After a few weeks of attending Hogwarts, Flynn had to admit that while he wasn't completely used to his new life there, it honestly wasn't too different from his life back at Fredericton. While he knew he wouldn't be getting comfortable any time soon, it wasn't like he'd ever been comfortable in his life. Everything just became a little more familiar.

But even though life became more familiar, it didn't particularly mean he had grown to like it.

"Hiya, Flynn," Lily said.

Flynn glanced down at his sleeve, as if he needed visual confirmation of how Lily was grabbing the sleeves of his robes.

"Why are you grabbing me?" he asked.

"Because sometimes you disappear when I start talking to you," she said. "This is the best way to make sure you don't."

Though the explanation wasn't one he particularly liked, it was at least a sensible one, which was rare for Lily.

"And why do you have Sally in your other hand?" he asked.

The girl in question flinched at the mention of her name, but after a few weeks of involuntary exposure to him, she at least managed to make brief eye contact before looking away.

"Same answer," Lily said. "Sometimes she disappears when I start talking to you. This is the best way to make sure she doesn't."

Flynn glared down at Lily, but with how often he tried to cow her away unsuccessfully, he didn't bother to stare down at her for long before letting out a huff.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"We haven't seen Hagrid in a while," Lily said. "Why don't we pay him a visit?"

"We saw him last week," Flynn replied.

"I'd say that's a while," Lily said. "At least enough time for him to have made another batch of rock cakes."

Flynn narrowed his eyes at Lily, wondering how she'd known that his supply was getting low, or if she had just made a lucky guess. Regardless, she was right.

Reaching down, he grabbed Lily's hand and peeled her fingers off of his robe, and swatted her hand aside when she tried to grab at him again.

"I'll go to Hagrid's too," he said, giving her a glare when she tried to grab his sleeve again. "I know where we're going. I don't need you to walk me like a fucking dog."

"I don't think you'd be a dog. You're more of a prickly porcupine. Or maybe a hedgehog."

"What the fuck are you even talking about?"

It didn't take long to get to Hagrid's hut, which was rare given how many detours Lily usually took whenever they went there, but Hagrid's hut was only a fifteen minute walk away from the main Hogwarts courtyard.

When Lily knocked on the door three times, there was a familiar barking and a familiar grunt of annoyance right before Hagrid opened the door.

"Oh, it's you lot again," he said, letting go of Fang's leash when he recognized them, letting the dog rush forward and circle around both Lily and Sally, pushing his head under Sally's arm.

"Hi, Hagrid," Lily said. "We're here to spend some time with you!"

"Can't say I don't appreciate it, but don't you have anything better to do? I can't imagine it's very interestin' spendin' much time with a dumb oaf like me," Hagrid said, scratching his cheek with a massive finger.

"Oh you shouldn't sell yourself short, Hagrid," Lily said. "You're a wonderful person, and I'd imagine Flynn would throw a fit if we went too long without visiting you."

Flynn scowled at Lily, but nobody in the entire group seemed to care aside from Sally and Fang, who both flinched back. Hagrid certainly hadn't noticed, as his face bloomed with a deep blush that was so dark that it could still be seen through his thick beard.

"There's no point in flatterin the groundskeeper, Lily," he mumbled, turning his face away. "But I s'ppose it would be rude te turn ye away when you've all made the effort to come all the way over. Come in, why don't ye? It's startin te get cold, round this time of year."

The interior of Hagrid's hut looked more or less the same as it had been when they first visited, but over time, Hagrid had invested in a few actual chairs rather than relying solely on empty boxes and cushions. Taking their usual places around the fire pit, Flynn, Lily, and Sally sat down as Hagrid rushed over to pull a large tray of rock cakes from a nearby container.

"Just made these this mornin," Hagrid said, as he place the tray on an upside down box, not having invested in a table yet. "They're still a little warm."

After a thanks from Lily, and a quiet mumbled one from Sally, Lily started to launch into several questions about Hagrid's life, somehow not having run out of things to ask about Hagrid's personal life yet despite how many times they had already visited him, while Flynn waited for an opportunity to steal a handful of rock cakes while Lily was slowly realizing that Hagrid's best friend, Aragog, might've not been human and launched into a whole series of dizzying follow-up questions about Aragog's favourite colour and if spiders could even have favourite colours.

At a certain point in his interrogation, Hagrid excused himself to grab a rock cake, likely more to give himself the opportunity to breathe, rather than actually wanting a snack, and paused when he noticed that a few were already missing. Like always, he smiled silently at the empty sections of the tray, but didn't say anything about it as he took a loud bite out of the rock cake and drowned it in a sip of tea that was only relatively small to him.

Flynn made sure that Hagrid had completely looked away before grabbing another rock cake, and taking a bite out of it before shoving the rest in his pocket, but froze when he noticed out of the corner of his eye that he'd been caught.

Sally winced at his glare, but for the first time since they'd met, didn't fully cower away from it. She didn't keep eye contact with him for more than a split second, but she leaned forward to grab a rock cake off of the tray.

Lifting it to her mouth, she tried to nibble on it before wincing.

"Umm," she said. "How do you eat this?"

"That?" Hagrid asked. "I always just bite into it."

"It might be a little too hard for me," Sally said quietly, looking like she was quickly regretting her decision.

"Really?" Hagrid asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"No, no," Sally said, almost immediately. "I mean, they're a little hard, but I just prefer my food to be a little softer."

"Ye think I should be trying to make them softer then?" Hagrid asked. "I've always made em like this, but I suppose if I'm serving it te guests I could tweak the recipe a little bit."

Flynn furrowed his eyebrows, and let out a low grunt of annoyance. He reached out to Sally, and though she flinched away at his sudden movement, she couldn't recoil away fast enough for him to grab the rock cake from her hand.

"Shut the fuck up," he grumbled under his breath, to nobody in particular as he reached into his robes and pulled out a small jug of pumpkin juice. Peeling off the large wax seal that the Hogwarts plates had put over it for him, he dunked the rock cake into the pumpkin juice and held it there for a few seconds before pulling it out and thrusting it towards Sally, flinging small globs of pumpkin juice onto her robes.

When Sally refused to take it, he let out a grunt of annoyance as he grabbed her wrist and placed the rock cake into her limp hand.

"Eat," he said, holding her wrist aloft until Sally started to nod frantically and take a better hold of the rock cake.

Nervously, she lifted the rock cake to her mouth and nibbled at it, hesitantly at first, but more confidently after she realized that she wasn't cracking her teeth against the once rock-hard surface.

"I usually hate pumpkin juice, but its not complete shit with the rock cakes," Flynn grumbled, pushing the rest of the jug into Sally's chest, almost making her drop the rock cake in her hand as she scrambled to grab the jug before it fell to the floor.

"Ye carry pumpkin juice round with ye?" Hagrid asked blankly.

"You got a problem with that?" Flynn asked.

"Was never a fan of it," Hagrid said. "Too sweet fer my likin'."

"It is," Flynn said. "But most people got shit taste buds. Just give these sugar-addicted brats some pumpkin juice and they'll be fine. Softens up the bread for their sensitive jaws too. But don't you dare change your fucking recipe."

"Oh... okay?" Hagrid said, sounding more confused than anything else.

Flynn felt an uncomfortable shiver down his spine and turned around to glare at Lily, who was positively beaming at him.

"The fuck are you looking at?"

"Oh nothing," Lily said. "I'm just wondering why you were experimenting with pumpkin juice in the first place if you hate it so much."

"Fuck off."

---

A few weeks into October, after a Charms class that was scheduled at the end of the day, Flynn stayed behind as the rest of the students filed out of the classroom. As the last of the chatter faded, he walked up to Flitwick at his desk, who smiled up at him as he approached.

"Mr. Fredericton," Flitwick said. "Can I help you with something?"

Though the question irked him somewhat, Flynn nodded.

"I suck at charms," Flynn said. "I want to get better at it."

Flitwick's smile twitched downwards, but whether he was being professional or friendly, Flitwick managed to keep his smile from completely falling.

"You're a student, Mr. Fredericton," he said. "You're here to learn, and being bad at something is simply the first step to becoming better at it."

"I'm at the bottom of the class," Flynn said, before Flitwick could continue. "I've been there for a while now. I've only been able to cast the levitation spell, and I can barely even do that. I'm doing something wrong, and if you know it. I know I'm fucking shit, so I'd prefer it if you could just save the motivational crap. I want to get better at charms, but if you aren't going to help me, just say it so I don't have to waste both our times here. I'll figure something out on my own."

There was a long silence as Flitwick stared up at Flynn, before he sighed and steepled his fingers at his desk.

"Mr. Fredericton," Flitwick said. "I must insist that you maintain a vocabulary that isn't quite so inflammatory during your time here at Hogwarts. As we are the only ones here, and I am painfully aware of your previous upbringing, I won't take away house points for it now, but I will be forced to reprimand you if you insist on continuing to use it. But I know if I delay the point any further, you will only get more frustrated, so I will say now that I am more than willing to provide extra assistance for any students who may ask for it. That being said, as a Professor here at Hogwarts, I am rather busy, so we will have to maintain a schedule that would accommodate my hours. Would that be fine for you?"

"Not like I'm busy," Flynn said, with a shrug. "I'm game. When do we start?"

"Right now, if you're willing," Flitwick said. "Though we will have to schedule future lessons at a later time. I'm free for about an hour, but I do have to attend a quick staff meeting later in the evening."

Practising with Flitwick wasn't too different from attending his classes. Flitwick assigned him a task to complete, and Flynn did his best to achieve it, but the one major difference was that every few minutes, Flitwick would frown, shake his head, and tell Flynn to try something else, whether it was to hold his wand in a different way, say his chants with a specific pronunciation, or to switch to a different spell entirely.

It took about three minutes for Flynn to cycle through the three different spells they had learned in class already, the levitation, softening, and mending spell, and though the only amount of "success" that he'd achieved came from his attempt at the levitation charm, though it was a flawed one. Rather than getting the feather to float in front of him, at a consistent level, Flynn could only mimic the effect by sending small bursts of magic into the feather, keeping it afloat simply by pushing it back up whenever it sunk down too low.

"Mr. Fredericton," Flitwick said, as he watched Flynn focus on trying to maintain his current attempt at the levitation spell. "Would you humour me and attempt to cast a few different spells that I have in mind?"

"Why?" Flynn asked, lowering his wand as the momentary loss of focus made his feather fall slowly to the floor.

"Humour me," Flitwick responded, before slowly taking out his wand from his robes. "It's called the knockback jinx. Technically, this as a jinx, it's not something that's included in my class's curriculum. Has Professor Quirrel demonstrated this spell for you at all in his classes?"

"No," Flynn said.

Flitwick sighed and raised his wand giving it a quick flourish and wordlessly levitating one of the student chairs closer and placing it gently on his desk. "While it would be unbecoming of me to criticize another teacher's class, I must say I'm a tad disappointed from what I've been hearing from my students about Professor Quirrel. I suppose the poor boy's never been the same since his visit to Romania, but always has been on the timid side," he said, before frowning and shaking his head slightly. "But enough pointless gossip. Spongify."

Flitwick tapped the chair in front of him with his wand, and though there was no immediate change in the chair, Flynn expected that if he touched the chair, his finger might sink into the magically softened material.

"Of course, that wasn't what I wished to demonstrate to you, Mr. Fredericton," Flitwick said, still with his wand held up in the air. "As you might guess from the name, the knockback jinx is one that can knock an object or a person backwards, and I didn't want to have to fix any furniture with this demonstration. I would also suggest that you clear the way Mr. Fredericton. As you may have remembered from my class on the softening charm, while this chair may be softer to the touch, it's still just as heavy as it was before, and I would prefer it if I didn't accidentally hit you with it."

When Flynn took a step back, Flitwick nodded but kept his wand trained on the softened chair.

"Unlike the other three spells that you've learned in my class, you'll find that the wand movement for this spell is much more forgiving. Most spells that are designed for combat are created in such a way that it allows for a wizard or witch to cast spells while they are moving and simple enough that multiple spells could be chained into one another. As such, the Knockback charm, which is designed to flip an opponent and push them away, only requires one to dip, raise, and thrust their wand forward in one smooth motion. Like so."

Flynn watched as Flitwick demonstrated the wand movement without actually casting the spell, repeating the movement several times, but changing the exact wand path each time.

"Each of the movements that I'm demonstrating now are all perfectly viable ways of casting the spell," Flitwick said, demonstrating odder and odder variations of the same movement. "Whether you're firing a spell from behind cover, laying flat on the floor, or any other position you can think of, spells that were designed for magical combat often share this trait of more flexible wandwork that can suit any sort of situation a magical combatant may find themselves in."

"The incantation for this spell, flipendo, follows a similar rule, in that neither the pronunciation or enunciation do not affect the quality of the spell to a significant degree," Flitwick said. "Similarly to the wandwork, many spells for magical combat are created with the intent of being usable in an environment where conditions may not be ideal. In magical combat, depending on how violent it is, a combatant may slur their words if they are exhausted, or they may grit their teeth in pain if they are injured, but combat spells are designed with that in mind, but don't be fooled into thinking that just because the wandwork and incantation are flexible, that combat spells are objectively easier to cast than their more delicate counterparts.

"Now, just as I've taught you in my other classes, the 'feeling' you have while casting spells also affects the quality of it, and I suppose it's not a difficult thing to assume that a spell designed for combat would require a more combative quality to your intent. While the knockback jinx may technically work with good wandwork and incantation alone without a strong intent behind it, it won't do much to push something as light as this chair unless the caster pours themselves into the spell, truly wanting more than anything to knock back their target."

Flitwick gave his wand a slight flourish, and thrust his wand forward in a sharp jab.

"Flipendo!" he shouted.

A colourless burst of light erupted from the end of Flitwick's wand, jumping from the tip and crashing into the chair. Immediately, the chair shot off towards the end of the classroom, bouncing off the wall and with its momentum being bled down, bounced a few times on the tables scattered around the room, before it fell on the floor.

Flitwick waved his wand and rearranged the desks that had been pushed out of their original places by the flying chair, before returning the flying chair back to the top of his desk.

"Would you care to try, Mr. Fredericton?" Flitwick asked.

Flynn answered by raising his wand at the chair. Despite Flitwick's insistence that the wand movements didn't need to be precise, the habit of practising his wand movements before he attempted to cast a spell had already been ingrained in him so he waved his wand at it slowly, practising Flitwick's down, up, and forward motion without actually casting the spell.

When Flynn felt his wand pulsing in response, he tried not to flinch in surprise. He stopped himself from pulling it up to his eyes to inspect it, not wanting Flitwick to get the idea that anything was wrong, but without even looking, Flynn had trouble believing that anything was wrong in the first place. While his wand pulsed even before he even put any magical energy behind it, it somehow felt more controlled than any spell that he'd cast so far. It was just... excited.

Flynn frowned, but couldn't help but feel the excitement bleed into him as his own body started to pulse with magic. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, as magic usually coursed through him whenever he prepared to cast a spell, but it felt different this time. It flowed freely between his body and his wand, rather than being stifled and choked out, and though his magic skirted around playfully at the tip of his wand, it didn't push against him, only silently and politely requesting to be let free.

With no reason to refuse, Flynn glared at the chair, imagining himself getting up and kicking it away so hard that it would hit the opposite wall of the classroom and burst through it. His magic swirled within him, coalescing at the tip of his wand in a whirlwind of excited energy.

Flynn thrust his wand forward and shouted.

"Flipendo!"

A loud crack of sound echoed in the room as magic burst from his wand tip, accompanied by a bright flash of light. Not expecting the amount of kickback that the spell would give, Flynn's arm flew up, nearly forcing his wand out of his hands entirely. Though he'd been aiming for the center of the chair, the unexpected recoil behind his spell threw off his aim, and the bolt of magic that erupted from his wand hit the chair at an angle, sending it spinning and flying violently backwards. Though the chair shot off at a relatively straight path, as soon as it the far wall, the violent spin behind it caused it to bounce around in chaotic directions, knocking over tables, chairs, and even shattering one of the wooden chandeliers that hung over the classroom, before Flitwick raised his wand and stopped it midair.

"I think that's enough of that," Flitwick said, with clear amusement in his voice as he set the chair down. "A rather impressive display, Mr. Fredericton."

Flynn blinked a few times, before he realized that Flitwick was even addressing him. "Sure," Flynn said, barely paying attention as he glanced between his wand and the utter chaos that his spell had caused in the classroom.

Flitwick chuckled softly before he waved his wand again, and the scattered furniture rearranged itself to how it had been before Flynn's spell, even fixing the broken chandelier with a flick of his wrist.

"The mending charm, as I'm currently demonstrating, is also a charm that you'll come to learn in my class, Mr. Fredericton," Flitwick said, as the last of the scattered wood chips merged seamlessly back into the chandelier. "But that is for another time. While I may not have taught you a spell that will affect your grades in my class directly, and I'm afraid that we don't have much more time to go over class material today, I hope you leave this room with a renewed sense of confidence, Mr. Fredericton. You are here for a reason."

Flynn nodded dumbly, still staring at his wand. "Sure," he said.

"Before I formally dismiss you, would you like to hear a secret of mine?" Flitwick asked.

"Sure," Flynn said.

Flitwick gave Flynn a wide smile.

"I was horrible at charms when I first started to learn magic," Flitwick said. "It was by far my worst subject, but after years of trying, something just clicked within me at a certain point and I shot up to the top of my class within a year. Luckily for me, that was the year I took my OWLs. I wasn't sure if my Charms Professor was proud or furious."

Though he wasn't sure of what the exact message that Flitwick wanted to impart was, Flynn could understand the general sentiment behind it. "Okay," he said, with a nod.

Flitwick laughed again, before waving Flynn away.

"Run along now, Mr. Fredericton," Flitwick said. "I've got my meeting to prepare for. I'll speak with you later on the specifics of our arrangement, either after one of our classes together, or by owl."

"Okay," Flynn said, with a nod.

"Have a good rest of your evening, Mr. Fredericton," Flitwick said, with a smile.

Flynn nodded back, and turned around to leave.

Once he was out, he immediately started to walk as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself. Once he had gotten to a secluded enough section of the castle that he was sure that nobody was watching him, he broke out into a sprint towards one of the abandoned classrooms that he had discovered during his walks, and locked the door behind him once he got inside.

He wasn't sure if anyone could hear him flinging around chairs and tables in the abandoned classroom, but he quickly found that he didn't care. Even after he casted enough spells, shouting until his voice was sore, the rush of adrenaline refused to leave him completely, leaving him panting in the middle of a pile of wood chips.

With not much more to throw around, but with his excitement refusing to quell, he dropped down into a low stance and started to shadowbox. Though it felt a little lacking, without anything to actually hit, it would have to do.

---

Flynn had never particularly enjoyed the holidays. Though he had once looked forward to Christmas and Halloween a bit more when he was younger, his enjoyment of the holidays faded with age, once the donated sweaters that the orphanage always got at Christmas started to get too small for him to wear, and after he met Tom and Jones and they forced him to stop pickpocketing drunk partygoers at Halloween, the utility of the holidays faded away completely.

As Halloween approached Hogwarts, Flynn wasn't impressed enough by the decorations and costumes that came with it to spontaneously develop a love for the holiday. By the time that the Halloween Feast rolled around, Flynn hadn't improved his opinion of the holiday at all, despite Lily's efforts.

Eating dinner out of his pockets wasn't an uncommon affair for Flynn, and eating alone in the halls on October 31 wasn't any different just because other people arbitrarily decided it was a special day. If anything, the Halloween feast just made him want to avoid the Great Hall even more than usual, with how obnoxiously loud it had been when he passed by it.

Finding a secluded spot in the halls instead, Flynn ate his food in peace, though he couldn't help but glare angrily down at the Halloween-themed sandwiches that the Hogwarts plates had given him earlier that day. Though a small part of him was annoyed by the idea that he was being forced to partake in the holiday against his will, the sight of the plates being clearly disappointed when he tried to refused him annoyed him more than the holiday itself, and regardless of whatever they used to dye the food and colour in little pictures of bats on the bread, it was still tasty enough that he couldn't complain.

But he still grumbled a little.

Flynn was halfway through a sandwich, when he nearly spat out what was in his mouth. Grimacing and with a bit of trouble, he swallowed the rest of the bite that he'd already taken, before wrapping up the rest of his sandwich and throwing it into his pockets.

Flynn grabbed his nose to give him a moment of reprieve from the foul stench that had suddenly assaulted him, but let go of his nose a moment later. Flynn wasn't a stranger to nasty smells, and knew that it was usually better to get used to it if he wasn't absolutely confident that he could avoid it.

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Though he hadn't been a victim of Peeves or the Weasley pranksters yet, living in Hogwarts meant that he was at least aware of them. He considered turning around and walking where he came from, but with how suddenly the smell had crept up on him, it was difficult to tell where exactly it was coming from.

Still grimacing at the smell, Flynn chose a general direction and started to walk, hoping that he wouldn't run into any annoyances along the way.

He walked along the halls, annoyed by how the smell only seemed to get stronger as he walked down the halls, but annoyance turned into caution when he heard the shuffling of something big.

Quickly, Flynn opened a door to an abandoned classroom and snuck inside, right as a lumbering creature turned the corner. Flynn narrowed his eyes through the crack that he left open, analysing the creature that passed by. Twelve feet tall, with gray skin and muscles that were thick and lumpy to the point of being grotesque, dragging a club on the floor that was nearly as large as Flynn was tall. Flynn couldn't identify the creature, but with the way that it casually took bits of stone off the walls as it stumbled into them in a daze, it was easy to tell that this thing was dangerous.

Flynn didn't dare to breathe as the creature passed by him, and after a few minutes of waiting, he opened the door.

With a quick and careful glance, he confirmed that the coast was clear, but before he could take a single step out of the room, he heard a high pitched shriek echoing through the walls, in the direction that the creature had lumbered off towards.

Flynn frowned, and started to jog towards the sound of the scream, drawing his wand and feeling his magic pulsing through it in time with his quickening heartbeat. Of course, he definitely wasn't running towards the scream with any intention of anybody that was stupid enough to get caught unawares by something that announced its presence so openly with its smell, but he had been itching for a proper fight for a long time now, and he could only hope that the creature would give him one.

Though he had no idea what the precedent for fighting a magical creature was in Hogwarts's rules, he doubted that he would get into any trouble if he was doing it for the "valiant act" of saving a dumb girl who didn't know sense.

Running down the hallway in a dead sprint, Flynn followed the trail of bits of broken rubble that the creature had made, until he heard the sounds of a panicked conversation just around the corner. When he rounded it, Flynn's eyes narrowed when he recognized Harry and Ron, as they seemed to be desperately trying to open a door, fiddling with a key as another scream rang out from behind the door.

Not caring enough about what the exact context was, Flynn pointed his wand at the door and shouted out.

"Move!"

Harry and Ron both turned around with a look of both surprise and guilt as they finally registered his presence, right before their eyes widened at the sight of his raised wand. As soon as they started to scramble backwards, Flynn flourished his wand and stabbed it forward.

"Flipendo!" he shouted.

A burst of light erupted from the end of Flynn's wand, hitting the door and blasting it off its hinges. There was a heavy thud and a dull grunt, as the creature inside grabbed the back of its head with both hands, rubbing it slightly before turning around to search blearily for its attacker.

"Hermione!" Harry gasped. "Confuse the troll! I'll get her."

Flynn frowned as Harry rushed inside the washroom towards the frightened bushy haired girl that was cowering at the far end of the bathroom, confused about what Harry was hoping to achieve by trapping himself inside the room with the troll. Thankfully, the troll seemed just as confused by the small boy's decision as it blankly followed Harry's reckless charge with its eyes before a metal pipe hit its head.

"Oy, pea-brain!" Ron shouted, lifting a small chunk of a porcelain sink that the troll had torn from the wall. "Over here!"

Though the troll didn't seem like it had even noticed the metal pipe hitting it, choosing to continue to rub the spot that Flynn's spell had launched a door into it, it still turned to Ron with a glare in its eyes, rubbing its head with more vigour as if it thought that Ron was responsible for the hit to its head.

Flynn glared at Ron as well, before he raised his wand towards the troll.

"Flipendo!" he shouted.

Another burst of magical light erupted from Flynn's wand, hitting the troll square in the chest. Flynn's eyes widened when the light seemed to sink into the troll's flesh, sparking for a moment, before dissipating harmlessly over its skin. The troll grunted in more annoyance than pain, stumbling back half a step but otherwise being unaffected.

Flynn grimaced at the sight, having expected his spells to do at least a little more damage to the troll. The creature in question grimaced back at him, and let out a low huff, before lifting its head and letting out a loud bellow.

Flynn winced at the rush or hot breath that washed over him and narrowed his eyes against the rancid breath that threatened to blind him with how badly it made his eyes water. Even before the troll made its first heavy step, making the entire bathroom shake around them, it was obvious to Flynn that he would need to keep his distance from the creature, but with the reduced effectiveness of his spells, he wasn't sure if he would be able to keep the creature away if a full powered knockback jinx could only make it stumble.

With how much he'd practised the spell, he knew for a fact that he should've been able to at least knock something of the troll's size over, at the very least, but the way that the spell had fizzled into the troll's flesh made him think that there was something else at play here.

Rather than try to piece together why the troll didn't seem affected by his spells, Flynn threw away the idea of jinxing the troll altogether, instead glancing around at the various pieces of debris scattered all over the floor, knowing that regardless of what protection it might have against magic, he doubted that the troll could ignore the laws of physics. There was the issue that Flynn would have trouble launching the pieces of debris from the floor, since he could only shoot them in a straight line, but when he saw the red-headed boy, staring wide eyed in fear at the roaring troll, he got an idea.

"Ron!" he shouted, pointing at a sink that was lying in front of him. "Use the Levitation spell!"

"What?" Ron asked, before wincing when the troll took another step in their direction.

Grimacing, Flynn knelt down to pick up a small rock, and heaved it at the troll's eyes. Though his throw hadn't been accurate in the slightest, the troll raised its hands to cover his face.

"I'm going to blast stuff at it," Flynn shouted, talking as simply as he possibly could. "Aim for me."

It took a few more throws for Ron to seem to understand what Flynn wanted, and with a shaky nod, Ron pulled out his wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Ron shouted.

Though the sink that floated up in front of Flynn was shaky at best, it was still much better than what Flynn would've been able to do himself. Once it was high enough, Flynn ducked down slightly to get a better angle towards the troll's face and stabbed his wand forward.

"Flipendo!"

There was a violent burst of light and sound, followed by the whistle of wind as the sink shot forward like a bullet.

The troll blinked a few times as it seemed to struggle to understand what had just happened, but Flynn grunted in annoyance at the near miss.

"Raise it higher!" Flynn shouted. "I can't aim when you put them so low."

"Hey! I'm trying my best!" Ron shouted back, before he levitated another sink up into the air, a little higher than he did the last.

Flynn sent the sink flying towards the troll's face, successfully hitting it in the jaw this time. It let out a low bellow of pain as it winced back, taking a few steps back before covering its face.

"Don't let up, Ron!" Flynn shouted. "Give me more."

"Yeah, okay," Ron said in an annoyed voice that made it clear that he wasn't exactly happy with Flynn's orders, but didn't have much breath to spare that wasn't reserved for spellcasting.

With each piece of rubble and porcelain that Ron lifted up in the air, Flynn fired it off almost instantly, not wanting to give the troll any time to recover. Not having recovered from the first hit, it stopped trying to walk forward, instead focusing on covering its head with its bulky arms, letting out low groans of pain whenever it was hit. Eventually, it started to stumble backwards, and behind it, Hermione seemed to finally snapped out of her frozen state of fear and let Harry pull her out of the way right before the troll fell against the wall.

"Keep going!" Flynn shouted.

"I am!" Ron shouted back, more annoyance starting to creep into his voice as he grew more confident.

With Ron's help, Flynn fired more and more pieces of rubble at the troll, as it curled up further and further into its own arms, whining in pain as it tried to make itself as small as it possibly could. Flynn gritted his teeth and continued to fire, but after sending a small chunk of rock into the troll's knee, making it cry out in pain, Flynn frowned when ammunition stopped floating in front of him.

"What the fuck are you doing, Ron?" He growled. "Keep levitating more shit to blast at it."

Ron winced, but refused to raise his wand.

"Mate," he said. "Don't you think that's enough? I'm starting to feel bad for the big lug."

Flynn glanced back at the troll, still curled up in a ball despite not having anything flying in its direction and scowled at it.

"We need to make sure it can't move anymore," Flynn said. "Don't just fucking stand around. Help me take this ugly fuck down."

Ron winced, but after a moment of thought, frowned and glowered at Flynn.

"Do it yourself," Ron said. "We've beaten it already. Hermione's safe. Let's just get out of here."

Flynn glared at the shorter boy for a moment, but didn't hold the glare for long, not wanting to keep his eyes away from the simpering troll for long.

"Fine," Flynn said. "I'll do it myself."

Not wanting to attempt a levitation spell when he knew it wouldn't be likely to succeed, Flynn knelt down to pick up a bowling ball sized chunk of rubble and tossed it into the air.

"Flipendo!"

It hit the ball, but without an easy way to aim, it just barely missed, hitting the wall right above the troll's head. Though the troll had its eyes covered, the sharp sound made it cry out in shock. Frowning, Flynn picked up another rock and tried again, hitting the troll's side this time. Flynn sent about five more pieces of rubble flying towards the troll, with varying degrees of success, before he noticed a large pane of mirror glass that had been knocked out of its place and was lying on the floor.

Reaching down, he gingerly picked it up, making sure not to cut himself against it, and threw it at the troll. While his throw was strong enough that the mirror landed against the troll's leg, it didn't do anything to harm it, but thankfully that hadn't been Flynn's goal. With how carefully he had to handle the glass pane with both hands, he hadn't had the time to try and shoot it out of the air, but with the glass conveniently lying against the troll's leg, Flynn took out his wand and pointed it at the glass.

"Flipendo!"

There was a loud crash of shattering glass, accompanied by a surprised shriek from Hermione and a loud bellow of pain from the troll as shards of glass shot into its skin. Flynn raised his wand, intending to send the glass even deeper, but he frowned when a small boy stepped in front of him.

"Stop it," Harry said, staring defiantly up at him.

"You fucking idiot," Flynn growled. "Move out of the way if you don't want to get hurt."

Harry glared up at him, and shook his head.

"Can't you see it's given up?" Harry asked. "Let's just leave before any teachers come. We're not supposed to be out here."

"You want me to leave?" Flynn asked, glowering down at the smaller boy. "Fucking make me."

Though Harry's confidence seemed to deflate somewhat under Flynn's glare, the smaller boy refused to move or even look away. Harry kept his eyes fixed on Flynn as he spoke darkly under his breath.

"I hate people like you," Harry said. "I hate people that bully others just because they can."

"Are you fucking stupid?" Flynn asked, more offended by Harry's lack of sense than he was by the accusation against his character. "You think I'm doing this for fucking fun? I thought you, of all fucking people, should understand what's fucking necessary to-"

"LOOK OUT!"

Without any time to look up from Harry to try and identify the threat, the only thing that Flynn could do was to brace himself, tensing up and raising his arms to protect himself against the unknown threat before something hit Harry from behind, sending him crashing violently into Flynn. Something heavy bounced against the arm that he was using to protect his temple as Flynn fell backwards, and the wind was knocked out of him as he fell hard on his back.

Flynn tried to scrabble up, but with Harry's body pinning him down, and through the breathless dizziness he felt, he could barely roll over. Someone screamed something, but he couldn't tell what was said as he struggled to lift his head high enough to look around and try to figure out what had just happened.

When he saw the troll getting up, sending a dopey grin in his direction while picking out glass shards from its leg, he groaned.

He groaned again when he noticed the wounds troll's wounds disappearing quickly after the glass shards were pulled out, like its flesh was knitting itself closed, finally remembering what Ollivander had once said about his wand.

"The trolls of old were renowned by their regenerative abilities, to the point where they could regrow heads and organs if you did not set them on fire or destroy their heart directly."

Or something like that.

As the floor shook underneath him, Flynn had trouble understanding what was going on at first, but when the floor shook a second time, Flynn realised that the troll was walking towards them.

"Fuck," he said, as he pushed Harry's body off of him. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

Flynn managed to push himself to his feet, but wobbled in place as he struggled to stay on them. In front of him, he saw a few vague blurs in the corner of his vision, of Ron and Hermione rushing over and placing themselves in between the troll and Harry's unconscious body, but he ignored them as he aimed over their heads.

"Flipendo!"

A burst of light erupted from his wand and hit the troll square in the chest, but other than a slight grimace, its only other reaction was to smile and continue walking.

In front of him, he saw Ron and Hermione firing off a few spells of their own, but though the burst of fire that erupted from Hermione's wand seemed to make the troll flinch back, it otherwise continued to walk forward.

Flynn groaned and raised his wand to fire off another knockback jinx, before a pair of suits of armour flew directly over Flynn's head and crashed violently into the troll. With a look of dumb surprise on its face, the troll grabbed at its two sudden assailants, smashing them together successfully, but recoiled back further when a spout of flame erupted from the floor in front of it.

Flynn blinked a few times, wondering for a moment whether it was Ron or Hermione that was responsible for the fire, before he heard a shout from behind him.

Turning around, he saw the familiar figures of McGonagall and Snape thrusting their wands forward at the troll, while Quirrel stood nervously behind them. Though Snape seemed to be responsible for the fire, McGonagall quickly twirled her wand, and the two suits of armour that she controlled disassembled themselves and the individual parts clasped themselves around the limbs of the troll, forcing them together and sending it toppling to the ground.

Though he couldn't hear it, Flynn could easily see from the distorted expression on the troll's face as it feigned another cry, but Snape quickly approached it, tapping his wand on the troll's forehead once before the creature's face went slack in instant unconsciousness.

Flynn frowned as a stretcher appeared out of nowhere and tried to knock his legs out from under him. Kicking it to the side, he started to walk away.

McGonagall shouted something that he couldn't quite understand, and he glared at her in response.

"I'm fine," he said, though he wasn't sure how slurred his voice actually sounded relative to what he heard. "I'm going to bed. I'm fucking tired."

He heard something else being shouted at him, before he felt an invisible force knock his legs out from underneath him. Flynn scrambled for purchase as he was laid back, but found none, except for the stretcher that floated underneath him to catch him.

"Let go of me, you old bitch!" Flynn shouted.

He didn't know if he had said anything actually intelligible, but regardless, nobody seemed to listen as he was floated away against his will.

He didn't know how long he'd floated for, or if he'd been conscious for that entire time, but eventually he came to a sudden, but gentle stop in the air.

There was a long moment of pause, as Flynn used the apparent distraction to try and struggle out of the stretcher, before another invisible force took hold of him and placed him on his feet on the floor.

As Flynn blinked blearily at the sight of Flitwick, smiling up at him with his hands folded in front of him, Flitwick paused for a moment before he slowly drew his wand from his robes and pointed it at Flynn.

Though a flash of panic coursed through Flynn, the inquiring look on Flitwick's face gave Flynn enough pause to realise that Flitwick was silently asking for permission.

Flynn glared down at the man for a few long seconds, waiting for Flitwick's calm demeanour to crack. When it never did, Flynn gave Flitwick a slow and cautious nod.

Flitwick nodded, and said something that Flynn couldn't quite understand, before reaching up to tap Flynn's forehead with his wand.

"Can you hear me now, Mr. Fredericton?" Flitwick asked.

Flynn frowned, barely having realized that he had lost his hearing in the first place.

"Yeah," he said, frowning when he heard the slight slur in his voice. "I can."

"I'm glad to hear it," Flitwick said, with a serious nod. "Now I'll be frank with you, Mr. Fredericton. I may have used a simple healing charm on you, but I would not call myself a practitioner of healing magic. I dare say you've received enough damage that it's beyond my own capabilities, but I doubt it would be a problem for our resident healer, Madam Pomfrey. She is quite good, the best in the country, and I'm sure she'd take good care of you if you're willing to go to the infirmary."

Flynn glared down at Flitwick, but he found that he couldn't summon any heat to it.

"Fine," he said.

Despite how Flynn practically spat out the word, Flitwick nodded and smiled up at him.

"Excellent," Flitwick said. "Will you be able to follow me, or would you like to be brought to the infirmary in a stretcher?"

"Fuck off," Flynn said. "I can walk on my own."

"Once again, I must insist that you at least try to control your language somewhat, Mr. Fredericton," Flitwick said. "Though I won't be taking off any points for it at this moment, seeing as you are no doubt suffering the effects of a concussion. I myself, tend to get a little potty mouthed whenever I suffer a head injury, though I'm not sure if Professor McGonagall full accepted that excuse or not."

"The old bitch deserved it," Flynn grumbled.

"She was concerned for you," Flitwick replied easily. "With one of her students having been knocked unconscious, she was concerned that you would also collapse in an unknown part of the castle if you were left unattended."

Even if he had a reply to that, the thought failed to form completely in his mind and fizzled out, escaping his mouth in an unintelligible grumble.

Flitwick nodded, as if Flynn had made a poignant comment that he agreed with, but said nothing as he headed down the hallway, his shoes tapping rapidly against the floor as his short legs made double time to set a good pace.

Flynn followed Flitwick silently.

"So the boy who did fuck all's unconscious?"

Flitwick frowned, but seemed to decide that it was a battle not worth fighting at the moment.

"Mr. Potter is indeed unconscious," Flitwick said. "But rest assured, he will be fine. As I said, Madam Pomfrey is an excellent Healer. "

"What about the other two idiots?" Flynn asked.

"Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger were relatively unharmed thanks to your actions," Flitwick said, with a smile. "I'm sure they're very grateful for what you did for them."

"They can be grateful by trying to kill themselves in a place that's not as inconvenient for me," Flynn said, with a scowl. "Fucking idiots can save themselves next time."

There was a short silence, before Flynn glanced down at Flitwick, who was staring up at him with a raised eyebrow and an thoughtful look in his eye. A sudden flash of heat entered Flynn's face, though he wasn't sure why.

"The fuck are you looking at?" Flynn growled.

"Oh, nothing," Flitwick said, though he didn't look away. "I'm just thinking that I might be getting closer to understanding you a little bit better, Mr. Fredericton."

"Fuck off," Flynn snapped.

---

Madam Pomfrey turned out to be an amazing Healer, though he couldn't be sure whether Flitwick's praise of her had been genuine, since he had nobody else to compare her skills to, but with how instantly and casually Madam Pomfrey was able to clear his head and make the bruises over his body disappear with a quick inspection and a single tap of her wand, he couldn't help but silently marvel at the experience.

It was enough that when Pomfrey insisted that he stay at the infirmary overnight, despite feeling perfectly fine, he didn't argue against her, since she clearly knew what she was doing.

Thankfully, she at least let him pick the bed that he would be staying on, and though only one of the other beds being occupied, he chose a spot in the room that was as far away from the boy who did fuck all as possible, while still choosing a place that had a clear view of all the entrances to the room.

With how empty the infirmary was, it was easy to eavesdrop on the quick conversation that Pomfrey had with both Hermione and Ron, and despite their insistence that they stay by Harry's side, Pomfrey had been quick to kick them out, stating that the only way that they would be allowed to stay in the infirmary would be if they were sick or injured. Though Ron hadn't seemed to understand the implied threat that Pomfrey would inflict both on them if they tried to stay any longer, Hermione got the hint and dragged Ron out.

"I'm leaving a slowing draught beside your bed for the night," Pomfrey said. "I assume that you won't need it, but if you get even the slightest hint of a headache, drink the whole thing and ring the bell that's right beside it. I'll come running right over."

"What does it do?" Flynn asked, suspicious of the grey-ish liquid that swirled inside its vial despite nothing touching it.

"It relaxes your brain," Pomfrey said frankly. "It slows down everything that goes on in there, including anything that might be causing damage to it. The feeling can be addicting if the draught is used improperly, so if I see that it's missing or if you've drunk any without actually needing it, I'll be doing everything in my power to make sure that you're kicked out of this school, got it?"

The idea of drugs had never appealed to him, and the crackheads he'd seen in Fredericton, drowning in their own piss after a particularly bad drug binge, only ever made the idea less appealing. Though Pomfrey said that last part almost monotonously, like she had repeated the same warning enough times that it was an automatic process, Flynn nodded without any argument.

"Good," Pomfrey said, giving her own nod in response. "Now go to sleep. It's a late night for all of us, and I expect to give you a clean bill of health tomorrow. You may still be excused from classes for tomorrow, if you believe that you need a moment to recuperate emotionally, but it won't be a free day for you. You'll be expected to report to your Head of House for any tasks they might have for you, if you do decide that you'll need a moment away from your peers. But that's something you'll have to decide tomorrow."

Flynn nodded without argument, and with nothing else to say, Pomfrey left the room, presumably to go to sleep herself, leaving Flynn alone in the large infirmary with an unconscious Harry Potter at the other side of the room.

He glared in the direction of the boy who did fuck all, until he felt sleep slowly take him.