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Chapter 34: A Return to Ilvermorny – What Comes Next?
🕑 Added 2025-02-26 05:30:03 +0000 UTCThe return journey to Ilvermorny was quieter than their journey to New Orleans. After three grueling days at the Cirque du Combat, exhaustion clung to the group like a second skin. Some students slept, others stared out at the passing landscape, lost in thought.
Severus sat by the window, silent. His fingers traced the edge of his evaluation parchment, folded neatly in his robes. His mind replayed every duel, every correction, every mistake.
He had learned more in three days than he had in years of Hogwarts dueling practice. He had witnessed what real-world combat looked like. He had felt what it was like to fight without structured defenses. He had finally understood—just how much his training had held him back.
But what unsettled him the most?
Wandless magic.
For the first time, he had felt his own magic pulse through him, responding not to words, not to rigid technique, but to his sheer will. And it had nearly terrified him. Magic without rules. Magic without form. Magic that is raw and instinctive.
He had spent years perfecting precision, control, and calculation. Now? He had to unlearn all of it. He exhaled, fingers tightening slightly. He would not be left behind.
Not by Damian. Not by the duelists at Cirque du Combat. Not by his own limitations.
The moment they stepped through the gates of Ilvermorny, it became immediately clear—people had heard about the workshop. Not just rumors. Actual details.
Severus wasn’t sure who had spread the news, but judging by the curious glances, everyone knew that the exchange student had held his own at Cirque du Combat.
Some were impressed—a few younger students looked at him like he had stepped out of some legendary battle. Some were jealous—students who prided themselves on being Ilvermorny’s best duelists now had competition. Some resented the attention—whispers of, “He’s British. Why should we care?” followed him down the halls.
And then there were the real duelists—students who took combat seriously. They didn’t whisper. They didn’t gossip. They watched. One of them—a tall seventh-year Wampus student—fell into step beside Severus as he made his way toward the common room.
“Oi, Shafiq.” Severus turned his head slightly.
“Heard you held your own at the Cirque.” The older boy smirked, looking him over. “I didn’t think a Hogwarts student would be up for that.”
Severus raised an eyebrow. “Where did you hear that?”
The boy shrugged. “News travels fast when it’s about someone interesting.”
Severus didn’t respond. He had no interest in fame. But he wasn’t stupid. His name held weight now. And in the world of dueling? That was both a blessing and a challenge.
Severus had always trained alone. At Hogwarts, he kept his talents hidden. But now? Now he had friends. And so, two nights after their return, he found himself in one of Ilvermorny’s underground training halls—not alone.
Jonas and Ben were already sparring, dueling at half-speed, working on footwork and counters. Evie, despite being naturally reckless, had a sharp instinct for quick-draw spellwork.
Kiera and Aurora, who weren’t as interested in combat, still joined, watching and learning—because, as Aurora put it, “Knowing how to duel and knowing how to survive are the same thing.” Alessandro? He just enjoyed the show, occasionally throwing out commentary.
Severus squared off against Ben first. The first few rounds were frustrating. Ben was more physical; his movements were fast and aggressive. He forced Severus back constantly, never giving him a second to recover.
Severus adjusted. Adapted. By the third round, he had learned Ben’s rhythm, dodging before Ben could fully commit to a strike.
“Clever,” Ben panted, stepping back. “You study your opponent fast.”
Severus wiped sweat from his brow. “I have to.”
Next was Evie. She was fast and unpredictable—the kind of duelist who threw spells in a way that forced her opponent to react. She nearly clipped him twice before he realized—she wasn’t aiming to hit. She was forcing him into position. It was a trap. Severus barely sidestepped in time.
Evie grinned. “Not bad, Shafiq. You learn quick.”
Severus rolled his shoulders, exhaling. “Not quick enough.”
By the end of the session, his muscles ached, his mind burned with new tactics—and he realized something. He was improving. Not just through isolated study. Not just through self-training.
But because he had friends who challenged him. And that? That was new. And it was something he greatly appreciated.
But at the end of the day, Severus was an introvert who enjoyed learning and working just by himself as well. So, Severus needed a private space.
Training in Ilvermorny’s common halls was useful, but not enough. He needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere secluded. Somewhere he wouldn’t have to worry about being watched.
And, to his surprise, it was Alessandro who provided the answer.
“Shafiq, my dear friend,” Alessandro said dramatically, draping an arm over Severus’s shoulder. “What you need—what you truly need—is an escape.”
Severus tilted his head. “You mean a place to train.”
Alessandro smirked. “Yes, yes, that too.”
Severus narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch?”
Alessandro sighed, placing a hand over his chest. “Must you be so suspicious of me?”
Severus raised an eyebrow. Alessandro chuckled. “Fine. No catch. Follow me.”
He led Severus through a series of hidden corridors, deep into the less-used parts of Ilvermorny. Eventually, they arrived at a large, unused guest suite.
The room was spacious, with high ceilings and thick stone walls—soundproof.
Severus glanced at Alessandro. “How do you know about this place?”
Alessandro grinned. “Let’s just say… I have my uses.”
Severus stared at him for a long moment. Then—“…Do I even want to know?”
Alessandro smirked. “Absolutely not.”
Severus exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, you love me.”
Severus didn’t dignify that with a response. But later that night, as he stood in the empty room alone, he knew—this was exactly what he needed.
Severus didn’t just have one goal. He had several. Perfecting his potion invention. Refining his dueling techniques. Training his wandless magic. He split his time carefully.
Mornings? Brewing experiments—adjusting the formula, refining the moonstone infusion process.
Afternoons? Practicing structured dueling—honing his reaction time with Jonas and Ben.
Evenings? Wandless magic—alone, in the hidden chamber Alessandro had given him.
Progress was slow. Frustratingly so. The potion wasn’t perfect yet—still unstable. His dueling technique had improved, but he was still slower than the others. And wandless magic? Still barely flickering.
But every day, he was closer. And as he stood in his hidden training room one night, staring at the faint glow of magic in his fingertips, he exhaled softly.
It was happening. Slowly. Painfully. But it was happening. And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t doing it alone.
Severus was not used to being pursued. Not like this. He had spent years as the awkward, scrawny Slytherin that no one looked at twice—except to mock.
And now? Now he was standing in the dimly lit training chamber, shirt clinging to his skin from exertion, wand still tucked away, and Selene Everett was watching him like he was something worth hunting.
The first time she had approached him, it had been after a dueling session. He had just finished a set of wandless magic drills, his magic still tingling beneath his skin, when a voice—smooth, self-assured—cut through the quiet.
"Do you ever stop?"
Severus turned his head. Selene Everett was leaning against the doorway of the training hall, arms crossed, smirking like she already knew the answer.
Tall and athletic, built like a duelist—lean muscle, graceful movements, a predator’s ease in every step. Deep brown skin, smooth and radiant, like polished mahogany kissed by the sun. Dark, coiled curls, falling just past her shoulders—wild but intentional, the kind that framed her sharp, striking features. Eyes like molten gold, intense and unreadable, with a sharpness that cut through every layer of deception. Full lips, often curved into either a smirk or something far more dangerous. A jagged scar, barely visible, tracing the side of her jaw—evidence of a past duel she had clearly won.
Selene Everett was the kind of woman who owned every room she walked into. Not because she was loud. Not because she demanded attention. But because she didn’t ask for it. She simply took it. She was effortless.
Not in the way people tried to be—but in the way that came from never needing permission to exist as she was.
Someone who had been at the Cirque du Combat workshop. He had noticed her there—not because she had spoken to him, but because she fought with a style that was wild, relentless, almost reckless.
The kind of duelist who didn’t fight to win. She fought to dominate. Severus wiped his face with his sleeve before answering.
"Not if I can help it."
Selene’s smirk widened. "Good answer."
He expected her to leave. She didn’t. Instead, she stepped closer, tilting her head, assessing him like he was a puzzle she was figuring out in real-time.
"I’ve seen the way you duel."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"You fight like you have something to prove."
Silence. His fingers curled slightly, but he didn’t deny it. Because she was right. Selene held his gaze, as if she was waiting for him to say something.
Then, suddenly—"That’s hot."
Severus blinked. Out of all the responses he had expected—criticism, another challenge, even dismissal—that had not been one of them. Selene laughed softly at his expression.
"Relax, Shafiq. It’s a compliment."
Severus cleared his throat, trying to reassemble his thoughts. "I… see."
She grinned, like she was enjoying this far too much. "You know, most guys would jump at the chance if I showed interest."
Severus studied her carefully. "I’m not most guys."
Selene’s smirk deepened. "That’s what makes you interesting."
Then, without warning, she reached out—light, easy touch, fingertips brushing over the inside of his wrist.
Severus stilled. Not because he was uncomfortable. Because he had no idea how to react. Because no one had ever touched him like this. Casually. Intimately. Like she wasn’t afraid of the proximity. Like she was testing him.
"You ever think about not being all work and no play?"
His pulse quickened. Not visibly. Not noticeably. But he felt it. Severus wasn’t naive. He knew what this was.
Selene Everett was confident. Experienced. And completely unapologetic about it.
He wasn’t. At least, not in this.
"I have goals," he said smoothly, pushing down the unfamiliar feeling in his chest. "A relationship isn’t my priority right now."
Selene smirked.
"Who said anything about a relationship?"
Severus met her gaze. She didn’t look away. Didn’t falter. Her confidence was almost hypnotic. Then, just as effortlessly, she stepped back.
"Let me know if you change your mind."
And just like that, she was gone. Severus exhaled sharply. Stared at the empty doorway for a long moment. It was the first time someone had shown interest in him. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head, forcing himself to focus.
For now? He had bigger priorities.
But Selene Everett? She was trouble. And Severus had a feeling this wasn’t the last time she would cross his path.
It had been a week since their first conversation. A week of Selene not-so-subtly testing his patience. A week of Severus pretending not to notice.
But that night? That night, she found him alone. Again. Severus had finished training, his muscles burning, his mind still racing with calculations from his last set of drills.
He turned to grab his robe—And she was there.
Standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Severus exhaled slowly.
"Do you make a habit of following people?"
Selene smirked. "Only the interesting ones."
Severus rolled his eyes.
"I’m busy."
"I know."
"Then why are you here?"
Selene stepped closer. "Because I wanted to be."
There was no hesitation in her tone. Severus opened his mouth—but for once, he had no idea what to say. Selene looked up at him, tilting her head slightly.
"You’re different."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "I’m aware."
She laughed softly.
"No, I mean—" She gestured at him, at the training room, at everything about him. "You don’t waste time. You don’t pretend to be something you’re not. You’re just… real."
Severus didn’t respond. Because, for some reason, his throat was dry. Selene’s smirk softened slightly. Then, before he could react—She leaned in. Pressed her lips against his. Soft. Certain. Unapologetic. Severus froze.
Because for the first time in his life—Someone kissed him.
Selene pulled back, her eyes flicking over his expression.
She grinned. "Still busy?"
Severus inhaled, trying to force his brain to restart. He had been cursed, hexed, and thrown across dueling platforms. And yet, nothing had ever knocked the air out of his lungs like that.
"I—" He cleared his throat. "I have training to finish."
Selene chuckled, stepping back.
"I’ll let you get back to it, then."
She turned to leave— But before disappearing through the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder.
"Next time, Shafiq—" she smirked. "Don’t overthink it."
And then, she was gone. Severus stared after her. Mind racing. Heart pounding. He ran a hand through his hair. Merlin. He was so screwed.
Comments
Mark Randle
Sad, I caught up. Thanks for the chapters. Loving it so far.
firerock laser
I'm happy he found someone
