HP: Ashborn

"What game?"

"I'll name a spell, and you tell me what it does. Then, you name a spell, and I'll explain its function. If one of us can't answer, the other gets a point. We each get twenty turns. Whoever has the most points at the end wins."

"Alright, I'm in. But just so you know, Max, I'm definitely going to win—so try not to be a sore loser when you lose," Jasmine said, flashing a confident grin, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Wow. Someone's cocky," I said, raising an eyebrow. "Alright, so who's going first?"

"I will!" Jasmine declared like a queen claiming her throne.

"Well then, Your Majesty, ask away."

"Let's start easy. What's the function of Rictumsempra?"

"Please, that's child's play. Tickling Charm—makes the target collapse into uncontrollable laughter," I said, leaning back smugly.

"Correct. Your turn."

"Depulso. What does it do?"

"Banishing Charm. Sends the target flying away from the caster," Jasmine answered, wearing a victorious smirk.

"Alright, my turn now, Max. Arresto Momentum."

"That's the Slowing Charm or Braking Charm. It reduces the speed of a fast-moving object."

"Correct! Not bad at all," Jasmine admitted, her excitement growing. "I have to say, this is actually fun!"

And so, we kept going—back and forth, firing off spells like duelists in a battle of wits. Charms, jinxes, curses—each one asked, each one answered with ease. Before we knew it, we had reached the final turn.

"This is the last one, right, Max?" Jasmine asked, her voice laced with anticipation.

"That would be correct."

"And we can ask about any spell?" She put so much emphasis on any that I half expected dramatic background music to start playing.

"Yeah," I answered, shrugging nonchalantly. Big mistake that she made.

"Alright then," she said, leaning forward with a sly grin. "Protego Diabolica."

I froze. Eyes widening for just a fraction of a second before I quickly masked my shock. That was not what I had expected. The real surprise? A girl from a Light family knowing about that spell.

But no matter. I was one answer away from winning. Sorry, Jasmine—better luck next time.

"Protego Diabolica—a powerful and highly dangerous protective charm. It conjures bluish-white flames around the caster, which incinerate their enemies while leaving the caster and their allies unharmed."

Jasmine's eyebrows shot up so high they nearly vanished into her hairline. I wasn't done.

"It was created by Gellert Grindelwald—his signature spell. He used it to nearly burn Paris to the ground."

I bit my tongue before blurting out, 'Also, it's my absolute favorite spell in the entire Fantastic Beasts series.' But no need to tell her that.

(Author's note: I know that Protego Diabolica has black flames, but let's be honest, The black flames will look as cool as the bluish-white ones.) 

"You know about it?! Have you read about the Global Wizarding War?" Jasmine asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Obviously. I made sure to learn about all the major conflicts of the past century. I'm not some blind sheep who just swallows whatever one side says. The magical world was new to me, so I paid to get all the essential information—stuff everyone should know. That's how I learned about the Wizengamot, Blood-Supremacy, the British Civil War, and, of course, the Global Wizarding War."

"Well, good for you," she said, nodding approvingly. "At least you won't be as clueless as most Muggle-raised kids."

"Glad we agree. Now, it's my turn to ask you a spell." I leaned forward slightly, enjoying the moment. "Capre Retractum."

She blinked. "What?"

"Capre Retractum," I repeated, this time with extra clarity.

Jasmine frowned, looking almost… hesitant? "You're sure that's an actual spell?"

"Yeah," I said, my grin widening as realization dawned on me. She doesn't know.

"I don't believe you." She crossed her arms defiantly.

"Believe it or not, it's real. Though, to be fair, it's not exactly groundbreaking. It's mostly ignored because we have Accio, which is a much better summoning spell."

"Prove it," she challenged, tilting her chin up. "Perform the spell."

"I can't," I admitted, shrugging. "Never tried it before, and I'd rather not cause any magical accidents on a moving train. But hey, we could always ask someone more knowledgeable. Like a senior. Or—and hear me out—you could just accept that you lost to me 20-19." I grinned, my voice dripping with amusement.

Jasmine narrowed her eyes. "Nope. Let's ask a senior."

"Alright, your call."

A few minutes later, I returned with a Ravenclaw sixth-year prefect, who introduced herself as Helena Parker. The moment she stepped into our compartment, Jasmine wasted no time.

"Miss Parker, have you heard of the Carpe Retractum spell?"

Helena's eyes lit up slightly with appreciation. "Ah, yes. The Seize and Pull Charm. It conjures a retractable magical cord of light, allowing the caster to pull objects toward them—or, if the target is fixed, pull themselves toward the target."

She continued matter-of-factly, "It's not commonly used, though. There are better alternatives, like Wingardium Leviosa and Accio. Plus, it has some serious drawbacks—it only works on targets within your line of sight, and the force has to be just right, or things can go... badly. That's why it's not exactly a go-to spell in daily life."

Jasmine nodded slowly, absorbing the information. Meanwhile, I sat there with a very satisfied grin, while she looked like she'd just swallowed a whole lemon.

Noticing our contrasting expressions, Helena raised an eyebrow. "Alright… what's that about?"

We quickly explained our little game. By the time we finished, Helena's face lit up like Christmas had come early. She practically beamed. "That's brilliant! Honestly, that's one of the most creative ways I've heard of testing magical knowledge."

Typical Ravenclaw, I thought, watching her with amusement.

After Helena left us to our own devices, I turned to Jasmine with a triumphant grin.

"So?"

"So what?" she asked, though the irritation on her face was as obvious as a Howler in a silent room.

"I won. 20-19. More points. My win." I made sure to say it in the most insufferable tone possible—one that could annoy even the most patient person on Earth.

"Shut up. I went easy on you because you were Muggle-raised."

I almost shot back with, Oh sure, you really went easy on me by asking about Grindelwald's signature spell, but then I remembered the golden rule when talking to a girl: Never push past the threshold of annoyance. Know your goddamn limits.

Instead, I smirked and bowed my head dramatically. "Of course, my lady. I am deeply honored that you allowed me this victory."

"Don't forget that, Ashborn," she huffed, crossing her arms. "But remember this—I won't be so generous next time."

"Naturally," I said, nodding solemnly. "Next time."

"Hmph."

A few minutes of silence followed. She sulked, while I casually solved my Rubik's Cube. Eventually, I broke the quiet.

"You know, I never actually expected you to know about Protego Diabolica," I admitted, glancing at her. "I mean, the Potters have always claimed to be a Light family?"

"My dad insists we're a 'light' family," she said, rolling her eyes slightly. "Grand-Uncle always called that nonsense—he believed there's no such thing as light or dark magic, just magic itself and the intent behind its use." Her voice took on a thoughtful edge as she continued, "Grand-Uncle and Grand-Aunt used to tell me stories about the Global Wizarding War. They both fought against Grindelwald alongside the ICW. Father and Grand-Uncle don't exactly see eye to eye, but I love them both—Grandpa Charles and Aunt Dorea. And, well, they adore me too. I grew up on their stories—tales of battles, adventures, and all the chaos in between."

"Oh."

For once, I had nothing clever to say.

Suddenly, an announcement echoed through the train: We will be reaching Hogwarts in 30 minutes.

I stood up and stretched. "I'll wait outside the compartment. Why don't you change first?"

"Sure," Jasmine agreed without hesitation.

Stepping outside, I leaned against the window, watching the scenery blur past while absentmindedly counting in my head. By the time I reached 1,223, I heard a soft click from our compartment door. I turned toward the sound—only to be met with an overenthusiastic Jasmine, now clad in her crisp black Hogwarts uniform.

For a moment, everything else faded away. The world outside the window, the hum of the train, even my own thoughts—all of it dulled as I took in the sight before me. The uniform, simple as it was, suited her ridiculously well. Her fiery-red hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the dim light just right, and her green eyes practically sparkled with excitement. There was something effortlessly enchanting about the way she stood there, grinning like she belonged to the very magic we were about to learn.

I just… stared. All the snarky comments I had prepared about her taking forever to change vanished from my mind. It took a sharp snap of her fingers to jolt me back to reality.

"Stop daydreaming, Max. We have less than ten minutes before we reach Hogsmeade Station. Go get changed."

I blinked. The nerve of this woman. The same woman who took over twenty minutes to change into simple robes now had the audacity to rush me? But, being the wise and tactical man that I am, I let this outrageous display of hypocrisy slide.

"Sure. Just give me a few minutes."

Exactly 247 seconds later—4 minutes and 7 seconds, to be precise—I knocked on the door, signaling that I was done. Jasmine practically bounced back inside, radiating excitement.

I smirked. "Your face looks like Christmas came early for you."

"Maybe it did. Who cares about Yule? I'm about to step into Hogwarts Castle!" she said, practically vibrating with energy. "Honestly, I'm surprised. For someone who claims to be thrilled about magical studies, you seem weirdly calm."

"Oh no, I can hardly contain myself," I said dryly. "But no matter how much I jump around in excitement, it's not going to make the train arrive at Hogsmeade any faster."

And as if fate had been waiting for the perfect moment to mock me, the train immediately screeched to a halt.

'We have arrived at Hogsmeade Station. Please leave your belongings on the train—they will be transported to your dormitories before the completion of the Sorting Ceremony and feast.'

I barely had time to process the announcement before I felt Jasmine's gaze on me. When I turned, she was grinning way too widely—practically vibrating with the effort of holding back whatever smug remark was forming in her mind.

I sighed, already knowing what was coming.

"Don't," I said flatly, raising a hand to cut her off.

And that was all it took.

She burst into full-blown laughter, doubling over as if this was the single funniest thing to ever happen. Meanwhile, I stood there, drowning in deep, profound shame.

It took her a solid minute to recover, wiping away tears of laughter.

"Let's go," I muttered, still refusing to meet her eyes.

"Yeah, sure," she said, voice dripping with amusement. The teasing lilt in her tone perfectly did its job, grating on my nerves just enough to be her personal entertainment.

As we stepped outside, a horde of students moved along with us, excitement buzzing in the air. The moment we exited the station, a booming voice rang out over the chatter.

"Firs' years this way! Firs' years! Hey, watch yer step—come on, don't be shy! First years, over here!"

The voice belonged to an enormous man waving his massive hand enthusiastically. If it wasn't already blatantly obvious, this could only be Hagrid.

"Hagrid!" Jasmine called cheerfully, waving to get his attention.

The half-giant's face lit up instantly. "Jasmine! Well, would ya look at that—y' look exactly like Lily!" he said, beaming at her.

Jasmine turned to me, grinning. "Max, this is Hagrid, Hogwarts' gamekeeper. Hagrid, this is Max. I spent the whole train ride in his company."

I inclined my head slightly. "Hagrid, huh? A pleasure. Maximus Ashborn, but feel free to call me Max— as Jasmine does."

Hagrid gave me a warm, toothy smile, and before I could say anything else, Jasmine added enthusiastically, "Max, Hagrid is an expert on magical creatures!"

I gave Hagrid a once-over, taking in his sheer size, the twinkle in his eyes, and the way he radiated warmth and enthusiasm.

"Yeah," I said thoughtfully. "I can tell."

Jasmine tilted her head. "What do you mean?" Her voice carried that unmistakable Potter curiosity.

I chose my words carefully. "He seems like a kind, joyful, and passionate soul," I said honestly. "Extremely loyal—the kind of companion anyone would be lucky to have. No wonder his specialty is magical creatures."

For a moment, Hagrid just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then, to my absolute horror, his eyes grew a little misty.

"Tha's one o' the nicest things anyone's said to me," he muttered, sniffling slightly before clearing his throat. "Right then! Firs' years—this way!"

Jasmine shot me a look, half amused, half impressed. I simply shrugged.

Well, I thought, at least I didn't make him cry… too much.

"What do you mean 'no wonder his specialty is magical creatures'?" Jasmine asked, narrowing her eyes.

I smirked. "Tell me, Jasmine, how many Magizoologists can you name besides Newt Scamander?"

She frowned, thinking hard before reluctantly admitting, "Honestly… I don't know anyone apart from him."

"And do you know why that is?" I asked, pausing for effect. The group of first-years around us, now seemingly invested, leaned in slightly.

"Magical creatures," I continued, "respond only to those with a pure and kind soul. I've never met Mr. Scamander, but I've read about him. He was one of the kindest and most noble men anyone could hope to meet. And magical beings? They're highly instinctual. They can sense a person's true intentions. It's a gift from nature, honed by generations of survival in the wild."

"Because of that, Mr. Scamander—being the noble soul he was—managed to tame some of the fiercest creatures known to wizardkind: dragons, Nundus, Thunderbirds, you name it." I paused for a breath, suddenly realizing that every single first-year around us had stopped talking and was now staring at me.

Regardless, I pressed on. "And—" I gestured toward Hagrid "—he seems very close to the description I've read about Scamander. That's why I said, 'No wonder his specialty is magical creatures.'"

A beat of silence followed. Then, I noticed the looks on their faces.

Jasmine was staring at me like I had just recited the meaning of life. The first-years looked awestruck, like I had sprouted three heads. And Hagrid? Well, he had turned bright red—whether from pride or embarrassment, I wasn't sure.

Finally, Hagrid cleared his throat—loudly—shaking himself out of his flustered state. "Ahem! Er—thanks, Max. That was… real nice." He rubbed the back of his neck before quickly changing the subject. "Alright now—Firs' years! Over here! This way!"

And just like that, the crowd snapped back to reality as Hagrid resumed gathering the students.

Jasmine, however, was still looking at me with curiosity.