HP: Ashborn

"Yeah." I leaned back slightly. "Since you've got Lumos and Nox down, why don't you try them silently?"

Her brow furrowed in thought. "Silently? You mean casting Lumos and Nox without speaking?"

"Yes. Like this."

I gave my wand a small downward flick, and the tip glowed softly. Another flick, and the light vanished. No incantation. No sound. Just pure intent.

Before Jasmine could react, the train gave a sudden jerk—a clear sign that we were officially on our way to Hogwarts. I barely acknowledged it and continued with the lesson.

"You need to replicate exactly what I did. Usually, when casting a spell, the incantation helps form a mental image and strengthens your intent and knowledge of the magic involved."

She nodded, listening intently, so I elaborated.

"For any spell to work, you need four key elements—intent, knowledge, emotion, and magical power. Speaking the incantation out loud helps reinforce your intent and solidify the desired result in your mind. That's why silent casting is harder—it requires you to internalize everything instead of relying on the words as a crutch."

Jasmine tilted her head slightly, deep in thought. "So… how do you make the intent stronger without speaking?"

"Simple," I said. "When casting a spell, visualize the whole process along the end result with absolute clarity. Walk yourself through the process mentally. Picture it happening. At the same time, keep your mind stable and your focus sharp. If you do it right, you'll be able to cast it within a few tries, Miss Potter."

I leaned back slightly, watching her expression shift from curiosity to determination.

Now, let's see how fast she picks it up.

True to my expectations, on her seventh try, Jasmine's wand tip lit up.

The moment it happened, her face lit up even brighter—like she'd just uncovered the world's greatest treasure. (Cough One Piece cough).

"Congratulations, Miss Potter. You did it remarkably fast. Even faster than me. Though, I can't say I'm surprised."

Her excitement faltered just slightly. "Why?" she asked, curiosity flashing in her green eyes.

I gave her a knowing look. "Because I was there when that wand—" I gestured toward it before locking eyes with her, "—chose you as its owner. And I meant every single word I said back then."

She blinked as I continued, my voice steady. "That particular wand could only be wielded by a witch of exceptional strength. And I have no doubt in my mind that you will be someone great one day."

For a solid thirty seconds, she sat there completely silent, just staring at me. And, well... I stared right back.

Finally, a small smile formed on her lips. "You sure have a way with words, Mr. Ashborn."

"Please, call me Max, Miss Potter."

"Then you can call me Jasmine, Max," she said smoothly. But then, her eyes gleamed with interest. "Enough about my wand—tell me about yours. I saw it earlier, and I can tell it's not exactly… normal, is it?"

I smirked. "Define normal."

"No offense, but your wand looks more like a piece of jewelry than a magical focus," Jasmine noted, eyeing it curiously. "And back at Ollivander's, you said yours was similar to mine, which means… it's also phoenix feather, right?"

"None taken. Actually, I take pride in how my wand looks," I said with a smirk.

Her eyes gleamed with interest. "Can I hold it?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You do know that's a rather personal request," I said, mock seriousness dripping from my voice.

She grinned. "Says the guy who took my wand before I did and judged it before it even chose me."

I let out a small chuckle. "Touché. I was just messing with you, Jasmine. But be careful—mine is dangerous. And for the record, Mr. Ollivander was the one who handed me your wand."

Satisfied, I passed her my wand while picking up my Rubik's Cube, idly twisting it in my hands. Of course, I kept a close eye on her the entire time.

"Fascinating," she murmured, running her fingers along the wood. "It feels similar to mine… but not quite. The resistance reminds me of what I felt when I held Mum's wand."

After a moment, she handed it back.

"Thank you," I said, slipping it back into my holster.

Her gaze flickered to my hands. "What's that?"

"A Muggle puzzle called a Rubik's Cube. You have to twist the sides so that each face is a single color matching its center. Once scrambled, the goal is to solve it in as little time as possible."

"Can you solve it?"

I smirked. "Yes. Why don't you scramble it?"

Jasmine took the cube and twisted it furiously, her expression a mix of determination and mischief. Once satisfied with her chaos, she handed it back.

95 seconds later, I held up the solved cube.

Jasmine blinked. "That was… kind of insane."

I grinned. "Let's leave it at that. Now, tell me, Jasmine—excited for Hogwarts?"

"Oh, you bet!" Jasmine practically bounced in her seat, eyes sparkling with excitement. "All the fascinating tales I've heard about the castle and its mysteries—I couldn't wait for this day to finally come! It literally took a Draught of Living Death just to get me to sleep last night."

I raised an eyebrow. "Remind me never to accept a drink from you, then."

She grinned mischievously.

"Personally, I'm more excited about magical studies," I admitted. "When you've spent your entire life in a world without magic, it's all the different aspects that draw you in—Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and everything in between. What about you? Got a favorite?"

"Charms," she answered instantly. "And yours?"

"Transfiguration. It was the first piece of magic I ever saw—when Professor McGonagall came to introduce me to the wizarding world."

Jasmine's head tilted slightly. "But… Professor McGonagall only visits Muggle-borns to explain magic. You don't seem like a Muggle-born—not with those robes. And then there's your knowledge about magic…"

I let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, I wouldn't exactly call myself a Muggle-born. Muggle-raised would be a more accurate term."

Her curiosity only grew. "Uh-huh…" she murmured, eyes locked onto mine, practically urging me to continue.

"Well, during an inheritance test at Gringotts, it was confirmed that I carry the blood of House Ashborn."

I stood up, gave a slight bow, and with a perfectly composed voice, I said:

"Greetings, Miss Potter. I am Maximus Ashborn, Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Ashborn."

Then, with practiced elegance, I took her hand and softly kissed her knuckles.

To my amusement, Jasmine didn't hesitate to match my theatrics. She gracefully stood, mirroring my gesture with a playful glint in her eyes.

"Well met, Mr. Ashborn. I am Jasmine Potter of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. The pleasure is mine."

We held each other's gaze for a moment—before both of us burst into quiet laughter at our own dramatic performance.

We both exchanged laughter at our little performance, enjoying the moment. Just then, I noticed a trolley lady from Honeydukes Express stopping outside our compartment.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked kindly.

"Yeah, I'll take three Cauldron Cakes, five Chocolate Frogs, two Jelly Slugs, seven Liquorice Wands, and two Pumpkin Pasties. Oh! And a Daily Prophet as well."

The trolley lady smiled as she handed me the items. "That'll be one Galleon and five Sickles, dear."

I counted the coins and placed them in her hand. "Here you go, ma'am."

With a nod of thanks, she moved along.

Turning to Jasmine, I held out some of the chocolates. "Take whatever you fancy. And please, don't hold back trying to act like the perfect noble lady."

Before she could protest, I shot her a knowing look.

She sighed, shaking her head with an amused smile. "Fine. Only because you forced me to."

As we started eating, I decided to ask, "Jasmine, you must know about the Hogwarts houses?"

"Of course!" she said enthusiastically.

"So, which house do you think you'll be sorted into?"

She hesitated for a moment. "Honestly? I don't know. My mum and dad were both Gryffindors, and all of my dad's friends were Gryffindors too. But… I feel like I'd fit in Ravenclaw more. Guess I'll just have to wait and see."

I nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, the Sorting Hat can be unpredictable. But hey, no matter where you end up, you'll still be Jasmine Potter, right?"

She grinned. "Exactly. And what about you, Mr. Ashborn? Any house preference?"

"None," I replied with a shrug. "They didn't tell you how the Sorting works?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Nope. They said it's a surprise. Though Uncle Moony did mention that it would be a test of bravery, courage, cunning, ambition, loyalty, hard work, and intelligence when I asked him."

I chuckled. "He's not exactly wrong. But now you've put me in a difficult position."

"Why?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Well, do you want to know?"

Her green eyes widened in surprise. "Wait—you know? How?"

"Of course, I know. You can't seriously expect me to enroll in a school without knowing anything about it. And when you have money and resources, you can learn pretty much anything—including basic facts that, honestly, everyone should know."

"Oh!" She blinked, then leaned in slightly. "Alright, tell me then. How are we getting sorted?"

I smirked. "It's actually pretty simple. They call your name, you walk up to the front, and sit on a stool. Then, they place an ancient artifact on your head—an old, talking hat. This 'Sorting Hat' has been around since the time of the founders. It looks into your mind, evaluates your qualities, and places you in a house accordingly."

Jasmine listened intently, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"But," I continued, "the hat's decision isn't always absolute. Family traditions can influence its choice, and—most importantly—you have a say in the matter. If you really don't want to be in a certain house, you can tell the hat, and it will take your preference into account."

She let out a thoughtful hum. "Huh. That's… actually pretty cool."

"It is," I agreed. "Though, I imagine a sentient hat rummaging through your thoughts without permission might feel a little unsettling."

"That's slightly terrifying, actually."

"Just slightly?" I teased.

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Well, at least now I know what to expect."

"But you don't need to worry," I reassured her. "The hat does look inside your mind, but it's enchanted to keep everything it sees a secret. So, no embarrassing childhood memories are getting out."

Jasmine let out a relieved sigh. "Well, that's a relief. So, which house are you planning to choose?"

I leaned back, contemplating. "Truthfully? I don't know. You could call me indecisive about this. Every house has its strengths, but without the qualities of the other three, each one is… well, kind of useless."

"Useless?" she repeated, intrigued. "Explain."

I smirked. "Gladly. Let's start with Gryffindors. They're best suited for warriors—brave and courageous. But without intelligence, cunning, and hard work? They're just reckless, lazy fools who charge into danger without thinking."

She chuckled. "Alright, fair point. What about Ravenclaw?"

"Ravenclaws are meant to be scholars, praised for their intelligence. But without bravery, ambition, and compassion, they just become arrogant know-it-alls—isolated, unlikable, and with no real place in society."

Jasmine raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the analysis. "And Hufflepuff?"

"Hufflepuffs are known for their kindness, loyalty, and hard work. But without cunning, intelligence, and courage? They become naïve pushovers—easy to manipulate, unable to think for themselves."

She nodded slowly. "Hmm… And Slytherin?"

"Slytherins thrive on ambition and cunning. But without intelligence, hard work, and the courage to stand for their ambitions, they're just smooth-talking frauds—people who scheme endlessly but never actually achieve anything."

Jasmine blinked at me, then let out a low whistle. "Wow. That's… a really interesting way to put it."

I shrugged. "Just calling it how I see it."

She smirked. "So, does that mean you think you belong in all four houses?"

I laughed. "Maybe. Or maybe I just refuse to be put in a neat little box."

Jasmine shook her head, still smiling. "You're a weird one, Maximus Ashborn."

"Takes one to know one, Jasmine Potter."

"Well, I was thinking of recording what you just said about Gryffindors and sending it to my dad. He's very pro-Gryffindor. 'Reckless lazy fools'? Oh, what I wouldn't give to see his expression when he hears that."

I raised an eyebrow. "Lord Potter?" I tested, curious.

Jasmine shook her head. "My dad isn't the Lord Potter. That would be my grand-uncle, Charles Potter. And let's just say… he and my dad aren't exactly on good terms."

She trailed off, realization dawning on her face—like she'd just let slip something she shouldn't have.

"Oh!" I said, dragging the word out as dramatically as possible.

A brief silence settled between us, heavy with unspoken thoughts. I let it linger just long enough before breaking it.

"Jasmine, shall we play a game?" I asked, smirking.