In the hours proceeding supper time, Sir Sasha Schlagenweit was kindly summoned to accompany his escort to the dueling room. 

It was a long chamber with true obsidian on the walls, shining like black mirrors and framed by stripes of purple heartwood panels that also lined the floors.  All these were charmed so as to repel persons who might be thrown into them, conjuring instantaneously a pillowy barrier that flashed blue as it bounced them back to their feet like cats.  Along the far side-wall were two black leather couches that faced each other and an ebony table between.  Atop the table were three crystal coasters, three crystal glasses and a pitcher of ice water on a silver tray.  These sat beside three neatly folded, fluffy white hand towels and a vintage hand mirror.

Kronos Malvivicus was sitting with his legs crossed on the couch that saddled the side-wall.  He was in waiting, ruminating over a very distasteful subject in his mind.  Today a letter had arrived for Sasha.  It was folded now in his breast pocket.  And it wasn't from some -- jolly friend or -- worried parent, but from some manky ape at the school who'd spied locked lips and hissed at wrong love, blindly like an alley cat spatting at a mangy fiend.  It was intolerable to see Sasha at the end of this.  It was intolerable to think of him taking that sort of malarkey from such an imbecile.     

Something must be done, thought Kronos.  Starting with the boy's back bone.  It was absolutely essential for the coming of him into his rightful inheritance that he learn how able he is to stand up for his very fine Self.  That boys like Callum Knight were no match to a chosen one with an iron will.  That will of his might've been made out of ever-lasting taffy at the moment, but Kronos knew the boy Had It In Him.

A soft knock on the door proceeded its lowly creaking as it opened slowly.  A younger Wizard, name of Dreyfus, lead Sasha in and looked to Kronos for further orders.  Kronos's eyes brightened upon sight of Sir Sasha Schlagenweit, but the old man didn't smile. 

"Dear friend, have a seat," he said, gesturing at the couches where he was, all the way across the room.  "Dreyfus.  You may go.  Send Terry in shortly."  Obediently and without further word, the man disappeared and shut the doors behind him. 

For all the worry, fear and uncertainty that had surrounded his first twenty-four hours in the castle, the last few days had been more laid back and casual than any in recent, memorable history.  By the end of his second day, it had become clear that none of Kronos' employees would hurt him.  In fact, most seemed to avoid touching him at all costs. Relaxation slowly followed the dissipation of the initial fear.  He was far too accustomed to waking before six for his body to physically allow him to sleep in past seven but the morning of the twenty-third had found Sasha still lingering, leisurely with a casual, non-academic book, in bed until breakfast was delivered.  That level of laziness was still foreign enough to feel somewhat strange though not enough to make him rush through breakfast. 

He'd been in the stables most of the rest of the morning and that was where he was when one of the staff found him.  There was that moment of unease and uncertainty that accompanied the summons from the voice in the back of his head that had yet to fully accept nothing ill would happen to him here.  But, there was no hostility in the man's voice as he asked Sasha to follow him. 

Distracted by the architecture, Sasha didn't at first see his older host after stepping into the room.  It was dark but what light there was in the room shone off the slick walls.  He paused, just inside the door, reaching a hand out to touch the shiny, black stone but, with a flash of blue, his hand was gently pushed back.  "Bizarr" he murmured to himself, his fingers traced the edge of one of the deep purple panels, the tips of his fingers a careful inch away from the wall.  Sasha's knowledge of the wizarding world and it's possibilities beyond Hogwarts was really quite limited.  Needless to say, this room was unlike anything at Hogwarts and, therefore, unlike anything he'd ever seen. The soles of his leather dress shoes rapped brightly and staccato against the floor - it hadn't taken long at all for Sasha to abandon his school robes for the dizzying array of fashions in his closet. 

He was only half aware that his escort had crossed the room until Kronos' voice beckoned him across the room.  Sasha turned away from the stretch of wall by the door just in time to see Dreyfus let himself out.  To fetch Terry.  As Kronos had yet to do anything malevolent, it was growing increasingly tempting for Sasha's mind to accept Terry as being the bad influence in the castle.  He was, after all, the one that had stunned Sasha and was responsible for him being here. 

"Yes, sir."  The young Ravenclaw hesitated only a moment before, with an air of obedience that easily rivaled his escort, Sasha crossed the room and lowered himself to sit on the edge of the couch.  Despite knowing it was probably best to remain quiet and allow Malvivicus to make the first move, Sasha couldn't resist the temptation to gaze around the room once again.  "I - what ... what is this place?" he asked, before catching himself. 

With legs crossed, one arm draped over the arm of his leather couch and the other in his lap, Kronos was relaxed in posture, but his face was pensive.  He was studying Sasha carefully, but not with the same intensity that might signal his usually sinister gaze.  He was a bit somber.

Sasha was looking about the room with a youthful curiosity, he saw, and when he posed his question, Kronos lifted his gaze suddenly as though distracted.  His mouth opened gently as he looked up, around, and back to Sasha, saying, "Aahh -- this is our dueling hall."  He lifted his brows and hesitated a moment but, upon seeing the boy's face, he decided to humor him. 

"I had it converted a few years back," he explained.  "It used to be an old piano room, but I had those moved down to the parlor in the West wing.  Now it is an -- ideal environment for the practice of self-defense," he said.  "The walls are obsidian stone, fitted with an energy barrier to prevent harsh impact and -- lend resiliency to the weaker opponent.  The floors have it too, but a lesser design meant to cushion falls.  It turns that color when it's cut, you know, the flooring.  It was imported here all the way from South America for me." 

He was blissfully unaware of the fact that he had single-handedly made the purple heartwood a practically extinct species over the years.

He paused before answering what would likely be the lad's next question.  "We are here now because I am concerned, Sasha, that you are often targeted by jealous specimens.  I was, too, often at the end of that in my youth.  So I am painfully aware of how tempting it is to believe the harsh things that people say about you.  And to your face, like.  The taunting and the trolling that happens -- that happens when you are quite clearly brilliant and they are nothing but a bunch of barmy oafs.  So Terry will be up shortly to aid me in teaching you some defenses, son.  Perhaps you can use them against Callum Knight."

His last two words, of course, stuck out like badly jinxed thumbs.  And Kronos quite clearly knew the impact they'd have, as he looked to Sasha then as if to say -- is there something you would like to tell me.  But he quickly shifted out of any stance that could be considered accusatory, seemingly with a very deliberate effort. 

"There is nothing wrong with liking boys," he said somewhat awkwardly, his voice suddenly bold, stiff, and defensive.  It hit a little too close to home perhaps, but it did only make him feel more like Sasha was really kin to him.

"Dueling?"  Again, Sasha turned away from the man settled comfortably on the couch to survey the room.  "You ... duel?"  In hindsight, obviously.  It was unlikely the man would have an entire room devoted to an activity he didn't participate in - especially not a room this elaborately designed.  Was this another show and tell - another opportunity to show off 'all that could be his.'  Such had been a running theme since his arrival; a slightly spooky, creepy theme that just left Sasha a little on the uncomfortable side.  It wasn't wholly unlike that feeling one got when a stranger came up and randomly handed you a large sum of money.  You couldn't shake the suspicious feeling that there had to be a catch.

Sasha nodded slowly and subtly, each tip of his head a gestural bullet point to the list of features.  Hogwarts had a dueling club.  Of course, Sasha had never gone.  He wasn't the 'dueling' type.  He much preferred playing Quidditch and studies and prefect duties took up the rest of his time.  He didn't have a clue where the school's dueling club practiced or whether they had a room anything like this.  "It is pretty," he said, looking at the colors in the floor. 

His attention turned back to Kronos and he watched the man closely as he listened to the explanation.  The young Ravenclaw's eyes stitched into arches and the creasing on his forehead deepened as the confusion and suspicion grew.  Jealous specimens?  Believing people?  Callum Knight?  "How ... How do you know ...?" Sasha demanded, quickly, as color flooded his cheeks. How on earth did Knight's name come into this conversation?  "I ... It's not that ... It's not that big of a deal.  I don't care what he says.  And, he usually doesn't beat me up as bad as last week.  That was just ... "

Eyes wide and round, every muscle frozen and drawn tense, Sasha stared at Kronos like he was a deer in a pair of headlights.  What had been a hint of pink on the apples of his cheeks quickly spread into an expanse of red that stretched over his whole face.  There's nothing wrong with liking boys.  Where had that come from and how was it connected with ... Knight?  Did Kronos know?  About ... the bathroom ... thing?  Ferguson?  And, again, if so, what did that have to do with Knight? 

But, of course, this might just be some random comment.  There was no point in confessing to anything before there was really a concrete need to.  "I don't ... I don't know what you're talking about."  Even more so than was normal for the Ravenclaw youth, his words were choppy, nervous and detached.  "I ... I don't ..."  Actually, he couldn't truthfully say he agreed with the fellow.  He figured trying to lie wasn't bright.  So, he changed tactics.  After all, it mattered less whether he thought it was alright, right?  That had nothing to do with him.  With a little too much vehemence, he said, bluntly.  "I don't like boys."

How incredibly awkward.

"Oh," said Kronos simply.

He knotted his brow, then looked out of the corner of his eyes across the room as though searching for someone to save him.  But they were alone of course and -- truly -- this was not the sort of situation that could be fixed with hired help.  Still, being put in the role of supportive father figure, though he'd asked for it, was having him a little out of his element.  He had never once in his life appealed to a situation with loving care and guidance.  It was more like, Do or Die.  Kronos started to panic a little inside, but he attempted to still himself as he looked back to the brightly pink-colored version of Sasha in front of him.  He tried to speak but -- hesitated.  How was he supposed to explain any further without causing the boy to spontaneously combust?  He looked redder than a scamp in heat!

Since when was he fit to do this sort of thing.  Well, humph.  Since their stars crossed, he supposed. 

"I um.  Well Sasha, if -- if you did ever feel like you might like boys, you know, I wouldn't -- I -- You wouldn't have a fuss from me."  He picked his chin up a little and stood his ground, decidedly making himself proud and solid, hoping to lead by example.  Then he boldly declared, "I like boys."  After a moment, he corrected himself awkwardly.  "Men....  I like men," he said.   He cleared his throat and blushed himself.  Oh, Gods. 

"I never could decipher women," continued Kronos, rubbing his face.  "And I never really wanted to either."  He sighed and pulled himself together again before looking back at Sasha.  "Yes, you could say I'm a man's man through and through -- and I think that's a beautiful thing.  Now, I really don't mean to make you uncomfortable son, but do let me explain why I would think -- and how I would know about this... figure, who's been bullying you at school."  He took a big breath in and sighed.

"The long and short of it is that he wrote you a nasty letter.  All my mail is screened, Sasha, for my safety and your safety and the safety of the whole estate.  Now, nothing is wrong, alright?  This sort of bullying is to be expected, because you're very special!  And normal people don't understand that on their own.  You have to make them understand.  They are sadly deficient, you see.  And that is why Callum's letter was flagged for the potential of psychological upset, because Callum Knight is deficient and you are special.  In the letter he called you many things -- I find it hard to tell you.  I don't think that you should read it.  But he has made claims that you were kissing a boy named... Fergie... 'all over the loo' -- and he plans on dishing out punishments when you return to school!  Silly boy.  If he tries that, Sasha, you will be able to stand up for yourself.  I promise."

Could this meeting get anymore humiliating? 

Unfortunately, yes.  Yes it could. 

Slowly but steadily, the heat in Sasha's face grew more intense and he could feel the line of warmth slowly sliding up his forehead and into his hairline straight to the tips of his ears.  If one so desired, they could have likely fried an egg on the Ravenclaw's cheeks.  Or, at least, melted butter. 

"I - wha?" he said.  Sasha shook his head - perhaps out of a need to express his dissatisfaction with this topic or to reiterate it did not pertain to him.  But, the gesture lacked any certainty or definitiveness he would have liked to to have.  The side to side motion was quick, short - more like a seizure than a head shake.  But, Kronos liked men, too.  Had this admission come as its own individual kernel of knowledge rather than one kernel nestled in a long ear of similar related bits of knowledge, Sasha might have been better prepared to ignore his gut reaction in the name of etiquette.  But, on the heels of this conversation, the conversation with Ferguson and ... and ... the kiss, the skin on the bridge of Sasha's nose wrinkled before he could catch himself. 

And, then, Kronos had to go explain it further.  And, really, who could decipher women?  That wasn't an excuse.  Sasha certainly couldn't but that didn't mean ... that was just part of life.  Plain and simple.  "I have a girlfriend."  Yes, strong emphasis on girlfriend, lest there be any further misunderstanding.  "And ... and ... that's fine for other people but I can't be like that."  Plain and simple. 

"He kissed me!"  The defensive outburst echoed, briefly, in the black-walled room.  His face having achieved an impressive shade of maroon, Sasha's gaze dropped to the floor, only to be met by his reflecting flickering in the light of the polished floor and he quickly looked back up.  His voice just above a whisper, a heavy tone of dread on his voice, Sasha shook his head.  "Callum Knight knows about it?" He crossed the rest of the room to one of the empty couches and dropped down onto it.  "This is horrible.  I can't go back."  Self-defense was useless against this, wasn't it? 

Kronos was exceptionally good at making people feel uncomfortable.  Too good, it seemed. 

He had watched the boy turn ever more shades of red as he spoke, thinking helplessly that the more he explained -- the more information, the more knowledge he imparted -- the more at ease and empowered Sasha would feel.  Knowledge was power!  Surely it was a lot to take in, and the taking in of it would be awkward, but once it was all there it could be transformed into purpose.  That had to be the case.

Yet that didn't seem to be the case.  Regrettably (perhaps), Kronos had very little practice with the mentoring of young people.  He had absolutely no experience in that department.  All he knew was how not to be -- like his father.  But helping a boy come out of the closet?  Clearly not something he was very good at!  He of course had been that little boy once, but he was never mentored by anyone.  He had, he supposed, mentored himself.  He had simply learned to curse the shame thrown upon him.  He had learned on his own -- the path of pride arising from the hand-me-down of shame -- to rejoice over the part of himself that he was taught to take extensive punishment for.  The magic spark, the eye for men.  Eccentricity was not to be tolerated, not until he made his own rules.  Then eccentricity became his raison d'etre.

As Sasha stood, paced, and crossed the room, Kronos began to think that he'd gone about it all wrong.  He regretted not offering Sasha some ice water.  And inside, he began to feel frantic.  The boy was now thoroughly humiliated and admitting defeat.  But perhaps this was best, thought Kronos, noticing now that a silence broke through.  Sasha had created space.  The silence gave room to possibility.  The last thing a humiliated person wanted to do was take control of an awkward situation; that meant the floor was open for someone else to settle things.  One could hardly build a structure on top of a formerly existing one.  Perhaps a slight break down would be beneficial.

Kronos uncrossed his legs, and his right shoe clapped softly against the hardwood floor.  But instead of acting rash and jumping up, he leaned forward and touched his hand to his forehead in pause. 

"Sasha... it's okay," he said, casting his gaze up and across the room.  "You will go back to Hogwarts -- it's your right to go to Hogwarts.  It's where you belong."  He slowly stood and went to the center-front of the two sets of couches, extracted a wand from his front pocket and levitated both of the tables across the room, one gently floating in each direction.  He said lightly, "Let's do a switcheroo."  Then he joined him on the other side.

Kronos poured a glass of water and for a moment the only sound was clicking ice cubes.  The crystal glass perspired with the coldness of it.  He handed him the water and a cool damp hand towel.  "Do as I say," he said gingerly.  "Dab your face and drink some water.  Take some deep breaths.  It is okay," he enunciated.  "Okay?  When you feel a bit calmer, I want you to look at yourself in the hand mirror.  Lesson number one, Sasha.  Try to -- find your center -- the place where chaos simply cannot touch you.  Compose yourself."  Kronos passed on the hand mirror, looking sideways at Sasha with heightened brow, careful and not quite sure if this angle would work, but... encouraging with his expression, goading and, hopefully, supportive.

There was no power in this - only confusion, uncertainty and fear. In addition to the humiliation which was, simply, an unfortunate given.  Power came from knowledge when it had a use and a purpose and helped clarify things.  When that knowledge just made things more confusing and daunting, 'powerful' was the last thing one felt.  Sasha had quickly and readily shrugged off the whole incident in the bathroom as an unfortunate lesson.  A trial of sorts, if one would.  A test.  One that had been made much easier to pass with the distraction of the detention and his subsequent trip here. 

He'd lulled himself into the false hope that he'd managed to escape all that and put it behind him.  But, he was wrong.  Very wrong.  It had followed him here, somehow, on the wings of a letter from Callum into the hands of Kronos.  And now Kronos was - was urging Sasha ... to believe being like that was okay.  That being like him was alright.  That, Kronos would accept if Sasha was like that.  Kronos, of course, was in the minority there - a small slim minority.  And, Sasha couldn't help wondering, when the man's opinion had begun to have weight in the mass of voices and opinions in his head.  And, how much weight it held. 

But, regardless, all of that for others might be true.  But, for Sasha, it couldn't be.  He knew he already faced the prospects of, one day, his family discovering he was a wizard.  He could not and did not want to imagine what that scene would be like if they learned he was a wizard that liked other wizards.  It was a sin on top of a sin.  There was no way to measure the mathematical impact of such an exponential equation. 

In the end, that was, really, the answer to the question.  It just couldn't be.  No matter how much weight Kronos' words might have, he still feared his parents' discovery more than disappointing this man.

Despite that, he did experience a touch of guilt as Kronos looked up and around the room, obviously equally unsure about this conversation.  His gaze slid over to Kronos as the man got to his feet, slowly nodding his head.  After a moment, he shrugged.  Despite the years of lying, he'd never questioned whether or not he deserved to be at Hogwarts.  He was a wizard, he'd been accepted at the school and he worked hard to achieve the marks he did.  This year, though, nothing seemed certain.  "Yeah, the Headmistress doesn't agree with you.  She's just looking for a reason to expel me.  I really thought she was going to right before I came here.  I was relieved, at first, she only suspended ... me." 

He watched as the tables levitated across the room then turning to watch as the man settled on the couch next to him. Sasha took the offered glass and towel and, with only a slight nod, followed the man's instructions.  The coolness of the towel against the warmth of his red face was shocking at first but, as the heat quickly faded, it was immeasurably refreshing.  It was a few moments before he reemerged from behind him, his expression much more it's usual schooled self.  He took a long drink of the glass of water.   

"I'm sorry," he offered as he set both down, shaking his head.  "I didn't mean to ... I just - You have no idea how much trouble all that would get me into.  It doesn't matter what ... what I think of it.  It just - that's how it is." 

For a moment, confusion wrinkled Sasha's brows and he stared at the mirror in the man's hands.  "Lesson?" he repeated, looking up at Kronos.  That's right.  Defense lessons because of the likes of Callum.  Perhaps, he should still be listening to the voice of self-preservation when it said admitting how off target Kronos with him would be wise.  But, the man was about to find out on his own, right?  "I ... don't - I'm good with all the theory stuff.  But, I'm just not - my wandwork's never been my strength.  I'm not - I'm hoping it's because I had the wrong wand but I ... I just don't want you expecting too much.  It's -" 

Despite his less than confident warning, Sasha turned towards the mirror, glancing at his reflection before quickly looking away.  "Do I really have to -"  He turned his attention back to the mirror, looking at his reflection with a sigh.  Luckily, he'd tried the whole 'clearing your head' thing with Professor Ramsey so 'composing himself' was, at least, not a new thing.  However, he didn't remember going over 'finding one's center.'  "How do I know ... what I'm looking for?  I mean, how do I know I've found it?"

"Don't worry," said Kronos, marginally disrupting Sasha's little rant about his inferiority with a wand.  Kronos inclined his head toward the mirror.  He simply did so again after the boy's initial glimpse ricocheted off the mirror's surface followed by a last plea to opt out.  Sasha had reoriented his gaze and Kronos went to answer his request for further guidance.

"You will know," said Kronos, sounding very well assured.  "When all of that upset is channeled and focused into your gaze, and you thirst for the knowledge of how to become invulnerable to it.  And, to Callum Knight."  Kronos's unsure leaning and his goading, shifty eyes focused hard upon Sasha and he straightened up.  He led by example; clasping his hands in front of him and setting his gaze forward, he began taking deep, audible breaths -- not the soothing, spiritual sort but the kind meant to raise palpable energy.  There was a certain harshness to it, an anger seething behind the show of self-discipline and, after a few moments, he seemed brighter, more imposing, dangerously composed and ready to thrust his will upon others.

Kronos stood and slowly paced on their side of the room, extracting his wand again and holding it now behind his back, hands clasped.  He walked with a slight limp but a strong posture, his brow somewhat heavy.  He looked ready to fire off a spell at any moment, his head upturned in pride, his chest open and expansive.

"Think of the composure you will need in a difficult situation.  Feel your energy focus, pull your energy to the center of your body and make it grow bright.  Because what you will face," said Kronos, pointing toward the door with a few juts of his wand, "out there -- when for instance a knob like Callum Knight attempts to make you his... pinata... is very likely to be the same as what you're facing -- right now -- in here.  This is private, isn't it Sasha.  This emotional hot spot -- our little secret -- and what will the world see?  What will Callum see?  Only what you allow!  Will he see someone he can push around?  Or will he see the other Sasha, the determined and relaxed Sasha, who is self-assured of his own impending victory over those who would seek to question him?  He will attempt to belittle you, beat you, bruise you.  And what feedback will you give him?  Will you express by your downward head that you will kindly take a beating any time?  Or will you express to him by channeling your Will that you will not stand for that?  Only you can prevent it from happening, Sasha." 

"I want you to look in that mirror and see strength!  Meet your own gaze, son.  Take on the posture of pride.  You are what you are as you have ever been, yes, but you have a thirst for knowledge, don't you.  And you can learn to be your own greatest strength in any situation."  Kronos paced a few steps, looking pensively to the ground. 

He looked up a little and said without question, "You do have it in you, son.  I do not make mistakes."

Immediately and without hesitation, Kronos interrupted Sasha's attempts to get out of the situation and the boy quickly and seemlessly, without room for question, took irrefutable command of the exercise.  The Ravenclaw's personal doubt often played effective interception when he was left to his own devices but he'd learned quickly, at a young age, how to take directives well.  With an obedient nod of of his head, Sasha peered closely at his reflection. 

His range of vision narrowed in on his reflection in the mirror, most of the elaborate room fell out of sight.  He couldn't see the old man but he could hear his slow footsteps as he paced the length of the room.  Sasha felt foolish though he'd never admit it.  All he saw were his own blue eyes peering back up at him.  For Sasha to become invulnerable to the upset?  To Callum?  Did this man have any idea how ridiculous that notion sounded?  But, he knew better than to voice that - his initial attempts at reasoning his way out of the exercise had failed, now was when it was best to sit back and do as instructed.  With one last scowl of this is crazy, right at himself through his reflection he took the man's guidance seriously. 

A difficult situation.  Like ... getting ready for a practical exam.  Or getting cornered by any number of students in the halls.  He was good at finding energy in those situations though the energy was usually used to walk or run away.  It wasn't quite composure, though, was it.  Sasha just barely managed to avoid pointing out that a person he could push around was usually, exactly, what Callum saw.  Usually, he was right. 

Sasha's gaze lifted from the mirror as the man launched into the later half of the speech but quickly turned back to the mirror when, again, those instructions came around.  They were only motions, of course, but Sasha followed the man's instructions word for word.  He looked down into his own eyes and took a deep breath, forcing his back to straighten as he exhaled.  Whether all this would lead to this inner hidden strength, Sasha didn't know (and somewhat doubted) but, after that moment of panic, it did feel good to collect himself and focus.  The man's speech came to an end and, for several moments, Sasha sat in silence, continuing to follow Kronos' instructions.

Perhaps it was his mind playing tricks on him but, when Sasha finally broke eye contact with his reflection, his mind seemed to keep a grasp on whatever it was he'd found in his reflection.  "I - alright, sir," he said, pushing himself to his feet.  "I ... um ... I think I've found it."  Now what?

The summons had come without an explanation.  Dreyfus had passed on the request that Terry present himself in the dueling room and excused then himself as quickly as he could, nervously hurrying out of the Greek wizard's presence. 

Even without clarification, though, Tiresias could come to his own conclusions.  His employer wasn't one for random practice sessions, nor did he normally request for his right hand man to demonstrate his skills.  If Terry was being asked to join in a practice duel, he suspected it was for the benefit of an individual other than the Old Man himself.

Ever since Sasha Schlagenweit had joined them, life in the Scottish castle had become nearly unbearable.  Even more so than usual, perfection was expected - perfect manners, perfect accommodations, a perfect life for the new pet.  The Old Man had been in a better mood than usual, his attentions focused on his adopted project, but Terry could feel himself strafing at the bit.  He hadn't taken on this work to babysit an English school brat.  If the goddamned situation dragged on for much longer, or if it took a turn for the even more irritating - there was already talk of attending some ridiculous musical in London with the boy - he grimly knew he would not put up with it much longer.

And now, being summoned into the boy's presence like he was the prince of the Old Man's castle was almost too much to bear.  Terry stalked to the room, his wand already in hand.  He had already taken to completely ignoring Schlagenweit, at least as much as he could get away with it.  If he didn't have to address the brat, he wouldn't.

But there was still a routine to observe, and he'd be damned if he set the Old Man off because of some kid.  He knocked on the door, waited the appropriate amount of time, and then pushed it open and stepped inside.  Raising an eyebrow at Kronos, he waited for instructions, face impassive as he let the door close behind him.

Upon his face Kronos was refulgent, but his body was impeccably still.  With his eyes widened with purpose, his head delicately upturned, he looked down upon Sasha with a studious gaze.  The boy . . . did as he was told, which, suited Kronos perfectly of course.  He was beginning to understand his subject -- a curious balance between guidance and manipulation.  He knew that Sasha was every bit that dear Rita had painted him, but in her first article foremost.  Sasha had no inkling of the urge to fight back, let alone to make the fight his.  But nevertheless Kronos knew he was worthy of the crown of Heir.  He knew it made his employees jealous to no end.  But it would take work.  The investment, he was sure, was worth its efforts.

He leaned now on the cane he had silently summoned during Sasha's reflections.

As the boy at long last spoke and stood to his feet with some dosage of authority, Kronos's head shook just the slightest degree, and a greedy grin almost met with his face.  Just then, with impeccable precision, a knock was heard at the door.  It tickled the old man's insides that the timing was -- Just Right.  Oh golly gobsmacks, how tasty.  The grin threatened to grow a thousandfold, but Kronos kept it in check.  Instead, his pursed lips only flickered into a brief, tight smile before he turned slowly toward the door, just as Terry stepped through and paused to await orders curiously.

"Come," he said, loosely beckoning the man as he turned to look back upon Sasha.  He swept an open arm towards himself.  "You too, Sasha," he said.  "Come here."  He leaned again against his ivory cane, pausing as he scanned the floor thoughtfully, and addressed Terry first.  "We should like to teach the boy how to fight," he explained.  His eyes lingered long enough to light upon Terry in a way that privately indicated just what kind of fighting he had in mind.  Clearly this was not a simple defense practical exam.  That he had specifically asked for Terry and not someone else, matched with his pointed gaze, indicated how he wished to add a trick or two to the kid's arsenal -- a trick that would give him a bit of leverage in the ... Dark Arts.

"First round, only block.  I shouldn't like to see any oopsies.  And Sasha, you shall be on the offensive.  Show me what you know -- throw it all at our friend here.  Don't worry, son, he doesn't blink."  Kronos turned easily and went along the side wall to watch.  He of course had no doubt in his mind that Katsaros could easily deflect anything thrown his way.  Hopefully Sasha wouldn't hesitate to pick up the -- dirtier tactics they'd hand him in a few moments after seeing where he currently stood.

A knock echoed on the door and Sasha's head jerked in that direction.  Wait ... why did this ... why did this involve another person?  He thought Kronos was teaching him not ...

The door swung open and Sasha reflexively took a step back as Katsaros walked into the room.  The man didn't look at Sasha but, quite frankly, he didn't have to.  Since the man shot that hex in Sasha's back, Sasha had been terrified of him.  Most of the other elements of this place had settled into a sense of comfortable acceptance if not normalcy.  Even all those random men who stood in wait along the corridors and ... well everywhere else ... had just become some strange part of this place.  Katsaros, though, had been the one to strike the first blow - had been the one who'd dragged him through the dark to this place and had met him on the heels of the suspension fear.  And, Sasha always got this strange, creepy vibe from the man on those unfortunate occasions Sasha wasn't able to avoid his path. 

That space - or whatever it was he'd found in that mirror - vanished from Sasha's head the moment he saw the man.  His mouth opened to offer a protest but Kronos was already beckoning both him and Katsaros to him. 

We should like to teach the boy how to fight

We?  If Sasha was supposed to be hiding his fear, that part of the lesson was lost on him.  Wide-eyed, he glanced from the older man to the younger one but, obediently (albeit, stiffly) moved towards Kronos' outstretched arm.  "I ... offensive?" Sasha looked at Kronos.  He didn't really care whether or not the other man blinked; Kronos wanted Sasha to attack this man?  With what?  Kronos didn't mean spells, did he?  If this were Hogwarts and Katsaros was a bully and they were practicing DADA spells in class, Katsaros would corner Sasha and pummel him the moment the Professor was out of sight. 

"Scheiße."  Sasha hadn't meant for that thought to actually materialize into words.  The fear that Sasha had harbored since the first day he was there rushed back with full force.  The moment they realize you're not who they're expecting, you're dead.  Trying to not think too much about the whole scenario, trying to imagine this was simply a practical DADA class (which were always humiliating), Sasha tugged his wand out and held it. But, as he stared at the floor somewhere between him and Katsaros, nothing came to mind. DADA was, after all Defense against the Dark Arts.  They learned defensive spells, not offensive ones.  And, Sasha had never set a foot near the dueling club practices. 

The truth was, the only offensive spells he knew were the ones he'd witnessed as the spell was launched his way.  Usually by Callum or one of the other Slytherins.  He knew the incantations from hearing them moments before the angry boils or burns erupted on his skin but he had no idea how to cast them.  Embarrassment and color flooded his face as the Ravenclaw mumbled, "Furnunculus," with a vague and entirely pointless waggle of his wand.  He knew before he'd even cast it nothing was going to happen.

The Greek wizard was, indeed, barely blinking.  He stared at his employer, taking his words in, and then turned his regard on the boy, dark eyes cool and measuring.  'Only block.'  'No oopsies.'  So far, the terms weren't very promising, though it didn't show in Tiresias' expression.  At least the mention of a first round gave hint of a second, when he might indeed be allowed to do more.

The boy swore out loud, and Terry allowed a slight smirk to cross his face.  At least he wasn't too stupid to know when he ought to be afraid.  With little enough effort, this sideshow might be worth it.  He wouldn't mind leaving the brat even more terrified of him.

Keeping his eyes locked on Sasha, he stepped further into the room, his wand still lowered at his side.  Years of experience had taught him never to leave duels to chance; he'd learned to hit hard and fast, to set his defenses and pound home an attack before his opponent knew what to expect.  But this enemy - this boy - didn't bring much with him in the way of expectations.  Schlagenweit could have thrown his wand and Terry would have doubted that it could make it across the room.

He kept his wand in hand, but didn't bother to set any of his usual deterrents.  Schlagenweit still disappointed him; he knew the spell would fizzle before the boy had finished casting it.  It was barely an effort, weakly intended, and the shield spell that he cast in return hardly seemed worth it when he could have stayed where he was and barely batted an eye.  But this was an exercise, and he was always careful.  Golden light shimmered briefly in front of him, tinkling lightly like a bell until he dropped his wand hand and cut his defense off.

It had been anti-climatic.  Raising an eyebrow, Terry cast a look at his employer, shifting his stance into a better position for attack.

"Round two?" he asked evenly.

Watching from the side with his chin perched in his hand, Kronos looked back and forth between his two Wizards with a scrutinizing gaze.  As he looked now, the dynamic was obvious.  Their posturing told him everything he needed to know.  Katsaros, at the first failing, was poised to attack on order.  He was... hungry.  Hungry for action, while Sasha was slack and accepting defeat before they'd begun. 

He sighed and dropped his arm, utilizing his cane to hop over to Terry.  He knew what must be done.  Their positions had to be emphasized, magnified, enhanced and made dramatic.  It was ... basic psychology.

He stopped at Terry's side and placed a hand on his shoulder to still him momentarily.  Then he cradled the man's ear, whispering secret directives.

"When we ... start again," he said very quietly.  "Play the part of ruthless bully.  Belittle him.  Be ... ruthless, but do not cast.  You can ... push, you can circle.  Block.  Make him feel little.  Taunt the boy."  He hovered there a moment more, then dropped his hand and looked at Terry.  Taking a deep breath, he turned his head toward Sasha, then started over in his direction. 

Reaching him on the other side of the room, Kronos set his cane aside and it stood straight up without any supports.  He placed one hand on the slight of the boy's back, the other on his sternum, gently encouraging him to pick up his posture. 

"Deep breaths, Sasha.  Strength.  This will be difficult, though you might surprise yourself.  Stand straight, stand tall, and let me show you a spell."  He came around to the boy's other side, taking up his wand hand and repositioning Sasha's fingers on its handle.

"Hold it, just so -- there, you see that?  Feel that, and tighten.  Yes.  Now."  He lifted the boy's wand arm, positioning it outward and aimed away from Terry, just by about a foot, straight out.  "Bend your elbow just the slightest," he said.  "The incantation is ... Turpiscarpo.  Tur-piss, car-po," he said.  "Like that.  With the incantation, the movements of your wand hand are segmented.  Tur -- driving force, outward aiming.  Piss -- a slight flick like this.  Car -- a tight circular motion, here.  Po -- a hard, jabbing motion.  You say it.  Say it a couple times with me.  Turpiscarpo.  Turpiscarpo.  Turpiscarpo.  You will, I trust, learn to insert the exclamation points.  Only let yourself be angry, Sasha.  You have every right to hate this man."

Without further instruction, Kronos grabbed his cane and hobbled back to the side wall.  Leaning there casually he again looked from one Wizard to the other and back again. 

"Sasha, please try it over and over with persistence.  Do not stop.  Practice makes perfect, son.  Go."

---

Turpis:  foul, ugly, disgraceful, morally corrupt.
Carpo: to pluck, seize, grab, lay hold of, hold on to.
The spell, when successfully cast and not blocked, will seize all parts of a person painfully and cause them to curl into the fetal position, dropping to the ground as all of their muscles and internal organs are constricted.  This incapacitates the subject and causes excrutiating pain.