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The Grind (And Helping Heather Potter) Ch.4
🕑 Added 2023-07-23 22:22:54 +0000 UTC“Yes, just like that,” Septima leaned over my shoulder, her breath brushing against my ear and making me shiver pleasantly.
She seemed to almost purr as I worked, just as focused as I was, “You’re doing ~splendidly~, Atlas”
Thankfully, I didn’t let the hot young woman in her prime who didn’t know how sexy she was and just so happened to have been my teacher for four years distract me from my efforts. With a few more taps of the specialized funnel I was using, the circle of salt was complete. I sat back, unintentionally leaning into Septima’s bosom, and breathed a sigh of relief.
< +2 to Ritual Magic for Forming Your First Complete Ritual Circle >
< Ritual Magic 13+2=15/100 >
The Ritual Magic Discipline had been unlocked the day after I arrived back at Hogwarts, this time as a member of the staff. Septima had been ecstatic and eager to continue our conversation from the previous night when I’d asked about the books she’d mentioned. After another lecture, I felt I was starting to get a better idea of what made a Ritual a Ritual, and the Discipline was subsequently unlocked under the Creation Skill category.
The progress I’d made in the Discipline was thanks almost entirely to Septima. She happily taught me what she knew about the subject, most of it relating to Arithmancy in some way or another. My studies and her teaching on the Discipline culminated in this: level 15 and a complete but nearly useless circle for a sealing Ritual.
Thankfully, the sealing Ritual was only useless because we had nothing to seal instead of the circle being incorrect or incomplete. The circle itself was relatively simple. Just a circle with a square enclosed inside it. Two rows of smaller circles lined two sides of the square — top and bottom relative to the caster. A continuous line then connected all of those circles, forming a pattern that almost looked like zigzagging bars.
It wasn’t much of an accomplishment. Just about the barest of bare essentials for those who practiced Ritualcraft, according to Septima’s books from America. And even this much was technically illegal in Wizarding Britain. Of course, since I was only doing this for the academic aspect of it, I didn’t really care about the legality. It wasn’t like I planned on using it to seal an undead lich or anything…
Ritual Magic may have been the only Discipline I’d unlocked during my summer at Hogwarts but it was far from the only progress I’d made…
< +4 to Arithmancy for a Summer of Magical Math With Your Magical Math Teacher >
< Arithmancy 46+4=50/100 >
< +3 to Magic Theory for Unlocking and Learning a New Discipline of Magic >
< Magic Theory 56+3=59/100 >
The Arithmancy increase made perfect sense. Septima was an expert in her field and passionate about teaching a student who was willing to put in the work. Studying with her also raised my Magic Theory level. I was now only one level away from fulfilling the requirement for the Wandless Magic Quest. There was other progress that was as confusing as it was welcome…
< +6 to Seduction for Reasons Apparent to Everyone Other Than You Two Dense Idiots… >
< Seduction 24+6=30/100 >
< +2 to Luck… You Lucky Bastard >
< Luck 30+2=32/100 >
Yeah, I had no idea what those increases were about. I wasn’t even trying to seduce Septima… All I did was pay close and obvious attention to her when she talked about her interests, spent quite a bit of time with her, and treated her the way I always had — as if she was the smartest witch in the room. I agreed with the Luck increase at least. I was a damn lucky bastard to have a woman like Septima as my teacher… as my friend…
< Stats >
< Body 10+9=19/100 >
< Mind 24+7=31/100+ >
< Soul 18+5=23/100+ >
My stats had also seen a satisfactory increase. I’d been dutifully doing the daily (now weekly) quest the System assigned to raise my Body stat. After nine weeks, Body had almost breached the 20-point milestone. Mind and Soul had seemingly naturally increased with my usual activities. Which seemed fair. I did spend the majority of my time studying, reading, or practicing magic.
“Congratulations on your first Ritual circle, Atlas. You’ve worked so hard these past few weeks and I always knew you could do it. Let’s just… not tell the Ministry about your success, yes?” Septima said, beaming at me.
Her words and smile pulled me out of my impromptu progress check, “Wouldn’t dream of it, Septima. I would hate to get you in trouble. We’d all be worse off without a mind like yours.”
“Oh…” Septima’s cheeks flushed with color. Was it something I said? “Suddenly I’m reminded why you are… were… my favorite student.”
I just smiled and turned to start cleaning up the salt of the Ritual circle. When I turned my back to her, Septima was silent. Suddenly, she took a deep breath and spoke again in a halting voice that sounded nervous for some reason.
“S-Say, Atlas…? A-Are you busy tonight? I-If not, maybe you would like to stay for dinner? And maybe a bit later than that…? I-It’s just! The school year is fast approaching and I wanted a second eye to go over my notes and lesson plans and we’ve been spending a lot of time together and I’ve greatly come to enjoy our time together and… I-I’m rambling. I’ll just let you answer…”
Before I could reply or even really process all of that, a Patronus in the form of a ghostly phoenix drifted through the walls of Septima’s classroom. Dumbledore’s voice echoed out of the apparition, “Atlas, would you mind coming to my office now? I have a task for you.”
Hearing Dumbledore’s message, Septima seemed to shrink in on herself, “O-Oh…”
I finished cleaning up with a sweep of my wand and turned to Septima, “How about a rain check? I’d be more than happy to help you with your lesson plans at a later date. Unfortunately, duty calls.”
As I left her classroom, I could have sworn I saw Septima pump her fists and let out a completely uncharacteristic but adorable “Yes!”. I was already a floor away when my mind finally processed her proposition…
“Was that a-… Son of a bitch…! Dammit, Albus, if you cost me a date with Septima, I swear to God…” For the first time in my life, I quite literally facepalmed, dragging my hand down my face as I swore.
< +1 to Perception… At Least You’re Not My Most Clueless Host >
< Perception 15+1=16/100 >
That was a poor consolation prize… But at least it was something… My mind raced as I walked, going back over all my previous interactions with Septima. Yeah… I still didn’t get it. When had she shown any interest in me whatsoever that wasn’t purely academic or friendly? I was only a couple of months removed from being her student! Or maybe that was part of the reason as well?
I was still grumbling slightly, having reached no satisfactory conclusions, when I reached Dumbledore’s office and the gargoyle statue let me pass. I ascended the spiral staircase leading to his quarters, trying my best to push my disappointment off until later.
“Your timing leaves much to be desired, Albus,” I said as I entered, fixing the Headmaster with a glare that had no heat behind it. “Septima just asked me something very important and I wasn’t able to give her a proper answer because of your summoning.”
Dumbledore at least had the decency to look slightly contrite, “My apologies, Atlas. The matter is somewhat urgent but I can call upon someone else if you need to be elsewhere at the moment. I simply figured that, as the youngest member of our staff, you would be the most apt choice for this task.”
I plopped myself in the chair across from him, shaking my head, “The moment has already passed, Albus. What do you need from me?”
With an apologetic nod, Dumbledore continued, “As you know, the Quidditch World Cup started today and will run until tomorrow morning-…”
“I didn’t,” I interrupted.
Dumbledore paused in surprise, “Pardon?”
“I didn’t know the Quidditch World Cup was today. Hell, I didn’t even know it was this year. I don’t really keep track of those kinds of things…” I explained with a shrug.
“Oh my, I was under the impression that it was something of the event of the summer. I hope this won’t impact your answer to my request…?” Dumbledore asked.
“It probably won’t. Apparently, I do not have plans tonight,” At this point, I was just being petty.
“Quite,” Dumbledore chuckled almost sheepishly. “I will be sure to compensate you for your time, Atlas. Nevertheless…”
“My request concerns Heather Potter. You do at least know who she is, yes?”
“I do,” I deadpanned.
By the amused twinkle in his eyes, I think Dumbledore just enjoyed being able to go back and forth with someone like me, “Very good. Young Heather was invited to the World Cup by her Godfather. Unfortunately, he cannot attend for… certain safety concerns…”
I blinked, “The Girl-Who-Lived has a Godfather?”
Dumbledore nodded, “It is not common knowledge, but yes. They were estranged for a number of years and have only recently reconnected. That story is not mine to share… You only need to know that he wishes to make up for lost time but cannot attend the event in person.
“Heather is still deadset on attending the Cup. In fact, I suspect she is already there, unsupervised. Now, far be it from me to helicopter a young woman who is nearing legal adulthood… But I do worry. All I ask is that you go to check up on her. I imagine someone close to her age will be better received than, say, Severus?”
I shuddered at the idea of sending Snape to keep an eye on the Girl-Who-Lived. The Potions Professor’s odd love-hate animosity with Heather Potter was well-known and equally creepy if I was being honest. I imagine the Girl-Who-Lived would rather kill Snape and then herself than have him skulk around sending her weird longing glares while she was trying to have fun. Just the thought of it was enough to make me agree to Dumbledore’s request.
I nodded, “Chaperone Heather Potter, got it. I’ll do it. Just… whatever you do, don’t send Professor Snape. In fact, maybe you should look into a Muggle invention called a ‘Restraining Order’ when it comes to her and Snape.”
For the first time, I got an actual laugh out of Dumbledore instead of his usual chuckles, “Ha! I’ll consider your suggestion, Atlas.”
When his laughter died down, he continued, eyes twinkling with amusement, “I suggest you get moving, Atlas. The game begins at noon and it is currently a quarter past 11. A series of portkeys at Hogsmeade will take you to the campgrounds. From there, it is a straight shot to the stadium. You can’t miss it.”
I nodded and stood, only pausing once I was upright, “Uh, a thought occurs, Albus. How am I supposed to find Heather Potter? If I just go around the Cup asking for her, I’ll be labeled a stalker before I know it. I would rather not speak to the Aurors because of this task of yours.”
I saw the corners of Dumbledore’s lips quirk up beneath his beard, “Indeed. You will find Heather in the Top Box of the Stadium. Alongside the Minister and a few select others. I believe the placement is a prank on her Godfather’s part. Mention the name ‘Padfoot’. Heather will know what it means and she will know you mean her no harm. In addition, if you are barred entry, my name will open many doors and I give you permission to use it freely.”
That had potential, “I’ll keep that in mind, Albus. For the future as well if you’ll let me.”
Dumbledore waved, dismissing me, “Yes, yes, use my name at your convenience. You are a member of my staff now, after all. All I ask is that you do not directly implicate me in any crimes. Well… crimes against people. The Ministry is fair game.”
The look in his eyes told me he was only mostly joking about that. Which was… something for sure. He’d basically given me tacit approval to use his name to get out of any sticky situations I found myself in. Or to rob the Ministry blind and give the spoils to Muggle-borns like some kind of Wizarding Robin Hood. Was it telling that that was the first place my mind went?
< New Quest Unlocked: Boy-Who-Chaperoned >
< Condition(s): Keep Heather Potter and Hermione Granger Safe Through the Duration of the Quidditch World Cup >
< Rewards: +2 to Defense, +5 to Attack, and +6 to Awareness >
Should I be concerned that all of those rewards were for my Combat Skill…?
A quick stop at my room later, I was on my way down to Hogsmeade to avail myself of one of the World Cup portkeys. I’d picked out a book and shrunk it to fit in my pocket while I was in my room. I wasn’t going to enjoy whatever clusterfuck Wizards called a sport if I could help it. Also, I was only one level away from Magic Theory 60/100 and I was hoping to finish up that requirement for the Wandless Magic quest while chaperoning Heather Potter. Truly, the Grind never stopped.
< +1 to Willpower for Your Can-Do Attitude >
< Willpower 30+1=31/100 >
Huh, cool, anyways… It didn’t take me more than 10 minutes to get to Hogsmeade and requisition a portkey for myself. The world spun and after a moment of travel that stretched longer than it should have, I was spat out onto the Quidditch World Cup campgrounds.
The first thing I noticed was the typical lights in my eyes from portkey travel. Then the noise of a few thousand Wizards and Witches gathered in one place. Then the smell… And then my vision cleared, and I was greeted with chaos.
The portkey had deposited me on the edge of a field of tents. Row after row of tents and stalls and even little wooden huts extended before me until they disappeared into the mist. Some tried to keep things at least plausibly Muggle. Others didn’t even try to do that much.
Wizards and Witches from all over the globe lingered around the campgrounds. They mingled and reveled, shooting off spells and shouts of exuberance. Even now, I could see Obliviators working overtime to quell and suppress the Muggle population of the campsite. A part of me seethed at the casual disregard the Wizards paid the Muggles, not even bothering to adhere to the Statute of Secrecy since they had the advantage in numbers for once.
Did the Ministry even have to pick a Muggle location for an event of this magnitude? It just screamed of incompetence or even malice to me. The Muggles here might have been coming to this campsite for a quiet weekend of camping. What they got instead were memory charms and Wizarding chaos…
How magic could be so wonderful and Wizards such close-minded people, I would never understand. But the treatment of these Muggles wasn’t something I could do anything about. I was one man in a sea of Wizards high on their own privilege. All I could do was keep my head down and do the task I came here for.
People were slowly streaming in a common direction. Thankfully, that meant that most of the Muggles were starting to be left alone. I followed the flow of the crowd to a wooded area adjacent to the moore the campsite was located on. I walked along a trail lit by magical, floating lanterns, a single uninterested nerd amongst thousands of rowdy Wizarding football hooligans.
The stadium soon came into view and I wondered how it wasn’t visible from the campgrounds. It was a massive thing of gold and silver, shining like a beacon at night even though it was currently midday. Magic was the obvious answer but the actual ‘how’ of the stadium’s concealment perked my interest. Something to look into later…
I entered the stadium with the crowd but quickly separated from most of them. Even a crowd as big as the one I traveled with seemed to be made up of the Cup’s stragglers and late-comers. Everywhere I looked, seats were filled and Wizards and Witches were practically stacked on top of each other.
I climbed flight after flight of stairs on my way to the Top Box. Even Hogwarts had nothing on this stadium when it came to stairs. I was ever thankful for the daily exercise I’d been doing for the past nine weeks and the increase to my Body that had come with it. I actually felt pretty damn fit now and there had even been a visual improvement in my physique (I had abs now!).
Luckily, I didn’t have to climb to the very top to catch up with my charge for the day. I caught up to Heather Potter about three-quarters of the way up the stadium’s stairs. With her was a girl I recognized as Hermione Granger, Heather’s best friend, and a veritable horde of redheads.
The reason I’d caught up to them became clear when I came closer. In front of the group of redheads, Heather, and Hermione, was the Minister of Magic. He was huffing and panting, visibly not used to exerting himself like this. Strangely enough, there was also a big shaggy black dog trailing behind him that looked as if it was snickering at the Minister’s expense.
I made my way through the group of redheads behind Heather Potter, muttering apologies and ‘excuse me’s as I did. Most of them didn’t seem to mind, letting me pass. The younger of the two female redheads with the group actually eyed me up and down, biting her lip as she did. I gave her a friendly nod and an extra apology, thinking that’s what her expression meant.
Only one of them gave me any trouble, the youngest redhead boy. I vaguely recognized him as Ron Weasley, a Hogwarts student in Heather’s year, mostly because the way he ate in the Great Hall at Hogwarts was hard to miss. As the last one between the redheads and Heather, he gave me his best vicious glare as I tried to pass him. It didn’t have the impact I think he wanted it to.
Heather glanced back at me curiously, having heard the commotion I made to get behind her. Bright, emerald-green eyes locked with mine as if she was looking into my soul. Round, wireframe glasses rested atop an adorable button nose, framing her eyes in a way that did nothing to distract from their brilliance. Straight black hair was tied up in a casual, messy ponytail, giving Heather an effortlessly beautiful vibe as if she’d just rolled out of bed looking this good.
Even with her ahead of me on the stairs, I had to look down slightly to meet her eyes. The Girl-Who-Lived was surprisingly short, maybe 5’1” at most. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t blessed in other ways. Her short frame was curvier than it had any right to be, with bountiful breasts, a tiny waist, and wide hips.
Heather’s friend, Hermione, turned to look at me as well. Her features were more understated than Heather’s but she was no less attractive for that fact. Her hair was curly almost to the point of frizz and for some reason I found myself wanting to help her brush it… She was taller than Heather with a slimmer figure but from behind, you would never be able to tell. Seriously, walking up the stairs behind Hermione was like constantly achieving visual nirvana.
Then our eyes met. Eyes the color of molten chocolate met my pale hazels. The world seemed to freeze and something passed between us… Some spark, some understanding between like-minded souls, some Connection…
< +2 to Soul for ??? >
< Soul: 23+2=25/100+ >
Then the moment passed as soon as it came and I found myself speaking, “Heather Potter? I’m Atlas White. Dumbledore sent me to chaperone you since your Godfather couldn’t make it.”
Heather and Hermione shared a glance and shrugged. The adults of the redheaded brood looked relieved when I mentioned Dumbledore’s name. Ron’s ineffective glare instantly tripled in intensity and jealousy. But the strangest reaction to my words came from the shaggy black dog behind the Minister.
It stayed behind when I got Heather’s attention and she stopped. So I assumed it belonged to her. Or Hermione, I guess. But the dog’s reaction to my words was surprisingly… Human. Its eyes widened when I said my name and then its tail began to wag so hard I was a bit worried it was going to fall off. The dog looked like it was happier to see me than it had been about anything else for a long time. A bit of light even seemed to surface in its eyes almost as if it was remembering something long-forgotten.
Why was I thinking of this dog as if it was sapient? As if it was Human when it obviously wasn’t? I shook those thoughts out of my head. It was probably just a friendly dog that was happy to meet new people. Its tongue had just fallen out in happiness. Yeah, it was clearly just a dog…
Ron scoffed rudely, trying to push me to the side and artificially put himself as close to the Girl-Who-Lived as possible, “As if, nerd. Get lost. Heather doesn’t need some chaper-whatever. She’s got us to watch out for her. I think she’d rather be with her family than some rando who’s probably stalking her.”
“Family?” I saw Hermione mouth to Heather. Heather looked just as perplexed by the redheaded boy’s massive overstep. They apparently decided to ignore it and Ron for now though.
Heather rolled her eyes, “Ignore him. Ron’s been being a prat ever since summer started.”
Ron whirled on Heather, snapping at his supposed ‘friend’, “Heather! We don’t even know who this guy is! He could be a Death Eater or some Pure-Blood in disguise! He claims he’s working for Dumbledore but I certainly don’t know him! He hasn’t even offered any proof!”
“I… agree… with Ron…” Hermione said, looking as if she wanted to do anything but. “We can’t just blindly trust him, even if he’s using Dumbledore’s name. Do you have any proof, Atlas?”
“Uh, yeah, Dumbledore said to mention something about a ‘Padfoot’?” The shaggy black dog woofed in response to what I could now guess was a name. “Oh, is that your dog’s name?”
Heather smirked and the dog seemed to do the same somehow, “There, Ron, is that enough proof for you? If he knows Padfoot’s name, he can’t be a Death Muncher. I very much doubt that’s a name that Dumbledore goes around sharing.”
“I still don’t like this nerd…” Ron grumbled.
His continued animosity toward me didn’t seem to matter much. Heather and Hermione seemed convinced and he was outvoted, if his opinion even had any weight in the first place… I thought it was a bit weird to have your dog’s name as a codeword but shrugged that thought off. If it worked, it worked. Not like I actually intended any harm to Heather or her friends. I made a note to suggest a better system for recognition to Heather in the future though.
The redheaded twins, from what I now recognized as the Weasley brood, pushed past us, “C’mon, guys…”
“… The game’s about…”
“… To start!”
Comments
Markus
I see what you did there, Dumbledore. Let father and son meet again, even if the son does not know it yet.
