Once, there were legendary swordsmen who measured the worth of heroes with a blade three feet long.
Now, there was Professor Severus Snape, who wielded a thirteen-and-a-half-inch wand to test the mettle of a second-year apprentice—Qin Yu.
"If word got out, I'd feel embarrassed for you, Master of Potions. Why go all out just to thrash me? I'm still a kid, you know!"
That was what Qin Yu grumbled silently to himself as he lay sprawled on the floor. He'd never dare say it out loud—not with Snape looking so smug and untouchable. If he dared to voice any complaints, he'd probably get smacked around even harder.
"Not bad. I used fifty percent of my focus, and you managed to last this long before collapsing. Looks like you didn't waste your holiday just playing around with your little witch—you kept up your magic practice."
Seriously, what kind of backhanded compliment was that? Sour grapes much? Classic Snape—never misses a chance to get in a jab.
"Bro—Professor, your dueling style feels different today. I mean, your spellcasting strategy."
Qin Yu nearly let a "bro" slip, but managed to cover it. Thankfully, "bro" and "pro" sounded similar, and if anyone asked, he could always claim a sore throat had made his "p" sound like a "b." Who could blame him?
Snape shot him a sidelong glance, too dignified to bother with trivialities like that. His voice was as calm and deep as a still pond: "Magic isn't just about the spells themselves. You have to think. You must understand the logic of casting. But above all—practice. Relentless practice."
"…"
It sounded simple—almost like stating the obvious. Still, it hit home for Qin Yu. After all, he'd just been thoroughly walloped. If he didn't gain some insight from this, all those bruises would be for nothing.
"…Alright then. 'A true lesson is a single sentence; false lessons fill a thousand books,' is that it? I'll chew on your words, Professor." Qin Yu hauled himself up, brushing dust from his robes.
Snape muttered, "The truly crucial knowledge is often a single phrase, while mediocre teachings fill volumes. There's sense in that. But it only works if you've built a real foundation in the field."
"Mm-hmm, I'll remember that." Qin Yu nodded, oddly pleased that his translation had gotten a pass.
"Good. That's enough for today. You're making acceptable progress. If you've no objections, next time we'll cover escape techniques."
With that, Snape swept out of the room first.
"Escape what, exactly?" Qin Yu called after him, not that he had any real say in the matter. He just wanted to know what was coming.
"Apparition!"
The word drifted back as Snape vanished down the corridor, his cloak swirling behind him like a giant bat.
"Honestly, does he ever get tired of making dramatic exits?" Qin Yu muttered under his breath.
He dragged his aching body out of the classroom, still mulling over what made today's beating different—besides the extra pain.
First, Snape's spellcasting was noticeably faster than before.
The relentless barrage left Qin Yu scrambling to dodge, his stamina draining in no time. He was panting like a dog by the end.
Second, Snape's spell choices were all over the place—not just powerful attacks or heavy defenses, but whatever seemed useful in the moment. At one point, Qin Yu got blasted in the face with Aguamenti—a harmless jet of water—only for Snape to follow up with a Freezing Charm, which left him shivering and miserable.
Both were basic, low-level spells, but combined at speed, they packed a punch.
Reflecting on Snape's post-lesson summary, Qin Yu realized the key was speed. Only with rapid casting could you chain spells together, making the sum far greater than the parts.
Of course, picking the right spell at the right time took brains.
In the end, it all came back to Snape's words: "Practice. Relentless practice."
"Sigh… so basically, he's going to work me to death? I really miss dear old Professor Swinton—his lessons never left me this exhausted…"
Complaints aside, Qin Yu had to admit: Snape knew his stuff, and everything he taught was pure gold.
And the beatings? Very, very real.
…
Whether it was Madam Pomfrey's skill or just his own growing resistance, Qin Yu recovered to about eighty percent in no time.
Then, the great Qin returned to his loyal Gryffindor common room!
Of course, there was no one to welcome him. Hermione hadn't come back from the library yet.
He'd told her in advance about his "private lesson" with Snape, so she'd gone to the library alone to finish her homework. They'd agreed to meet in the common room around this time.
Turns out, Qin Yu was early. Mostly because he'd folded so quickly under Snape's onslaught, the session ended ahead of schedule, and he'd made a quick stop at the hospital wing.
"Well, nothing to do now. Might as well grab a quick nap."
He found a comfy armchair in the corner, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
He must have been more drained than he realized, because he drifted right off.
He woke to a tickle on his nose. Groggily opening his eyes, he found Hermione leaning over him, trailing the feather end of her quill across his face.
The little witch's face was split by a mischievous grin—until she met his gaze. Then she froze, caught red-handed.
Qin Yu seized the moment, grabbed her hand, and with a gentle tug, pulled her into his lap.
"There are people here, Qin~" Hermione whispered urgently.
If she didn't stop him, who knew what this half-awake boy might do next?
Even so, he managed to steal a quick peck on her cheek.
Luckily, their spot was tucked away, and the common room was nearly empty—no one seemed to notice.
(Gryffindor Student A: "Heh, I wouldn't dare look. I'd be sick from all the sugar."
Gryffindor Student B: "Some things—the more you see, the less you want to."
Gryffindor Student C: "If you really think I'm blind and saw nothing, then I've got nothing to say.")
Hermione pressed a hand to his chest, pushed herself up, and touched her cheek—ugh, it was wet.
Saliva!
Thinking back to her holiday adventures, she decisively wiped her hand on Qin Yu's robe, back and forth.
She checked her palm—clean. Satisfied, she nodded.
Qin Yu watched the whole routine, lips twitching. It's so hard to learn good habits, but bad ones? One slip and you're a pro.
Not that he could complain—the saliva was his, after all.
"So, any problems with your homework? I've got time now—let's tackle them together."
"I do! I even took notes…" Hermione instantly switched to study mode, grabbing her notebook and crouching beside him to ask questions.
But crouching got uncomfortable fast. Before long, Qin Yu tugged her gently, and she slid into the chair beside him.
She was small enough to fit without trouble.
Mostly, sitting close made it easier to discuss things in low voices without disturbing anyone else.
(Gryffindor Students A, B, C: "Redefining what 'not disturbing anyone' means!")
Hermione's questions were many, but mostly basic. Qin Yu didn't have to work too hard—she was sharp and thoughtful, and a hint or two was all it took for her to catch on.
Honestly, helping Hermione with her homework was almost relaxing. He could even ruffle her bushy hair now and then, and she'd reward him with a squinty, contented smile—way better than petting Crookshanks.
By the time Hermione finished her questions, the common room was nearly empty. Time for bed.
"Oh, right—tomorrow's Saturday. Don't forget Hagrid's 'Rock Cake Banquet.'"
Before parting, Hermione reminded him.
Qin Yu smacked his forehead. "Merlin's beard—tomorrow's Saturday? That means today's Friday?"
"Of course! What else would it be~" Hermione teased, thinking he'd gone silly again.
"Alright, alright. Rock Cake Banquet. Got it," Qin Yu mumbled.
He had no real complaints about Hagrid's event—other than the name. The only reason he'd grumbled was because he'd suddenly realized today was Friday.
And Friday at midnight was his unpaid tutoring shift.
I really ought to keep track and bill Lucius for these hours…
The absurd thought made him smile.
After the usual routine—hug, head pat, goodnight—the two went their separate ways for a well-earned rest.
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