Disclaimer: I don't own HP or any of the characters shown here.

AN-1: I have a Discord, where you can read the next chapter, i.e. Chapter 13 right now. We are more than 800 members, and that is the best way of chatting with me and the several hundred readers there along with keeping up with the updates.

AN-2: I have a P*T*R*N, where you can support my writing and enjoy several benefits at the same time. For those who sign up there, you can read upto THREE CHAPTERS IN ADVANCE right now!

AN-3: A very big thanks to LordLexx for the wonderful work he did as the editor for this chapter!

AN-4: I did this in the 'The War of Titans' update last week, and I am doing it again here. I have started a new story called 'The Son of Storms', which is an HP x PJO crossover. Its first two chapters are written and published on my P*T*R*N.

I will post the starting scene of it at the end of this chapter, so do check it out.

And yes, I am building up a reader base before it is even published.

"Do you believe him?"

"No," Harry answered without any hesitation, while a little frown formed on his face as he looked at the slowly moving cat in front of him, his hand rising up to adjust his muffler. "As nice as it would be to have one less enemy to think about, Neville's hatred has festered for years. There is no way he has mellowed out that much in just a few weeks, and that too with our only contact being in Professor Quirrell's classroom for about three hours a week."

"I thought so too." Persephone nodded in response, and then twisted her wand with a muttered 'Mutatio Bestia'. The wooden block in front of her shifted and flowed as if it was made of liquid, the dark brown surface twisting and turning upon itself as its color changed into a mottled gray. Within a second, two pairs of limbs and a short, furry tail sprouted out of it, with a small head appearing a moment later from the other end of the block. Her eyes furrowed in concentration and a glimmer of something akin to hope sparkled in her eyes A second later, a small kitten meowed in place of the once wooden block causing Persephone to let out an excited squeal.

However, as the kitten mewled and walked towards her, the transfigured animal stumbled a little, and Persephone noticed the reason right away.

"The left paw seems a little smaller," she frowned as her transfigured kitten shook its head and walked towards the one Harry had made, "And the ears are not as rounded as I wanted them to be."

"It is still a great first attempt." A familiar voice spoke up from right behind them, making both of them jump in their places before they whirled around, and their eyes widened as they saw Charlotte Rookwood standing behind them. Walking forwards, she took a long look at the mewling kittens rubbing against each other on the table, and continued, "Especially when one considers that this spell is a second-year one, and you both are still first years."

"Uh-thank you?" Harry said slowly, not knowing what to make of the praise and the fact that Charlotte had followed them all the way up to here. Surely she had better things to do as a prefect than to sneak up on two first years—who weren't of any political or economical use to her either.

"You are welcome," she nodded, conjuring three simple chairs and sitting down on one as she waved at the other two. Harry and Persephone wordlessly sat down on the seats, but kept on looking at Charlotte, the silence stretching on for nearly a minute before she sighed and leaned back into her chair.

"You are quite an odd pair of students," she said, her eyes flicking between both of them, "I have rarely ever seen first-years as patient and controlled as you, adn never in the face of the insults and jeers you face. Your power and intellect are also certainly heads and shoulders above a majority of your year…Tell me, is this the furthest you have reached in Transfiguration?"

"Yes," Persephone answered, looking back at the now slumbering kittens and then back at her, not knowing where Charlotte was going with her words.

"And in other subjects? Charms, Defence, Potions?" She asked, her curiosity evident in her voice.

"In Potions, we know the theory up to half of the second year, but because we can't really do the practicals here, we can make only upto where Professor Snape has taught us," Harry revealed the truth, realizing that if Charlotte had entered the room today without them being aware of her, then she might very have been doing so for Merlin knew how long—which, in turn, meant that she was most likely aware of their progress already. "In Charms and Defence, however, both of us have covered upto the first quarter of the second book, with Charms being a little ahead of Defence."

She hummed a little at that, her eyes once again trailing to the transfigured kittens in front of her before she stood up. Slipping her wand back into her sleeve, Charlotte looked at both of them for a few moments and crossed her arms over her chest as she seemed to contemplate something. After a few moments of silence, she vanished her chair and started to walk away. As she opened the door and took a step out of the threshold, Charlotte looked back over her shoulder at Persephone and said, "You are imagining too much during the transfiguration. Sometimes it is better to just think of the basics and let your magic do the work."

"Welcome Harry, Persephone," Quirrell greeted them as they walked inside his classroom, where Neville was already standing inside with his wand in his hand and a dummy in front of him. Standing up from his chair, he walked around his desk towards them, a couple of straw mannequins appearing in front of them simultaneously.

Coming to a stop beside them, he waved his hand towards the three dummies. "Begin," he stated softly. Immediately, the three of them started to send spells at them, the brilliant pink color of 'Confractus' almost blinding them in the dim lighting of the Defence classroom. The bone-breaking curses hit their targets with a cracking, splintering noise, the straw and wood breaking away from the mannequins as the effects of the Confractus played out. With the wood acting as the skeleton and the straw around it as the flesh, it was a good way of seeing how powerful and effective someone's curses were.

Ten seconds and seven curses later, the mannequins repaired themselves, signaling them to stop their casting. Quirrell walked back to his desk and then turned around, his dark eyes staring at each of them for a few moments. "Neville, excellent work today. Your curses are getting more powerful and your casting speed has definitely seen an improvement," he said shortly, nodding in the Gryffindor's direction.

His eyes then turned towards the twins, a small smile on his face. "A good job as usual from both of you. Now that you have learned the most basic bone-breaking curse, you can learn about the way to defend it. Any shield spell from the third year and above can protect you from it, and a powerful Clypeus can also be used to block this curse. However, unlike what you saw today, this causes only minor fractures, and at its full power, it will only cause the thin bones like your ribs or forearms to snap. Although, by a powerful wizard, like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Dumbledore, this can break any bone in a human bo-Yes Neville?"

Gulping once as Quirrell stopped his explanation to tilt his head at him, Neville lowered his hand and looked at the repaired mannequins. "If Confractus isn't a powerful spell, then why do the Aurors use it?"

"Tell me, Mr. Longbottom," the professor began after a few moments, "Are you familiar with how an Auror squad operates?"

"No."

"A standard Auror squad has eight members," Quirrell said, waving his wand to make eight grey-colored, spectral figures in front of them, "Two are healers, and another two are warders. While they are trained in combat, their primary focus and specialty are in the supportive work."

Four figures changed colors at that, two turning into bright green, and the other two turning yellow. A moment later, the remaining turned into a bright red as Quirrell pointed at them. "The last four, are the offensive wizards or witches of the squad. Trained in stealth, tactics, and fighting more than one opponent at the same time, these four are usually amongst the most powerful of the Auror squad. A single Confractus from them can easily snap a rib and tear the muscles around it, thus stopping anyone running away in their tracks. Moreover, this spell has very little power consumption, and for an Auror, it takes a negligible amount of his concentration to cast it, thus making it very useful in subduing someone. All it takes is a single hit, and that momentary lapse in concentration once this spell cracks your bones is enough for a Stupefy to slip in and knock the criminal, or the opponent…out."

"Why not just use a stinging hex then?" Persephone asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "It is much less power-consuming."

"A good question," he nodded, "and the Auror corps did use the stinging hex once upon a time as the first choice…but, when the criminals started to wear clothes inscribed with protective runes, the stinging hexes failed them. While the runes do take the magic from our surroundings, it still affects the wearer by taking some magic from him constantly due to the contact between them. And with how laughably weak a stinging hex is, a first-year could stand with one of those robes and take four stinging hexes constantly for an hour before he would tire out."

"A powerful Confractus however," Quirrell turned and shot one at a conjured glass pane, shattering it into pieces instantly, unlike the first time he had shown them the effects of a stinging hex. "A powerful Confractus is almost four times as powerful as a stinging hex, and nearly two times more powerful than a piercing hex. Therefore-"

"It whittles down the defenses four times faster," Harry spoke up, when the professor inclined his head at them, silently asking them to finish his conclusion. "But then why not use more damaging spells? A Diffindo uses the same amount of energy as this spell, and its coverage is higher too."

"Because… if it mistakenly strikes the neck or the eyes or any other vital part, then it could be… permanently harming the subject, sometimes even fatally," he explained, once again conjuring the mannequins as he did so. "Even if a Confractus strikes one's head, at most it will give a cracked skull, and on the neck, it will at most cause paralysis by breaking the vertebrae. Both are damaging, but both can easily be healed, and aren't harming the mind of the subject to a degree the healers can't fix. Diffindo, on the other hand, can cleave through a human's neck easily, and it can dig into someone's brain, thereby killing him, or at least terminating the chance of any sort of reliable testimony or memory extraction."

"Memory extraction?!" Persephone gasped, "You can take someone's memories? Like mind-reading?"

As the twins turned towards each other with fright on their faces, and Neville looked outside the window with a contemplative frown… no one saw the victorious gleam in Quirrell's eyes as they flashed a blood-red color.

"Wait, so you're telling me that there is a legendary, mythical artifact for unlimited life and money in this castle?"

"Yes," Neville nodded. Slowly. "And I believe someone is trying to steal it. They sent the troll as a distraction on Halloween for this reason only so that the students would panic and the teachers would rush to remove the creatur-"

"And leave the perpetrator with an empty route to the Philosopher's Stone… why the fuck is that thing in a school?!" Harry whispered furiously, his mind still reeling from the implications of Neville's words, because the Philosopher's Stone was real!

"Harry!" Persephone glared at him, her hand swatting him on the shoulder, "Mind your language!"

Rolling his eyes at her with a half-hearted 'yes mother', Harry turned towards Neville and frowned. "So let me recollect all you have told us, There is a Cerberus in this school, a giant, Lord of the Dead's pet type Cerberus. And it is guarding a trap-door of all things, which eventually leads to the Sorcerer's Stone, an artifact that was created by the Flamels and allows someone to have immortality as well as unlimited gold. Did I miss anything?"

Neville shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "That nicely sums up what I've found out so far as well. Although, I think that other teachers have also contributed to its protection. Because there is no way that only a class XXX beast would stand between one of the most coveted things in the world and a thief daring enough to break into Hogwarts."

"Wait?!" Persephone raised her hand, palm facing towards Neville. "Don't tell me you were thinking about investigating all this to protect the stone yourself or catch whoever is planning on stealing this stone?"

The silence was answer enough as Neville lowered his eyes to the parchment in front of him, once again returning to the Potions homework. Persephone and Harry just looked at him for a few moments before they quietly packed up their belongings and walked away, their own silence conveying their thoughts much better than words ever could have.

Through the shelf behind Neville, Ronald Weasley looked at the back of the Longbottom heir with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, his mind working through the words that were exchanged in front of him. With a speed that he seldom used out of chess, Ron worked through the events from the start of the year until now, remembering Professor Dumbledore's warning at the opening feast, the way even the twins had refused to talk about the third-floor corridor when he had asked about it. Most importantly, he remembered the way Snape had exited the Great Hall through the back door during the Halloween feast when Professor Quirrell had run inside the hall.

And Neville was trusting two Slytherins with his secret. Slytherins who were the children of the most dangerous of Death Eaters, and if what his dad said had been true, then the Potters' mother and Snape had been quite good friends back in their Hogwarts time.

Looking at the back of Neville's head and then the shelf behind which the Potters had disappeared, Ron stood in a shocked stupor for a few seconds. "Bloody Hell!" he whispered, slowly walking back to his own seat, stunned and bewildered beyond belief.

"The lake looks beautiful," Tracey whispered, walking into the grounds with so many layers on her that only her eyes were visible, along with a hint of her rosy cheeks and red nose. "Can we go skating on it?"

"Can you even see something through that cap?" Persephone teased, rubbing her own bare palms together, her crimson hair flying in the slight breeze blowing through the frozen, snow-covered meadows. "I swear if you wear one more thing, you won't be able to walk straight."

"How in the name of Morgana are you three not feeling this cold?! Freaks of nature I tell yo-Oomph!"

Daphne stomped on Tracey's foot, her blue eyes blazing with anger as she glared at the wincing girl before her eyes flicked towards the twins. Bewildered at the blond's actions, Tracey turned towards the twins, only to freeze up as she saw their clenched jaws and the closed eyes…and the reason for that hit her like a rampaging nundu.

"Oh Merlin!" She gasped, her hands flying upto her mouth as she took a step back, "I am so so sorry! I wasn't really thinking and you guys were standing in the cold and I was really stupid and I am really really sorry! Please forgive me!"

"It's okay…Tracey," Harry sighed, sending her a small smile as he shook his head, "We know you didn't mean anything bad… it's just, that word was our name when we lived with our relatives-"

"-and it just brought back some memories," Persephone continued, a sad smile on her face as she squeezed her brother's shoulder. Then she turned towards Tracey, adn on seeing the downcast expression of the usually cheery girl, she walked forwards and cupped the brunette's face in her hands. "Oh don't look so put-down, we know you weren't calling us names. Now come on, bring that smile back on your face, you look unrecognizable without it."

"I am sorry," Tracey sniffled once, looking up at the redhead with a teary smile, "I should really talk less, huh?"

"'Tracey' and 'talk less' don't belong in the same sentence," Harry chuckled as he shook his head. "You don't have a single mean bone in your body Tracey, so stop worrying that we are angry or depressed. We aren't… now who wants to have a snow-fight?"

"Snow-fight?" Daphne asked, head tilting slightly at the unfamiliar term. "I presume you are talking about the snow-ball fights muggles have?"

"Something like that." Harry grinned, taking a step away from the three girls before he brought his wand out. Persephone's and Tracey's eyes widened at that, and all three of them started to step back at the same time, but as fast they were, magic was faster still.

"Animans Nix!"

"They are talented." Minerva said, her eyes not moving from the figure of Harry casting a second-year spell, the snow in front of him swirling and forming into a large feline, "Easily an O+ in my subject."

"Mine too," Flitwick said back as they watched the charmed snow pounce upon Tracey, burying the girl beneath itself as it dissolved, "Sometimes it feels like Lily came back to life in my classroom, once again that smiling eleven-year-old who I introduced to our world."

"Persephone doesn't smile," she commented, looking down at her colleague, "at least she doesn't unless she is with her brother or one of those girls."

"Are you trying to say something?"

Minerva paused for a moment, not at the question, but the underlying steel she could feel in that voice. In all the decades she had known Filius, she had seen him angry only a handful of times. "I think," she began slowly, looking out at the children playing in the snow, "that it isn't normal for a pair of eleven-year-olds to be so… unemotional, for the lack of a better word. They laugh, and they get angry, but it isn't as pronounced as it should be. They don't know any occlumency to dampen their emotions, so when Mr. Grey and Mr. Smith ambushed Persephone on Halloween… I was expecting something from them. Anger, fear, tears, perhaps some resignation. With how expressive James and Lily both were, I just don't get why they are like this."

"You don't have to cover up Minerva," he said after a few moments, "I know what you were trying to say. That day in the infirmary too, you were convinced that it was the twins at fault instead of one of your Gryffindors. Face it, Minerva, you already have an image of them in your head… and the less said about you favoring your children, the better."

"What in the name of Merlin do you mean by that?!" McGonagall cried out, creating a silencing ward around them, "I have always been fair to everyone in this castle! I take and give equal amounts of points, I assign equal hours of detentions in inter-house matters, so why would you even think of something like that?"

"Did you know Margaret Edwards is allergic to Bubotuber Pus? As in, fall into a coma or die, level of reaction?" He suddenly asked, finally looking up to meet her eyes, and Minerva was taken aback for a moment by the anger she could see swimming within his. Silently shaking her head, she waited for him to continue, already having an inkling of what was about to come.

"The Weasley twins, in a completely irresponsible manner, created some candies meant to be used as a pranking instrument," he told her, his voice unwavering yet emanating anger she had seldom seen from the man. "They contained Bubotuber Pus, meant to inflate someone's tongue, and due to Miss Edwards' allergy to it, she lost consciousness within moments. Were your twins around her to make sure that their 'product' wasn't harmful? No, they ran off practically the next second, and Miss Chang was the one to take her to Poppy."

"i-I di…I didn'-" she stammered, only for Filius to cut her off midway.

"Save it, Minerva," he raised his hand, once again returning to watching the four Slytherins, "I don't dislike pranks or a bit of enjoyment and amusement in the castle, Merlin knows I would have resigned long ago then. But I draw a line when on-no! Any of the students here are harmed by those pranks. We have already seen how the pranks of the Marauders were taken by those who actually suffered them, or do I have to bring up the incident of their fourth year?"

"No." She shuddered, memories she had long tried to forget coming back to her.

"Then you keep your children in line. They are creative, smart, and no doubt a source of laughter for this castle… but take care that laughter doesn't come at the expense of someone's pain and tears. Or Hecate forbid, a life."

She stood silent for a few moments, her eyes lowered to the ground in shame and anger both as his words echoed around in her head. "Why the sudden interest in them?" She asked suddenly, "I mean, I understand that you would tell me all this after Miss Edwards suffered, but she is a-"

"A Gryffindor?" Filius arched an eyebrow, "That means she isn't my student?"

"No!" She raised her hand, realizing how it must sound to him, "But it is…unusual for you to come to me this time when they both have been pranking for three years now."

"You are right," he sighed and took a deep breath. "I talked to you this time because this was the first time someone had been harmed. Moreover, I caught them following the four Slytherins out there this morning, their focus, especially on the Potters. And even during meal times, I have seen them eyeing the two children for a couple of days. Needless to say, I don't want Artemis Greengrass to come to Hogwarts, because he will destroy the Weasleys… to say nothing of what Arcturus will do. Especially after he personally came to stop their arrest and sent them a familiar… something he hasn't done with the rumored Black heir."

"Oh."

"Oh indeed," he nodded, "now I believe you have two Gryffindors to set straight, Minerva."

Alright, the teaser for my latest work The Son of Storms[Basic details for it can be found on my profile!]:

Ichor.

The blood of Immortals.

Golden and a little more viscous than mortal blood, it was not only the lifeblood of gods, but their essence itself. When an immortal, despite however powerful they were, was drained of their ichor to the last drop while in their physical forms…their death was assured in the metaphysical.

And their death meant fading. Being erased from the very existence, and cast into the realm of the faded. Or the abyss of chaos, as it was called.

In the thousands of years the Olympian Council had been upon Gaea, they had never seen an Immortal fade because of the sheer damage their very essence had taken.

Gods didn't have souls like the mortals. Their flesh and blood were too enriched with energy to die of physical injuries. Even Kronos, after being cut to thousands of pieces, had survived in the pits of Tartarus, just like Ouranos before him had survived the butchering of his physical form.

One simply couldn't kill an Immortal physically and expect him to fade.

But yet, as the head of the King of gods was bashed against his own throne's armrest, again and again, Hestia was forced to revise that thought. Especially because every droplet of ichor coming out of her youngest brother was being absorbed by his assailant, the golden blood sparking with her brother's divinity as it sank into the skin of the demigod pulping Zeus' brains.

Do review my dear readers, this story can probably cross 230 reviews with this chapter!