The rest of February at Hogwarts passed quietly.
For most students, that meant peace.
For Alexander, it meant routine.
Classes.
Homework.
Girlfriend.
Dueling Club.
And the endless pursuit of improving magic.
With Valentine's chaos over, Dueling Club returned to structured training.
Alexander adjusted the lesson tiers carefully.
He didn't believe in throwing students into combat unprepared.
Foundation first.
Second years began working on Immobulus, the Freezing Charm.
At first, spells misfired.
Targets only slowed.
Some froze objects, but not moving targets.
Alexander walked between pairs, correcting wand angles and casting rhythm.
"Shorter incantation breath."
"Don't force the magic, but guide it."
"Think of stopping motion, not attacking."
Within weeks, progress skyrocketed.
Students began freezing:
Practice dummies
Flying cushions
Even each other mid-spell
They loved it.
For upperclassmen, the focus shifted to Impedimenta.
A far more flexible jinx.
It could:
Freeze a target
Trip them
Slow their movement
Which resulted in duels far more dynamic.
Soon, the club became chaotic:
Students sliding to a halt
Legs locking mid-charge
Duelists stumbling while laughing
Their Protego shields improved rapidly.
Repeated pressure forced refinement.
Layering.
Timing.
Angle control.
Alexander approved.
Meanwhile, the first years had officially mastered Lumos and Nox.
Even the weaker casters could maintain stable light.
Professor Flitwick moved them forward.
Levitation drills.
But not simple ones.
He had them levitate:
Two objects
Then three
Then moving objects
It wasn't about lifting.
It was about control.
Preparing for magical multitasking.
A necessary step before learning Protego.
A few prodigies advanced early.
Harry.
Ron.
Hermione.
And several others.
They began learning Protego ahead of schedule.
Under supervision, they even started light dueling.
Messy, unrefined, but very promising.
Alexander occasionally stopped to guide them.
Adjusting stances.
Correcting shield timing.
Explaining magical flow.
They improved fast.
Sometime eve some students challenged him to a duel.
It never lasted long, though.
Alexander's casting speed was overwhelming.
Before opponents finished incantations, their shields already cracked.
They were stunned or disarmed immediately after.
Most of the time, Alexander would block and then attack.
Sometimes, to teach others, he would reflect the spells at the challenger.
After every lesson, he would lecture on their mistakes and to the people watching.
After enough losses, many people stopped challenging.
Only Seventh years, Ministry trainees, or Pre-approved Auror candidates challenged him.
They still lost, but it was not easy for Alexander.
He always found a way to break the stalemates.
He trash-talked mid-duel.
He rushed forward aggressively.
He closed the distance like a martial fighter.
Unorthodox.
Unwizardly.
But effective.
A win was a win.
And no one complained; they adapted instead.
Privately, he reflected often.
Traditional wizard dueling felt too backwater, rigid, and predictable.
Too focused on distance casting.
Too little innovation.
He wanted evolution.
Hybrid tactics.
Movement integration.
Layered defenses.
He even considered learning sword combat.
But dismissed it.
Too flashy.
Too impractical inside Hogwarts.
Instead, he envisioned something else.
Briefcase shield.
Wand weapon.
Alchemy reinforcement.
A "turtle shield" defense style.
Slow.
Impenetrable.
Annoying enough to exhaust any dark wizard.
He smirked, imagining Death Eaters losing patience.
As time flew by.
Everyone improved.
Confidence rose.
Spellwork sharpened.
Dueling Club became one of Hogwarts' most anticipated weekly events.
And surprisingly.
Alexander enjoyed running it.
Teaching reinforced his own mastery.
Every correction refined his understanding.
Every duel tested new theories.
Despite everything.
He never neglected Cho.
No matter how busy he was.
He made time.
Walks.
Study sessions.
Quiet meals.
She told him he didn't have to try so hard.
But he knew better.
He wanted to.
Because being with her.
Calmed his mind.
Stabilized his focus.
And reminded him that even prodigies needed to relax.