Essence of Chaos
Chapter One: Charms
Disclaimer: I keep forgetting to put these in my stories, but you can rest assured I don't own anything.
A/N: Well, I thought it was time to start a new chaptered fic. I'm not sure how long it will be, or where the story will go, to be honest, but I'm excited about this idea. This fic is AU, and I'm basically disregarding everything from HBP and DH, because I am just that cool…or something.
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No one, least of all Pansy Parkinson, was pleased to hear that, due to the low number of those enrolled, N.E.W.T. Charms would consist of both the sixth and seventh year students.
"Honestly," she turned to Millicent Bulstrode at breakfast. "We've had a year longer than them to study. They can't possibly keep up."
She gave a little nod, feeling very considerate toward the less fortunate sixth years. Then her face darkened.
"Unless they make us repeat everything we learned last year. Oh, Father would be so angry. He'd go straight to the school governors, I expect. And they'd listen to him, because…"
At this point, Pansy noticed that Millicent had nodded off over her porridge. When prodding her failed to elicit any result other than an indistinct mumble, Pansy turned to Theodore Nott instead.
But she had barely opened her mouth to continue her tirade when Theodore said, "Oh, lay off complaining, Pansy. None of us like it any better than you do, but there's nothing we can do about it. So for God's sake, shut it."
Pansy closed her mouth, being sure to pout so that Theodore would know how much he'd hurt her. But there was nothing she could do about it, really. Theodore spoke up so infrequently that it had become an unspoken rule in Slytherin house that you didn't argue with him when he did.
Draco often got very mad about that, Pansy knew. He was the undisputed leader of their gang of seventh years, and of the whole house, really, but he could get very snippish when he didn't get his own way, and it irked him that people listened to Theodore indiscriminately, but were apt to ignore him from time to time.
It really was in the best interest of everyone and their sanity to ignore Draco from time to time, especially when he started in on one of his rants, which inevitably led to an assertion that he hated all Gryffindors and especially Harry Potter and that it was their duty as responsible students to bring him down.
These rants had become more frequent since Draco's father had been imprisoned at the end of fifth year, and had risen in volume and ferocity a few months ago, after Potter had, famously of course, defeated the Dark Lord.
It really was very inconsiderate of him, Pansy mused. For one thing, Potter hadn't even staged the showdown at the school, so no one could watch, and they all had to depend on that old fool Dumbledore's assertion that it had taken place on a deserted, misty moor, which Pansy didn't believe above half. For one thing, Crabbe and Goyle's fathers had been there, acting as backup, and they seemed to be under the impression that The Boy Who Lived had finally beaten He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in a back alley somewhere.
But regardless of where he had done the dirty deed, Potter was now striding around the school in an even more arrogant manner than before, if that were possible, and making Draco more and more fiendish plots to bring him down.
Pansy was pulled away from her thoughts by Draco himself, who plucked at her sleeve impatiently. "Come on, Pans, we'll be late for class with the little children. Who knows, perhaps we can teach them a thing or two."
He smirked, and Pansy grinned evilly at him. "Yes, perhaps we can." She linked her arm through his, and the seventh year Slytherins began to make their way toward the Charms Corridor.
Pansy giggled as she walked across the entrance hall, Draco whispering in her ear and insulting everyone who walked by. She was still giggling when she ran smack into a solid, gorilla-like figure.
"Weasley," she spat. "I realize it's difficult, but could you please watch where you're going?"
"Why don't you watch where you're going, Parkinson?" Weasley retorted in his usual manner, that is to say, unintelligently.
"Ooh, good one, Weasley," Draco interjected.
"Leave him alone." Now Potter had appeared on the scene, dragging with him that third purveyor of idiocy, Granger.
"I'm so glad you've a hero to speak for you, Weasley. It must be so hard to get on without him," said Draco, mock sympathetic.
"Well," Potter continued, face turning red seemingly with the effort of trying to think of a suitable comeback. Pansy could have told him it was useless. "If you two weren't always coupling up around the corridors, maybe the rest of us would have an easier time passing though."
Pansy rolled her eyes, amazed at how completely moronic people were. No, it wasn't fair to lump people in the same category as Potter, whose ridiculous stupidity exceeded all others.
"We're not dating, you thick prat. If you paid any attention to anyone other than yourself, you would know that."
Pansy ignored Potters sputtering indignation and allowed Draco and the rest of the Slytherins to lead her across the hall.
It truly was absurd that people assumed she and Draco were dating. He was her best friend, and she assumed she was his, though she'd never asked him, for fear that he would say Vince or Greg or even Theodore instead. They had dated for a short time last year, it was true, but they'd all been distracted, making preparations for a war in which it turned out they would not be asked to participate, and Pansy had found that she enjoyed Draco's hugs more than his kisses, so they had broken it off around Easter.
Pansy, Draco, Theodore, Millicent and Blaise all found seats together close to the rear of the classroom and sat back to watch the other members of their class trail in. First were other members of their seventh year class, Ernie MacMillan, Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones from Hufflepuff, who were generally beneath Pansy's notice; Anthony Goldstein, Padma Patil, and Terry Boot (who was looking more attractive by the day, Pansy noticed) from Ravenclaw. That bumbling idiot Neville Longbottom and the Thomas boy from Gryffindor came in next, trailing Finnigan, who was talking about Quidditch, with Padma's twin, Parvati and her friend Lavender entering soon after the boys.
Then came the abnormally tiny sixth year class, with only five students: that Colin Creevey, who was always taking pictures of Potter, Looney Lovegood, twirling a strand of hair around her finger and still munching toast from breakfast, and some others Pansy didn't know, but who looked vaguely Hufflepuffian. Pansy sniffed, and turned to listen to Blaise's story about his mother's latest summer conquest, the details of which had not been discussed on the train, until Professor Flitwick came in.
Right on the heels of the tiny professor sprawled Potter, Weasley, and Granger, late as usual with no regard for others, even the teacher they almost knocked to the ground. Granger, goody-goody that she was, stopped to help him to his desk, and Pansy saw Draco's lip curl out of the corner of her eye. Potter and his faithful hangers-on soon found seats, at the front, naturally, and class commenced as it usually did on the first day, with attendance and lectures about N.E.W.T.s and then a small speech about the unusual arrangements of this year's class.
"Now, not to worry, seventh years," Flitwick squeaked, shooting a glance at the students from his House. "We won't be repeating everything we learned last year, but will instead depend on our exemplary sixth year students to take up the challenge of harder course material."
Glancing around, Pansy saw that some of the "exemplary" sixth years did not look in the least excited at the prospect of taking on more difficult studies.
"You may, of course," Flitwick continued, speaking to the sixth years, "always ask for help from older students, or from myself. Now, today you will receive instruction on how to perform the Essence Charm. Now, the incantation to remove your essence from your body is Aufero Substantia. If recited properly, your essence should float up above you. Now, not only the recitation, but the wand movement is important in securing…"
Pansy stopped listening, preferring to gaze down at the scratched surface of her desk, but she snapped to attention when Flitwick said, "Now, this charm is unique in that there is no counter spell. In order for you to recall your essence to you, simply concentrate hard on yourself, and the part of you that makes you you."
How trite, Pansy thought. Had they accidentally signed up for some sort of self-esteem workshop?
"Excuse me, sir," came the voice of Draco from beside her. "But what is the purpose of this spell exactly?" Pansy was always intrigued to notice the difference in Draco's voice when he was talking to people he liked. This same question would have been infinitely different had Draco been talking to Hagrid, for instance, but here, Draco's voice still held a modicum of respect.
"Excellent question, Mr. Malfoy," said Flitwick excitedly. "Dark charms will often use a bit of someone's essence in their binding." He stopped, looking flustered. "I'm not advising you to go out and start performing Dark spells, of course, oh no, quite the opposite. But in the event that you were to have a Dark charm laid on you, you simply need to know how to recall your essence to you."
Pansy snorted wryly, elbowing Draco and missing Flitwick's next words. It was almost funny, how people still expected the Slytherins to be involved in Dark, evil plots, when they had never been involved in any to begin with, unless you counted Draco's attempts to outwit Potter, when most of their parents had left the Death Eaters before Voldemort's ultimate downfall, and when none of them had ever expressed interest in becoming Death Eaters themselves. It was almost funny, except it really wasn't at all.
Draco gave her a fleeting grin, but he looked troubled somehow, and immediately began whispering to Theodore. Pansy frowned and turned to the front again, just in time to hear Flitwick say: "Now, let's all give it a try! Some of you may not achieve the desired effect on your first attempt, but please don't give up. You will know you have succeeded when you feel your essence float up out of your body to reside somewhere near the ceiling.
This really was possibly the strangest charm they had ever learned, Pansy reflected as she waved her wand and muttered, "Aufero Substantia."
Almost immediately, she felt something swoop out of her chest in a great whoosh of air and then slow, sliding as if through slime and she was sliding with it. Slowly, the room came into focus again.
Pansy felt floaty and disconnected. She could see the stone ceiling above her and the rest of her class down below and she could even see herself, still standing there with her wand out. But did she have eyes? She didn't know.
Get a hold of yourself, Parkinson, she told herself sternly, as Professor Flitwick's voice slid through the air and finally into her ears (though where her ears were she didn't know), telling them all to concentrate very hard on themselves, and send their essences back into their bodies.
She couldn't concentrate on herself. She kept hearing the whoosh of air around her, the slight swaying of the sound. She was being ridiculous. She was starting to act like Looney Lovegood, silly girl, down there with her eyes squeezed shut and a dreamy look on her face.
And before she knew what was happening, Pansy found herself zooming quickly, the air slime no longer, toward Luna Lovegood, and lodging in her center.
xXx
A/N: So, what did you think? Wonderful? Horrible? In-between? Would you like to see more? I'd love to hear from you!