❦ 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐕 ❦

"You're the one."

He looks up, only to find like five different boys staring at him.

"What?" He murmurs, voice hoarse.

"You should be the Gryffindor competing at the tournament."

Thomas's hands reach out to rub his eyes, but they get grabbed by one of the boys, tightly enough that they have full control. "Exactly," the boy agrees.

"Yo, what time is it?" Thomas pulls his hands back as hard as he can, turning to the clock on his nightstand. "Three A— why the hell are y'all at my bed at three AM?"

"The thought kept us awake."

His eyes squint. "All of you?"

"Nah, just Jeff. But it took him so long to wake you up that in the meanwhile, Jack, Nick, and I also awoke."

"So you were all just staring at me? As I slept?"

"And we drew a mustache on your—"

"Shut up," Jeff hisses, elbowing Nick in the side.

"Sorry," Nick mumbles.

Thomas's attempt to get up so he can wash whatever else they drew on his face off fails, because they push him right back down on the bed.

"This is... impure," he whispers.

"Tell us you agree that you're the one and that you will compete."

"Compete with what?" He groans out.

"The tournament," Jack urges.

Blinking against the bright light, Thomas tries to gather his thoughts. "What tournament?"

"The Quadwizard Tournament. What other tournament?" 

"Oh, right. Can you let go of me first?"

"No. You need to say yes. Right now. No other shuckface here will win it for us."

"I'd say you have decent chances, Jeff. And we also have some strong girls—"

"And Slytherin has who again? Right, Minho, Alby, Brenda, Harriet, and the new kid that seems fairly decent as well. Ravenclaw is smart as shuck. Honestly, we could beat Hufflepuff. But the other ones?"

"If you have no hope, why even try?"

"Maybe because we are forced?" Nick rolls his eyes. "Damn, that's quite abusive, actually. Forcing us to compete..."

"That's one of the few things you're forced to do. Be happy." Finally, Thomas manages to push them off, and quickly jumps off his bed.

Jack sniffs, a sound coming from his nose. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind." As he runs his hands through his hair, he straightens his back, stretching muscles that are somewhat sore from the whole summer. "What if I tell you I'm not in for it?"

"We already put our money on you."

He stares at the three boys.

"We have high beliefs," Jeff adds.

"You just said you think forcing people to do things is abusive." Thomas shoots Nick a glare. "I don't really feel like doing this."

Well, he does. But after this tiring and disturbing summer, relaxing a bit sound just as nice. On the other side, the admiration and pride that he'll gain for competing and winning...

"Think of it. You, finally winning something from Minho."

He pulls a face. "I have won in competitions with Minho."

"I don't think you did."

"And even if you did, the way he humiliates you after losing is better engraved in my brain than your wins."

A sigh slips from him.

"And," Jeff continues, "think of all the girls lingering around you. How much more the professors will like you. How... I don't even know. Anything!"

"My situation with most professors is just fine. And I don't need girls lingering around me."

"So humble." Jack pats him on the shoulder. "But no, you need to do this. For us."

"Let me think about it. And let me sleep."

"Nah, we're awake now anyway."

"Absolutely not. I don't want to risk getting caught. Need a good first start of the year. Good night, again."

❧

About two weeks later, they're focusing on the subject Thomas knows everything about.

Red Caps. Dwarf-like beasts. The kind of beasts that something sneak inside the dungeons at home, as they inhabit wherever blood has been spilled.  

"Can anyone describe me what they look like?" Mr. Romanov asks, stepping around the room.

Immediately, his hand raises. Ever since the creatures appeared, his father educated him about every single detail. Drilled them into him. He cannot fail this now. Maybe this small piece of proof he paid attention will spare him later on, somehow. A way to prove he isn't just another Quadwizard winner.

"Yes?"

"They're three to four feet tall," Thomas begins, feeling a bit of satisfaction as the other students look to him. "Their nails are long and sharp, and their eyes are red. They wear red caps, obviously, and their skin is a greenish color."

"Very good," Mr. Romanov says, nodding. "And where can they be found most often?"

Thomas opens his mouth to answer, but before he can speak, Mr. Romanov turns his gaze to someone else.

"Yes, Miss Lockhart?"

Thomas's head snaps toward Jannah, who is already sitting up straight, calm.

"Northern Europe," Jannah answers. "Red Caps usually inhabit areas where blood has been spilled—battlegrounds, execution sites, places of violent history."

Thomas clenches his jaw. Of course she'd have the right answer.

Mr. Romanov smiles approvingly. "Exactly, Miss Lockhart. Northern Europe, particularly in regions that have seen bloodshed. Now, who can tell me how to best defend against one?"

Thomas leans forward, but before he can answer, Mr. Romanov gestures to Jannah again.

"Miss Lockhart?"

Thomas's irritation flares as Jannah speaks again, her voice confident, as if she's been studying Red Caps for years.

"Well, they're not particularly resistant to magic, but brute force can work. Stunning spells like Stupefy are effective, but they're vulnerable to more offensive spells, such as the Blasting Curse. Their main advantage is their speed and aggression, not magical defense."

Thomas stiffens. The Blasting Curse? She isn't wrong, but how does she know that? His father has always said that Red Caps were best dealt with through brute strength, but she is going deeper, thinking tactically.

He hates it. Hates that she seems to be one step ahead of him every time. It's been going like this for the past weeks. Her overtopping him with knowledge.

She just... knows. All of it.

"Impressive, Miss Lockhart. I expect this level of knowledge from all of you," Mr. Romanov says, giving a slight nod of approval before turning back to the class. "Now, let's move on."

Thomas can barely focus on the rest of the lesson. Every time Jannah answers another question correctly, it feels like a slap in the face.

He had been waiting for the moment to prove himself in the last way possible. Now that opportunity is gone. He's not the best, while that's exactly what his father wants him to be.

As students pack their things at the end of the class, Mr. Romanov raises his hand to keep them seated for a moment longer.

"One more thing before you go," he announces, his voice cutting through the chatter. "As we're covering Red Caps in depth, I've decided you'll be working on a special project about them. Each of you will be paired with another student. The goal is to research not only the theoretical aspects but also demonstrate practical defense techniques. Your final presentation will require you to defend yourselves from a simulated Red Cap attack."

Thomas's stomach twisted. Projects done by more than one person are tricky. The professor can't know who did all the work and who didn't. You never know how the teamwork goes.

And especially in his father's class, that's worrying. Being uncertain about things around this man distresses him.

"And the partners will be assigned," he adds, with a slight smirk. Protests erupt from the students, just like he wanted. "Don't worry," the teacher chuckles. "I've known all of you longer than today. It shouldn't be too torturous."

Now some relieved exhales fly through the room.

"But," and the protests start again, "I expect genuine teamwork and cooperation. I want you to learn how to work with ones you don't know that well— however, as I said, I paired you with someone you should be able to get along with just fine."

"So, we get paired with someone from another house?" Minho asks loudly, without raising his hand or anything.

"Yes."

Mr. Romanov pauses, glancing around the room with the same smirk that hints at the chaos he is about to create.

"Thomas," Mr. Romanov starts. His eyes twinkle, because he knows exactly what he's doing to his son, "you'll be partnered with... Miss Lockhart."

He saw it coming. Not only because it's the pure, expected bad luck, but because his father knows damn well that Jannah will drag him down, even without intending to.

Thomas's eyes flickers over to Jannah, who already has her head turned to him. He can see that she's trying to act indifferent, but there is a slight pressure on her jaw that betrays she hates this just as much as he does.

"Lockhart and I—" Thomas starts to protest, but Mr. Romanov cuts him off.

"This isn't a negotiation, Thomas. You two are both skilled students. I expect great things. That is why you're a great duo."

Jannah remained silent, her eyes locked on the professor. Thomas clenched his fists under the desk, feeling the edges of his nails dig into his palm. It's unfair.

"I know I will most likely regret this, but Mr. Lee and Mr. Fowler."

With loud screams, Minho and Jeff jump up, immediately on their way to pat each other on the back as they tell Mr. Romanov how much they love him.

Once everyone is aware of their partner in the project, they're finally free to go for the day. It was the last class, after all.

"Tonight. Library. After dinner," Jannah says abruptly.

He barely gets time to process it. "Tonight? We have another two damn weeks for this."

"Do it now and you have nothing to worry about for the next two weeks," she replies.

Tonight, he planned to think about tournament. Get some ideas on how to handle it if he does end up joining.

"I don't have time tonight."

She rolls her eyes. "Tomorrow?"

"Quidditch."

"I'm not spending more than two days on a simple project like this. I'll do it myself. Doesn't seem like you know that much about it either way."

His mouth nearly drops open. "I know a lot about this. That I don't want to show it off like you want to is a different story, Nerd."

"I interpret that nickname as an accolade," she says highly.

"Whatever. Fine, I'll meet you in the library tonight. Quit acting like I'm some... idiot. I knew the answers, he just didn't allow me to answer them."

"Whatever," she returns the word just like that, then walks off.

❧

Later that evening, they sit across from each other in the library, papers spread across the table.

The air between them is tense and uncomfortable, the silence filled with nothing but the scratch of quills and the shuffle of books being pulled from the shelves.

Thomas can feel Jannah's steady calm gnawing at his nerves. He needs to get control of this project—if she leads the way, he'll end up looking like her assistant. He can't let that happen. Not in front on his father.

"We should focus on the practical defense strategies first," Thomas says suddenly, breaking the silence. "Red Caps are weak against brute force spells, so we should demonstrate that."

Jannah doesn't even look up from her parchment. "We'll need more than brute force," she responds. "It's not just about blasting them apart. They're small and fast. If you only focus on offensive spells, you'll miss the chance to outmaneuver them. We need a combination of strategies— Stupefy to slow them down, then something stronger."

"That's overcomplicating it," Thomas snaps. "Confringo or Expulso is enough to handle them. You hit them hard, they go down. Done."

Jannah finally looks up, her eyes narrowed in irritation. "You're missing the point. Red Caps aren't like other creatures. You've clearly only been taught one method of handling them. Have you even considered what happens in confined spaces? If you're in a small area, using something like Confringo could be a disaster."

Thomas clenches his jaw. Always has to correct him. "I've been studying Red Caps this whole summer," he grunts. "I know how to handle them. I've seen them."

"Maybe you've been studying them wrong," she shoots back.

His temper flared. "I got the lecture from my father, who is literally the teacher. And I've fought Red Caps myself."

"Well, they clearly shattered something in your memory and knowledge," she snarls. "You think brute force is the answer to every problem, but that's not going to work here. This isn't a test of who can blow the most things up. If you don't want to listen, fine, but I'm not going to let you ruin this project just because you're too stubborn to think things through."

Her words hit a nerve. He'd worked hard, harder than anyone, and she acts like she can just stroll in and be better without even trying. He can't stand it.

Yes, if they do it her way, they might do better, he has to admit that, but to feel true pride against his father, it needs to be with something he did. Something Thomas arranged, not someone else.

"Fine," Thomas snaps, forcing his voice into something steadier. "We'll do it your way. But when it fails, don't come crying to me."

Jannah's eyes harden, but she says nothing, turning her attention back to her notes. The silence that follows is suffocating.

He notes the best spells and solutions he knows down as she does whatever she needs to do. There is zero teamwork between them— it's just making their own project and mashing it together in the end.

"So I say that, and then you're the one who explains the first spell," Thomas tells her, at least two hours after they've sat down. His body aches and head is overflowing with thoughts, but he won't leave before she does.

"I guess," she murmurs, her tone filled with a hint of judgement.

He gives her a glare. "If you have any better ideas, spit it out."

"It might become confusing for the students if we jump from one speaker to another—"

"Oh my God." He buries his head in his hands. "They're students. They will barely listen to our presentation. Nobody cares in what order we do it, and no one cares which one of us speaks at what part."

"Your father will," she points out.

He tilts his head to the side. "Okay, teacher's pet."

That's not a very fair name. He's just as desperate to impress the man. But he has decent reasons. She surely won't get hurt if she fails Mr. Romanov. Maybe a bruised ego, but that would be on herself.

Without a reply, she gets up. "I'm going to the bathroom. Stay here."

"If you quit talking to me like I'm a dog."

"You have pretty much in common with dogs, though. All blabbering about things no one else understands."

"You mean yourself with your high language, because your family is so wealthy and you're so way too good for this school?"

She rolls her eyes. "I don't think your mindset is much different." 

Jannah eventually excuses herself, leaving him in silence.

Thomas glares at her half-finished notes. Everything is too perfect, too polished. He can already imagine her standing in front of the class, with her high way of speaking. With the perfect clothes and perfect look on her face. Perfect amount of glances at the teacher and perfect amount of confidence in her voice.

That's what all of this is. Just confidence. One simple thing that can be ruined in a second.

He reaches over, grabbing her parchment, his mind racing. With a flick of his wand, he mutters a charm—one he'd learned from his father. It will slightly sabotage her notes, not enough to be obvious at first glance, but enough to confuse her when she will try to present.

Her ideas, her strategies, her spells—everything would be out of order, mixed up just enough to trip her up in front of everyone.

It's not that evil. It's quite innocent, actually. She shouldn't have gotten her notes mixed up and write everything down for two hours straight. It's her own fault. Thomas has nothing to do with it.

And if she's really that smart, she will easily be able to do it without notes, or fix the problem in just a second.