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HP434- Ten?
🕑 Added 2025-05-26 23:15:20 +0000 UTCHarry flicked his wand and Ron was instantly wrapped in ropes, mouth sealed as his skin smoothed over it like it had never been there. The noise Ron made was muffled and pathetic. He flailed like he expected someone to leap in and save him.
Even Hermione stepped back, eyes wide. Fred and George looked stunned. Ginny just stared.
Harry didn’t even blink. “I am sick of your attitude. When you confronted me last year during Yule, I let it go. For Ginny. For your brothers. But you like pushing, don’t you?”
Ron thrashed harder, nostrils flaring as he tried to breathe through his nose for once in his life. His eyes darted to Fred, to George, to Hermione. None of them moved.
Harry stepped closer, wand still in hand. “You think everything’s about you. Always have. Someone tells you off, it’s a joke. Someone calls you out, you sulk. You want people to like you, but you can’t shut up long enough for them to try.”
Ron’s eyes bugged. He looked genuinely confused, like it had never crossed his mind that someone might not be joking.
“You made Lavender cry,” Harry went on. “Humiliated her in class. In front of her friends. And when called out, you sat here whining like you were the victim.”
Fred finally cleared his throat. “Alright, that’s—bit much, Harry.”
Harry gave him a look. “Too much? I didn’t hex him. I didn’t slam him into a wall. I tied his gob up so he’d stop digging.”
George muttered, “Well, he’s not digging now.”
Hermione stepped forward, cautiously. “Okay, maybe we’ve made our point-”
“No,” Harry said. “You don’t get to say that. You brought me here. You asked me to talk to him. He’s been saying the same rubbish for years and no one’s done anything because he’s ‘just Ron.’”
He walked closer, “I told you in our first train ride, remember? You’ve got a twisted idea of what’s good and evil. Everything’s black and white with you. Every Slytherin’s evil, every Gryffindor’s good—until one of them talks to a snake, then suddenly they’re traitors. You think your opinion’s gospel. Everyone else? Debatable. If they disagree? They’re wrong.”
Ron tried to move, to breath.
“Your jokes? Hilarious, right? And if someone doesn’t laugh, it’s their fault. They’re just too sensitive. Never you. You walk around like the world owes you something,” Harry added. “You get jealous when someone does better, you sulk when the spotlight’s not on you, and Merlin help us all if someone actually calls you out. You don’t argue. You moan.”
Ron’s face was red now and not just ears. The spell didn’t stop him from trying to throw glares like they’d bite.
Harry tilted his head slightly. “Lavender’s not the first. You’ve done this before. Snide little comments. All laughs till someone gets hurt, and then it’s not your fault. Never is.”
He finally flicked his wand again. The ropes dropped, mouth reappeared, and Ron gasped like he’d been underwater. His hands flew to his face, rubbing at his jaw like it had been physically torn off. Harry was already walking off.
“Make sure you apologise to Lavender properly. No stammering, no excuses, no smug grin halfway through. Just do it right and hope she’s feeling generous. Because next time?” He glanced over his shoulder, “Next time, I make sure you cry.”
Ron didn’t say a word. Just breathed as if he was suffocated. Fred and George weren’t laughing, Hermione wasn’t stepping in to soften the blow, and Ginny looked like she was ready to slap him herself if he so much as sniffed wrong.
Shaking his head, Harry walked to the first floor corridor and slipped behind the old statue where the lift mechanism was hidden. He stepped in, tapped the runestone with his wand, and the lift rattled to life, descending fast into the depths beneath the castle.
When it stopped, he stepped out into the cold echo of the Chamber of Secrets. The air down here always carried a faint chill. Basi was waiting for him, coiled near the centre platform, gleaming scales catching the low light from the enchanted torches. Her tongue flicked, scenting the air.
“I sensed your arrival, Master,” she said, voice rumbling deep through the space.
Harry walked over and gave her a light pat between the eyes. “Still dramatic, Basi.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, amused if anything.
He stepped back, folding his arms. “Do you know if there are other house systems like the Serpent of the Crown?”
Basi shifted, her neck curling slightly as she spoke. “If you mean integrated, soul-bound systems like the Serpent of the Crown, constructed to access magical archives, regulate artefacts, and survive across generations, then no. The others didn’t go that far.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt.
“Godric tried something. A series of tests meant to shape courage,” Basi continued, voice calm, almost amused. “Except his trials got students killed. Rowena and Helga weren’t impressed. Salazar convinced them to shut it down.”
“Figures,” Harry muttered.
“Rowena’s legacy was always knowledge,” Basi said. “She didn’t care which house it ended up in. If someone could learn, that was enough. Helga put loyalty above all. Loyalty to the castle, to students, to the bond between them. Salazar saw what was coming. Said survival would take cunning, and more than that, it would need knowledge stored, protected, and passed on properly.”
“Coded to his bloodline first, but with contingencies. The Shadow System isn’t something you stumble into. It answers to cunning, not blood.” Basi continued.
Harry nodded, walking over to one of the carved pillars. “Makes sense. He wouldn’t leave all this to luck.”
“No,” Basi said simply. “He didn’t believe in luck. Only preparation.”
“Any sign of unrest near the wards?” Harry asked.
“None,” Basi replied. “Though the snakes further north sensed something two nights ago. Wand magic. Foreign. It passed quickly.”
Harry didn’t ask for more detail. He checked the map once he got back up. “Alright, take care, Basi. I will swing by later.” She dipped her head, and Harry turned, cloak brushing across the stone floor as he stepped back into the lift. The descent faded behind him with a low hum and the faint grind of gears.
By the time he reached the Duelling Room, the place was already packed. Spells cracked faintly, enough to keep things lively. The usual crowd was there, and as expected, Daphne and Tracey were running the warm-ups. Tracey had split off a few students into pairs, wand already in hand, shouting corrections with the air of someone who’d been born for bossing people about.
“Keep your elbow in, Millie,” Tracey called. “Unless you’re aiming to curse your own shoulder.”
Harry stepped in, as Susan gave him a small wave from across the room. Luna, who had conjured a breeze for her parchment birds again, offered a nod without breaking her concentration.
Daphne noticed him almost immediately. “Late,” she said, without looking up from adjusting a sparring barrier.
Harry dropped his bag onto the chair beside her. “Fashionably.”
“You missed the warm-up.”
He glanced at the charred marks on the far dummy. “Looks like you covered enough heat for the both of us.”
Tracey walked over, flicking her wand to reset a pair of duelling lines. “We are trying your focused pair drills today."
Harry nodded. They were doing alright. He was thinking ahead... starting with pairs now, then expanding into small squads. A proper structure. Something Hogwarts never got around to. Defence was always talked about like it was theory, but Harry had no time for that sort of rubbish anymore.
Tracey pointed at the formation grid, flicked her wand, and reset the rune markers. “We’ll do mirror pairs for today,” she said. “Right against left, so nobody gets too comfortable.”
Daphne looked over the group and added, “Then rotate partners after ten rounds. You can’t rely on the same person forever.”
“Try telling that to Macmillan,” Susan muttered from across the room. “He’s glued himself to Justin again.”
“Then pry him off,” Harry said, passing behind them. “This isn’t a group project. If you can’t adapt mid-fight, you’re a liability.”
Astoria slid over toward Hermione, twirling her wand between her fingers. “Don’t think I’ll go easy just because you helped me with Transfiguration.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Hermione replied, adjusting her grip.
Tracey called out, “Form up! First round starts now.”
Wands lifted, dummies vanished, and spellfire cracked across the room. The drills were cleaner than last term... spells hitting their mark more often, movements tighter. Susan ducked under a jinx from Daphne and countered with a near-perfect Trip Jinx that skimmed Daphne’s arm.
“Too slow,” Daphne said, not missing a beat.
“Too smug,” Susan shot back.
Tracey marked it on the board. “Clean exchange. One-one.”
Harry crossed the floor, adjusting stance lines with a flick of his wand. He passed Neville and Ginny, both working a silent spell rotation, then paused near Blaise and Luna. Blaise was trying to block a wind gust with a shield, failing.
“She’s redirecting your footing,” Harry said. “Stop standing like you're modelling for Witch Weekly.”
Blaise gave a faint sigh. “I am regretting every choice that led me to this point.”
Luna’s next spell shoved him straight onto his back.
“Like that,” Harry said, and moved on.
By the time they reached the third rotation, the room was filled with all sorts of chants. Spellfire, shouted counters, the occasional thud of a missed block. Pansy spun out of a dodge with her braid flying, then blasted Theo’s shield wide open with a burst hex that hit his shoulder hard enough to spin him.
“That’s for last week’s comment,” she said.
“What comment?” Theo asked, rubbing his arm.
“You’ll remember.”
Harry adjusted a rune marker, then raised his voice. “Right, that’s round three. Reset. Daphne, Tracey, rotate squads.”
But Ron scowled at him from across the room. “How about you demonstrate how you fight, then? The Great Potter.”
Harry didn’t even blink. “You challenging me?”
That got a few snorts from nearby. One of the Hufflepuffs let out a cough that definitely wasn’t a cough.
Ron’s face coloured. “No. Just… I bet you could take ten of us.”
