The ancient, towering halls of the Black family estate were alive with an undercurrent of anticipation. Echoing through the grand stone walls were the soft sounds of nervous chatter and excited footsteps as Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones, and Nymphadora Tonks stood waiting in a room filled with centuries-old family heirlooms. At nine years old, the day had finally come for them to be fitted with their family wands—wands that were not new, but rather, steeped in history and legacy. And judging by the looks on their faces, it was as if they'd been handed keys to worlds they could barely imagine.
Dorea Potter, Harry's grandmother, was at the center of the room, her sharp eyes scanning the children with the authority of someone who had seen it all—yet with the warmth of a grandmother who had always seen more potential in them than they saw in themselves. Her voice carried that same balance of sternness and affection as she addressed the group. "Today marks a milestone, children," she began, her words reverberating with power as she cast a glance over each of them, pausing at Harry for a moment longer. "You're each about to receive a wand that has served your family well. These wands have chosen their past masters carefully, and now they will temporarily bond with you, until the day you receive your own at eleven. But remember, even these wands are not to be underestimated. Wands, like the witches and wizards who wield them, have stories."
Harry smirked at the thought. "Stories, eh? I suppose these wands have seen some serious action." He gave the air a dramatic wave. "Like how my great-grandfather probably fought a dragon while wearing a ridiculous hat. I bet that's the story."
Neville, who had a tendency to grow nervous in such moments, looked at Harry and whispered, "Harry, you can't just make up stories like that. It's not funny."
"Mate," Harry said with an exaggerated shrug, "I don't make the rules, I just make them fun."
Tonks, whose attention span could sometimes be as erratic as her hair color, leaned in and whispered to Susan, "Do you think we'll end up with wands that have like, cool abilities? Maybe my wand can make things… change colors. Just saying, that's pretty useful."
Susan, who had always been more composed than the others, rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Yes, Tonks. Incredible abilities, like turning a sock from gray to neon pink."
"Exactly!" Tonks grinned and tossed her head back, her hair flickering from its normal shade to bright purple. "See, it's not all about flashy spells. It's about the art of subtlety."
"Well, if I'm going to have a wand that's been passed down through generations, it better be able to do more than that," Harry grinned, already imagining a spectacular wand. "Like, maybe summon a cloud to follow me around. You know, for dramatic effect."
Dorea's voice cut through their banter like a wand to the heart. "Harry," she said, her tone both amused and commanding, "you might want to hold off on summoning your drama cloud. We're doing this properly." She turned to Neville first, the child who most often hid behind a cloud of self-doubt. "Neville," she said with a soft smile, "this wand belonged to your great-uncle. It's 12 inches of oak, with a unicorn hair core. Strong, dependable—like you."
Neville's eyes widened. "Me? Strong?" He stared at the wand in her hand with a mix of awe and disbelief. His voice faltered as he reached for it, "You— you really think so?"
Dorea gave a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling. "I've never doubted you, Neville. Now, show us what you can do."
He took the wand carefully, his fingers trembling slightly, and as he waved it, a delicate green glow filled the room. "Whoa," he said, blinking. "I— I didn't think I could do that."
Harry clapped him on the back, a bit too hard. "There you go, Longbottom. See? You've got it in you. You're a walking fern of destruction."
Tonks cackled from the side. "Yeah! Destroy the world one potted plant at a time!"
Neville flushed bright red but was also beaming. "Shut up, Tonks."
Dorea turned next to Susan, whose calm exterior hid the fire within. "Susan, this wand belonged to your great-aunt. It's 10 inches of willow, with a dragon heartstring core. Precise, versatile—traits you've always displayed."
Susan, though often the quiet one, took the wand with grace. She paused for a moment, examining it. "It's beautiful," she whispered, her fingers tracing its length. Then, with a quick flick, a series of silver sparks erupted from the tip, swirling in the air like tiny stars.
Tonks gasped. "Susan! That was like, the most graceful spell ever."
"Well, it's not like I was trying to summon a rainbow," Susan said with a wink, turning to Harry, "but I'd say it's a good start."
"Good start?" Harry snorted. "Susan, that was art."
Tonks, ever the one for drama, raised her hands dramatically and shouted, "I need to find a wand that can do that. I mean, look at this mess!" She flicked her wrist and attempted a dramatic flourish, only for a blast of confetti to explode from her wand, sending everyone into fits of laughter.
Dorea shook her head with a soft smile. "Nymphadora, you might want to rein in the… confetti cannon next time."
Tonks smirked, eyes gleaming. "Confetti spells are like, essential for all of life's important moments, Gran. You never know when you'll need a good sprinkle."
Dorea turned to Harry with a smile. "And now, Harry," she said, her voice softening. "This wand belonged to your great-grandfather. It's 11 inches of yew, with a phoenix feather core. Powerful, excellent for defense and dueling."
Harry took the wand, his fingers closing around it with a sense of pride. He held it up and gave it a casual flick. A burst of red and gold erupted, lighting up the room with an almost blinding brilliance.
"Well," Harry said, looking around with an exaggerated shrug. "Guess I'm ready for anything. Maybe I'll fight a dragon next."
"You really have a thing for dragons, don't you?" Susan quipped, arching an eyebrow. "Is there a reason for that?"
"Oh, you know," Harry grinned, "just aiming to become the most legendary dragon-slaying wizard in history. Simple stuff, really."
"Well, don't go getting any ideas about actual dragons, Harry," Tonks said, eyeing him with exaggerated caution. "I like you, and I want to keep you alive."
"Don't worry," Harry shot back. "I'm way too clever to get eaten by something that breathes fire." He turned to Dorea. "This wand's not just for dueling, right? It'll help me look cool while I fight."
Dorea's eyes narrowed, but there was a playful glint there. "Looking cool doesn't hurt, but remember, Harry, it's about what you do with the wand, not how you look holding it. Magic is only as strong as the heart behind it."
Harry nodded seriously, though he couldn't resist flashing her a grin. "Fair enough. But looking cool is still a huge part of it."
The group of children stood together, each holding their family's wand, feeling the bond growing between them and the legacy of those who had wielded them before. The room was thick with potential, and they all knew, as they gazed at one another with excitement, that this was only the beginning of their magical journey.
Dorea watched them with pride. "Now, practice. And remember, this is a family legacy. Hold your wands with respect, and they will guide you."
As they began practicing together, their laughter and lighthearted banter filled the grand halls. Harry shot off sparks that barely missed Neville's hair, while Tonks tried to turn a cushion into a rabbit, which exploded into confetti instead. Susan, ever composed, flicked her wand with precision, while Neville beamed, finally finding the confidence he'd been missing.
"Look at us," Harry said with a wide grin, "we're already a team. Next stop? Legendary status."
—
In the cool, late afternoon air of the Black family estate, a secluded clearing had become the stage for an intense, no-holds-barred training session. The sun was dipping low in the sky, casting long shadows across the earth as Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones, and Nymphadora Tonks stood in a line, eyes wide with excitement. At the far end of the clearing, the unmistakable figure of Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, with his wild, grizzled appearance and terrifying magical eye swiveling to take in every inch of the area, stood waiting.
"All right, you little wizards and witches," Moody's voice rumbled, low and gravelly, sending a chill through the air. "This isn't going to be a tea party. We're here to learn how to fight. You might think you're all cute with your little wands, but one day, you'll be wishing you were better prepared."
Harry raised an eyebrow. He'd heard plenty of stories about Moody, all of them terrifying, but now that he was in the thick of it, he realized just how much of a legend the man was. "Right," Harry muttered to Neville. "Don't make any sudden moves or you might find a permanent spot in the dirt."
Neville, trying to puff out his chest, nodded. "You think I'll do alright?" he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.
Harry grinned, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips. "Mate, you've got more bravery in you than half the Gryffindor Quidditch team. You'll do fine."
"Good!" Moody bellowed, cutting across their conversation as he stomped toward them, his magical eye whirling. "Now, listen up. You need to get into the mindset of a dueler. You need to know that anything can happen. There are no rules but one—stay alive."
Tonks, always the eager one, jumped up and down. "I'm ready! I'm ready! I've always wanted to take down a Death Eater or two," she grinned, bouncing on her toes like she was itching for a fight. "Who's first?"
"Not so fast, Dora," Moody growled, his eye locking onto her. "You don't get to just jump in. Today, you're learning the basics. Watch and learn. You'll need to be quick, clever, and resourceful."
"Not a problem, old man!" Tonks said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Just make sure you don't fall asleep at the wheel, yeah?"
Moody's magical eye swivelled to Tonks. "I'm not here to entertain you, girl," he snapped. "Now, pair up!" He motioned for Harry and Neville to stand together. "Bones and Tonks, you're with each other. Let's see how well you all handle your wands."
The children shuffled into position. Harry turned to Neville. "Let's not make this too easy, eh?"
Neville cracked a nervous smile but quickly squared his shoulders. "Right. I'm ready. I think."
"Good, let's see it," Harry said, his hand twitching as he gripped his temporary wand—a sleek yew one that had been passed down through his family. "Expelliarmus!" He aimed at Neville, sending a burst of energy toward him.
Neville, surprisingly quick, deflected the spell with a well-timed "Protego!" His shield flickered into place, blocking Harry's disarming spell.
"Nice defense, Longbottom," Harry said with a grin, genuinely impressed. "But how about this?" He flicked his wrist and sent a "Rictusempra" charm flying.
Neville buckled, suddenly overcome by uncontrollable laughter. He fell to the ground, clutching his sides, his face bright red. "Harry, you—haha—sneaky little—" he gasped for air, barely able to get the words out.
Moody chuckled under his breath, but his eyes remained focused. "Not bad, Potter. Keep him on his toes. Longbottom, get up and don't just lie there, or I'll put a cramp in your style myself."
"Right, right," Neville muttered, scrambling back to his feet. "No laughing. Focus." He squared up again, casting a "Stupefy!" at Harry, who dodged with a quick roll to the side.
"That's the spirit, Neville!" Harry called. "But you'll need to do better than that to hit me!"
On the other side, Susan Bones and Tonks were locked in their own duel, both girls eager to show what they were made of. Tonks, always a bit of a wild card, grinned as she flicked her wand. "Stupefy!" she shouted, sending a flash of red toward Susan.
Susan sidestepped the spell with impressive agility for a nine-year-old. "Petrificus Totalus!" she countered, her wand tracing a quick arc through the air. The spell flew toward Tonks, who barely managed to leap out of the way.
"Oi! You nearly got me there, Bones!" Tonks said, laughing as she dusted herself off. "Not bad at all."
"Thanks," Susan replied, her cheeks slightly pink from the adrenaline. "But don't get cocky, Tonks. I'm just warming up."
Moody, watching with his magical eye swiveling with interest, gave an approving grunt. "That's what I like to see. Quick on your feet. But none of you are anywhere near the level you need to be. Not yet. Keep moving, think fast, and don't let your opponent get the better of you."
Harry smirked, his confidence building. "I think I'm ready for the next level, don't you, Neville?"
Neville shot Harry a glare but couldn't hide the pride on his face. "Just wait, Harry. I'm not letting you get away with that tickling charm again."
"Big words, Longbottom," Harry teased, stepping back into position.
Moody was having none of it. "Enough chatting!" he snapped. "You'll have all the time in the world for banter when you're facing someone who doesn't care about your witty remarks. Let's switch things up!"
"Harry, with Susan. Neville, with Tonks. And remember—adapt!" Moody bellowed as he waved his wand, making the clearing more challenging with moving trees and rocks appearing out of nowhere.
As the pairs regrouped, Harry and Susan squared off. "Incarcerous!" Susan cried, sending ropes flying toward Harry. He stepped aside easily, his wand flashing. "Rictusempra!" The tickling charm hit Susan square in the chest, and she burst out laughing.
"Not again, Harry!" she gasped, struggling to control her laughter.
"Too bad, Bones!" Harry called with a wicked grin. "You should've expected it."
Meanwhile, Neville and Tonks were exchanging blows, each trying to outmaneuver the other. "Confundo!" Tonks shouted, trying to disorient Neville. He was prepared, though. "Finite Incantatem!" he countered, quickly dispelling the confusion charm before firing off a stunning spell.
"Nice move, Neville!" Harry shouted from the other side of the clearing. "You're actually making me sweat a little!"
Moody didn't show much emotion, but there was a flicker of approval in his magical eye. "Good! But don't let up! You'll need more than just fancy moves when the real fight comes."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the clearing in an orange glow, Moody finally called a halt to the training. "Not bad, not bad," he grunted, though he was still more than a little gruff. "But this is just the start. Tomorrow, we're going non-verbal. You won't always have the luxury of a wand wave that everyone can see. Get ready."
The kids, though exhausted, couldn't wipe the grins off their faces. They had been pushed to their limits, but they felt a thrill coursing through them. Dueling was exhilarating, and under Moody's tough guidance, they were beginning to understand just how important it would be to know their spells inside and out.
As they trudged back toward the house, Harry's voice broke the silence. "So, anyone else think we might have a shot at becoming the next generation of heroes? Or are we just in this for the fame?"
Tonks laughed. "Oh, I'm definitely in it for the fame! And the duels, obviously."
Susan nudged her. "You're impossible."
Harry just chuckled. "Well, I've got to say, I think we're all pretty damn good for nine-year-olds."
Neville, eyes gleaming with newfound confidence, nodded. "Next time, I'm getting you, Harry."
"Sure you are, Longbottom. Sure you are," Harry said with a playful grin, already looking forward to the next training session.
Moody's voice rang out from behind them. "That's the attitude, Potter. Keep it up, and you might just survive this war."
"One step at a time, eh?" Harry shot back, a wicked gleam in his eye.
—
Back inside the Black family estate, the warmth of the fire crackled in the hearth, and the scent of dinner wafted through the air, a welcome reprieve after their grueling training session. The children, still buzzing with excitement and adrenaline, gathered around the kitchen table, eager to recount their experiences. Their families sat nearby, listening intently, each with a smile of pride and a spark of their own approval in their eyes.
Sirius, who had been leaning casually against the doorframe with a lazy grin plastered on his face, clapped Harry on the back with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of him. Harry shot him a wry look, not a stranger to Sirius's boisterous affection.
"Well done, Harry!" Sirius's voice was warm, but with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "You were like a bloody spellcaster ninja out there! Maybe I should start calling you 'The Duelist Supreme,' huh? What do you think, kiddo?"
Harry smirked, his eyes narrowing as he leaned back in his chair, already slipping into his signature sarcastic mode. "I'm just trying to show you how it's done, Padfoot. Someone has to keep you from embarrassing yourself in front of the kids."
Sirius laughed heartily, but Harry saw the playful glint in his godfather's eyes—Sirius loved to dish it out, but he could take it just as well. "Yeah, yeah, I'm getting old, I know. You and your fancy wandless magic. Might start charging you for the lessons."
Harry, unphased, raised an eyebrow. "As long as you don't charge me in Galleons. I'd rather stick with the free torture Moody dishes out."
Sirius snorted at that, shaking his head. "Always the witty one, Harry. Good thing, too, 'cause your charm doesn't exactly win any duels."
At the other end of the table, Amelia Bones—standing proudly by her daughter, Susan—gave a soft chuckle at Harry's exchange with Sirius, but it was her daughter who caught her attention first. Amelia leaned down to wrap Susan in a tight hug, her stern expression softened with maternal pride.
"You did brilliantly out there, Susan," Amelia said, her voice warm but authoritative, much like her usual demeanor in the Ministry. "I'm impressed. I didn't expect less, but it's still a pleasant surprise to see you pushing yourself."
Susan beamed, her cheeks flushed with a combination of excitement and the satisfaction of having survived her first real duel. "Thanks, Mum. Moody's a tough teacher, but I think I'm getting the hang of it."
"Of course you are," Amelia replied with a knowing smile. "You're tougher than you think, sweetheart. But remember—always be aware of your surroundings. A duel doesn't just end when you've won. The battlefield always changes."
Susan nodded earnestly. "I won't forget that."
Nearby, Augusta Longbottom—Neville's formidable grandmother—was casting a rare, approving smile at her grandson, who was still sitting with a thoughtful look, tracing patterns with his finger on the tabletop. Neville had never been one for excessive praise, but the pride in his grandmother's eyes was impossible to miss.
"Not bad, Longbottom," Augusta said in her sharp, no-nonsense voice that still held an edge of fondness. "You've got the basics down. Your timing was much better today. Less flailing, more focus. Keep that up, and maybe one day you'll make a halfway decent Auror."
Neville flushed, his ears turning a shade redder, but he couldn't help the pleased grin that spread across his face. "I'll try, Gran."
"And stop calling me 'Gran,'" Augusta added with a smirk. "It sounds too soft. I prefer 'Madam Longbottom,' or at least 'Augusta,' when you're trying to be charming."
"Right, Madam Longbottom," Neville said, his grin turning into a shy smile.
"Good boy," Augusta said with a rare chuckle. "Just don't expect me to go easy on you. I raised a few Aurors in my day, you know."
At the far end of the table, Nymphadora Tonks, with her hair in a wild mix of pink and purple, was animatedly recounting her duel with Susan to Andromeda, who was sipping a cup of tea with a serene smile on her face.
"You should've seen me, Mum!" Tonks said, throwing her arms up with enthusiasm. "I was all over the place—ducking, weaving, sending spells flying! I'm getting good at this 'defense' stuff, huh?"
Andromeda smiled indulgently, her gaze softening as she gave her daughter a knowing look. "You've always had a knack for getting into trouble, Dora. Now you're just getting better at getting out of it."
Tonks beamed, twisting in her chair to look at Harry and Neville. "You two were awesome! I think Susan almost had me with that Jelly-Legs Jinx. But I dodged it like a pro!"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You call that dodging? I saw you trip over your own feet."
Tonks stuck her tongue out at him. "At least I didn't get my own wand knocked out of my hand by a 9-year-old."
"Oi, I'm still working on my disarming technique!" Harry shot back. "It's not my fault you've got two left feet."
Sirius laughed loudly, ruffling Harry's hair. "You hear that, kid? Even Moody's been knocked out by a couple of those 'two left feet'!"
Amelia, still standing next to Susan, raised an eyebrow. "You two are insufferable, you know that? But at least you're good at being insufferable."
Augusta turned to face the group, her stern eyes sweeping over the children. "You've made progress, but don't let it go to your heads. You've just begun scratching the surface of what it means to defend yourself. What you learn today could mean the difference between life and death tomorrow."
Sirius raised a glass of butterbeer in a mock toast. "And on that cheerful note, let's all remember that we're still too young to be fighting in any actual wars. No pressure, kids."
"Thanks for the encouragement, Padfoot," Harry deadpanned. "I'm sleeping like a baby tonight, now."
Tonks added with a grin, "And then we wake up tomorrow for round two. Only this time, I'll be ready for Susan's sneak attacks. You watch out, Bones, I'm coming for you."
Susan smirked and flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Bring it on, Tonks. I'm not afraid of a little competition."
Sirius raised his glass again, this time with a more sincere expression. "Well, I'm proud of all of you. You've got a lot of heart, and you're all learning fast. I reckon that when the time comes, you'll be ready for whatever the world throws at you."
Amelia wrapped an arm around Susan's shoulders, and the family settled into a comfortable silence, the bonds of love and pride echoing in the cozy room. For the first time in a long while, the weight of the war and the future seemed a little more bearable, knowing that they were training the next generation of fighters to carry the flame.
"Well then," Sirius said, breaking the silence, "to family and to future heroes."
"To family," Harry echoed, raising his glass with a grin.
—
The Black family estate was a place steeped in ancient magic and history, but today, it held a far more formidable aura. The walls hummed with the weight of countless generations that had passed through its halls, and now, in the heart of it all, four young wizards and witches stood at the threshold of their futures. Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones, and Nymphadora Tonks were about to begin their most intense and important training yet.
The group was gathered on the sprawling grounds of the estate, beneath the watchful eyes of two of the most formidable figures in the magical world: Charlus Potter and Arcturus Black.
Charlus, his face as sharp as his wit, stood tall, his silver hair gleaming in the sunlight. He adjusted his robe with a deliberate, almost theatrical gesture. "Alright, you four," he began, his voice rich with authority and a slight undercurrent of mischief, "today marks the beginning of something far bigger than anything you've faced before. You're not just learning magic, you're learning to lead, to think like commanders. You want to fight on the front lines? Fine. But can you command an army? That's the real question."
He shot a pointed look at Harry. "I assume you're not planning to just 'wing it,' right, Harry?" He smirked knowingly.
Harry, always up for the challenge, grinned back. "No, Grandpa Charlus. I've got a plan."
"Right, a plan," Charlus muttered, his tone dry. "Just make sure it involves more than throwing a fistful of spells and hoping they land. You've got brains, boy. Use them."
Before Harry could respond with one of his trademark retorts, Arcturus Black, his steely presence unshaken by the banter, stepped forward. His deep voice, rich with wisdom, filled the air. "Let me make one thing clear," he said, eyes narrowing, "leadership isn't a popularity contest. You don't win over your soldiers with charm and jokes. You win with strength, integrity, and the ability to outthink the enemy. If you can't do that, you'll fall faster than a broom in a storm."
Tonks, her bright pink hair in a messy tangle as usual, shot a quick glance at the others and leaned toward Neville. "So, no funny business, huh? Guess I'll have to leave my jokes about blue frogs at the door," she said, her tone laced with mock disappointment.
Neville, his face now filled with a mix of nervousness and determination, looked at Tonks. "I'll leave the talking to you, Tonks. I'm still trying to figure out how to control my wand without setting everything on fire."
Charlus raised an eyebrow. "Well, as long as that fire isn't my house, I suppose it's a learning experience."
"You do realize that 'learning experience' is another word for 'disaster,' right?" Arcturus said, giving Neville a long, hard look. "Don't make it a habit."
Neville flushed but nodded earnestly. "Understood, sir."
"Good. Now, the first lesson of today is strategy," Charlus continued, turning toward a large, enchanted map that had appeared on the ground. "This is a battlefield. It's set up to mirror various scenarios that you might face—whether it's dealing with an enemy ambush or a full-scale attack."
Harry leaned forward, eager to get into the thick of it. "We get to plan a battle, right? This is the good part?"
"Oh, it's the good part," Charlus replied with a grin. "But it's also the part where you figure out that being a leader means thinking several steps ahead. You're not just leading your soldiers into battle; you're thinking about where they're going, what they're doing, how they're doing it, and what the enemy might do next."
"And don't forget," Arcturus added with a knowing smirk, "when you mess up, it's not just your neck on the line. The lives of everyone under your command are in your hands. You screw up, and you're not just disappointing your comrades—you're sending them to die."
Tonks, ever the optimist, put her hands on her hips. "Well, no pressure, right?" she deadpanned.
"Pressure is what makes leaders," Charlus quipped. "Without it, you'd just be kids playing in a sandbox. Now, here's the situation: you're in charge of this battle. Your task is to anticipate where the enemy will strike and prepare a counterattack. You'll be facing off against each other in teams, but don't think I won't be watching every move. Every decision will be evaluated. And don't forget to have fun—failure's a good teacher, after all."
As the exercise began, the young wizards quickly found themselves thrust into positions of authority. Harry, naturally taking the lead, began issuing commands with surprising clarity and confidence. "Alright, Tonks and Neville, you're the frontline. Keep your wands ready and protect Susan while she sets up the barriers. You're going to create an opening in the enemy's ranks, understand?"
Tonks gave a mock salute. "Aye, aye, Captain Potter. Don't worry, I've got this."
Neville, his face set with concentration, nodded and adjusted his stance. "I won't let you down."
Susan, who had been watching the others with sharp focus, raised an eyebrow. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't get yourselves killed out there," she said, her voice calm and steady as she activated a series of protective shields. "I'm not really in the mood for a funeral today."
"Noted, Susan," Harry replied, his voice full of both humor and authority. "Let's get this done."
Charlus and Arcturus stood back, watching with quiet approval. Charlus muttered under his breath, "I'll be damned. The kid's got a knack for this."
Arcturus smirked, his tone approving but reserved. "Don't get too cocky. They still have a long way to go. But yes... he's coming along."
As the exercise unfolded, the children faced one challenge after another. Tonks' ability to think on her feet kept the team in motion, while Neville's newly sharpened instincts allowed him to protect Susan without hesitation. Susan herself was the calm in the storm, keeping them all grounded with her level-headed strategy and careful spellwork.
Afterward, Charlus gathered them around, his usual dry humor cutting through the air. "Not bad, not bad at all. If I didn't know any better, I'd say some of you were actually paying attention. A bit messy, though. Tonks, I saw that transfiguration spell. Was that a frog or a toad you were trying to make into a shield?"
Tonks grinned sheepishly. "A frog, but I thought it would make a good distraction."
"A frog?" Arcturus' voice was stern, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Next time, do us all a favor and try to make something useful."
Tonks stuck out her tongue playfully, while the others chuckled. Even Neville managed a nervous laugh.
Charlus' voice softened as he looked them over. "You're learning fast, all of you. But don't get comfortable. Today was a start. Tomorrow, we'll go deeper. And trust me, it gets harder from here."
Harry, his eyes alight with the challenge, grinned. "We're ready, Uncle Charlus."
"You'd better be," Arcturus growled, his gaze never leaving them. "This world isn't kind to the unprepared."
The group nodded, knowing that their training was only just beginning. The weight of the responsibility ahead was heavy, but under the watchful eyes of Charlus and Arcturus, they were learning to shoulder it. The future of the Legion rested in their hands, and despite the tough lessons and sharp burns, they felt more ready than ever to take it on.
---
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