Chương 309: Ch299- Open Class

Cassian pushed open the classroom door and stepped inside, letting it fall shut behind him. Seventh-years already sat waiting, quills out, backs straight, eyes big in that way students got when the year ahead suddenly looked very real. He took in the sight and let out a long breath. He'd missed this. Three months without a classroom and he'd started lecturing the furniture at home. Bathsheda had walked in on him explaining early language formations to a chair and told him to get a hobby.

He crossed to the front and set his notes down, though he didn't bother opening them.

"Right," he said, leaning against the desk.

"Seventh year. First class. You've survived six years without exploding anything important, so I'm willing to trust you with something new." Students looked up, already excited. Cassian lifted a hand.

"This class only, we're trying a different approach. You pick a topic. One." Several heads jerked up. He continued, "Rituals, runes, lost branches, magical catastrophes, potions that nearly rewrote the laws of physics, curses people invented because they were bored... take your pick. If there's a bit of magical history you want answered before you leave this school, now's your chance to argue for it." Dean raised a brow. Hermione already had her hand in the air.

Draco looked interested, but also squinting to see if it was a trap. Harry straightened a little. Ron looked relieved he wasn't being asked to write an essay on the spot. Cassian tapped the desk.

"Don't panic. As long as it isn't 'teach us how to blow up corridors' I'm fine with it." Seamus muttered, "That was one time." Cassian pointed at him.

"It was the staff corridor."

"One time," Seamus repeated. Cassian laughed under his breath.

"Go on, then. Floor's yours. Call out a topic." Crabbe's hand shot up before anyone else breathed.

"Fiendfyre." Cassian deadpanned at him. Crabbe swallowed.

"It's... so I don't die in it. What if I trap myself in one and burn to cinders?" Cassian stared at him for a beat.

"That's very specific. Concerningly specific. Fine... Fiendfyre is on the list. Anyone else before I start worrying about your home lives?" Hands flew. Proper forest of them. Hermione didn't even try to wait to be called.

"Ancient Atlantis rune lattices, specifically the ones tied to the collapse of the Western Library." Cassian nodded.

"Good. Illegal, explosive, historically messy. Strong start." Seamus raised his hand halfway.

"Can we do magical implosions? Y'know... reversing an explosion instead of making one?" Cassian narrowed his eyes.

"Because you want to prevent explosions, or because you want to make a new category of them?" Seamus's ears went pink.

"Bit of both?"

"Noted." Lavender piped up, "The Potion of Death. The real one. The original one. The one we're not allowed to study." Cassian tilted his head.

"Absolutely not teaching you how to brew an ancient death potion, but we can cover the history. It has a very nasty past." Lavender looked delighted anyway. Neville raised his hand slowly but firmly.

"Dark herbology hybrids. The plants that were banned from research after the Mordred Gardens incident." Cassian grinned.

"I like where your head's at." Padma added, "Astral projection. The real kind, not the pish posh in elective textbooks." Blaise raised a finger.

"Legacy magic. Bloodlines that mutated independently of standard evolution." Tracey chimed in, "Soul-binding rituals that failed. And why they failed." Draco leaned back in his chair.

"The Great Warding Collapse of 1282. The one the Ministry pretends wasn't their fault." Theo added without looking up, "And the counter-wards they buried after." Pansy flicked her quill.

"Weaponised glamourcraft. Purely academic." Daphne, dry as parchment, said, "Morgana help us." Harry raised a hand.

"Time-turner fallout. What actually happens when you break one." Ron jabbed a thumb at him.

"He means what happens to people when you break one." Dean Thomas lifted a finger.

"Cursed art. Not creepy portraits... actual cursed art. Stuff that tried to eat buyers." Megan Jones called across the aisle, "Historical magical plagues."

"Ohh..." The class reacted. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Justin piped in, "Preferably the ones that don't liquefy people. I'm squeamish." Susan Bones said, "Magical law loopholes. Old ones. Pre-Ministry." Anthony Goldstein followed.

"Resurrection myths that weren't myths." Millicent Bulstrode shrugged.

"Battlemage conditioning. The training, not the spells." Goyle grunted, "Big monsters." Cassian blinked.

"Can you... be more specific?" Goyle shrugged again.

"Just big ones."

"Fine. We'll slot that under 'beasts that eat Magicks.'" Sally Smith added, "Wandlore branches that don't exist anymore." Roger Malone lifted his hand.

"Catastrophes caused by magical weather." Ernie Macmillan sat up straighter.

"Goblin metal curses." Lisa Turpin called out, "Forbidden languages." Cassian looked mildly alarmed.

"Define forbidden." She smiled.

"The ones that answer back." Cassian blinked.

"Of course you want that." Sophia Roper raised her hand.

"Contract magic that predates the Fae treaties." Cassian stared at the room. Half delighted. Half wondering if he needed a therapist. He clapped his hands.

"Right. Excellent. Terrifying. Slightly worrying. But excellent. We'll narrow this to one topic. Preferably one that won't get me fired." The class leaned in like a single creature hungry for chaos. Cassian grinned.

"Let the arguing begin." Before anyone else managed a shout, Seamus shoved his chair back and stood up as if he were defending his right to breathe.

"You lot know me," he said, waving a hand at the room.

"You know my... situation. I'm cursed by the gods of bad luck. This is for my safety. And yours. And the castle's. Maybe if I learn something useful, I'll stop blowing myself up every five minutes?" The room actually gave him a full second, one whole second, of sympathy. Then Lavender booed.

"Absolutely not," she said, tossing her hair.

"We're doing the Potion of Death. It was brewed by the Death itself. Or brewed to kill the Death. It kills people through their worst fear, even if they only sniff it. And the recipe's impossible. One of the ingredients is supposed to be Boggart ectoplasm. How do you get ectoplasm from a creature that can't die? They're amortal. They don't leave any remains. That's the whole point." Draco turned in his seat.

"You want to brew something that kills people by fright? That seems... excessive, even for Gryffindors." Lavender folded her arms.

"I don't want to brew it, I want to understand it. There's a difference."

"Barely," Pansy muttered. Hermione scooted forward in her seat.

"If you're after theory," she said, "Atlantis runes make more sense. Potion of Death lore is half superstition. You learn far more by studying the runic collapse that wiped out the Western Library." Lavender scoffed.

"Runes don't kill you if you breathe on them."

"Some do," Hermione shot back.

"You've never worked with Atlantean glyphs." Crabbe raised both hands.

"I'm not competing with a fear potion or exploding runes. I'm saying Fiendfyre is relevant. It nearly ate my nan!" Theo cut in.

"It nearly ate everyone. That's why it's banned."

"And that's why we should learn about it!" Crabbe said, looking round desperately.

"You can't tell me none of you want to know how to put one out." Hermione nudged Ron.

"Say something sensible." Ron shrugged.

"Er... magical implosions? Seamus might find that useful."

"Thank you!" Seamus said, pointing.

"Vindication!" Lavender rolled her eyes.

"Implosions won't top a potion brewed by Death."

"Death doesn't brew," Hermione muttered.

"Shows what you know." Padma lifted her hand.

"We're not picking a topic based on who can brag more. If we're voting, ancient projection rites have actual academic value." Dean chimed in, "Cursed art is better. Some of it tried to eat people. Imagine not wanting to study that." Justin piped up, "Magical plagues!"

"Absolutely not," Hannah said.

"I like having my organs intact." Blaise leaned back.

"Legacy magic's cleaner. Bloodlines that went sideways mid-history. That's useful for everyone." Tracey nodded.

"It is more responsible than teaching half the room how to summon hellfire." Lavender cut across him.

"Sir, the Potion of Death ties into primal magic. Fear. Manifestation. Transformation. It's important."

"And deadly," Hermione countered.

"You think Professor Rosier's going to stand here and walk us through Death's shopping list?" A few students turned to Cassian. Cassian raised his brows.

"Absolutely not." Lavender groaned. Neville cleared his throat.

"Maybe we pick something we can all learn from? Not something meant to kill us? Dark herb hybrids give us useful knowledge for curses, antidotes, defence-" Pansy snorted.

"Oh yes, plants. Riveting."

"They almost levelled a city once," Neville said, perfectly mild.

"Your standards are interesting." Daphne nodded, "I vote for that too." Neville grinned at her. Draco tapped his quill.

"We're supposed to be preparing for N. E. W. T. s. Fiendfyre is out. Death potions are out. Atlantis runes will put half the class in the hospital wing."

"Not if they pay attention," Hermione said.

"Point proved," he replied. More voices rose...

"Time-turners!"

"Blood wards!"

"Forbidden languages!"

"Big monsters!" Goyle supplied again. The room fell briefly silent at that one. Cassian let out a breath.

"Thank you, Goyle. Still very insightful." Goyle nodded, pleased. Arguments burst again, voices tripping over one another. Cassian clapped. The room stilled.

"Yeah," he said.

"Strong arguments. Terrifying arguments. Some cries for help disguised as arguments." He looked round the sea of hopeful, deranged faces.

"We're picking one, and we're picking it sensibly." Cassian lifted his wand and the air above the desks rippled, then a parchment-like ribbon unfurled in mid-air.

"Since you're all incapable of agreeing like civilised people, we'll let magic do the heavy lifting." The ribbon glowed faintly.

"This spell reads whatever you lot are shouting inside your skulls. Surface level, before you panic. Desires, fears... all that. Every topic you offered goes up here. If it brightens, the room's drawn to it. If it darkens, you're all terrified of it. Whichever shines the strongest is what we study." He eyed the class.

"Fair?" They nodded, some eager, some worried.

"Good. Let's begin." FIENDFYRE It flickered. Brighter, then dimmer, then brighter again, pulsing like someone unsure whether they wanted to learn it or run for the door. Cassian squinted at Crabbe.

"Not shocked." DEATH POTION The letters barely had time to appear. They drained to pitch-black so quickly Lavender didn't even get a breath of hope. Her shoulders dropped. Cassian patted the air in her direction.

"The universe has spoken. And it echoed 'absolutely not.'" The ribbon moved on. ATLANTEAN RUNE COLLAPSE The topic sagged instantly, sinking to a dull grey as half the class groaned and the other half yawned without shame. Hermione stared at the ribbon, offended on principle. Cassian gave her a sympathetic grimace.

"Tragic. Truly. I blame your classmates' lack of culture." MAGICAL IMPLOSIONS A warm, curious glow, not bright, but not too dim. Seamus tried not to look proud and failed. More topics lit up and faded, some lingering, some vanishing as quickly as they appeared. The room watched each, cheering or groaning as their favourite survived another few seconds. Then the last word inked itself across the ribbon: MAGICAL PLAGUES The parchment burst into bright gold.

"Well," he said.

"There's our winner." The ribbon snapped itself shut and vanished. Cassian tapped the chalkboard with his wand.

"Magical plagues it is." He glanced around the room.

"Congratulations. You've chosen the one topic guaranteed to make the castle deeply uncomfortable. And me. Mostly me." A few students laughed. Cassian spread his hands.

"Plagues, curses, the sort of outbreaks that made whole civilisations rethink hobbies. Get your quills. This is going to be cheerful." The class leaned in, bright-eyed, ready for carnage. At least they'd picked something interesting.