The Defense Club exploded in popularity far faster than anyone expected.
At first, most students joined for practical reasons. Dolores Umbridge's classes had become a complete joke, consisting mostly of reading theory aloud while refusing to allow practical spellcasting. OWL examinations were approaching for many students, and panic spread steadily through Hogwarts as people realized they were dangerously unprepared.
So initially, the club was survival.
A desperate attempt by students to educate themselves before the world outside the castle grew even darker.
But after the first few meetings, people stayed for an entirely different reason.
Helios Black.
It became almost absurd how quickly his reputation spread throughout Hogwarts. Students who had never spoken to him before suddenly attended meetings simply to watch him teach. Even people who disliked Slytherins admitted it reluctantly among friends.
The boy could teach.
Not like a professor reciting theories from old textbooks. Not like a clever student showing off memorized information. Helios taught like someone who had survived real danger. Every movement had purpose. Every spell carried practical logic behind it. Every mistake received immediate correction because, according to him, mistakes during real combat usually meant death.
That attitude alone made the lessons feel different from ordinary classes.
Students paid attention because Helios somehow made every topic feel important.
Questions about shielding charms turned into explanations about magical pressure points and spell stability. Questions about dark creatures became discussions involving behavioral patterns, weaknesses, habitats, migration cycles, and obscure historical encounters. Even Ravenclaws began showing up in large numbers after Helios casually explained spell collisions using Arithmancy principles more clearly than some seventh-year textbooks.
At one point, a sixth-year Ravenclaw stared at him in complete disbelief before finally asking the question many students secretly wondered.
"How are you fifteen?"
Helios looked up calmly from the dueling notes he had been reviewing.
"Poor life choices."
The entire room burst into laughter.
The club meetings slowly became something students genuinely anticipated. Younger years attended eagerly even when they barely understood the advanced magic being demonstrated, simply because the sessions felt alive in ways normal classes no longer did.
And unlike Umbridge—
The club actually taught them how to survive.
Students learned proper shield charms instead of theoretical descriptions. They practiced disarming techniques repeatedly until reactions became instinctive. Counter-jinxes, spell recognition, emergency defensive casting, battlefield positioning—everything received attention.
Soon, dueling itself became part of the curriculum.
That was entirely Helios's fault.
Because once students witnessed him fight seriously, everything changed.
Especially for the younger students.
To them, Helios Black no longer looked entirely like a normal teenager. Watching him duel felt more like watching a professional trapped inside a student's body. His movements carried strange efficiency. He wasted no energy. Every spell flowed into the next naturally without hesitation.
Rose improved faster than anyone else.
Not because she was talented, but because Helios pushed her harder than everyone else combined. Sometimes the training bordered on brutal.
"Again," he would say calmly.
Rose lowered her wand with an exhausted groan. "I already hit the target!"
"You hit it slowly."
"It exploded!"
"So would you if someone cast that badly at you."
Ron once leaned toward Neville during one particularly harsh session and whispered, "I think this is how dark lords are created."
Neville nodded with complete seriousness. "Honestly, I'm scared to disagree with him now."
Yet despite the complaints, everyone improved rapidly.
Hermione absorbed magical theory faster than anyone else and began combining Helios's lessons with advanced spell research from the library. Neville grew increasingly competent under pressure once his confidence slowly improved. Ron, surprisingly, turned out to possess strong instincts in practical combat once he stopped panicking long enough to think.
Then the club gained an unexpected supporter.
Rubeus Hagrid.
The giant half-wizard became fascinated with the Defense Club after overhearing Helios casually mention during one lesson that magical creatures should be considered an essential part of defensive education.
Hagrid nearly looked emotional hearing someone say that.
"Finally!" he boomed one evening while ducking awkwardly through the entrance to the Room of Requirement. "Someone understands creatures matter fer Defense Against the Dark Arts!"
Helios nodded seriously. "Most dangerous magical encounters involve creatures, not dark wizards."
Soon creature studies became integrated into the club curriculum. Not merely reading from books, either. Hagrid insisted on practical demonstrations whenever possible.
Students learned defensive techniques against Grindylows near the Black Lake. Hagrid explained Red Cap behavior while several horrified second-years took notes frantically. Pixies became controlled training exercises in chaotic aerial defense.
And unlike many students—
Helios genuinely enjoyed those lessons.
He and Hagrid could spend hours discussing magical creatures without either growing bored. Dragon intelligence, migration patterns, magical ecosystems within ancient forests, breeding behavior of dangerous species—Helios listened seriously to all of it.
At one point Hagrid actually looked stunned after finishing a lengthy explanation about territorial behavior among Fire Crabs.
"…Yeh actually listen when I talk," he said quietly.
Helios blinked in confusion. "…shouldn't people normally do that?"
Hagrid laughed awkwardly. "Yeh'd be surprised."
Eventually another professor became involved.
Professor Filius Flitwick initially attended one session out of curiosity after hearing increasingly absurd stories from students. The tiny Charms professor expected enthusiasm, perhaps unusual talent.
He did not expect Helios Black.
Flitwick stayed for nearly three hours during that first observation.
Then he returned the next day.
And the day after that.
Finally, the former dueling champion volunteered to assist permanently.
Because even Flitwick recognized something extraordinary.
Helios fought like someone much older.
Much more experienced.
And eventually the entire Defense Club witnessed the duel people would discuss across Hogwarts for months afterward.
Professor Filius Flitwick versus Helios Black.
The Room of Requirement transformed itself into a proper dueling arena for the occasion. Stone platforms rose around the edges to create spectator seating while protective barriers shimmered faintly across the walls. Students packed every available space long before the duel began.
Even professors attended quietly.
McGonagall stood near the back with folded arms while Snape observed from the shadows with narrowed eyes. Hagrid squeezed himself awkwardly near the doorway trying not to accidentally crush first-years beneath his boots.
Students expected an exhibition.
What they received instead looked disturbingly close to actual combat.
"Ready, Mr. Black?" Flitwick asked cheerfully once both duelists entered the arena.
Helios raised his wand calmly. "Yes, Professor."
The duel began instantly.
And within seconds the room exploded into chaos.
Spellfire flashed across the chamber like lightning while shield charms cracked loudly enough to shake the arena. Stone shattered apart from missed curses. Flitwick moved with astonishing speed despite his size, weaving between attacks with precise efficiency born from decades of experience.
But Helios—
Helios kept up.
Not equally.
But enough that students forgot how to breathe.
Spell chains collided rapidly across the arena while Helios manipulated the battlefield itself to create advantages. He destroyed sections of terrain intentionally to disrupt movement patterns. Walls became cover. Broken debris became weapons. At one point he redirected three incoming curses simultaneously using transfigured stone fragments rotating through the air.
A sixth-year whispered weakly from the audience, "…what the hell…"
Even Snape's eyes narrowed slightly at that exchange.
Because this was not normal teenage dueling.
This was battlefield combat thinking.
The duel lasted over fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes against Filius Flitwick.
That alone bordered on unbelievable.
Eventually experience won.
Flitwick finally broke through Helios's defenses during an incredibly complex spell exchange, landing a stunning curse cleanly against his chest.
The room erupted instantly.
Students shouted excitedly. Applause thundered throughout the arena. Several younger students looked completely starstruck while Ravenclaws immediately began arguing about specific spell combinations they had witnessed.
Flitwick himself looked delighted.
"Magnificent!" he squeaked happily while lowering his wand. "Absolutely magnificent!"
Meanwhile Helios looked deeply irritated.
Rose stared at him in disbelief. "You lasted fifteen minutes against Professor Flitwick."
"I lost."
"You fought a former dueling champion!" Ron exclaimed.
"I still lost."
Only Rose noticed the deeper frustration hidden behind his expression.
Because Helios was not comparing himself to Flitwick.
He was comparing himself to someone else entirely.
Fragments of another life lingered inside him constantly now. Another version of himself. His instincts still felt slower than they once had. His reactions less refined. His awareness incomplete.
Perhaps returning to a younger body had altered him more deeply than he admitted.
But nobody else understood that.
To the rest of Hogwarts, the duel became legendary overnight.
Students suddenly trained twice as hard afterward. Practice sessions became crowded. Spellbooks vanished constantly from the library. Younger students spent evenings attempting advanced shield work far beyond their years.
Everyone wanted to duel like Helios Black.
And naturally, the Defense Club evolved again.
Soon it divided into two separate branches entirely.
Defense.
And competitive dueling.
Professor Flitwick embraced the idea with enormous enthusiasm.
"There's real talent here," he announced one evening while observing practice matches between students.
His eyes gleamed excitedly behind his spectacles.
"With proper training…" he continued dramatically, "…we could enter the under-seventeen dueling circuit."
The room exploded instantly.
"What?!"
"There's a professional junior circuit?"
"No way!"
Flitwick looked utterly delighted by the reaction.
"Oh yes," he said proudly.
Then he raised his wand dramatically toward the gathered students.
"And Hogwarts," he declared with a grin, "might finally produce champions this year."
Professor Flitwick's excitement about the international dueling circuit was not simple enthusiasm.
For him—
It was personal.
Because Hogwarts had not properly participated in the under-seventeen international dueling circuit for years. Not seriously. Occasionally a talented student entered independently through family sponsorship or private tutoring, but Hogwarts itself no longer produced dedicated duelists the way certain continental schools did.
And everyone in magical Europe knew why.
Britain had crippled its own dueling education.
The conversation happened several evenings after the duel between Flitwick and Helios, when a smaller group remained behind inside the Room of Requirement after regular club practice ended. The room had transformed into something resembling a professional training hall now, complete with elevated spectator platforms, moving practice targets, and reinforced stone walls scarred by countless curses.
Rose sat cross-legged on one of the benches while Hermione organized practice notes nearby. Ron lay completely exhausted across the floor after losing three consecutive duels against Neville. Hagrid had already left earlier after bringing several highly aggressive pixies "fer reaction trainin'," which nearly caused a second-year Hufflepuff to fall into a suit of armor.
Meanwhile, Flitwick stood near the center of the room speaking with Helios while absentmindedly repairing damaged stonework with precise wand movements.
"The problem," Flitwick explained, "is that Britain became afraid of dueling."
Helios leaned against one of the pillars quietly listening.
"Afraid?" Hermione repeated while looking up from her notes.
Flitwick nodded grimly. "After Voldemort's rise, many Ministry officials began associating advanced combat magic with Dark Wizards." His expression darkened slightly. "And unfortunately, several former Hogwarts duelists did join Voldemort."
The first war had produced terrifyingly capable fighters on both sides.
"So the Ministry reacted politically," Flitwick continued. "Dueling courses were quietly removed from Hogwarts curriculum over time. Practical combat training disappeared. Defensive instruction weakened. Eventually, most combat-oriented spellwork became heavily restricted for students."
Ron frowned from the floor. "But we still learn defensive spells."
"Basic ones," Flitwick corrected gently. "Highly controlled ones."
Then his expression sharpened slightly.
"The international circuit is very different."
Now even Helios looked more interested.
Flitwick waved his wand, conjuring several glowing images of dueling arenas above the practice floor. Large stadiums appeared suspended in the air, filled with cheering crowds while young witches and wizards dueled violently across reinforced platforms.
"There is no distinction between 'light' and 'dark' magic in professional dueling," Flitwick explained.
Hermione blinked. "What?"
"The classification is political," Helios said quietly before Flitwick could answer.
Flitwick immediately pointed toward him. "Exactly."
The tiny professor looked increasingly irritated the longer he explained the situation.
"Most nations categorize magic based on legality and ethics individually," he continued. "Britain, however, became extraordinarily restrictive after the war."
He gestured toward the floating arena images.
"International duelists are taught how to recognize dangerous magic. How to counter blood curses. How to disrupt nerve attacks. How to survive against aggressive transfiguration."
Ron slowly sat up. "…we definitely don't learn that."
"No," Flitwick replied dryly. "You learn theory essays."
Several students groaned immediately.
Helios remained silent, but internally he already understood the deeper problem.
Britain had weakened itself deliberately out of fear.
Not entirely without reason, perhaps. Voldemort's rise had terrified the Ministry badly enough that they began treating knowledge itself as dangerous. Combat magic became associated with rebellion. Skill became suspicious.
And over time—
An entire generation grew up unprepared.
Flitwick sighed softly before continuing.
"Other schools never made that mistake."
Durmstrang students practicing aggressive spell combinations in enormous stone arenas. Beauxbatons duelists moving elegantly through coordinated magical formations. Smaller academies from Eastern Europe training children in shield-breaking exercises that would probably horrify half the British Ministry.
"Some schools even have dedicated dueling classes," Flitwick said.
"They have actual dueling professors?" Neville asked.
"Oh yes," Flitwick replied. "Some schools treat magical combat as seriously as Quidditch."
Ron looked personally offended. "Why does nobody tell us these things?"
"Because Britain dislikes admitting it fell behind," Helios answered calmly.
Flitwick gave him a long look before sighing.
"…yes."
Suddenly everyone understood something uncomfortable.
Hogwarts students were not untalented.
They were undertrained.
Rose stared toward the floating images thoughtfully. "So Hogwarts stopped competing because we kept losing?"
Flitwick looked pained.
"…badly."
That answer stunned even Ron.
"Hogwarts used to dominate the junior circuits centuries ago," Flitwick continued quietly. "Britain produced some of the finest duelists in Europe. But over time…"
He shook his head slightly.
"Fear replaced preparation."
Hermione crossed her arms thoughtfully. "And now students graduate without knowing how to defend themselves properly."
"Yes."
"Which is absurd considering Voldemort literally returned," Ron muttered.
Flitwick looked exhausted for a moment. "Quite."
Then suddenly his eyes brightened again as he looked toward Helios.
"But now," he said quietly, "things may finally change."
Helios looked unimpressed by the attention.
"You're overestimating me."
"Absolutely not," Flitwick replied instantly.
The professor stepped closer now, his expression becoming more serious than usual.
"Do you understand how extraordinary your combat instincts actually are?"
Helios remained silent.
Flitwick continued before he could dismiss the compliment again.
"You think like an experienced battlefield duelist. You control positioning naturally. You chain spells without hesitation. You manipulate terrain mid-combat instinctively."
He pointed his wand sharply toward the shattered training dummies around the room.
"And most importantly—you adapt."
That last word carried weight. Because adaptation separated talented students from true duelists.
Rose noticed Helios's expression tighten slightly at the praise.
Discomfort.
As though hearing compliments about abilities he once considered ordinary.
Flitwick lowered his voice slightly afterward.
"With proper preparation…" he said carefully, "…you could win internationally."
Even Ron stopped making sarcastic comments.
Because this was no longer ordinary encouragement.
Professor Flitwick genuinely believed it.
Helios finally looked directly at him. "You think Hogwarts can compete again because of one student?"
"No," Flitwick replied calmly.
Then a small smile appeared on his face.
"I think one student can inspire the others to become dangerous enough to compete again."
Because the Defense Club had already begun changing Hogwarts quietly.
Students trained voluntarily now. Younger years practiced shield charms between classes. Duels happened constantly in supervised environments. Spell theory discussions spread across common rooms.
People were becoming stronger.
And perhaps more importantly—
Students were becoming confident again.
Flitwick looked around the room afterward, his expression unusually proud.
"For years," he said softly, "Hogwarts feared practical magic. Feared making mistakes. Feared looking aggressive."
Then his eyes sharpened slightly.
"But magic was never meant to sit quietly inside textbooks."
The tiny professor raised his wand.
Several shattered practice dummies instantly reconstructed themselves across the arena.
"Magic lives through use," he continued. "Through understanding. Through discipline."
Then he smiled faintly.
"And occasionally through setting things on fire."
The room burst into laughter.
But beneath the humor—
Something real had already begun growing inside Hogwarts.
The world outside Hogwarts was becoming darker by the day.
Voldemort was rising again.
The Ministry was failing.
And for the first time in years—
Hogwarts students were finally learning how to fight back.
Author's Note:
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