I smirked. "That's what I'm saying, yes."
But then, I let the grin fade, my tone shifting to something far more serious. "Jasmine, I need you to understand what this really means. Yes, you'll get extra time—but at a cost. Your body doesn't stop aging during those extra hours. While others live one day, you'll be living one and a half. Every single time we use it. And that adds up."
She nodded, her expression unreadable, but I could see the gears in her mind still turning. Processing. Calculating.
"And then there's the other problem," I continued, my voice firm. "The golden rule of the Time-Turner: never be seen by your past self. Ever. That means being careful, avoiding unnecessary risks, and making sure no one—no one—finds out."
Jasmine took a slow, measured breath. For a fleeting moment, I thought she might hesitate. That she'd take a step back, reconsider, weigh the risks.
Instead—
She grabbed my shoulders and shook me.
-----------------------
"MAXIMUS," she all but yelled, her eyes burning with excitement. "WHY DIDN'T YOU LEAD WITH THIS?!"
I let out a strangled noise that was definitely not dignified. "J-Jasmine—!"
"DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MORE I CAN STUDY?!" She shook me again, as if trying to rattle out every last bit of hesitation. "HOW MUCH MORE I CAN LEARN?!"
I groaned. "Yes, obviously, that's why I—"
"You absolute MENACE!" she declared, shoving me back a step, though her grin was blinding. "How long have you had this?!"
"Er—"
"Never mind! It doesn't matter!" She was pacing now, hands flying as she muttered rapidly under her breath. "Four months… If we use it strategically—merlin, that means we could triple our training time—maybe even more! No, wait, not triple, that'd be too risky, but double for sure—oh my god, we could schedule everything—"
I folded my arms, watching with barely restrained amusement as she continued her feverish calculations. And people say I'm the reckless one.
"So I take it that's a yes?" I drawled.
Jasmine spun on her heel, eyes blazing. "Oh, you have no idea."
I chuckled, shaking my head. "I'll take that as a yes, then. A normal person would have at least pretended to think about it first, you know."
Jasmine shrugged, smirking. "Normal is boring, Max."
I blinked. Then blinked again.
"Did… did you just quote me at me?" I asked, utterly dumbfounded.
Her grin stretched wider, eyes dancing with mischief. "Oh, absolutely. I figured it was about time I used your own philosophy against you."
I opened my mouth—then closed it. Then opened it again, only to snap it shut like a fish. Meanwhile, Jasmine was vibrating with amusement, biting her lip to keep from outright laughing at whatever incredibly stupid expression I was making.
"You—you can't just do that!" I finally sputtered, pointing an accusatory finger. "That's my line! There are rules about this kind of thing!"
Jasmine gasped theatrically, pressing a hand to her chest. "Oh no, rules! However shall I recover?"
"Mockery too?! This is an outrage! A betrayal of the highest order!" I flailed for dramatic effect, but she only laughed harder.
Merlin help me. I had created a monster.
.
.
.
I sighed, shaking my head. "Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own words."
Jasmine wiped a tear from her eye, still grinning. "And it definitely won't be the last time."
I narrowed my eyes playfully but let it slide. Instead, I exhaled deeply, my expression turning serious. "Alright, jokes aside, Jasmine—listen carefully. If word about this gets out, I could get into serious trouble. The Ministry isn't exactly casual when it comes to Time-Turners. So… I need you to make a Vow of Secrecy."
Her smile faded slightly, replaced by understanding.
"It's not that I don't trust you," I added quickly, holding her gaze. "But the risks are too high. If they find out I have this, it's not just detention—we're talking wands confiscated, expulsions, possibly worse."
"Say no more, Max," she interrupted, already pulling out her wand. "I completely understand. Honestly, if our roles were reversed, I'd be making you do the same thing."
That was… incredibly reassuring.
Without hesitation, she raised her wand, her voice steady as she spoke the vow, sealing her promise not to reveal the existence of my Time-Turner to anyone without my consent. The magic settled, invisible but absolute, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"Good." I nodded, satisfied. Then, taking the delicate chain of the Time-Turner, I carefully looped it around both of us.
"You ready?" I asked, my voice lower, weightier now. "It's currently 4:10 PM. We're going twelve hours into the past."
Jasmine's eyes went huge. "Twelve hours?!"
A slow grin spread across her face, excitement thrumming through her like a live wire. "Max, you are making me more and more excited! Why are you even talking?! Hurry up and turn the thing!"
She practically bounced on the balls of her feet, her entire body vibrating with anticipation.
I snorted. Ravenclaws. Give them forbidden knowledge and unlimited time, and they lose their minds.
.
.
.
I smirked, fingers poised on the hourglass. "Hold on tight, Ravenclaw. Time waits for no witch."
And with that, I flipped the Time-Turner and twisted the ring handle twelve times.
The moment the mechanism clicked into motion, the air around us shifted. A faint hum vibrated through my bones, and the world blurred, colors streaking past like paint dripping down a canvas. The magic of time itself whirred in my ears, an eerie, otherworldly sound that sent a shiver down my spine.
No matter how many times I did this, it never got old.
Then—silence.
The spinning stopped, and just like that—we were in the past.
I exhaled slowly, my grip on the Time-Turner loosening. "It's done," I announced. "We are officially in the past. Cast Tempus to check the time."
Jasmine wasted no time. "Tempus."
Glowing numbers materialized in the air: 4:11 AM.
She frowned slightly, tilting her head. "...That's it? No dramatic sparkles? No cosmic swirl of destiny? Not even a slight rumble of the universe shifting?"
I raised an eyebrow, barely suppressing a smirk. "Sorry, did you want the time stream to explode? Because that's how you get paradoxes, Jasmine."
She sighed, looking genuinely disappointed. "Well, at least it works."
I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. "Forgive time travel for not being flashy enough for you."
Jasmine huffed. "I mean, a little pizzazz wouldn't hurt. Maybe some ominous music? A disembodied voice whispering the past is not to be trifled with? Something."
I chuckled, shaking my head. "I'll be sure to file a complaint with the Ashborn family ancestors in the afterlife about their utterly disappointing production value. I mean, really—where are the fireworks? The swirling vortex of fate? The ominous chanting?" I gasped dramatically, shooting Jasmine a teasing grin. "God forbid the great Jasmine Potter experiences something as mundane as time travel without the universe personally rolling out a red carpet for her!"
I placed a hand over my heart, feigning deep regret. "How dare my family's priceless, centuries-old magical artifact fail to meet Her Highness's theatrical expectations? Truly, an unforgivable oversight!"
Jasmine's expression shifted instantly—from mild disappointment to something far more dangerous. Her eyes gleamed with the kind of warning that sent even the bravest souls running for cover.
I, being a man of great survival instincts, did the only reasonable thing.
Very, very slowly, I reached up, carefully unclasped the Time-Turner from around her neck, and muttered, "Sorry."
The shift was immediate. Her expression softened, the storm in her eyes easing into something more forgiving. She let out a small huff, crossing her arms.
"As long as you realize," she said, her voice carrying just a hint of smugness.
Then, with a sharp clap, I snapped her out of her musings.
"Alright, focus up. Jasmine, did you do any physical exercise before coming to Hogwarts?"
Her expression soured instantly—like I'd just reminded her of a past trauma.
"Ugh. Yes," she grumbled. "Grandma made me. Said it keeps you on your toes, strengthens your magical core, and 'builds character.'" She rolled her eyes. "And I did it all very reluctantly, in case you were wondering."
I smirked. "Good. Because in dueling, the most important skill isn't casting spells—it's not getting hit."
Her eyes narrowed in immediate suspicion. "Wait—"
"For the next hour," I continued, completely ignoring the way her horror visibly grew, "we'll be working on dodging."
Jasmine groaned, rubbing her temples. "I knew there was a catch."
I clapped a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You'll thank me when you're not getting flung across the room later."
She huffed but begrudgingly dropped into a ready stance. "I hate how much sense you make sometimes."
.
.
.
Jasmine's eyes flickered to the row of dummies standing ominously at the far end of the room. Their blank, expressionless faces made what I was about to say so much worse.
"These four dummies on each side will fire low-power Stinging Hexes at us. Our job? Avoid them to the best of our ability."
Slowly—painfully slowly—Jasmine turned to face me. Her expression was a masterpiece of disbelief, betrayal, and sheer exhaustion.
"Are you kidding?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like I'm kidding, Jasmine?"
"I hope you are."
"Unfortunately, I am not."
She stared at me, as if sheer willpower alone could make me summon a couch and declare this all a joke. When nothing of the sort happened, she let out a long, long suffering sigh.
"You know, I could report you for attempted harassment."
I clapped her on the back, completely unfazed. "And yet, here you are, still standing. Now, let's get started."
.
.
.
After some extremely dramatic grumbling and one last Are you absolutely sure you don't want to reconsider? look, Jasmine finally took her position. The weight of impending doom was practically visible on her face.
And then, hell began.
I had split our dodging practice into two grueling 30-minute sessions, separated by a brief but oh-so-precious 15-minute break.
The first fifteen minutes? Manageable. The spells were steady, the pattern predictable. Sure, we got hexed a few times, but nothing unbearable. Jasmine let out a dramatic "Bloody hell!" every time she got hit, but to her credit, she kept moving.
Then, fatigue set in.
Somewhere around the twenty-minute mark, the dummies seemed to develop a personal vendetta against us. Their aim got sharper. Their timing, crueler. The spells that once seemed easy to dodge now blurred together in a relentless barrage.
What started as a confident display of quick reflexes soon turned into something that barely qualified as dodging. At first, we ducked and sidestepped with finesse. Then, we stumbled. Then, we flung ourselves out of the way with all the grace of headless chickens.
By the time we reached the end of first session, I wasn't sure if we were avoiding spells or simply falling in the right direction.
Jasmine, panting on the floor beside me like she'd just sprinted up all the stairs of Hogwarts ten times, shot me a glare sharp enough to cut glass. "You do realize we could just block these, right? I'm a witch. You're a wizard. Magic exists, Max."
I turned to her, still catching my breath from the relentless dodging session, and gave her a thoroughly unimpressed look. "Oh, I realize that, Jasmine. But tell me—what happens if you're ever in a fight and your wand gets knocked away? Or you're disarmed? What then?"
Jasmine blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Well, I—I'd—" She scowled. "That's not the point!"
"That's exactly the point," I countered smoothly. "Blocking is great—until you can't. And if you can't? You dodge. Simple as that."
She groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. "Why are you like this?"
I smirked. "Efficient survival instincts."
"More like sadistic drill instructor instincts," she muttered, dragging herself upright.
I just shrugged. "Besides, Protego drains energy, and I'd rather not pass out mid-duel. You?"
Jasmine grumbled something under her breath—probably a creative curse directed at me—but ultimately, she didn't argue.
.
.
.
By the end of the first dueling session, our determination was barely holding against exhaustion, frustration, and the sheer chaos of being pelted by relentless spellfire.
I had been hexed 27 times. Jasmine? Somewhere over 35.
Utterly drained and mildly traumatized, we collapsed onto the floor, neither of us caring about dignity anymore. A 15-minute break was not a luxury—it was a necessity.
Between gasps for air, we exchanged insights from our trial by hex-fire.
Jasmine, still wincing, muttered, "Occlumency helped a lot—reduced the pain and let me focus better."
I turned my head toward her, blinking. "Right, of course you know Occlumency. Noble House daughter perks?"
She smirked despite the lingering pain. "Naturally."
"Well," I said, stretching out my sore limbs, "I've learned that dodging at the last possible second takes the least amount of energy."
Jasmine groaned. "So that's why you looked so smooth while I was out there flailing like a malfunctioning marionette."
I snorted. "That's one way to put it."
She shot me a tired glare but didn't argue. Instead, with a final sigh of resignation, we forced ourselves back onto our feet—because the work with dummies wasn't done yet.
Fifteen minutes later, we dove back into the dodging session.
This time? Way better.
I got hit only ten times over the next thirty minutes, and Jasmine—thanks to last-minute dodging—managed to cut her count down to twenty. Progress!
Though, her technique still needed some serious refining. Her 'last-minute' dodges were less calculated evasions and more split-second panic leaps.
I could have pointed it out… but honestly? Some lessons are best learned through experience. So, I just waited.
Sure enough, after her third near-death experience via an aggressive Stinging Hex, she flung herself so hard she nearly lost her balance and crashed into the floor.
"Jasmine, you're supposed to dodge, not hurl yourself out of existence," I called out as she barely avoided a hex by throwing herself behind a dummy.
"It's working, isn't it?" she shot back, breathless.
I smirked. "For now."
She'd figure it out soon enough.
.
.
.
Occlumency was definitely helping us, but the magical strain was starting to hit hard. After thirty minutes of dodging, my head buzzed like an army of ants had taken up residence in my skull. Every muscle screamed in protest, and I could feel the dull ache of repeated hexes settling into my limbs.
"Room, can you give us some cool air?" I requested desperately, rubbing my temples.
A soft, refreshing breeze filled the space instantly, and I closed my eyes with a blissful sigh. "God bless Ravenclaw and Gryffindor for the Room of Requirement."
Jasmine stretched her arms over her head, tilting her face into the cool air. "That's nice," she mumbled, half in a daze. "I could definitely use some cooling off after that Hex-dodging blitz."
I cracked an amused grin. "We're calling it a 'training exercise,' but sure, let's go with Hex-dodging blitz."
She turned her head just enough to shoot me a tired glare. "You do realize this is only day one, right?"
I flashed her an all-too-cheerful grin. "Oh, absolutely. And it's only going to get worse."
Jasmine groaned dramatically, rolling onto her side as if she could physically escape the reality of my words. "I hate that I'm actually excited for it."
I snorted before fixing her with a knowing look. "By the way, you're still keeping up with the exercises your grandma made you do, right?"
Jasmine stiffened. Then, slowly, deliberately, she turned her head away in the most cartoonishly guilty manner possible.
Yeah. That was a no.
I sighed but kept my tone light. "Say what you want, Jasmine, but physical fitness is crucial for dueling. Stamina can make or break a fight, you know."
"I know, sheesh," she grumbled, throwing an arm over her eyes. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."
"True, you don't have to like it. And doing it alone is boring—I get that," I admitted. "Which is why I'm inviting you to train with me in the mornings."
Her arm slid off her face as she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You exercise every morning? Even at Hogwarts?"
"I ran through my full routine today—fifty minutes straight, plus a light jog around the Black Lake." I shrugged like it was no big deal.
Jasmine let out a long, suffering groan. "Ugh, fine. I'll join you."
"Good choice," I said with a smirk, stretching out my sore muscles. "Anyway, I think that's enough physical training for now. I'm going to study Transfiguration since I'll be using it against the professor in our duel. If you need anything, just ask the room—it's basically our personal magical butler."
Jasmine hummed thoughtfully, closing her eyes for a brief moment. A second later, a book materialized on the nearby table with a soft thump.
"Flashpoint: The Art of Rapid-Cast Dueling."
I raised an eyebrow. "Looks like a Nice choice."
She smirked, flipping it open. "What can I say? I like being overpowered."
Shaking my head fondly, I turned back to my own studies.
For the next six hours, we were completely lost in our own worlds—Jasmine diving deep into spellcasting and the intricacies of Charms, while I wrestled with the complexities of advanced Transfiguration.
Eventually, I cast Tempus, and glowing numbers shimmered into the air.
11:43 AM.
Perfect timing. I decided we deserved a well-earned break and pulled out the refreshments I had prearranged with Zippy. God bless house-elves and their almost supernatural dedication to making life easier.
I glanced over at Jasmine, who was still hunched over her book, eyes scanning the text like her life depended on it.
"Jasmine?" I called softly.
A faint, distracted "Hmm?" was the only response I got.
Yep. Completely lost to the world.
I simply placed the snacks on the table and, with practiced nonchalance, said, "I think you could use some refreshments."
That finally did the trick. Her eyes flicked up from the pages, locked onto the food, and—just like that—she was interested.
.
.
.
Without a word, she closed her book and made her way over. Right on cue, the Room provided a plush sofa for us because, apparently, even magic knew that good food deserved a comfortable seat.
Jasmine plopped down onto the newly conjured sofa with a satisfied sigh, grabbing a biscuit and taking a bite. "You know," she said between chews, "I think this Room might actually be my new favorite place in the castle. It gives you books and privacy. What more could a witch like me ask for?"
I smirked, pouring myself some pumpkin juice. "A bit of gratitude for the person who introduced you to said magical paradise, maybe?"
She waved me off lazily. "Yes, yes, eternal gratitude, my undying thanks, blah blah blah. Now pass me that fruit tart before I start reconsidering our friendship."
Chuckling, I slid the plate toward her, shaking my head. "Truly, your appreciation is overwhelming."
Jasmine took a dramatic bite of the tart, closing her eyes like she was experiencing some kind of divine revelation. "Mmm. Alright, maybe you deserve some credit for this."
"How generous of you," I said dryly, reaching for an éclair—only for her hand to snatch it first.
I fixed her with a deeply wounded look, placing a hand over my heart. "So this is what our friendship has come to? I risk life and limb—okay, maybe just dignity and sanity—training with you, and in return, you rob me of my hard-earned snacks?"
Jasmine, utterly unfazed, took an infuriatingly slow bite of her éclair, eyes gleaming with mischief.
I narrowed my eyes at her shameless display. "You really have no remorse, do you?"
"What can I say?" she said, licking a bit of cream from her thumb. "I am a Ravenclaw. Loyalty is more of a Hufflepuff thing. I'm all about knowledge, ambition, and, apparently, extorting my friend for food."
I stared. She grinned, utterly unapologetic. "What? I am a Ravenclaw. Loyalty is more of a Hufflepuff thing. I'm all about knowledge, ambition, and, apparently, extorting my friends for snacks."
I let out a dramatic sigh, shaking my head. "You Ravenclaws and your priorities."
"And you Gryffindors and your reckless heroism," she shot back, waving the éclair at me like a tiny, pastry-wielding judge. "Honestly, I'm shocked you didn't suggest we duel during the break instead of eating."
I scoffed, placing a hand over my chest in mock offense. "I'll have you know, even I recognize the sacred importance of a snack break." Then, with a rare moment of sincerity, I added, "Besides, I know I'm not ready yet. I plan to practice spells, get proficient, figure out my own dueling style… then maybe I'll start dueling."
Jasmine raised an eyebrow, chewing thoughtfully. "Wow. A Gryffindor with patience? Should I be concerned? Is the world ending? Should I start writing my will?"
I rolled my eyes. "Hilarious. I just don't see the point in running in headfirst like an idiot. If we're going up against a five-time champion, we need strategy, skill, and actual preparation."
"Fair enough," she conceded, licking a bit of cream off her thumb. "So, what's your dueling style going to be? Flashy, high-speed casting? Or something more defensive?"
I leaned back against the plush cushions, staring at the ceiling as I mulled it over. "Honestly? Haven't decided yet. But I do know one thing—I don't want to just react. I want to control the pace of the fight, force my opponent into my rhythm. Maybe a mix of Transfiguration and unpredictable spellwork."
Jasmine hummed, tapping her fingers against her cup. "You know, that's actually kind of terrifying. I like it."
I smirked. "Glad I have your approval."
She took a slow sip of pumpkin juice, eyes glinting with amusement. "So… wanna hear my dueling style?"
I shot her a knowing look. "Let me guess—memorize every possible spell, calculate probability mid-fight, and never get caught off-guard?"
Jasmine gasped, clutching her chest in fake outrage. "Excuse you, I am not that predictable." Then, after a beat, she shrugged. "But yes, that's basically the plan. Combine rapid casting with strategic spell placement. Precision over power."
I nodded, genuinely impressed. "Sounds dangerous."
She grinned, eyes gleaming with challenge. "I aim to be."
.
.
.
I silently cast Tempus, watching as glowing numbers materialized in the air. 12:13 PM.
I exhaled through my nose. "Alright, as you can see, it's 12:13 PM, and we both got here at 4:11 AM. That gives us exactly three hours and forty-five minutes to clean up and erase every trace of our presence."
Jasmine barely glanced up as she stretched lazily, then grabbed her book again. "And I have a lot to read and practice, so back to work. As you should know, time waits for no one."
I rolled my eyes at her dramatic tone but didn't argue. She wasn't wrong. With that, we both dove back into training.
I started with spellwork, running through the basics as a warm-up. By now, I was nearly fluent with incantations, so after a few rounds of precise casting, I moved on to something much harder—silent spellcasting.
I began with Finite—one of the most practical spells to cast non-verbally—before gradually working my way up. Expelliarmus.Petrificus Totalus. And finally, Stupefy.
It took me nearly three hours and twenty minutes—three hours of relentless focus, Occlumency-fueled willpower, and sheer, teeth-gritting determination—just to cast each spell once without speaking. But skipping wand movements? That was a different beast entirely.
Controlling my magic to obey thought alone felt like trying to push a mountain with my bare hands. Every attempt drained me, each success snatched away a piece of my mental energy until my brain felt wrung dry, like a soaked rag twisted past its limit. By the end, even keeping my eyes open felt like a battle.
.
.
.
Then I turned to check on Jasmine.
And of course, she was already casting spells silently with zero visible struggle, flowing through them like she was born for it.
I stared, equal parts impressed and deeply offended. "What the hell?" I muttered. "I nearly fried my brain trying to do that, and you're over there speedrunning the process?"
Jasmine glanced up, blinking as if she had just noticed me. "Oh. Yeah. It's not that hard once you get the hang of it."
"Not that hard?" I repeated, deadpan.
She gave a lazy shrug, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "I guess I'm just gifted."
I groaned. "Unbelievable. It took me over 200 minutes, and you've been here barely an hour and already mastered it?"
"Fifty-eight minutes, actually," she corrected, flashing a wicked grin.
I clutched my chest in mock agony. "You're a menace."
Jasmine smirked before turning back to her book, flipping a page with obnoxious ease. But then—just as my ego was on the verge of collapse—I heard her muttering frustrated curses under her breath.
Ah. Transfiguration.
Unlike spellcasting, it was her Achilles' heel. Silent casting might've come naturally to her, but I owned Transfiguration. It clicked for me in ways it never did for her, and watching Jasmine struggle—even just a little—was the only thing keeping my pride intact.
I was already at an advanced level in Transfiguration, and in just a few days, I'd be moving on to combat Transfiguration—learning how to weaponize transfigured objects mid-battle—while Jasmine still looked one bad spell away from launching her textbook across the room.
"Okay, okay," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "I get why Transfiguration is useful, but I hate it."
I leaned back, smirking. "Aw, is the mighty spell-casting prodigy struggling?"
She shot me a glare so sharp it could've cut glass. "Shut up before I silently hex you."
I chuckled, stretching my arms. "Well, I guess we all have our strengths."
"Not even close," she grumbled, flipping a page in her book with unnecessary force. "But whatever. I'll get it eventually."
With one last glance at the time, I shut my own book and exhaled. We were making serious progress. The road to duelling mastery was long, but step by step, we were getting there.
By the time the clock struck 4:00 PM, it was time to erase all traces of our presence and make our escape.
I sighed, rolling my shoulders to shake off the stiffness before turning to Jasmine. "Alright, time's up. We need to clear everything and get out of here."
She groaned dramatically, clutching her book like a lifeline. "Ugh, do we have to? Can't we just—"
"Unless you want to risk getting wiped from existence, then yes, we have to," I interrupted, giving her a pointed look.
She let out a long, suffering sigh. "Fine. But I hate this part."
Reluctantly, we both stood and gave the dreaded command:
"Restore to original state."
The Room obeyed instantly. We watched in silent heartbreak as our personal haven—the books, the dummies, the comfortable seating, even the refreshingly cool air—vanished before our eyes.
Jasmine clutched her chest dramatically. "I think I just died a little inside."
"Same," I murmured, casting a final glance around the space. Then, with a small nod of appreciation, I added, "Thanks for everything, Room. See you tomorrow."
As if in response, the air seemed to hum softly, a faint ripple of magic passing through the walls.
With that, we slipped into the corridor, vanishing into the castle's winding passageways before anyone could question us.
The secret was safe—for now.
And I intended to keep it that way, no matter what it took.