This's the Long Date Chapter. If you wish to skip the full date, read Ch281 - Cabinet!
---
Hogsmeade was already glowing by the time they left the castle. Bathsheda stopped him halfway down the path.
"Hold still."
She reached up and straightened his collar anyway. Smoothed the front of his coat. Tugged the fabric down where it had bunched at his shoulder.
Cassian stood there, enduring it, hands hovering uselessly at his sides.
"I feel like a dressed-up child waiting for guests," he muttered.
"You look like a professor who owns three shirts," she replied.
He reached up to fix the cuff she'd just adjusted. "I own four. Thanks."
She swatted his hand away.
"Stop undoing my work."
"I wasn't undoing. I was refining."
"You were fiddling."
He narrowed his eyes at her.
She smiled and stepped back to inspect him. "There. Acceptable."
"Glowing praise."
She looped her arm through his and started walking before he could protest again.
The path into the village was busy. Students had clearly been given unofficial permission to linger longer than usual. Red ribbons were strung between lampposts. Enchanted hearts drifted lazily above shopfronts. A few third-years were trying to pop them with pea-sized jinxes and failing.
As they passed Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the front window exploded in glitter.
Cassian flinched.
Fred leaned out of the doorway. "Seasonal confetti! Edible. Probably."
George appeared on the other side, identical grin in place. "Evening, Professor R. You look suspiciously civil."
Angelina stood beside Fred, arms folded, watching him with a smile.
Alice hovered near George, trying and failing not to laugh at something he'd whispered.
"Don't blow up the village," Cassian said.
Fred put a hand over his heart. "We would never. We're businessmen now."
"Terrifying," Cassian replied.
George pointed at Bathsheda. "You've got him out this day. Didn't think it was possible."
"It took effort," she said solemnly.
"Oi," Cassian said.
A blur of movement broke off from the pavement.
"Professor R!"
Cassian barely had time to brace before Kenneth crashed into him and wrapped him in a full, unapologetic hug.
Air left Cassian's lungs in a soft oof.
"Good to see you too," he managed, patting the boy, man, technically, on the back.
Kenneth pulled away, grinning wide enough to split his face. He'd grown a bit since last year. Same expression though.
"Sir, you look bright," he said earnestly. "Very... official."
"That's because I am," Cassian replied. "You're still crushing my ribs."
"Oh! Sorry." Kenneth stepped back immediately, hands up as if he'd nearly committed a crime.
Amara approached with a laugh, gold cuff glinting at her wrist. "Professor Rosier. Professor Babbling. Headmistress Ekwensi sent her regards."
"You survived him," Cassian said to her.
"He is very enthusiastic," she replied with a grin, and there was no complaint in it.
Kenneth rocked back on his heels, practically vibrating. "We came to visit my mum and dad for Christmas," he announced. "Stayed until now. She likes Amara more than me, I think."
Amara's mouth curved. "Your mother fed me until I couldn't move."
"She does that," Kenneth said proudly. "Said if I'm going back to Africa, she needs to make sure I ate enough of her food."
Cassian blinked. "So you're heading back?"
Kenneth nodded, utterly certain. "This spring. There's a post at one of the smaller Uagadou outreach schools. Grounds work, maintenance, helping with creature enclosures. They've got big cats, sir."
He glanced at Amara, eyes shining.
"She showed me."
Amara laughed softly. "We will be back before term ends," she added. "There are things to arrange."
Kenneth nodded. "Mum wants a farewell dinner. Big one. You're invited."
Cassian groaned. "I'm sensing a theme this week."
Kenneth beamed, clearly taking that as agreement.
They said their goodbyes, Kenneth waving again as they moved on, already talking animatedly to Amara about something to do with fencing spells and sun wards.
"He'll build her a house with his bare hands if she asks," Cassian muttered.
Bathsheda smiled. "And be happy doing it."
Cassian huffed softly.
Further down, Cedric stood near the entrance to Madam Puddifoot's, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. He looked different out of school robes.
Cho approached from the other end of the street. She slowed when she spotted Cassian and Bathsheda and gave a wave.
"Professors," Cedric said, beaming. "Afternoon."
"Diggory," Cassian replied. "How's Advanced Transfiguration?"
Cedric's expression shifted, something proud but still humble. "Demanding. The Flamel programme's... intense."
Bathsheda smiled. "We heard you've been assigned a mentor."
"Yes, ma'am. One of Master Flamel's senior apprentices. We're working on stable matter conversion without degradation."
Cassian raised a brow. "Ambitious."
Cedric nodded. "He says most people rush it. I'm not rushing."
"Good," Cassian said. "Rushed transfiguration is how you end up with chairs that still breathe."
Cedric laughed quietly.
"I wanted to thank you both," he added. "For the recommendation. And for speaking to the Flamels."
Cassian waved it off. "You did the work."
"You opened the door."
Bathsheda nudged Cassian lightly.
"We expect impressive things," she said.
Cedric smiled, nodding. "I'll try not to embarrass you."
"You won't," Cassian replied.
Cedric headed back to Cho. She slipped her hand into his as they walked away.
They reached the Three Broomsticks. Laughter drifted out through the open door. Music somewhere in the back. The whole village smelled faintly of butterbeer and cold air.
Cassian paused at the threshold.
"Last chance," he said. "We could fake food poisoning."
Bathsheda tightened her grip on his arm. "You'll behave."
"I always behave."
She gave him a look.
He sighed and pushed the door open.
Warmth hit them first. Then the noise. And somewhere upstairs, judging by the volume, Sirius Black was already in full performance mode.
***
The private room above the Three Broomsticks had been charmed within an inch of its dignity. Candles floated, casting warm light that made everything look softer than it deserved. Red ribbons hung from the beams. Someone had transfigured the centrepiece into a cluster of glass hearts that rotated slowly in the air.
Aurora sat at the far end of the long table, pleased with herself. Sirius sprawled across from her, one arm slung across the back of his chair.
"Rosier!" Sirius called. "You made it."
"I considered faking my own death," Cassian replied, taking a seat opposite him. "But I'm told that's excessive."
Aurora lifted her hands. "See? He's in good spirits."
"I'm in a room with floating hearts."
"Romantic," she said.
Bathsheda sat beside him, hands folded neatly on the table. The fork near her plate gave a faint hum when Cassian's sleeve brushed hers.
He stared at it.
"Is that charmed to react to proximity?"
Aurora beamed. "Only when hands touch."
Sirius leaned forward and reached across the table toward Aurora. Their fingers brushed. The spoons chimed.
"Brilliant," Sirius said.
Cassian looked at the ceiling.
There was a knock at the door.
"Evening," Kingsley said as he stepped in.
"This way, King," Charity called, tugging him by the sleeve.
Septima entered last.
With Remus Lupin at her side.
Cassian froze mid-sip.
Remus was smiling.
"You said Kingsley's friend," Cassian said, very slowly.
Septima lifted her chin. "He is."
Kingsley coughed into his hand.
Sirius studied the floating hearts with sudden interest.
Remus gave a small wave. "Good evening."
Cassian narrowed his eyes at all of them. "Liars."
"Well. You would've guessed if we said Sirius's friend."
Remus chuckled. "Good to see you again, Rosier."
Cassian looked from Septima to Kingsley, then to Sirius.
"Evening, Lupin."
Remus stepped forward and offered his hand. Cassian shook it.
"Didn't realise you'd joined the social ambush committee."
"I was told there'd be wine," Remus said. "And that it'd be fun to watch you suffer."
Aurora clapped again. "Right. Now that the surprise's out, can we sit?"
The soup arrived first. Tomato. Kingsley tasted it. Paused. He set the spoon down, brows furrowed.
"This is strange."
"What?" Sirius asked.
Kingsley didn't answer. He dipped a finger into the surface, rubbed it between thumb and forefinger. "Who prepared this?"
The waiter froze mid-step. "Sir?"
"This bowl," Kingsley said. "Who handled it last?"
Remus straightened slightly. "It's tomato."
Kingsley ignored him.
The waiter swallowed. "It- it came straight from the kitchen, sir. I only carried-"
Kingsley's wand slid into his hand under the table.
"The temperature's wrong," he said.
Aurora blinked. "It's soup."
The waiter began stammering apologies, hands twisting in his apron. "I swear, sir, I didn't- I only-"
The door behind the bar swung open and Rosmerta swept in, sleeves rolled up.
"Sorry for the soups. An intern made a mistake." She shot a glare toward the stairs. "Forgot to take it off the stove first, so it was scalding. Tried to fix it with magic. Botched the balance."
Sirius leaned back slightly. "So it's not 'cold soup'. It's 'abused by spellwork' soup."
Rosmerta gave him a tight smile. "Exactly that. I've already had words."
Charity exhaled. "So no one's poisoning anyone."
Kingsley slid his wand away. "No. But tempering food with rushed magic leaves a trace. It's sloppy."
Rosmerta folded her arms. "It won't happen again."
The waiter sagged with relief.
Sirius glanced at Kingsley, grinning wide. "So we're not arresting the tomato."
Kingsley finally relaxed. "I wasn't going to arrest anyone."
"You reached for your wand."
"I reach for my wand when soup carries magic."
Sirius barked a laugh. "Fair."
Rosmerta clapped her hands. "Fresh bowls. No spells. Just heat. The old-fashioned way."
She disappeared back downstairs, barking orders.
Remus raised his glass toward him. "All right. You were right."
Kingsley gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Instincts."
The replacement soup arrived minutes later. Kingsley tasted it and nodded.
"Better."
Wine followed after that. Sirius poured generously.
Cassian took a sip.
Sirius took one too.
Cassian lowered his glass.
Sirius lowered his.
Cassian eyed him.
"What are you doing?"
"Drinking," Sirius said.
"In sync?"
"Solidarity."
"You think this is a duel?"
Sirius grinned. "Everything's a duel."
Aurora dabbed at her lips, changing the subject. "So. Have any of you actually read Minister Greengrass's new circular?"
Sirius groaned immediately. "Don't."
Kingsley didn't miss a beat. "Which one?"
"The public casting reforms," Aurora said. "The one about licensing."
Sirius dropped his spoon. "We're discussing soup and now we're discussing paperwork."
Cassian reached for his wine. Sirius mirrored him. He ignored it.
Kingsley folded his hands on the table. "It's not paperwork for the sake of it. It's a structure to ensure the safety of innocent people."
"It's control," Sirius shot back. "Spell tiers? Registries? What's next, wand permits stamped at birth?"
Charity sighed. "You already have a wand permit. It's called education."
"That's different."
"It's exactly the same."
Sirius pointed his fork at Kingsley. "You're Head of International Magical Co-operation. Of course you love this. It gives you more forms to file."
Kingsley didn't rise up to it. "It gives us reciprocity. If Britain wants other Ministries to recognise our spell certifications, we need our own system in order."
Remus stirred his soup slowly. "What exactly is being licensed?"
Kingsley answered. "High-impact combat spells. Large-scale transfiguration. Memory charms above a certain threshold. Area-effect variants."
Sirius blinked. "You need a licence to cast a Stunning Spell now?"
"In a public space without cause? Yes," Kingsley said.
"That's absurd."
Cassian set his glass down. "No, it's overdue."
Sirius turned to him. "You too?"
Cassian shrugged. "You can still stun someone who's attacking you. The reform targets proactive casting. Not defence."
"Who decides that?" Sirius demanded. "Some clerk in the Ministry?"
"An investigation," Kingsley said. "Same as any misuse of magic charge."
Sirius leaned back. "So if I hex someone in a pub because they're being an arse-"
"You'd be fined," Kingsley replied.
"You're strangling personal freedom."
"You're confusing freedom with lack of consequence," Cassian said.
Sirius shot him a look. "You used to enjoy bending rules."
"And I've read enough history to know what happens when you don't regulate high-impact spellwork."
Remus glanced at him. "Go on."
Cassian didn't raise his voice. "Seventeenth-century Saxony. No oversight on memory charms. Half the magical population Obliviated each other over trade disputes. The Ministry there collapsed in three years."
Sirius waved a hand. "That was centuries ago."
"And?" Bathsheda said. "Magic hasn't evolved a conscience since."
Kingsley nodded. "The Minister wants tiered licensing. If you want to cast mass-effect charms in public spaces, you undergo certification. That's it."
"Mass-effect," Sirius repeated. "You make it sound like artillery."
Cassian tilted his head. "That's because it is."
The table went quieter.
Aurora cleared her throat. "The circular also mentioned international parity."
Kingsley picked that thread up. "Durmstrang already regulates high-grade combat spells. Uagadou certifies advanced wandless casting. Fenghuang has strict emotional discipline requirements before allowing certain curse classes."
Sirius snorted. "So we copy them? Our nation has deeper roots."
"We align," Kingsley corrected. "No shame in learning from other communities."
Remus tapped his spoon lightly against his bowl. "What about accidental magic? Teenagers don't exactly consult handbooks before panicking."
"They're exempt," Kingsley said. "Underage magic remains under parental and school jurisdiction."
Sirius leaned forward. "You realise where this goes, don't you? Today it's 'high-impact'. Tomorrow it's 'potentially disruptive'. Next year someone decides a Patronus is too aggressive."
Septima raised a brow. "If someone's Patronus is aggressive, I'd like to see it."
Sirius smirked despite himself.
Charity folded her arms. "You're acting as if this is a ban."
"It's the beginning of one."
"It's a registry," Kingsley said.
"Registry becomes restriction," Sirius replied.
Bathsheda shook her head. "You're catastrophising."
"I'm realistic."
Cassian leaned back. "Realistic is acknowledging we just fought a war where half the casualties came from people casting things they barely understood."
Sirius's jaw tightened. "Don't."
"You asked."
Kingsley spoke evenly. "The Minister's position is simple. Power without accountability breeds instability."
"Instability?" Sirius echoed. "How about regulating my mood too."
"I think spells that can level a street shouldn't be cast between dessert and coffee. That simple."
Aurora coughed into her napkin to hide a laugh.
Remus looked thoughtful. "What about private property?"
Kingsley answered. "Private land remains largely unrestricted. The focus is to protect the innocent bystanders from reckless bravado."
"So if I want to practise Blasting Curses in my own garden?" Sirius asked.
"You'll still need certification if it exceeds Tier Three."
Sirius threw his hands up. "Tier Three. Listen to yourself."
Cassian rested his elbows lightly on the table. "You're stuck on the language. Strip it down. The reform says, if you want to wield large-scale force in shared spaces, prove you know what you're doing."
"I do know what I'm doing."
"Brilliant," Cassian said. "Then the test won't trouble you."
Sirius opened his mouth. Closed it.
Remus intervened softly. "The real question is enforcement. Who polices it?"
Kingsley answered without hesitation. "Magical Law Enforcement. With expanded oversight committees."
Sirius barked a laugh. "Oversight committees. That'll fix everything."
"It might slow escalation," Cassian said.
Sirius looked at him sharply. "Since when did you start trusting the Ministry?"
"I don't," Cassian replied. "I just trust people less."
He gestured loosely with his glass. "Licensing sets a ceiling. It won't stop ideology. It won't stop dark Magicks. But it slows ordinary idiots from blowing holes in the street because they're cross."
Aurora leaned forward. "Cyrus argues it also protects reputation. After everything, foreign Ministries see Britain as unstable."
Kingsley nodded. "We've had three delegations ask whether we're implementing reform."
Sirius scoffed. "So this is about appearances."
"It's about credibility," Kingsley said.
Cassian added, "And leverage. If Britain wants to push for cross-border curse tracking, we can't look like we hand out Blasting Curses like party favours."
Charity smiled faintly. "You're assuming the public will accept it."
"They will," Kingsley said. "Most families don't want their neighbours practising advanced hexes in shared alleys."
Sirius leaned back again. "You're taming magic."
"No," Septima said. "We're civilising it."
"That's worse."
Remus looked between them. "There's a difference between constraint and structure."
Aurora hummed. "Cyrus also wants to tighten Knockturn oversight."
"Financial audits," Kingsley said. "Artifact tracking. Licensing for cursed object sales."
Sirius smirked. "Rosier, worried?"
Cassian didn't flinch. "I prefer my cursed objects documented."
Remus laughed under his breath.
Kingsley continued, "It's not about shutting shops down. It's about traceability. If something ends up in the wrong hands, we know where it came from."
Sirius drummed his fingers against the table. "And if someone doesn't register?"
"Then they're fined. Or shut down," Kingsley replied.
"And you're betting it won't be abused."
"Honest people already register. These are for the dishonest."
Sirius looked away, grumbling.
Remus lifted his glass. "To hoping we don't swing too far in either direction."
Aurora followed suit. "To balance."
Kingsley raised his. "To accountability."
Sirius hesitated.
Then he lifted his glass too.
"To not needing any of this in the first place."
They drank.
The main course arrived. Conversation shifted.
Aurora steered it toward Hogwarts gossip. Kingsley added something about Ministry reshuffles. Septima discussed exam results.
Sirius, inevitably, drifted toward stories of school.
"Remember the fourth-floor corridor?" he said, leaning back. "Nearly got expelled for that."
"One of the rare times you got caught," Remus replied.
"Worth it," Sirius said. "Best years of my life."
James's name came up. Often. Pranks polished into legend. Detentions reframed as heroic acts of rebellion. The castle described as a playground rather than a place of consequence.
Sirius raised his glass.
"To James and Lily," he said. "Best couple Hogwarts ever produced."
His gaze flicked toward Cassian and Bathsheda.
Cassian's fingers tightened around the stem of his glass. Under the table, Bathsheda's hand slid into his.
He raised his glass.
"To them," he said.
They drank.
By dessert, everyone was loose-limbed and louder.
"And then," Sirius was saying, leaning across the table, "McGonagall walks in and James-"
He knocked over a candle. It tipped sideways, rolled, and settled against the centrepiece. For half a second, nothing happened. Then the ribbon caught. It curled black at the edge before the flame took properly.
It was just a quiet whuff and a thin line of orange racing along the fabric.
Aurora blinked.
"Oh."
The flame reached the edge of the tablecloth. Within seconds, the embroidered hearts along the linen began to blacken.
"Sirius," Remus said, already getting up.
"I've got it," Sirius replied, already drawing his wand.
"Don't," Cassian and Kingsley said at the same time.
Too late. Sirius cast a quick dousing charm. The fire went out. But the entire tablecloth turned into steam. A hot, damp cloud exploded upward, slapping everyone in the face.
Bathsheda shut her eyes as warm mist soaked her. "Damn it." She waved her hand, dispersing the mist and drying herself. When it cleared, the tablecloth was gone completely.
Sirius lowered his wand slowly.
"Well," he said. "That's sorted."
Aurora stared at the bare table. "You vaporised the linen, Sirius."
Kingsley pinched the bridge of his nose.
Rosmerta appeared in the doorway like a summoned storm.
"What," she asked carefully, "have you done."
Sirius smiled. "Small miscalculation."
"You set the table on fire?"
"It's decorative arson," Sirius protested.
Remus was already on his feet, quietly repairing scorch marks along the wood.
"I'll cover the damages," Kingsley said.
"You're not paying for my candle," Rosmerta snapped. "You're paying for the linen. That was from France."
Fleur, had she been there, would have fainted.
Aurora exhaled slowly. "New tablecloth. Please."
Rosmerta flicked her wand. A fresh cloth appeared, this one mercifully free of hearts.
She looked at Sirius.
"No more heroics."
Sirius lifted both hands. "No fire. Promise."
The rest of dinner passed in waves.
Kingsley argued about Ministry oversight. Sirius interrupted him. Aurora laughed too loudly at something that wasn't quite that funny.
Dessert arrived. Something chocolate. Something unnecessarily shaped like a heart. Remus wiped a trace of chocolate from his thumb and glanced across the table.
"Septima tells me you're teaching the Patronus to the whole school, even the first-years."
Cassian took another bite of dessert. "Trying to."
Sirius choked. A full spray of red wine across the table.
Cassian didn't even look up. His hand flicked.
A thin shield formed mid-air. The wine hit it and ricocheted straight back.
It splashed across Sirius's own shirt.
Cassian blinked. "Oops."
Aurora burst out laughing.
Kingsley pressed his lips together, clearly losing a battle.
Sirius stared down at himself. "You did that on purpose."
"I absolutely did not," Cassian replied smoothly. "Reflex. Occupational hazard."
Remus, somehow still composed, raised his glass. "You're teaching eleven-year-olds to cast corporeal Patronuses?"
"Of course not."
Sirius dabbed uselessly at his collar. "He is. I knew it."
"I'm not handing them fully formed animal spirits and telling them to run wild." Cassian set his fork down. "The Patronus isn't one spell. It's three things tangled together. Emotional recall. Defensive projection. Sustained focus under pressure."
He ticked them off on his fingers.
"You teach all three at once, you get nothing."
Remus considered that. "And your solution?"
"Bathsheda and I pulled it apart."
Sirius snorted. "You dismantled the Patronus."
"Something like that. We built weaker variants. One that stabilises emotional recall without projection. One that produces a brief defensive flare without form. One that trains sustained channeling for more than five seconds."
Aurora blinked. "So... baby Patronuses."
"If you like."
"Most adults can't manage a proper corporeal Patronus. And we expect frightened teenagers to do it in one leap." Bathsheda said from the side.
Sirius folded his arms. "We managed."
"Yeah, in sixth or seventh year," she replied. "That's the curriculum."
Kingsley made a small approving sound into his glass.
Remus tilted his head. "And you think teaching fragments will lead them there?"
"It already is."
Cassian leaned back in his chair.
"Once they master the components, it culminates naturally. They won't be forcing joy while panicking. They'll know how to separate the layers. Build it clean."
Remus smiled slowly. "That's... annoyingly sensible."
Cassian clinked his glass with Bathsheda's. "Thank you."
***
Outside, Hogsmeade glowed. Lanterns hung between buildings, casting gold light across snow-dusted cobbles. Shop windows were trimmed in red ribbon and enchanted hearts that drifted lazily above displays.
Pairs everywhere. Some shy. Some bold. Some already comfortable in each other's space.
Sirius threw an arm around Remus's shoulders and nearly slipped on ice.
Kingsley kept close to Charity. Aurora and Septima fell into step beside Bathsheda, whispering.
Cassian walked at her side.
Sirius called back, "We should do this again!"
Cassian stopped walking.
Bathsheda tugged him forward.
"Don't you dare," he muttered.
(Check Here)
The comments section and the read count visits relationship counselor. One was doing all the talking. Other was always ghosting.
--
To Read up to 50 advance Chapters and support me...
patreon.com/thefanficgod1
discord.gg/q5KWmtQARF
Please drop a comment and like the chapter!