagerly saying, "Professor, can we try it?"
Melvin gave an approving look. His hunch was right—Harry was a hands-on learner. "No practice conditions in the office, but you can ask Hagrid to take you to the Forbidden Forest sometime. For now, I'll Transfigure these paper scraps into creatures. If you can catch and control them, you've mastered the spell."
"Let's do it!"
With a smile, Melvin tapped the torn parchment lightly.
The scraps swelled like inflating balloons. With a series of pops, they burst, transforming into small, iron-blue creatures.
"Cornish Pixies!"
Harry and Hermione yelped, backing away.
These iron-blue pixies, about eight inches tall with pointed chins and long ears, bared their teeth, shrieking shrilly. As soon as they appeared, they began darting and chattering around the room.
They'd seen these in class before—nearly wrecking the room and sending Lockhart fleeing.
Hermione panicked briefly, worried they'd trash the professor's office, but soon noticed these Transfigured pixies were different.
Real Cornish Pixies were chaotic gremlins. These paper creations were polite gentlemen, confining their antics to a ten-foot radius around the sofa and table, leaving shelves and bookcases untouched.
"Here we go~" Melvin said, stepping back like he was watching a show.
At his signal, the pixies turned feral, splitting into two groups and lunging at the duo with claws and teeth bared.
"Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"
Hermione waved her wand quickly. A Freezing Charm would've been better, but she stuck to the lesson's spell instinctively.
The lead pixie hit the spell's beam, its body caught in an invisible snare, swaying with her wand's motion—lifted, swung, and slammed to the floor, knocked out.
One spell, one pixie down. But more swarmed in, one grabbing her wand and hanging on, others reaching for her hair, pinching her hands, scratching her face.
"Hermione! Dodge them!" Harry called.
He fought differently. As the pixies charged, he didn't cast immediately. Instead, he kicked away the nearest two, dodged the first wave, and kept them at bay.
Seeing Hermione surrounded, he shouted a warning while blasting the pixies closing in.
"Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"
The same spell, the same motion, but Harry's effect was starkly different. His faintly white beam struck a pixie, sending it flying, knocking others aside in its path.
Hermione didn't dwell on it. She jabbed a pixie in the eyes, making it wail and release her wand. Two quick spells dispatched the ones clinging to her, and she moved to stand back-to-back with Harry in a defensive stance.
For the next half hour, Harry and Hermione experienced a wholly different Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Facing dozens of pixies' scratches and grabs, they dodged in the cramped space, repeatedly casting the Binding Charm.
Melvin observed, adjusting the pixies' attack rhythm.
He balanced it perfectly—keeping them from being overwhelmed and hung from the chandelier, but not letting them wipe out the pixies too quickly, maximizing the practice's effectiveness.
Harry and Hermione struggled. For 3X-level creatures like these, a Freezing Charm was smarter, but this was practice, so they stuck to the Binding Charm, repeating it over and over.
Until their casting quickened, the incantation flowing effortlessly, the motions fluid and instinctive.
"Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"
Harry shouted, aiming at the last pixie. With a flick, a white beam roared out, wrapping the pixie with Quaffle-like force, slamming it into its iron-blue belly.
Bang!
The pixie's eyes bulged as it flew back, crashing into the wall with a thud. The Transfiguration unraveled, leaving a paper scrap stuck to the wall.
"…"
Hermione glanced at Harry, staring for several moments.
Were they even casting the same spell?
Reflecting on their performance, Melvin waved away the Transfiguration, summoning a whirlwind to sweep the scraps into the bin.
Sitting back on the sofa, he smiled. "Congratulations, you've mastered the Binding Charm—one of second-year Defense's key points."
Harry grinned proudly, unreserved.
Hermione pressed her lips, suppressing a smile. Thinking of Lockhart's classroom antics, her eyes narrowed indignantly. "A second-year spell, and Professor Lockhart couldn't cast it. How does he subdue dark creatures?"
"A question worth pondering," Melvin said, following her lead. "His books are full of self-aggrandizement, but the events are detailed. The Daily Prophet interviewed remote villagers, and their accounts match up."
If they were mildly curious before, Melvin's words planted a seed of doubt in Harry and Hermione's minds.
He didn't nurture it further, steering back to tutoring. "Besides the spell, what did you learn from that fight?"
Harry glanced at Hermione, who was still thinking, and answered first. "Combat isn't turn-based. It's continuous. You've got to stay alert for attacks and defense the whole time."
"Anything else?" Melvin encouraged with a nod.
Harry reflected. "Against fierce attacks or ambushes, don't go head-on. Defense needs follow-up. Dodge if you can."
"Wizard combat isn't a game of turns. Well said." Melvin turned to Hermione, who'd finished thinking. "Your thoughts?"
Hermione mused, "Wizards' spells have long range, while these creatures' claws and teeth are short. Against them, keep your distance—hit them where they can't hit you."
"…"
Harry lowered his head, silent, thinking sometimes close combat worked too.
Melvin handed them chocolates, nodding. "Both valid. Practical exercises build experience and help find your fighting style. Single-spell practice is less important. You've got the Binding Charm down. Practice it on your own, and next week, submit an essay."
"Essay?!" Harry's eyes widened.
"Not on the Binding Charm or Cornish Pixies, but on fighting small pack creatures. Write your insights, no length limit. That's all. Class dismissed."
"…"
After seeing the two off and waiting for their footsteps to fade, Melvin returned to his desk, pulling out the worn diary. While the quill soaked up ink, he reviewed their performance.
For spell-learning efficiency, meticulous Hermione outpaced Harry.
But in combat, Harry had an almost instinctive knack, making split-second optimal choices without thinking. Hermione was a touch slower there.
Melvin rubbed the ink bottle, pondering future tutoring plans.
Simple spells could be practiced privately. The focus should be on boosting combat skills with more practical drills. The venue didn't have to be the office—maybe the Room of Requirement or Slytherin's Chamber…
The quill was ready. Melvin exhaled, ready to study dark magic.
---
"I've mastered Fiendfyre. Next dark spell, please."
Melvin traced a circle in the air with his wand. Orange-red flames erupted, fierce and wild, but confined to a small spherical area, morphing into shapes—dragon, python, sphinx…
The diary stayed silent for a long time. Sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle was starting to doubt himself.
Over their interactions, he'd noticed this guy's talent was terrifyingly high—learning a dark spell a day, with no apparent psychological toll, judging by his writing.
Melvin paused his quill, realizing his progress might seem absurd.
He tried to cover: "I'm pure-blood, with dark wizard relatives. I learned some as a kid."
Whether the diary bought it was unclear: "Have you decided about the Chamber?"
"I'm still researching. Give me a bit."
Melvin cast another delay charm, using news of the Dark Lord and Death Eaters to keep Riddle patient: "By the way, I found something in The Daily Prophet. Their star reporter published exclusive news on Voldemort."
"Tell me!"
"Rita Skeeter claims she suspects Voldemort's relentless pursuit of the Potters was due to some hidden romantic entanglement…"
"?"
The diary slowly formed a question mark.