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Resolve

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October 9, 1990, 1:09 PM, History of Magic Classroom

"The Goblin Rebellion of 1890, led by Ranrok, and assisted by Victor Rookwood…" I threw Binns' dreary voice to the back of my mind. The content of the subject was something I could learn in my spare time. Binns, for all of his passion, was a horrible teacher.

Looking around, I noticed that pretty much the entire class was either staring into space, asleep, or having muted conversations. The lecture itself only served to make me feel drowsy and disinterested— and the environment certainly didn't help.

The room was insufferably warm, and when coupled with Binns voice, it was a no-brainer as to why so many people were asleep during his lessons. I imagined that a little over a dozen children with the cumulative attention span of a gang of squirrels would find it far harder to focus than I did.

But Binns didn't seem to notice it— either that, or he didn't care. He seemed to be far more concerned with lecturing us on who started which rebellion and why the Goblins ultimately lost.

I scoffed at the idea. The Goblins weren't the ones who lost, it was us wizards. Even if the wizards had them beat, the Goblins decided to retreat only after taking control of our money. If anyone were to ask me, I would say that it was the Goblins who truly won those wars.

'I wonder why Binns is still around anyways. I doubt it's because he enjoys teaching, the man's more concerned with who started what to kick off the one-millionth Goblin Rebellion.'

Personally, I thought it was the latter. It was pretty much the sole reason for his prolonged existence in the world— though for the life of me, I couldn't understand his infatuation with the Goblin Rebellions.

Slipping my notebook above my textbook, I flicked to the section titled 'Combat Spells' and held the textbook up to hide my more interesting pursuits.

The list of spells was short—consisting of the Shield Charm and a few other spells that I would not even dare to attempt for quite some time—and the note written just below it filled me with disappointment.

'Shield Charm: Protego. Wand Movement: vertical line, straight downwards.' I skimmed down to the part that detailed my attempts.

'I've spent a good week and a half practising this spell and so far, all attempts at it have been underwhelming. Though I'm able to conjure a shield, it is of poor quality and is unable to stand even a single sufficiently powered Knockback Jinx.'

I honestly didn't know where I went wrong. I knew that I'd used enough magic to power the spell and made sure the wand movement and incantation was flawless. And although my intent was somewhat lacking, it should have at the very least been enough to create a pretty substantial shield.

Evidently, that didn't seem to be the case. 'Is there something wrong with me?'

Frowning, I felt the worn textbook cover flake underneath the frustrated rubbing of my index finger. Honestly, I was well-aware that my resolve was shallow. It was one born out of fickle interest, at best. No matter how much I tried to mask it underneath something else, at the heart of the matter, I knew that to be the absolute and irrefutable truth.

The fact that I'd never been in a life-threatening situation before certainly didn't help matters either. Now, I wasn't one who would throw myself into a do or die situation in order to achieve some kind of goal that wasn't even guaranteed, but I realised the benefit that having a stronger mentality would bring.

'Though I also have time to build that kind of mindset.' I thought, balancing my pen between the tip of my index finger and knuckle.

'I doubt that Lyst could make the room hyper-realistic anyways.' after months of conversing with the room, its lack of a name had worn thin and I had decided on Lyst— much to its delight.

'Wait…' blinking, I set down the textbook and returned my notebook to the safety of my robe.

'Hold on, Lyst's capabilities were never truly explored in the canon,' I thought. 'Doesn't that mean that it could possibly act as an augmented reality room?'

I began to smile, wanting nothing more than to shoot out of the room and test out my theory. Unfortunately, there were limits to Binns' lax attitude— he was, after all, a professor. It wasn't like I could storm out of the lesson.

I gritted my teeth in annoyance but stayed seated. Instead scanning the room over in a bid to kill some time. Tapping my foot against the floor, my gaze flitted between the clock, and Binns' ethereal figure. His flat and emotionless voice managed to somehow stretch out his already lengthy lecture by astronomical proportions.

But after what seemed like an eternity later, the lesson had finally ended.

"Wh-!" Katie sputtered as I dashed down the corridor at breakneck speeds. "Asim! Where are you going?!"

"I'll meet you at the library!" I yelled over my shoulder, not slowing down. "Just need to get something first!"

I soared up flights of stairs, sprinted across corridors and passages until finally, I stood in front of the Room of Requirement. I had made sure to do so under the cover of stealth— shortly after breaking away from Katie, I ran straight to an alcove.

'It wouldn't be fun if I exposed myself in my excitement, after all.'

I closed the door behind me, not bothering to remove anything besides my bag.

"Hey Lyst," I called out. My voice was light but conveyed my excitement well enough. "Do you think you could recreate a place from my memories?"

At my question, a stoned dais rose from the ground— though it was really the article atop it that had stolen my breath away.

It sat there, adorned in shimmering gold with silver patterns and runes dancing across its stem and partly along the bowl. A small ruby was lodged at its base, twinkling with an enchanting lustre. Within its depths sat a phantasmic cloudy substance; not quite gaseous, but not quite liquid either. It was somewhere in between.

I knew in an instant what it was, and I'd have to be a damned fool not to.

It was a Chalice of Memories— a Pensieve. An artefact of unimaginable usefulness that allowed one to review the memories of an event from an outside perspective.

The former psychology student within me scoffed at such a claim. I knew, better than most, that memories were malleable and unreliable. The more one pondered on them, the more they changed. In the most severe cases, key features of the memory could change just from one's own thoughts, let alone discussion with another person.

Still, the appearance of the Pensieve didn't answer my question.

"Lyst…" I trailed off, circling around the Pensieve. Peering over its rim, I stared at the shimmering substance held within it. "How is this supposed to help me?"

The walls glowed a mocking purple and I felt the burn of shame for something I still failed to comprehend. After gazing upon a series of letters and a drawn demonstration upon the chalkboard, I'd finally grasped what Lyst had been asking me to do.

Holding my wand to my temple, I paused, and lowered my arm. I realised, somewhere along the way, that I had no idea how to extract my memories.

'Wait,' I thought, my curiosity resurfacing. 'Why is it called memory extraction when in actuality, we're copying the memory to view at a later date. It's not like we forget the memory now that it's in floaty form.'

I batted the thought aside, or more accurately, put a pin in it to follow up on later.

"So, how am I supposed to put the memory into the Pensieve?"

I watched a drawn tutorial on the chalkboard, and thanks to Lyst's superb artistic ability, I had learnt that it was as simple as thinking of the moment in question and envisioning myself pulling it out of my head— almost like reeling in a fish.

An odd, but not uncomfortable, few moments later, I managed to extract the memory. It was a wispy silver thing that flowed in the air. I restrained the urge to prod it with my finger and moved my wand towards the Pensieve.

With a few taps of my wand against the chalice's rim, the memory had been dislodged from its tip and sank into the cloud-like liquid. The not-quite-liquid rippled, and I saw the glimpse of something familiar from within its depths before the podium suddenly shot back into the ground.

"Hey!" I cried, stepping backwards. "I thought I saw something in there!"

The room gave me no reply, and instead, my surroundings began to fade, plunging my vision into pitch darkness.

Once the change had subsided, I stood in the middle of a road, surrounded on both sides by rows of parked but abandoned cars.

The sky was a dreary grey, the air humid. It stuck to my skin, claggy and suffocating, and the terraced houses seemed dead. They stood tall, yet somehow looked strangely lonely. 'Wait, isn't this…'

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Wandering down the street, I peered around the street's curb and down many foreboding alleyways. All of which were the same as the rest of the area— abandoned.

A puddle sloshed against the hem of my robe. I hissed in annoyance, hiking it up my ankles and stalking forward. 'I've not missed this place at all…'

The crunching of gravel sounded from behind me, and my heart thundered against my ribs. Taking cover behind a car, I felt the coils of fear beginning to set in.

It took great effort on my part to not give into them. I was sick and tired of flinching at everything that moved.

If I were to make something of myself, live up to the mantle of Dragonborn, then I'd have to grow a damn pair.

Hazarding a look around the car, I spotted a dark-robed figure slinking around the end of the road. At their nape, the robe extended into a hood that hung low over their face, obscuring their features from view.

I swallowed apprehensively and shot a furtive look to my left, measuring the distance between myself, and the entrance to the alleyway.

Biting down on my lip, I slowly edged around the car and leapt into the alleyway, scrambling behind a wall.

"Why is there a person here?!" I half-shouted. The fear that I had so furiously repressed had finally sprung up with a vengeance.

And I detested every moment of it. The chattering of my teeth and the uncontrollable shaking of my legs. I brought down quivering fist after fist on my thighs in a bid to stop my legs from tremoring, but it was no use.

Instead, I flicked my wrist, and sought for the comfort of grasping my wand. It contacted my hand, a soothing warmth spreading across my entire body. It started from my wand hand and travelled across my person in pleasant hums and waves.

A few comforting moments later, I felt my mind clear of the fog-like fear that had previously occupied it. I was calm now— not the completely unfounded kind, but a more self-possessed sort of calm.

"Occultare." I muttered, tapping my wand on my head before flourishing it forwards. "Silencio Omnia."

I carefully trod through the alley, making sure to look around myself and stay aware of my surroundings at all times. With my wand in hand, I silently turned the corner, walking out onto the open road.

I looked around in search for the mystery figure, feeling my face pale slightly once I caught them staring right at me. And when they began to walk towards me—their walk turning into a sprint from the other side of the street—my cheeks had lost all blood.

'How the hell are they able to see me?!'

I still wasn't a hundred percent sure that I had been spotted, so I slowly moved to the side.

Their head followed my movements, their covered face looking all the more haunting underneath the shadow cast by their hood.

From within the folds of their robes, they drew a wand and flicked it in my direction. That was when I knew the game was up.

I took a large step to the side, stopping the two stealth spells.

I felt the back of my robe drag itself through a puddle, but there was no time for me to bother.

Circling around the figure, I looked for an opening— anything that I could use. The figure, for the most part, stood completely still. Only turning around to make sure that the front of their body was constantly facing me.

'Alright, enough with this farce!'

With gritted teeth, I stomped my foot down on the gravel and slashed my wand forwards. "Flipendo!"

An ivory blast raced towards the figure. I held my breath, hoping that it would do something, only for it to be batted aside as if it were no more than a mere… inconvenience.

A feral snarl rose from the depths of my throat, my fear burning to ashes. My wand grew hot in my hand, almost frighteningly so. "Incendio!"

The tarmac melted in the face of the searing flames that rolled towards the figure. This time, they were forced to move.

They broke out into a run. Surprisingly fast too. But not fast enough; the edge of their cloak was caught aflame. Though it was put out by a dismissive wave of their wand.

I clenched my jaw. What did they want with me? In fact, who were they? There shouldn't have been anyone in here but me.

"Oi!" I called out over the hissing and crackling of the flames. The flames had made quick work of the road. Small fires dotted the double yellow lines on either side of the pavement and the road itself was melted beyond recognition. "What do you want?!"

I wasn't dignified with a reply. Instead, I scampered backwards, hastily avoiding a purple blast that cut deep gashes into the concrete.

'That could've killed me!' I thought, going completely numb.

Nothing truly life-threatening had been thrown at me since coming here. The closest thing to being a genuine risk to my prolonged life in the world was at best, a Stunning Charm thrown at me by a dummy.

'But this…'

It was enough to momentarily draw me away from reality— until a sizzling sound brought me back.

My eyes snapped upwards, widening after locking onto the same purple spell as before.

I froze. The blazing indigo blast filling every recess of my mind.

Before I knew it, my wand arm had risen, and a single word tumbled out of my mouth. "Protego!"

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to dear Akatosh that it would be enough to save me from being decapitated by the spell.

A second passed. I heard nothing.

Then two. I could still feel my arms and fingers.

It was only after three that I opened my hesitant eyes and followed the shattered remains of my shield until they reached the floor, disappearing before they could even make contact.

I took a few shuddering steps backwards before tightening my grip over my wand.

"No!" I yelled. "No more! I'm sick and tired of being a weak, cowering bastard!"

And for the first time in both my lives, I stepped forwards. The figure froze, and titled its head quizzically, as if it were figuring out why on earth that I would do something so illogical.

To be honest, I wasn't sure myself. All I knew is that I'd had enough of always stepping back, always shirking from what I should have done, what I should have become, years ago.

And for once in my life, I chose to step forwards.

Each step emboldened me to take another, and soon I stood before the figure and stared it down without a shred of fear.

They were completely still yet managed to find a way to remain as intimidating as ever.

Thankfully that gave me the element of surprise.

Taking a deep breath, I braced myself for the ordeal that I was no doubt about to face. I closed my eyes and summoned to the surface of my mind what represented force.

It was pure, unbridled, and unstoppable. It was something so uncontrollable that one must truly understand what they're about to unleash when they speak, for the words are irrevocable once spoken.

It was something that left me drained and unable to walk straight. But not this time. Because this time, it was my weapon to wield.

I opened my mouth and barked out a single word. "FUS!"

With a thunderous blast, my voice summoned gusts of wind that howled and roared. The figure stumbled and was sent tumbling backwards until it smacked against the curb, recoiling from the connection.

Weak-willed I may be, but I knew a chance when I saw one.

Not wasting a moment more, I twirled my wand in arc before spinning on my heel and lashing my arm outwards one final time. "Diffindo!"

The space before me rippled, forming a pale blade that cut through the very air and shot towards the figure.

I made sure to keep my gaze fastened onto the spell, readying myself to act in case it failed.

The figure struggled upwards, not noticing the spell until it was far too late.

Finally, I allowed myself to release a breath of air that I had no idea I'd been withholding.

The blade sliced straight through its neck, sending its head soaring high into the sky.

I slumped to the floor, releasing an audible sigh of relief. I hadn't noticed it before, but I was completely drenched in sweat.

The ordeal wasn't too physically taxing, or at least, not as physically taxing as it was mental.

For a few moments, I sat on the damp pavement and breathed in the humid air, simply content to bathe in the adrenaline rush that my victory had provided.

My surroundings began to fade away. This time, however, I was too tired to care— far too zoned out to deal with anything besides walking.

That was until I found myself back in the familiar training hall of the Room of Requirement. I instantly shot to my feet with a fury great enough to swallow the world.

"What the fuck happened, Lyst?!" I yelled; my voice hoarse. "The hell was that back there?"

Then I looked down and took in the sight of the mysterious shrouded figure. Thanks to its impromptu execution, I was finally able to get a good look at who, or more accurately what, the figure was.

Its limbs were gangly and sylvan, and its severed head was smooth and featureless. The figure that I had fought was none other than a training dummy.

Granted, it was far more powerful than the ones I used to train with, but that was more so because I limited them to being a little stronger than myself.

'Well, that, and you never use shouts during combat training.'

That was something I would rectify, that much was for sure. If anything, today's events had shown me that incorporating shouts into my fighting style would be the most beneficial. So long as I was in the Room of Requirement, I was guaranteed safety from those who would seek to do me harm.

Staring blankly at the sight, I fumbled for words, my anger, betrayal, and sheer indignation slowly building up until it reached its peak.

"What the actual fuck!?" I roared. "You threw me into a street from my memories, that much I can understand!"

I paused for breath, my anger burning like a raging white-hot flame in my chest. "But you placed a fucking dummy there that could very well have killed me!? What in the name of Akatosh were you thinking, huh?!"

Lyst's walls flushed in a shamed mix between red and purple, but I was far too pissed to care.

"Did it not occur to you that I could have died?!" my throat burned with every word. I gasped for air, my pulse thundering in my head.

A few moments later I spoke in a much calmer voice, though I was still plenty angry. "I get that this was necessary. It helped me in ways that I can't put into words…"

I stopped, noticing the walls shift from a guilty magenta to its usual prideful violet.

"No, no, no!" I would not have Lyst think that what happened was a good thing. "What you did was foolish! It was brash! And most of all, it was done from a place of love."

I paused, letting my words truly sink in. "But just because you do what you think is best for me, doesn't mean that it's truly what is best for me."

The room's walls turned a deep, sad, but understanding blue— good, my point was clear.

Sighing, I removed everything but my shirt and trousers and lay on the couch. The rhythmic inhale and exhale of my breath filtered through my ears.

My pulse beat in my head like a drum, and my eyes slowly began to close— I could feel the drag of my consciousness as it begged to be freed from the world for a time.

'Thankfully I'm done for the day.'

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Well that's Chapter 10. Asim has finally found it within himself to be courageous. I hope it didn't feel superficial, otherwise the last… say 9 chapters would be for naught. If you felt even a bit psyched reading this, then I've done my job. Hope you all enjoyed and until next week, stay on your toes!

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