Training

Later that evening, after dinner and the usual chatter with his friends, Damian had duelling training with Professor Flitwick. Despite Flitwick's small stature and kind demeanour, he was relentless when it came to training. He pushed Damian harder than he expected, testing not only his reflexes but also his endurance. Spell after spell, Flitwick fired, and the only thing Damian could do was dodge.

By the end of it, his arms felt like lead, and his mind was too exhausted to focus on anything other than making it back to the common room. The moment he sat down at the table to eat, it felt like every ounce of his energy had drained away. He barely managed to get through his plate before fatigue overtook him. Without even bothering to engage in conversation, he slumped into bed and fell asleep almost instantly, too tired to even think about what the next day held.

Over the past month, his duelling training with Professor Flitwick had become more intense. Flitwick pushed Damian harder each session, and while the exhaustion was overwhelming, it was also exhilarating. By the end of the month, Flitwick seemed truly impressed—so much so that he officially declared Damian his duelling student. He could see the pride in Flitwick's eyes, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a sense of accomplishment himself.

Flitwick was so excited to have a student of his own that he began teaching Damian some of his personal duelling spells—things not found in the textbooks. Flitwick was a monster in training, but that only fueled Damian's determination. Unfortunately, it also meant he spent nearly as much time in the hospital wing as he did on the duelling platform, thanks to exhaustion. Madam Pomfrey had become a familiar face, often muttering about Flitwick overworking his students. Still, Damian knew he was improving.

As Christmas drew near, he focused on gifts for his friends. For Daphne, he'd managed to order some personal notes from Madam Pomfrey, a well-known mediwitch, as Daphne wanted to be a healer. He had seen Pomfrey more often these past two months to be familiar with her, given his constant trips to the hospital wing. For Tracey, he got a high-quality, expensive quill, something that would add to her endless list of things she loved collecting. Draco's gift was a top-tier Quidditch cleaning kit—something he knew Draco would appreciate since he always boasted about his flying skills. And for Blaise, he found a rare copy of an obscure charms spell book, knowing his love for anything that made him stand out academically. For Professor Flitwick, he decided on something special: a finely crafted duelling sword—a fitting gift for someone who had taught him so much already.

As Damian mentioned his holiday plans to Flitwick, he saw a shift in the professor's demeanour. "I'll be going to Malfoy Manor for Christmas," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Flitwick's face grew serious. "Be careful, Damian."

He nodded, knowing exactly what Flitwick was referring to. Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, had once been convicted as a Death Eater. He had managed to avoid Azkaban by claiming he'd been under the Imperius Curse, but the rumours surrounding him hadn't faded. Worse still, there were whispers that he had been eyeing the Black family seat—something he could only secure by getting rid of Damian, the rightful heir.

Damian wasn't naïve enough to believe Lucius would make a move this Christmas; doing something so bold would immediately cast suspicion on him, especially with Damian being the heir to the Black fortune. However, he couldn't let his guard down. The politics around family and power were as dangerous as any duel he'd been in, and this was a battle he needed to be prepared for.

Still, Draco and Narcissa were family. Regardless of Lucius's ambitions, Damian couldn't reject their invitation. Flitwick understood that, even if he didn't like it.

"I'll be careful," Damian reassured him.