The Room of Requirement had outdone itself again—thanks to Gilderoy's imagination, of course.
What had once been an empty, cavernous space now resembled something between a duelling chamber and a professional training ground. Padded target dummies lined the walls, enchanted to shift position every few seconds, mimicking the erratic movement of real opponents.
The floor and walls had been reinforced with subtle cushioning charms—Amelia's request after Clive Jorkins had taken a particularly hard fall during the last session. She had also enlisted the house-elves' help, and a small first-aid station had materialised in the corner, complete with bruise paste and essence of dittany. If a serious injury occurred, they could go directly to Madam Pomfrey through the Floo.
Gilderoy stood near the centre, Amelia pressed close to his side as the members filtered in. Most of the usual faces were present—Pandora and Xeno arriving together, Adrian Chambers striding in with a smile that suggested winning the Quidditch Cup hadn't worn off him yet, the lower years clustering near the back. But there were new faces too.
Fabian and Gideon Prewett stood near the entrance, their red hair unmistakable even in the dim light. Both were tall and broad-shouldered, with the kind of easy confidence that came from years of Quidditch. Fabian's nose was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken more than once, and Gideon bore a thin scar along his jaw. They surveyed the room with open curiosity.
And then there was Lyra Blackthorne. She arrived with Regulus, her dark eyes scanning the room with a calculating stillness that reminded Gilderoy uncomfortably of Bellatrix. It seemed she, like many others, was unaware of the Room of Requirement's true nature.
Amelia stepped forward, her voice cutting through the murmuring. "Alright, everyone. Settle down." The room quieted. "We have new members joining us tonight. Fabian and Gideon Prewett—" she nodded toward the twins "—and Lyra Blackthorne."
Fabian grinned and raised a hand in a casual wave. Gideon nodded more reservedly. Lyra's expression remained neutral, but her eyes swept the room once more before settling on Gilderoy.
"I had asked you before to improve your casting," Amelia announced. "I want to see what you all have learned. Fourth year and below, front and centre."
Lysandra Clearwater, Sarah Fenwick, Clive Jorkins, Dennis Meadowes, and Ellie Vance stepped forward. They were a motley group—Lysandra with her bright, curious eyes, Sarah trying to look braver than she felt, Clive vibrating with barely contained energy, Dennis small and quick, and Ellie's shyness warring with determination.
Amelia gestured toward the targets. "Show me."
The lower years raised their wands.
"Stupefy!"
"Petrificus Totalus!"
"Petrificus Totalus!"
"Expelliarmus!"
"Expelliarmus!"
Five spells struck the nearest five moving targets simultaneously. The first dummy froze in place and toppled over as if stunned. Gilderoy still found it fascinating, even though he had seen this hundreds of times, that dummies could be stunned—perhaps they were spelled to mimic human bodies. The second and third dummies, both holding fake wands, were disarmed, their sticks flying sideways through the air. The fourth and fifth dummies, which had been moving along the wall, froze in place as if petrified.
Amelia's expression remained stern, but Gilderoy could see the approval in her eyes.
"Lysandra, very good Stupefy."
Lysandra beamed at the compliment.
"Sara and Clive, very good work freezing the targets in place."
Clive and Sarah high-fived each other.
Amelia turned toward the last two. "You two as well, Dennis and Ellie—excellent job. But you should have done something more after that." She paused. "Can you guess what that could be?"
Dennis and Ellie looked at Amelia with confused expressions.
The twins raised their hands like eager schoolchildren and called out in unison, "I know, I know, I know!"
Everyone broke into laughter at their antics.
Fabian stepped forward and cast two spells simultaneously at the dummy. The fake wand slipped from the dummy's hand and flew straight into Fabian's grasp.
Gilderoy stepped forward. "Excellent display, Fabian."
He turned to address the group. "Now, this is not just for the lower years but for everyone present. Until the wand is in your opponent's hand and not your own, the duel is far from over. Of course, you could still face danger even if you have your opponent's wand due to wandless magic, but you don't have to worry about that in Britain, at least."
"What Fabian did was disarm his opponent and immediately summon the wand. From that, we move on to the main concept of duelling: chain casting."
He drew his wand and faced the target dummy, his movements fluid. He cast three spells in rapid succession—Stunning, Disarming, Binding, and then Summoning the wand. The effects layered on top of each other until the target was stunned, weaponless, and bound all at once.
The lower years stared.
"That's brilliant," Clive breathed.
Fabian grinned, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "Damn, Lockhart, you might rival us in duelling."
"For sure, dear brother," Gideon countered. "It does look that way to me."
Gilderoy inclined his head. "No, this was just basic spellcasting. Nothing too complex."
Gideon's jaw dropped. "Brother, look—if my ears have not deceived me, Gilderoy Lockhart being humble?"
"Your ears are not deceiving you, twin," Fabian said, equally dumbfounded. "I heard it too."
Gilderoy winked at them and moved toward the fifth-year students who were struggling.
The twins moved among the younger students, offering corrections and encouragement with easy familiarity. They were natural teachers—patient, clear, never condescending.
"Not bad," Amelia murmured beside Gilderoy. "They know what they're doing."
"I think they've been training together for quite a while."
Pandora drifted over, her pale eyes bright with mischief. "The twins are competent," she observed. "Competent and attractive. Very symmetrical."
"Is there a point you're making?" Gilderoy asked.
Pandora stepped closer, her hand finding his arm, her fingers trailing down his sleeve. "Only that I appreciate symmetry." Her voice dropped, becoming softer. "But I've found exactly the kind of interesting I was looking for."
Xenophilius appeared at her side, his expression serene. "I've always found that the most interesting people are the ones who don't try to be interesting. They simply are."
"Oh, Xeno, what a wonderful quote," Pandora said, patting his cheek. "Now go observe something else. I'm busy."
Across the room, Regulus and Lyra were working together. Regulus was demonstrating a precision drill, casting rapid-fire jinxes at a moving target with exacting accuracy. Lyra watched intently.
"Your form is too tight," Regulus said. "Loosen your grip. Focus on intent. And keep your next spell ready in your mind as part of your chain."
Lyra's jaw tightened, but she raised her wand and cast two spells in quick succession. Both flew true, striking the target with a sharp crack twice.
"Good one, Lyra," Gilderoy called out, applauding. He nodded at Regulus in acknowledgment of his help.
Gilderoy glanced toward the lower years. Clive and Dennis had cornered Gideon, peppering him with questions about defensive tactics. Lysandra and Sarah were practicing together, their chain spellsgetting casted properly and hitting with accuracy. The room hummed with the rhythm of training—spells flying, footsteps moving, voices calling out instructions.
The session continued. During a brief lull, when Amelia was assessing Lydia Abercrombie's technique, Regulus Black approached Gilderoy.
The Slytherin moved with characteristic quietness, his expression carefully neutral. "Lockhart. A word."
Gilderoy nodded, stepping away from the main group.
"I owe you an apology," Regulus said, the words coming stiffly. "After the Quidditch final. I should have congratulated you. You caught it cleanly."
Gilderoy studied him. The admission was clearly difficult—Regulus Black was not the type to apologize easily. The fact that he was doing so now, in private, spoke volumes.
"You don't have to apologize. I know you didn't mean anything by it."
"It wasn't about meaning." Regulus's voice carried a hint of frustration. "You beat me fairly, and I didn't acknowledge it. That was dishonourable."
Gilderoy was genuinely surprised. "Dishonourable?"
"My family has a complicated relationship with honour. But I try to maintain my own code. And that code requires me to acknowledge when I've been beaten fairly."
Interesting.
"You're a better Seeker than I gave you credit for," Regulus continued. "Those Wronski Feints were clever."
Gilderoy allowed himself a small smile. "Thanks. You weren't bad."
Regulus blinked, caught off guard. "I—thank you."
"But you were dumb enough to follow my fake feints and get so angry that you didn't notice the Snitch near you."
"YOU—" Regulus fumed, but in the next second, he regained his composure immediately. "Fine, Lockhart. I will give you this win."
"Ha ha, Regulus. You get easily riled up." Gilderoy's expression softened. "For what it's worth, you're the best competition I've had on a pitch. I mean that."
Regulus nodded slowly. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"It was meant as one."
Regulus nodded once more, then turned and walked away. Gilderoy watched him go, feeling as though something significant had passed between them.
A few minutes later, Gilderoy found himself standing beside Amelia again.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Regulus. He apologized to me."
Amelia's eyebrows rose. "That's unexpected."
"That's what I thought too. But I think he genuinely meant it."
"He's complex," Amelia observed. "More than I gave him credit for."
That he is, Amelia. That he is.
"Why? Do you think he has some motivation to join United?"
"Maybe he has, and I intend to find out what I can."
---
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