By March…
Alexander had officially stepped back from chaos.
Not because he couldn't create more—
But because he didn't need to.
Between the Weasley twins running an underground photo business…
And Peeves launching fireworks at random hours…
Hogwarts already had more than enough excitement.
Alexander, for once, wanted peace.
Relaxation and spending more time with Cho.
Most evenings now were quiet.
Studying together.
Walking the castle corridors.
Sitting by the Ravenclaw windows overlooking the Black Lake.
It was nice until one evening after dinner—
Alexander sat in the Ravenclaw Common Room beside Cho, reviewing Charms notes.
The fire crackled softly.
Students chatted quietly.
Then—
His roommates approached.
Along with several other first-years.
And behind them—
More students.
Alexander looked up slowly.
"…Why are there so many of you?"
His roommates exchanged looks.
Then one spoke.
"Alex… we need a favor."
He immediately narrowed his eyes.
"What kind of favor?"
They explained.
With Professor Blackwood gone—
Defense Against the Dark Arts had no instructor.
Classes were reduced to self-study.
Students either practiced alone…
Or begged upperclassmen for help.
But help was limited.
And honestly—
Most older students weren't great teachers.
So the first-years talked.
And reached one conclusion.
If anyone could teach them properly—
It was Alexander.
He was the top student.
Already helped Cho.
Helped his roommates.
Had advanced spell control.
And actually explained magic clearly.
So they asked his roommates to persuade him.
Alexander's first instinct?
Decline.
"I'm not running a class."
He returned to his book.
Conversation over.
Or so he thought.
Then Cho spoke.
"Yes, he'll help."
Alexander froze.
Slowly turned his head.
"…Excuse me?"
Cho just smiled sweetly at him.
The kind of smile that meant the decision was already made.
"You're teaching me anyway. Helping others at the same time is efficient."
Alexander stared at her.
Speechless.
He had been outmaneuvered.
Again.
After a long sigh—
He closed his book.
"…Fine."
The room erupted in cheers.
The first lesson began that same night.
Alexander stood before a small semicircle of students near the common room windows.
Arms crossed.
"We start simple."
He raised his wand.
"Lumos."
Light burst from the wand tip.
Bright. Stable. Controlled.
"A basic illumination charm. Useful in dark corridors, night travel, or emergencies."
Most students already knew Lumos—
But their control varied.
Some lights flickered.
Some were dim.
Some blinded the caster instead of the surroundings.
Alexander corrected grips, posture, and wand angles.
Precision mattered.
Then came the second spell.
"Nox."
He flicked his wand.
The light vanished instantly.
Students perked up.
Many knew Lumos—
But hadn't mastered turning it off cleanly.
Some lights sputtered.
Some dimmed slowly instead of cutting clean.
They practiced repeatedly—
Lumos.
Nox.
Lumos.
Nox.
Some students even created a game.
Where one student would cast Lumos and run away.
Then the other student would chase and cast Nox to try to take away the light from Lumos.
The ones who mastered both beamed with pride.
It was simple magic—
But foundational control.
Alexander approved.
Once the basics stabilized—
He escalated.
"Next spell: Protego."
That got attention.
Even upperclassmen nearby looked over.
Protego wasn't advanced per se—
But it was essential.
A true defensive cornerstone.
Alexander demonstrated.
"Protego."
A shimmering barrier flashed before him.
He tossed a book at it.
It bounced off harmlessly.
Students murmured in awe.
He explained thoroughly:
Barrier strength depended on focus
Reaction speed mattered more than power
Angle determined deflection path
Panic weakened shields
They practiced in pairs—
Blocking tossed objects first.
Then light jinxes.
Some shields shattered instantly.
Others held.
A few even reflected spells slightly.
Alexander corrected each calmly.
Surprisingly, he was good at teaching.
Receiving many praises from his classmates.
As March progressed—
The "informal sessions" grew.
More first-years joined.
Then second-years.
Even a few third-years attended quietly.
Because the truth was simple:
Protego was useful at every level.
Adult witches and wizards used it regularly.
And Alexander's explanations were… effective.
He broke magic into systems.
Logic.
Efficiency.
Optimization.
Students learned faster under him than in most formal classes.
He even began giving short lectures:
On wand movement efficiency.
On spell timing.
On conserving magical output.
On reading opponent intent.
Not dueling—
Just foundational combat awareness.
Safety first.
Cho always stood near the front.
Practicing diligently.
He paid extra attention to her shield strength.
Corrected her stance personally.
All because she was his girlfriend, He wanted her safe.
Alexander eventually realized something unexpected.
He didn't mind teaching.
In fact—
He was good at it.
Clear explanations.
Calm corrections.
Structured progression.
Students improved rapidly.
Word spread across Ravenclaw:
First-years were training like second-years.
His main reason for agreeing hadn't changed, though.
He was going to teach Cho anyway.
Helping others simultaneously—
Costs nothing.
But the side effect?
It elevated his reputation even further.
Not just as the chaotic genius…
But as a reliable top student.
A leader among first-years.
Someone others depended on.
One evening, after a long session—
Students thanked him before leaving.
Cho lingered beside him.
"You're a natural teacher."
Alexander packed his notes calmly.
"I prefer efficient knowledge distribution."
She laughed softly.
"Same thing."
He didn't argue.
As the common room emptied—
Alexander looked around.
Students are chatting confidently.
Casting Lumos cleanly.
Practicing Protego reflexively.
He hadn't planned to build a training group.
But now that it existed…
He didn't dislike it.
More capable students meant better survival odds.
For everyone.
Especially Cho.
Alexander extinguished most of the room lights with a quiet—
"Nox."
And closed the night's lesson.