Rise Of House Cason

Art continued with his lessons, impressing his teachers as usual. Due to Quidditch, Fred and George were struggling with homework so Art was in the library helping them out.

"Ulfric the Oddball slept in a room with Augureys, not Ashwinders." Art corrected Fred, pointed out his mistake.

Fred frowned and scribbled the line out. "How can remember all this garbage? It is so useless." he muttered, rewriting the line.

"History is interesting. Though Binns isn't the greatest teacher so I read most of it myself." Art shrugged, reading a book on Defence Against the Dark Arts. Snape wasn't teaching him the class anymore and he felt that he was missing out.

Closing the book, Art left the library and heading towards Flitwick's office. Knocking at the door, Art entered and saw Flitwick at his desk. "Art my boy. Shall we begin?" he said, standing up and waved his wand. The desks and chairs were sent to the side, opening up a space for them.

Art took at his wand and faced Flitwick. He quickly waved his wand and sent spell towards Flitwick who in turn deflected the spell and cast his own. The battle went back and forth, thanks to Art physical ability he was able to cast spells quickly. Of course he wasn't a match for Flitwick who was holding back tremendously. He had a smile on his face as he watched Art's progress.

'This child is a prodigy.' he thought, smiling to himself.

Soon Art found himself on his back. Brushing off the dust from his robes, he stood up.

"You have made great improvement. Now we need to figure out your style." Flitwick told him.

"My style?" Art asked confused.

"There are different styles in dueling. Some use overwhelming strength of their spells, some use cunning and sneaky means, while others use far ahead planning. Figuring out your style is key to being a successful duelist." Flitwick explained.

Art went deep into thought, 'What style am I?'

Thanks to Tim, Art was trained in martial arts, making his body a weapon itself but in the wizardry world they often forgot about their bodies and focused more on magic. Art wanted to bring the two worlds together and create his own style of dueling.

Seeing Art deep in thought, Flitwick smiled and let him think about it. He believed that Art could achieve any of the three styles if he wanted to but he could sense that Art wouldn't be satisfied with that.

Coming out of his thoughts, Art asked, "Can we go again?"

Flitwick smiled and nodded, raising his wand.

"Be careful Professor, I am coming at you seriously now." Art warned, his golden eyes shined brightly.

Art struck first sending a spell at Flitwick but when he went to stop it, the spell burst open, filling the room with smoke. Art didn't stop moving, he quickly transfigured the chairs into knives behind Flitwick and sent them flying towards him. Seeing this Flitwick, quickly waved his wand and stopped the knives but when he looked up he lost sight of Art. The second that Flitwick looked at away, Art dashed quickly towards him, covered by the smoke, he closed the gap between them. More smoke billowed from Art's wand, making visibility almost zero. Art then grabbed one of the transfigured blades from the floor and made his move. He attacked silently, striking the knife at Flitwick's back. But when he came a few feet in distance he was blown back, crashing hard into a desk.

Flitwick waved his wand and soon the smoke disappeared. He looked at Art's pathetic figure with a look of astonishment on his face.

Art stood up with a bitter smile on his face, for a split second he thought he could win but reality was cruel. Flitwick was too powerful and experienced for his trick to work.

"Sorry for the mess Professor." he said with guilt.

Flitwick still was looking at him with a shocked expression. When Art was attacking him it felt like facing a beast. He shivered at what this boy would be able to do in a couple years time.

"What was that attacking style?" he asked, wondering where Art learned it.

"My parents are muggles and my dad served in the army. He taught me hand to hand combat since I was young. He said I have a gift for it and I never stopped training in it. My body is stronger than most so I figured I could use that to my advantage in dueling." Art rubbed his head, it was a little sore from knocking into the desk. "But it seems I have a long way to go."

'Hand to hand combat? Does he mean muggle brawling?' Flitwick wondered. He had seem muggles fight and thought it was barbaric but Art's attacks were not like that. They were refined and precise, like a beast.

Flitwick thought deeply about Art's approach of the duel. Although there were lots of flaws in it, he had to remind himself that Art was only 12 years old. If he could continue developing, the wizarding world might see a new form of dueling.

The class ended there, Flitwick was still deep into thought when Art left. Soon October came and once again the Great Hall was decorated. Art made sure to write letters to his family and friends, telling them how his school year was going so far and asking questions about them. Gabrielle asked if he was going to be in France next summer and he responded that he should be. Soon it was Art's birthday, October 31st. When he woke up, Art felt hot, like he slept near a fire all night. As the day went by he continued to feel hotter. His breathing became shallow and he started sweating. It got so bad that in the middle of Potions class he collapsed causing some girls to scream.

"Art! Art are you okay? Art!" Fred ran next to his side, trying to wake him up. When he went to touch him, he pulled back his hand in pain, Art's skin felt like fire.

"Professor something is wrong!" George called Snape.

Snape pushed them all aside and took out his wand, muttering a few spells. A deep frown appeared on his face.

"Class is dismissed." he said coldly, making a magic stretcher and carrying Art out of the room.

Soon the entire school had heard about what had happened to Art and rumors were flying around.

"Do you think he tried some dark magic?"

"It would explain why he is so strong."

"Maybe he will be expelled."

Fred and George sat in the Great Hall fuming. They both knew that Art didn't dabble in dark magic. The rest of the Gryffindor House also were angry, defending when they could.

In the hospital wing…

"It's not a curse or any kind of hex." Snape told Dumbledore who was looking at Art.

"I couldn't find anything wrong with him either Headmaster but there is something you should see." Madam Pomfrey said, unbuttoning Art's shirt.

Taking off his shirt, McGonagall gasped in horror while Snape's eyes narrow. Dumbledore didn't say anything but placed his finger on the scar, his blue eyes sparkled. A large scar that reached from his shoulder to his hip was revealed.

"What is this from?" McGonagall asked in horror.

"Voldemort." Dumbledore whispered, causing the other three to flinch.

"The Dark Lord Albus? But how?" she asked, still in shock.

"You know that the Cason family was one of the few pureblood families that didn't join Voldemort, in fact that fought against him fiercely. When he and his Death Eaters attacked them, Art was there. Thanks to their house elf he was able to escape but not before watching his family murdered and getting hit from a curse." Dumbledore told them, still tracing the scar.

The teachers expressions fell, they looked at Art with pity. Most of them had no idea that he had been living with this and assumed he wasn't there the night his family was wiped out.

"I can't seem to detect anything from the scar that is causing his condition. I feel his magic power and body growing stronger." Dumbledore told them.

"Bloodline?" Snape asked surprised.

Nodding his head, Dumbledore stood up. "All we can do is wait and see."

All Art felt was pain, red hot pain. It felt like lava was running through his veins as he tried to withstand the pain. After what seemed like a lifetime, the pain slowly subsided. Opening his eyes, he was stunned. Everything seemed brighter while the colours seemed more vibrant. Looking around, he found himself in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey saw him wake up and rushed over to him.

"Are you okay Artland? Does anything hurt?" she asked nervously, touching his forehead.

"I feel great Professor Pomfrey. Thank you." Art said, sitting up. "How long have I been out?"

"One week. You have caused a great deal of worry for lots of people." she said, waving her wand a light shot out somewhere into the castle.

"Headmaster wished to be informed when you woke up." she told him.

Nodding his head, he stood up, against Pomfrey's advice, and stretched his body. Loud cracks could be heard as he stretched. Clenching his fists he felt strong, really strong.

Soon some people entered the hospital wing.