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Ascension 31
🕑 Added 2024-10-27 21:44:22 +0000 UTC“Things are better than last year,” Persephone commented as they walked through the castle towards the transfiguration class, and Harry sile
“Things are better than last year,” Persephone commented as they walked through the castle towards the transfiguration class, and Harry silently nodded in response, watching out of the corner of his eyes how a couple of senior Gryffindors glared at them, before muttering harshly and turning away.
“If by better you mean we are not being literally cursed at, then I guess,” He shook his head in response, his eyes moved to his sister’s leg, where that cutting curse and sliced it open right on their first day—and well, Draco and his friends had left no quarters in explaining that to him personally too, “It's only because of Grandfather that they don’t raise their wands anymore.”
“That’s true,” she nodded, her eyes following the Gryffindors before she turned her head away, “But that doesn’t mean we change how things were before him.”
“I don’t know,” Harry chuckled in a knowing tone, before his head rose up to pat her head, “I quite like being an older brother.”Did you brush your teeth today Seph?”
“Oh piss off!” she scoffed, cuffing him on his head, her face twisting into a scowl as the boy only laughed, ducking away from her swipe…and running right into a very surprised Professor McGonagall, “Oh–uhm…Good Morning Professor?”
”The morning certainly seems good, Ms.Potter,” the stern witch raised an eyebrow, her eyes flicking them both, and she saw Harry cringe slightly. While McGonagall had certainly never seemed prejudiced to hate them unlike half of her house, Persephone knew that she wouldn’t want the Deputy’s glare aimed at anywhere near here, “Might I know the reason for this infectious manner of strolling through the castle's corridors? Or are we making a habit of knocking over old women now, hmm?”
Harry shook his head rapidly, taking a step back adn folding his hands by his front as he lowered his head, bowing slightly, but standing as she was to the side, Persephone saw the McGonagall’s lips twitch slightly, and she nearly lost the breath she had been holding in to an indignant gasp. The old witch was having them on!
“I am sorry Professor Mcgonagall,” Harry muttered, “I should have been careful.”
“Should? Does that mean I should expect you to knock me over again tomorrow?”
“No!” his eyes widened, and she barely withheld her laughter as she saw him shake his vehemently, “I meant to say it will not happens gain Professor!”
“Relax, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall chided softly, her eyes seeming to smile at them as her lips twitched, and she nodded at the classroom just around teh corner, “Settle down in the class. I shall be back shortly.”
“Yes Professor,” they nodded, moving slightly to the side as the Gryffindor Head moved past them, psuding for a moment as she looked at the cupboard to their left, and sniffed slightly. Her wand flicked once, and the doors opened…revealing two Ravenclaws quite…engrossed in each other.
“That will be a hundred points Mr. Smith, Ms. Grey.”
“She is so cool,” she muttered, watching the embarrassed fifth years shriek and then fall silent as they realized just who had caught them, and they silently m,oved out, all red-faced and mortified.
“She is,” Harry echoed, before they turned back towards the transfiguration classroom, silently promising themselves to never get caught by McGonagall…ever.
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“The law of conservation of mass is certainly one of the fundamental laws of the Universe,” McGonagall nodded, her moving from Granger’s confused ons to the other muggleborns in the class, “But as stated in your textbooks last year, food magic…the fundamental laws are quite different and vague in their applications. Countless scholars across the world push and test these laws every day even now, despite the thousands of years of knowledge we hold. In essence however, when you change a hundred gram item into something that weighs two hundred grams, the extra mass that the transfigured item holds comes from the multiplication of the atoms inside it, which themselves are sourced from your energy. Your magic, the way you channel it through the wand movements, as well as the arithmetic shaping of it through the incantation gives the raw, unrealized magical energy a focal point in the form of the target, which is then shifted and changed on an atomic level according to your intent. If you have any more questions, then you are welcome to come to me after the day’s classes are over Ms. Granger.”
“Yes Professor,” the Gryffindor nodded, sitting down with a confused frown upon her face as she stared at the open textbook before her, and Daphne sighed, watching McGonagall turn back towards the rest of them, cages appearing upon their desks at once.
“Inside those cages, are parakeets. Non-magical and still in their adolescent stage,” she began, and Daphne eyed the lime green, black-eyed bird before her with a dead-eyed stare, something about its tilted head and those beady eyes irking her instantly, “Today’s task, is to learn the transfiguration that affects the colors. This is not a charm, as it does not add to the existing object or modify its properties. This is completely changing the pigments inside the feathers. Permanently. However, the aim is to do it without affecting anything else, but that single feather you are to turn yellow. If even a single barb outside that feather is changed, you shall have failed to learn it. That intended feather is one of its tail feathers, and it should have a small black mark along its vane for identification. Now the incantation for it is Pigmento Mutatio. As you can see, it is Latin in origin, and was developed by one of the nomadic tribes during the Founder’s era, as an improvement upon the original transfiguration of that time. They used it to to disguise themselves and their regalia in teh forests, to hide from predators, as well as other tribes as well as the muggles. This transfiguration is meant for pigments, therefore anything that displays color due to the the surface level interaction of Planetrons and light—or as the muggles know them, Electrons will be unaffected by it—for example, Metal surfaces.”
McGonagall paused for a moment, her eyes flicking over the confused and more than a few bewildered faces across the classroom, and the Transfiguration Mistress sighed, rubbing her brow, “Right, second years. You can find the terminology and detailed explanations of the scientific terms and phenomenon in the glossary section of your textbook—or, if you are more curious and want a detailed history behind them, refer to Mysteries or Magic, by Charlus Gales in the Transfiguration or Research section of the library.”
“Gah!” Tracey moaned next to her, pushing a finger through the gap in the cage to tickle the bird before her, “I don’t like Physics.”
“Shame, considering the talent you have displayed for the subject,” she commented, rolling her eyes as she watched McGonagall display the wand movements for the transfiguration, “You do realize the potential future opportunities in this field, don’t you?”
“The Department of Mysteries?” Harry asked from behind them, and she paused for a moment, turning her head slightly before nodding at the query, “Damn. Cassiopeia said that is the hardest job to get in the world, in any nation.”
“It is, because not only do you require exceptional skills in every discipline, you also need to be a researcher, or a Master in one of them.”
“Isn’t Lady Greengrass a Mistress? In Potions, I think,” Persephone spoke up, leaning over the seat slightly, “Does that mean she can work there?”
“No. Department of Mysteries is a lifetime contract…Mother wasn’t interested in abandoning her family life for it.”
“Ms. Greengrass!” McGonagall’s voice came from their left, and at once, all four of them turned their heads, finding the stern-faced teacher to be looking down at them with a raised eyebrow, her arms crossed as a finger taped upon the other shoulder, “I am sure Mr. and Ms. Potter enjoy your stellar explanations on our world—but do so only after you can perform the day’s task.”
Nodding wordlessly at the unsaid words, she pointed her wand at the bird before her, and with a surety born of practice and confidence, moved it in a triangle.
‘Pigmento Mutatio’
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Right, Stupefy,” Gilderoy clapped his hands once, and instantly, all chatter inside the class stopped. Today, the man had somehow opted for a more muted color scheme, the light teal robes a far cry from the usual flashy hues, “Go to spell for a hundred reasons, and the only reason you don't want to use this will be if you are facing something above XX classification. However, if you are unable to identify a beast like that, and still use the stunner… I suggest you do it upon yourself. It will help with the pain at least.”
Hollow chuckles rang out through the gathered students at the joke, and Harry sighed, looking to his right at the frozen Werewolf. His eyes tracked over the claws sharp enough to cut through iron like wet paper, and the powerful, bulging muscles visible underneath the matted, patchy grey hide. A class XXX beast, werewolves boasted the highest number of wizard casualties per annum, their magically resistant hide, and sheer agility as well as the venomous claws upon their powerful limbs.
Though, this was not the first werewolf carcass he had seen, Harry mused, remembering the mounted heads in Kástro Mávros, each set forevermore in a perpetual snarl of agony and rage.
A memento from the time when Arcturus Black had gone camping in the Northern Mountains, only to be attacked a pack of werewolves—and those three were the only recoverable bodies from that night.
“Mr. Potter,” Lockhart’s voice suddenly cut through the silence of his thoughts, and Harry jumped in his place for a moment, his eyes snapping towards the man somehow standing right within an inch of his seat. Disticntlky, as he met the man’s amused eyes, he was aware of how the whole class was looking at him—and he had no doubts on just how gleeful half of those faces looked, presuming him to be in trouble. Bending slightly, Lockhart, waved his wand towards the covered cage set upon his desk, and at once, the cloth slipped away to reveal the bound Dreki within. Crimson and azure scales covered its crocodilian form, and despite being only four feet long, the magical reptile struggled against the heavy chains holding it in place mightily, its baleful orange eyes glaring out at the students excitedly chattering amongst themselves at the sight of the Class XX beast.
“Since you have the time and the inclination to daydream in my class,” Lockhart began, straightening up and turning towards the struggling, silently growling Dreki, “Why don’t you come forward and demonstrate your proficiency with the stunning spell to us? This Dreki is at the moment, just as resistant to stunners as your average wizard, but its recovery is much faster and therefore we don't run the risk of you lot throwing it into a coma. Now everyone, watch as Mr. Potter displays his command over the stunning spell!”
Persephone gripped his hand slightly, and Harry took in a deep breath, the amusement in Lockhart’s eyes and the muted jeers by the children around him making him itch to show them his command over magic. For a brief, fleeting moment, all he wanted to do was raise his hand and wandlessly choke the daylights out of Draco’s smug, sneering face. To grab Parkinson by her bitch of a face and burn away her vaunted pureblood looks.
To show everyone who had thrown insults at his sister and him just what he was capable of.
But yet, Persephone’s fingers squeezed down upon his hand again, and that moment was gone. Plastering a polite smile on his face, Harry pushed away the thoughts of anger and suffering clouding his mind, focusing upon the Dreki singularly as he took a deep breath, employing the meditative methods Arcturus had taught to them. Raising his Yew and Horned Serpanet wand, Harry pointed it at the Dreki, looking into its fiery orange eyes as it snarled, recognizing him as the immediate source of danger.
The next moment, a sparkling, crimson bolt of magic left his wand and slammed into the Dreki’s head, passing through the gaps in the bars perfectly. The next second, the Dreki’s low growling stopped as it fell upon tis face, its eyes closing as the stunner sent it into slumber. Lowering his arm, Harry flicked it back into his sleeve into the holster, taking a look around at the suddenly much-changed atmosphere. A hush fell over the class, and Harry delighted in the wide eyes that replaced the scornful, delighted ones, turning his head slightly, he chanced a look at Lockhart, and while the man was still smiling jovially, Harry knew that he had not expected him actually to perform the task successfully, let alone over-perform.
“Twenty points to Slytherin, Mr. Potter,” Lockhart whispered, laying a hand upon his shoulder and nodding towards his seat, “A wonderful display, I must say. As your homework, write in detail about any three reasons, why stunners may fail you in a combat situation, outside of the general wards and magic-repelling clothes.”
Nodding in agreement, Harry turned around and walked back to his seat, meeting Draco’s stunned grey eyes for a moment, remembering the night when the very same eyes had looked down upon him, insulting and inciting at the same time. Something rose through his gut at the memory he had tried his best to suppress, the scornful words, the suggested tortures the Malfoy Heir had dreamed to visit upon him. That sensation, that feeling of anger mixed with loathing clawed at his chest, and in that moment, Harry imagined Draco being the one onm the floor, with every kick, every punch, every bludgeoning hex repaid two times over.
Even now, as he walked by the pathetic pureblood, Harry felt the blond glare at his back, muttering something to Pansy that had the girl snorting and covering it up with giggles.
The next second, a strangled gasp came from behind him, and Pansy’s scream echoed in the class, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Last year I understood it, but why are you not attending the feast this year?” Tracey asked, sulking in her chair as she watched Daphne explain the Blood Regenerative Elixir—a step up from last year’s version—to Persephone, while Harry quietly worked on his Defence assignment.
“It's better this way,” Persephone shrugged, looking up from the book and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “Besides, I heard how Malfoy’s condition is being blamed on Harry. Pucey and others were already glaring at us in the evening—no need to aggravate them any further.”
“I can’t believe they are blaming Harry for it,” Tracey rolled her eyes in response, and the said wizard perked up at the mention of his name, quills pausing upon the parchment, “As if you would ever do something like this! Especially when we are just in the second year. I mean, I know you killed a troll and had that fiasco with Professor Quirell, but still!”
“Heh,” Harry chuckled, and if Tracey didn’t know him better, then she would have assumed him to be sarcastic as he gave her an amused grin, as if she was the illogical one here! Persephone’s eyes snapped towards Harry’s, before she resumed pouring over the textbook, while Daphne looked between them both for a moment, “I don’t know whatever gave them that idea Tracey. But you are right. A second year capable of inflicting broken bones and bleeding with wandless, silent magic…I don't think even the Boy-Who-Lived can do it.”
“Well, at least no one tried to stop you this time,” the brunette remarked after a beat of silence. Persephone winced, remembering the diffindo that had cut through her shoulder, a stark reminder that even if there were no violent actions against them now, it wasn’t for the lack of emotion—just because of the security blanket provided by Arcturus’ name, “That’s progress at least.”
“You are being awfully blunt, Tracey. This isn’t like you,” Daphne muttered, raising her eyes from the book to look at her friend. Her sapphire eyes narrowed as she saw the lowered eyes and the wringing hands. “Tracey…”
“What?!” she snapped,a dn paused at the alarm in Daphne’s eyes, as well as momentary shock in Harry’s and Persephone’s. And she knew why that was. Whatever she was feeling, in the last one year she had known the twins, Tracey had never snapped at anyone, much less Daphne.
“I took the calming drought.”
“Tracey!” Daphne hissed, jumping to her feet instantly, and both Harry and Persephone were so shocked by the outburst that they could only watch dumbfounded, as the blond strode over to the cringing girl and grabbed her by the ear, “Are you stupid?!”
“I know, I know, but I couldn't help it!” she cried out shaking off Daphne’s hand and curling in upon herself, “and what’s that matter?! You took one too! Everyone from the class did after seeing Malfoy like that!”
“You should have come to me you…you careless-ugh!” Daphne ground out in the end, frustration and anger shining in her voice more clearly than anything ever had, as she grabbed Tracey by the chin and forced her to look up, “I could have just as easily used a calming charm on you!”
“What is the problem with Tracey taking a calming drought?” Persephone asked, and Tracey looked at the redhead, the witch looking like she’d rather be anywhere but there, and still, at the same moment, Tracey could see the worry in Persephone’s expression, her eyes looking at her intently.
“Tracey…” Daphne spoke once, trailing off and giving her a measuring look, removing her hand from her chin and visibly calming down as she moved to pack up her books.
“I was born with a magical affliction known as the Waxing Plight, or as it is more commonly known, Mooncurse,” she began, tugging down on her robe and the collar of her shirt to show the thin, silvery blue veins branching out towards her neck from the left shoulder, “I have it because…well, my father was affected by the magic of Wolfsbane and Moonsblood, and on my mother’s side….her grandfather had been a werewolf. A bad luck on my part, because the concentration of lunar magic, and the fact that I was born on a full moon afflicted me with this…one in a million disease. As the moon waxes every month, my body starts to reject foreign magics that are not lunar in origin, resonating with the Moon’s magical effects more strongly with each passing day. I was already pushing the limit with the antidote I had to take this morning in the Herbology class, but the calming drought is affecting me now.”
“The Sunflower seeds?!” Harry asked sharply, looking at Daphne for confirmation, and the Greengrass Heiress nodded at the unasked question, making the boy curse as he too stood up and pushed his stuff into his bag. Persephone on the other hand, just frowned, worry naked on her face as she walked towards her. And Tracey chuckled lowly, feeling her emotions bubble much like a cauldron on the verge of exploding, a sharp sting lancing through her head as if reminding her of Harry’s words. Sunflower seeds were at base, solar batteries, storing a minute amount of solar energy, the Sun’s magical powers inside them as they followed its movements in the sky. And she, in her mounting hysteria about Draco’s stupid condition, and downed a full large vial of calming drought…essentially clashing the two opposing forces inside her body, meshing together two different aspects in a way that was now affecting ehr very mind and body. It had barely been a couple of hours, but already, she had vomited three times, and her temperature was rising slowly, along with the suddenly developing headache and the mild lapse in her thoughts.
Honestly, it had been years since she had made a mistake like this, and in these years, she had just forgotten the danger that such a thing posed to her health. To her very mind a magic.
“We are going to Madam Pomphrey. Now.” Daphne sai-no, ordered, and Tracey just nodded, blinking back the tears that had almost escaped ehr eyes at the sight of Daphne’s pained expressions, and the hitch in her voice. The Greengrass heiress had never been not-composed in front of her, always seeming so in control of her emotions that at points, Tracey had wondered if the girl even had them. Sometimes, in the darkness of her bed and silence of her thoughts, Tracey had often wondered, that just why was Daphne such a good friend of hers, when she didn’t bring anything to the table. Why the Greengrass Heiress had publicly spurned Pansy’s hand of friendship, defending her— a bloody halfblood and an unknown. Artemis and his wife cared for her their own daughters, and Daphne and Astoria had never made her feel out of place in the Greengrass Manor, but that small nagging voice in the back of her head had always questioned Daphne’s motives. Last year, when she had decided to talk to the Potters despite the sheer number of things that were against them, it had been to gain two powerful allies, and peers who could help her academically, as well as magically—which had later been supported by Artemis, only because he saw the silent vigil of Arcturus Black behind the twins.
But this? This naked show of affection and fear for her…for some asinine, unknown reason, it had smashed those doubts to bits in a way nothing could have done.
“Yes,” she nodded, grabbing her hand and letting Daphne pull her up, before her eyes flicked towards the twins, “I–”
“We understand,” Persephone shook her head, before she flicked her wand once and her bag was packed, floating over to the redhead, “I will take you stuff back. You just focus on getting checked up and getting back by the night.”
