Chapter 7: Sparks of Conflict

David Monroe's arrival marked a new chapter for Hogwarts — one that challenged both Albus's leadership and the fragile unity between Charles and Magneto. For days, tension simmered beneath the surface. David avoided conversation, kept to his room when possible, and treated Hogwarts like a temporary shelter rather than a home. The magic of the castle fascinated him, but he refused to participate in lessons or engage with Albus's attempts to teach him control.

One evening, Albus found David standing alone in the courtyard. His hands glowed faintly, sparks crackling along his fingertips. The stone pavement beneath his feet was charred black.

"You're going to burn a hole in the floor if you keep doing that," Albus said softly.

"Better than burning a hole in someone," David muttered without looking up. The sparks danced dangerously higher, weaving between his fingers.

"Let me help you control it," Albus offered, stepping closer.

"I don't need your help," David shot back. His energy flared, small embers drifting in the air. "I've kept myself alive for years without anyone's help."

"And how's that working out for you?" Albus countered. "Is this what you want? To hide in corners, hoping you don't lose control?"

David's eyes narrowed. "I'm dangerous. The sooner you realize that, the better."

"I already know that," Albus said. "I knew it the moment I found your name in the Book of Acceptance. But I also know what you're capable of if you stop fighting yourself."

David sneered. "You think I can just... wish this away? That I can sit in a classroom and pretend this," he raised his crackling hand, "isn't a problem?"

"I think you can learn," Albus said firmly. "If you're willing to try."

David's hand twitched, and a bolt of energy lashed out — crackling across the air and striking a nearby statue. The stone burst apart in a shower of sparks and rubble. David flinched, his face pale. His fingers clenched tightly, as if he feared they might betray him again.

"See?" he muttered bitterly. "That's why I can't stay here."

"That's exactly why you need to stay," Albus said firmly. "You need guidance. Control. You need to understand what you're capable of — what you can become."

"And what if I don't want that?" David asked coldly. "What if I don't want to be your pet project?"

"Then I'll respect that," Albus answered. "But I think you're better than that." He turned and began to walk away. "Come find me when you're ready."

Days passed before David finally emerged from his room and approached Albus in the Great Hall. The room was dimly lit, the enchanted ceiling reflecting gray clouds drifting above. David's usual defiance was gone — replaced by something uncertain.

"I... I want to try," David said awkwardly. "To control it."

Albus smiled faintly. "Good." He rose from his seat. "Follow me."

They moved to the old Dueling Room — a forgotten space Albus had begun repurposing for combat training. The walls were lined with scorched marks from past practice sessions, and faded shields hung crookedly along the stone walls.

"We'll start simple," Albus said. He conjured a small flame in his palm. "Focus, steady breathing. Don't try to force it — just feel it."

David lifted his hand, sparks gathering at his fingertips. The energy flared brighter than before — chaotic, unstable. His breathing grew shallow, and sparks danced dangerously toward the floor. Albus stepped closer, placing his hand over David's without touching him.

"Breathe," Albus instructed. "Steady. Let it build, then release it... don't force it."

The sparks calmed slightly, flickering like embers. For a moment, David's expression softened — as if he'd glimpsed something manageable within his power. But then the energy flared again, crackling wildly as David panicked.

"I can't —" David jerked back. His power surged out of control, lashing toward Albus. Without thinking, Albus flicked his wrist. "Protego!"

A shimmering shield erupted between them, deflecting the blast and scattering the energy across the stone floor. David stumbled back, wide-eyed.

"I told you," he muttered. "I can't stop it."

"You can," Albus said calmly. "You just haven't learned how."

David clenched his fists. "What if I hurt someone next time?"

"Then you'll get back up and try again," Albus said. "Because failure doesn't mean you stop — it means you have something to fix."

For the first time, David seemed to consider the words. His anger faded, replaced by something quieter — doubt... and maybe hope.

"We'll try again tomorrow," Albus said. "I'm not giving up on you."

David hesitated, then gave a slight nod. "Alright," he muttered. "Tomorrow."