Authors' Note: Hello Everyone and welcome to Magic Makes Might, the latest collaboration between Deimos and myself.
The two of us have been lurking on the HP forums for many years now and in recent times have been quite perturbed by the lack of good fics with realistic, worldbuilding elements; This is our effort to address that.
The focus of this fic is worldbuilding, character development, a deep dive into the intricacies of magic and adding more elements to the world of Harry Potter. We look forward to all constructive criticism and feedback.
Happy Reading
Hogwarts
The Great Hall
1st September, 1968
"Longbottom, Frank!"
The name was called out and the star-lit hall fell into silence once more. And what a Hall it was. No matter how many times he had seen it, the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry never failed to impress.
As a young, idealistic and bright eyed muggleborn, it had been one of his very first impressions of the Wizarding World, and although many years had passed since then, every time he attended the Opening Feast, it was as though he was eleven years old again, watching in awe as his eyes drunk in the incredible sights before him.
The Great Hall, today, four years after he had first walked into it, was unchanged. The four House Tables stretched almost endlessly as hundreds of students sat and watched attentively as the Hat sorted the eager and nervous First Years. At the far end of the Hall, the staff remained seated at the raised dais, from where they watched and clapped politely when students were sorted.
Towards the far corner of the table, he caught the eye of the young Charms Professor, Filius Flitwick, who gave him a soft smile and directed his attention towards the Sorting Ceremony.
The dark-haired boy hummed in interest as he watched a gangly but confident boy march up to the stool. He spoke across the table, "Definitely a Gryffindor."
The blonde seated across from him looked consideringly at the boy now sat on the stool, "Perhaps, but he's half-Crouch, I'll say he's a Ravenclaw."
"GRYFFINDOR!" cried the Sorting Hat and the House that was thus named burst out in applause. It was a little louder than the regular fare, but then again, it was not everyday that a member of the Sacred Twenty Eight was sorted into one's House.
A smirk graced the features of the first boy, "Ravenclaw, is he?"
The blonde rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the book he had brought with him, "I'll be right one day, just you wait."
It was a tradition between the two boys, guessing at the Sorting of the firsties during the Opening Feast. One that had picked up traction amongst their dorm mates and become a ritual of sorts that they followed every year. As the Sorting continued, the Ravenclaw lads continued calling out guesses, some correct and some wrong, but entertaining nonetheless.
The blonde scowled as he stabbed at his food with his fork. It had not been his night, "How could I have been wrong about that Parkinson kid?" he grumbled, "A Parkinson in Ravenclaw?! The world is going mad!"
"You know what Xeno? Maybe next year, when we are on the Express, you can walk into random firsties' cabins and interview them. Might be the only chance you have at winning," replied the dark haired Ravenclaw as he smirked slightly at his blonde friend.
The voice of Abel Cornfoot chimed in, "You really shouldn't bully poor Xeno so much Steven, or next thing you know, he'll write about how you are getting it down with a Blubbering Humdingus or some other ridiculous creature in the Hogwarts Monthly," referring to both Xeno's fascination with seemingly fantastical creatures and the school magazine of which he was the editor this year.
The comment received light laughter from all those within hearing, causing Xenophilius to scowl in contempt, "This year is going to be just the same as the last, I see."
"Wouldn't be right to let you read in peace, mate. Think of it as character building," Steven replied, continuing the light ribbing of his best friend. And they were best friends. Despite, or perhaps because of their constant jibes and banter that was exchanged between the two, Xenophilius Lovegood and Steven Wilson had been best friends since their first term at Hogwarts.
Xeno opened his mouth before shutting it with an audible click as Dumbledore stood to begin his speech.
"The very best of evenings to you all. A warm welcome to all of our new students. To our old students, Firstly, I believe I should introduce to you Professor Argyle Diggle, who will be taking over as the new Head of the Defence Against the Dark Arts Department."
The newest member of the Senior Faculty stood up from his seat on the High Table as he acknowledged the students' polite applause with a wave of his hand. He seemed a genial fellow, a bit young perhaps, his brown hair tinged with a hint of grey. Having someone this young serve as Head of a department as important as DADA was generally not the norm, but then again, the school seemed to have hit a particularly harsh run of luck recently as they had not had a Head of the DADA Department last beyond a single year since Steven had begun his schooling. Now, in his Fifth Year, he hoped that there would finally be some stability in the Defence Department especially with the OWLs coming up.
The Headmaster continued with his standard speech for the Opening Feast, but Steven tuned him out as Xeno whispered, "What do you think of the new Professor? Heard of him before?"
Steven nodded slightly as he replied, "He's been published a few times in the Dark Digest. He seems to specialise in dealing with Ancient Egyptian and Mesopotamian Curses. Though his latest article stated that he was a Junior Professor of DADA at Ilvermorny across the pond. Dumbledore must have poached him from there."
The Dark Digest was one of the premier publications in the field of anything related to developments in the field of the Defence against the Dark Arts. Practically every Auror, Curse Breaker and Warder in Europe subscribed to it. Steven had taken out a subscription in his second year itself. Along with ones to Transfiguration Today, The Enchanters Gazette and several other scholarly journals focusing on the various developments in magical fields that held his interest.
"Well let's hope that he will be better than Greengrass was," said the blonde haired Lovegood as he snorted almost derisively.
"Anybody would be better than Greengrass. Although in his defence, he was only a junior professor for three years before he was shoved into the role after Wheeler's accident last year," Steven replied almost defensively even though there was little to defend when it concerned Professor Mitchell Greengrass. The man had been a disaster in the classroom. He hadn't been all that bad when they had had him as a Junior Professor, but the responsibilities of being the Head of Department must have been simply too much pressure.
The Headmaster seemed to have concluded his speech as a smattering of applause interrupted their hushed conversation. With a smile and spreading his arms Dumbledore continued, "That said, please enjoy the feast," food burst onto the tables and the chattering of the hall's occupants resumed.
"Is it just me, or do his speeches get slightly more odd each year?" chimed in Dougal Ross, the fourth and final occupant of the dorm that Steven occupied.
Abel scoffed, "I'd noticed the very same thing. Another couple of years and he might be giving Xeno a run for his money!"
Xeno let out a sigh, "With friends like you who even needs Dolohov?"
There were snickers at the comment, but the mood had shifted slightly at the mention of their age-old enemy, "Now we're in fifth year we will be learning some more useful magic, could be stuff we can use against him."
"I'm certain that's the case, though whether or not it will do any good against a seventh year is yet to be seen, he knows all that we'll learn this year too remember?"
Xeno raised an eyebrow, "I don't know mate, you could probably have beaten him in second year if you had bothered to try."
Steven just shrugged, "Maybe. But it would have attracted far more trouble. Anyways, Dolohov's bark is far worse than his bite. I can handle a few insults here and there," as long as he doesn't cross the line went unsaid.
"Mate, we all know Moody has been giving you tips for years. Dolohov wouldn't know what hit him!"
"Still not worth it, Moody's biggest tip is to not pick fights I'm unsure of winning."
The group looked disappointed, but understanding. Making it clear that the conversation was over, Steven considered the rest of the hall. Looking across at the Gryffindor table, he made eye contact with Amelia Bones, giving her a small nod that she returned with a smile.
Xeno's competent gaze hadn't missed the interruption and he barked out a laugh in mockery, "Already eyeing up your girlfriend?"
The dark-haired fifth year scowled in response, "She's not my girlfriend, we worked together in Defence."
"Oh, I hear you were very friendly in defence."
Steven let out a long suffering sigh, "Nothing happened with Amelia and you know it. We just study together sometimes."
Xeno took the hint and coughed awkwardly, "Well, you must have been studying real hard. I don't think there's a student in the school with more Outstandings than you."
A smug smile was the only response given.
"Yeah, didn't you get all Os last year?"
Steven hummed, "No, Potions, Herbology and Astronomy were only EE's."
Doug deadpanned, "Oh what a shame. Your ancestors must be rolling in their graves at the ineptitude of their descendant."
"Well for those of us not born with a wand in our hands, the exams were a tad bit more difficult. I got my arse whipped in History and Defence, barely scraped an Acceptable. And old Sluggy must have some kind of a hard on against me as I swear my potions final was damn near perfect and I still just got an EE," grumbled Xeno as he glared up at the High Table where Horace Slughorn, Head of the Potions Department seemed to be engaged in conversation with Elladora Bullstrode, the Junior Professor who also taught potions.
"So you got O's in all the rest?" said Doug with a raised eyebrow, Xeno may have been a Ravenclaw, but contrary to what everyone thought, not all Ravenclaws got straight O's in all their exams and had wet dreams about libraries. Getting an Outstanding in any subject was an achievement and generally not received by more than twenty or so students in a year in even one subject.
In fact, for any student to get even three O's was considered a rather impressive achievement and the fact that Steven had achieved seven Outstandings had not escaped the attention of the faculty and the student body. He would have a lot more eyes on him this year, watching and observing the young muggleborn who was consistently outshining his classmates. Or more specifically, his pureblood classmates.
Steven's eyes narrowed slightly at that thought. The first four years of Hogwarts focused more on theoretical than practical learning and even then, the magic they had learned was very basic. His grades could have been explained away by hard work, diligence and studying ahead as opposed to some form of natural talent. It would not be as easy to use the same argument this year.
"Bloody hell no!" exclaimed Xeno, drawing Steven's attention back to the discussion, "got O's in Charms and Ancient Runes and EE's in the rest. 'Cept Herbology. Got an A. And who cares about Herbology. Fawley's a right arsehole anyways"
"Not bad mate!" congratulated Abel as he clapped the Lovegood on his back, "Doug and me here didn't do all that bad either. Not as good as you or wonderkid over there but still made father proud when he saw my O in Creatures."
The four of them continued talking about their grades and the hols as they regaled each other with tales of the vacations they took and the adventures they'd had. It stung just a bit. But he knew that they meant nothing by it. It was not their fault that Steven was born to a father who worked in a factory and lived in one of the seedier parts of Birmingham. Vacations and adventures were not something his family could afford.
Even so, just listening to his friends laughing as they shared stories warmed his heart and Steven leaned back slightly as he once again took in the sight of the Great Hall and the Enchanted Ceiling.
It was good to be back.
They had rushed back to the Ravenclaw common room almost as soon as the Opening Feast had ended, wanting to beat the rush of students who would undoubtedly be seeking to grab the comfier seats before Professor Fawley arrived for the initiation of the firsties.
"Dibs on the armchair!" shouted Doug as he rushed to seat himself at their regular table as they entered the common room, the Eagle Knocker giving way after Xeno cracked the riddle on his first try.
Steven however stifled the urge to rush after his friend, calmly stepping through the door as he entered the room which had been his home away from home ever since he had come to Hogwarts. And what a room it was.
Sprawling before him was a wide, circular room with graceful arched windows that punctuated the walls which were hung with blue and bronze silks and a midnight blue carpet covered in stars. The same carpet was then in turn using a rather complex enchantment that Steven was yet to figure out, reflected onto the domed ceiling. The room, although considering its size it could hardly be called one, was furnished with blue tables, chairs, and a divan. A tall statue of Rowena Ravenclaw made of white marble, that probably cost more than the factory his father worked in, stood imperiously near the door to the dorms.
And towards his right, was the door that led to the infamous Ravenclaw Library, which although not as large as the main library, held an impressive collection of books nonetheless. Steven had spent many a sleepless night in this library, huddled in a corner with nought but a candle for light and a cup of tea.
While Steven was busy with his reminiscing, it seemed that Doug had managed to seat himself on the coveted armchair much to Abel and Xeno's consternation. The rest of them grudgingly took the remaining seats around the table even as the rest of the House slowly trickled into the room, slowly grabbing whatever seats they could, even as the rest grumbled softly and either headed up to the dorms or decided to stand on the sidelines.
Eventually the Fifth Year Prefects walked in with the First Years in tow. The murmuring and whispering firsties spoke to one another in hushed tones even as they stood in the centre of the Common Room waiting for the Head of the House to enter.
And then, not even a moment later, Professor Festus Fawley, Head of House Ravenclaw and the Head of the Herbology Department, strode into the Common Room, with all the poise and swagger expected of a pureblood from an old and landed family. Steven had initially looked up to the man, enamoured by the power of his position and the respect he commanded. But he'd soon realised that behind the respectability and charisma, the man was as bigoted as they came. He hid it well, but over the years, Steven had come to recognise the cues and signs that betrayed the fact that the Head of his House was a pureblood supremacist and as such he had interacted with him as little as possible.
Behind him, stood the man who was responsible for Steven's lack of interaction with his Head of House. Professor Filius Flitwick, Deputy Head of Ravenclaw and Junior Professor in the Charms Department. A short man, dressed impeccably in midnight blue robes, he was barely taller than some of the firsties. And yet after his first class with them, none of his students ever judged him for it.
The man in question caught his gaze and almost imperceptibly nodded at him. Since his First Year in Hogwarts, Flitwick had been the one who had taken charge of Steven's education and introduction to the Wizarding World and while it was only supposed to be for the duration of Steven's First Year, it had continued beyond that as the man became a mentor of sorts to the young muggleborn.
He eventually turned his gaze back to the Head of House, who looked like he was about to begin speaking. The young firsties looked up at him with both awe and fear and it was at that point Steven realised how great an influence Heads of Houses wielded over their students.
"Welcome to Ravenclaw," began the elderly Professor, "Welcome to the House of Wisdom, where intelligence and the pursuit of knowledge form the foundation of the immense legacy of our House. Centuries ago, Rowena Ravenclaw, of the Founding Four, created this very House, this Room and this library, to serve as a haven, for those students who possessed the attributes that she prized so. Wit, Wisdom, Intelligence and Knowledge. These are the pillars upon which this House stands and for centuries, Ravenclaws have embodied these qualities as they made their mark on the Wizarding World."
The man paused to let the impact of his words settle in, "For centuries, Ravenclaw has produced some of the finest minds the Wizarding World has ever seen, Enchanters, Warders, Spellcrafters, Politicians, men and women of every field and in every level of governance, academia, commerce and economics, have stood where you stand today and will for many years after you have graduated. It is an immense legacy. And I hope that you shall live up to it."
The students, obviously, looked overwhelmed. The man was a gifted orator, but these were eleven year old kids and how many truly understood the significance of what he said, would forever be unknown. Nonetheless, the firsties nodded along and clapped politely when Fawley's speech ended.
"I am Professor Festus Fawley, Head of Ravenclaw House and Head of the Herbology Department. Alongside me, is Professor Filius Flitwick, Deputy Head of Ravenclaw and Junior Professor for Charms. For those of you who are unaware, the two of us are responsible for your well being, academic or otherwise and our doors shall always be open to you, should you need it," continued the Herbology Professor.
At this point, Flitwick spoke up, the routine well rehearsed between the two Professors by this point, "Each student of Ravenclaw, and not just the First Years, will mandatorily attend one meeting each semester with each of us. During this time, we will discuss your academics, your attendance record, disciplinary record and overall performance at Hogwarts. If you have any complaints, difficulties or any other pertinent issues otherwise which cannot be dealt with by the Prefects, you may bring them to our attention at any time. As Head and Deputy Head, we take our responsibilities seriously and we assure you that we will do our utmost to see your problems resolved." He finished with a kind smile.
The introduction was almost identical to the one that we received in our First Year. And by and large, it was true. Except for the fact that both men were extremely busy and when you had nearly two hundred and fifty students in Ravenclaw, it was impossible for all problems and disputes to be resolved by the House Head. Most minor problems and issues were dealt with by the Prefects.
The next few minutes were then spent in mundane discussions as the Professor outlined his responsibilities and the firsties hesitantly asked their questions. After an exhausting half hour, eventually the initiation ended and the various students dispersed as they went about their myriad activities.
Steven however was rushing out the door of the Common Room from whence Professor Flitwick had exited a scant few moments ago.
"Professor Flitwick!" called out the huffing Ravenclaw as he ran to catch up with the Charms Professor.
"Steven," acknowledged Flitwick as he turned around with a lilting smile on his face, "Why am I not surprised to see you here."
Steven blushed sheepishly at the man's words and replied, "I am sorry to disturb you sir. But I was hoping to talk to you regarding our lessons from last year."
"Indeed. I thought you might. I'm sure you already have some idea as to how you would like to proceed this year. Go on then."
Steven paused slightly at that. The Professor wasn't wrong. He had over the summer thought about how he would approach this conversation almost half a dozen times.
"Well Professor Flitwick…I was hoping that we could take a more practical hands-on approach this year," responded the young Ravenclaw.
"I thought the approach we followed last year was already heavily focused on the practical aspects of Old Magic."
Old Magic. The Ancient Arts. The Magics wielded by sorcerers and mages of old, with which they had carved valleys from mountains and accomplished such feats of power and wonder that maps had to be redrawn.
Sadly True Old Magic was a lost art. With but fragments and scraps of the ancient practice still preserved in the modern world. And yet, the pursuit of this knowledge was something Steven had dedicated himself to since his third year when Flitwick had accidentally made mention of it during one of their private lessons.
"Yes sir. But that was just non-verbal, intent based casting of simple spells. Stuff that I could practise by myself with little danger to myself or my surroundings. But I want to move on to the more advanced material this year."
Flitwick said nothing for a moment as he levelled his gaze at Steven. Even now, Steven could see the gears in the man's mind turning as he considered his request.
"Hmm. Practising the more advanced material without supervision would indeed be the height of stupidity. And I'd be a terrible Ravenclaw if I denied a fellow Raven the pursuit of knowledge. Very well then. We can have two sessions a week this term. Wednesdays and Sundays after 8pm. I'll clear my schedule accordingly," said the Charms Master as he smiled at Steven.
An almost jubilant expression broke out of Steven's face at that, "Thank you Professor. I promise, your time will be well spent."
"I have little doubt about that young Mr. Wilson. Now, it is late and curfew is nearly upon us. Time for you to head back to the Common Room."
Steven only nodded excitedly as he turned and began making his way back to the Common Room. His lessons with Flitwick were probably the best part of studying at Hogwarts. The Junior Professor was an excellent teacher and his knowledge across most fields of magic was almost encyclopaedic.
What had begun as a simple question asked to a Junior Professor in his second year had over time evolved into a near full time mentorship from Professor Flitwick as the man eventually began actively teaching him in private once he realised how far ahead of his peers Steven really was.
"And Mr. Wilson!" called out Flitwick. Steven abruptly halted in his steps and turned, "The Ancient Arts are not something to be taken lightly, young man. You were wise to approach me and request my supervision. But you have a tendency to practise independently and study ahead. See to it that you heed your own wisdom and refrain from practising alone."
The tone was stern and cautioning. A rarity for the generally jovial professor.
Steven would obey his words. The man had never led him astray.
Hogwarts
Transfiguration Classroom
The Next Day
The day had begun as was their usual name. The Ravenclaws had made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast where they were greeted by Flitwick and Fawley who handed them their time tables. The customary small talk followed and eventually Steven found himself following his friends into their first class of the semester. Transfiguration.
Professor Minerva McGonagall was one of Steven's favourite professors, second only to Professor Flitwick and the reason thereof was plainly evident as he sat with rapt attention as the young Transfiguration Professor outlined their lesson plan for the year.
"In the first year of your education, we focused on the art of Inorganic to Inorganic transfiguration. The most basic of all that is considered to fall under the art of Transfiguration. Simple transformations, matchsticks to needles, teapots to shoes and the like. There you learnt how to transfigure the most basic non living or inorganic materials into different material and shapes. The objective was to develop the core skills of Shape Manipulation and Material Transformation in y'all," said the young professor, a hint of her Scottish accent slipping in.
"In your second year," she continued, "we focused on further developing this skill, performing more difficult transfigurations, involving different sizes, volumes and heavily contrasting materials. Cushions to Pencils, Rocks to Chairs and the like before finally introducing you to the concept of Organic to Inorganic Transfiguration in your third year."
The professor might have detected a slight lack of interest in her lecture, she was after all basically conducting a review of all that we had studied already, for she called upon Amelia to answer her question.
"Ms. Bones, could you please brush up your peers' memory with regards to Organic to Inorganic Transfiguration?" asked McGonagall.
Amelia Bones. Steven would hesitate to call her a friend as he would Xeno, but over the past two years the two had bonded over their love of the subject. Whereas Steven enjoyed the subject due to his love of the more esoteric applications, Amelia studied transfiguration almost exclusively for its battle applications. If there ever was anyone in their batch who would become an Auror, it was her.
On his left, Xeno, the immature man-child that he was, snorted lightly and raised his brow at him in a very suggestive fashion. Steven bit back a groan at that. Sometime last year, the boys had gotten it into their head that Steven fancied Amelia Bones. And in the true fashion of horny teenagers, proceeded to mercilessly tease him for it.
And Steven did admit that he initially did have a slight crush on the Gryffindor. With red hair and piercing blue eyes, the girl was definitely very attractive. Her porcelain skin was nearly flawless and her features were quite sharp, in a dangerous yet appealing manner. Amelia Bones turned many heads when she walked down the corridors of Hogwarts. But Steven's was no longer one of them.
"Organic to Inorganic Transfiguration is the art of transfiguring living or organic subjects, such as plants, insects and animals, into inorganic objects composed of matter that is derived from elements that are wholly inorganic such as rocks, or pseudo-inorganic such as wood or rubber, which while derived from plants, is due to the separation from its source, also considered inorganic," rattled off Amelia.
An excellent answer. Better than that in the textbooks as they rarely made a distinction between inorganic and pseudo-inorganic matter despite the different approach one needed to follow when performing transfigurations for either categories.
"5 Points to Gryffindor," nodded McGonagall before she took over where Amelia left off, "As Ms. Bones so accurately explained, the Art of Organic to Inorganic Transfiguration is far more complex. It is one you have struggled to master over the past two years and one that we will focus on this year as well. However, this year, you will also be introduced to the art of Organic to Organic Transfiguration."
"On the face of it, some of you might wonder, why is it that we turn to the art of transfiguring organic beings into other organic beings before we cover the Art of Inorganic to Organic Transfiguration. Can any of you here explain it?"
Blank expressions covered most faces across the room as students furtively looked at each other. Some completely dumbfounded, some were unsure, but most were looking to see if anyone else knew the answer.
Steven raised his hand in the air confidently even as Amelia did.
"Mr. Wilson," said McGonagall as she nodded at him to answer.
"When we deal with organic transfigurations Professor, we are still at the end of the day transforming organic beings into other organic beings. And while it is far more complex that the previous two categories, it is still at the end of the day involving similar components. The intricacies of Shape Manipulation and Material Transformation may be more complex, but are still workable in an intermediate stage of education," answered Steven.
"However," he continued, "when dealing with inorganic to organic transfigurations we must not only deal with transfiguring inorganic materials to organic materials, a difficult exercise in itself, but also varying complexities of shape manipulation. But the greatest hurdle lies in the creation of animate behaviour in objects that were initially inorganic and more importantly inanimate."
"An accurate, if complex summation, Mr. Wilson. Take 10 Points for Ravenclaw," said McGonagall with a hint of a smile on her face.
"To put it more simply. In any act of Transfiguration as you are well aware, we deal with three factors. Material, Shape and Animation. So far you have not been required to deal with the third factor except for suppressing a subject's animate properties when transfiguring organic beings into inorganic objects. For example when you were required to transfigure a mouse into a teapot last year."
"However," she continued, "When dealing with transfiguring organic to organic beings, you will be required to pay more attention to the Factor of Animation, but even here, it is more limited to changing your subject's existing behavioural characteristics into that which you wish to transfigure it into. Complex, but achievable."
"But when you deal with Transfiguring inorganic subjects into Organic beings, the animation, or the fundamental behavioural traits that are characteristic of living beings, must be created. This must come from the caster. And hence it is a far more complex branch of Transfiguration and reserved only for those who will make it into my NEWT class."
"Now," said McGonagall as she waved her wand and a set of instructions and diagrams appeared on the black board, "turn to page 32 of your textbook. Today we will be practising turning a hamster into a mouse. One of the simplest transfigurations in this field."
And so Steven turned his attention down to his book. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he turned to the page in question. Mouse to Hamster. Something he had learned to cast in his second year itself and could now perform non-verbally as well.
Even so, Steven had figured out a trick to make these classes more interesting. By altering the three Factors, he challenged himself further by effecting transfigurations with different effects.
The hamster before him was transformed into a brown mouse first. And then white, blue, green and so on and so forth. Patterns soon followed and then eventually Steven started working on shape. Curved claws that would not be out of place on an eagle, horns not unlike that of a unicorn and a tail that had more barbs than a rose's stem. In his mind's eye, Steven saw himself in the future unleashing a pack of transfigured wolves on Dolohov, but only these wolves had hardened fur, barbed tails and were the size of horses.
It was challenging to create such variations but it kept him occupied during class and allowed him to further hone his skill in the art of transfiguration.
"Morgana's tits! What in the name of all that is holy is that?!" whispered Xeno frantically as his eyes widened at the…well for lack of a better word, abomination that Steven had created.
It was a hamster. Sort of. But it was the size of a mongoose, with razor sharp fangs and fur similar to that of a hedgehog. Steven immediately reverted it back into a cute, fluffy hamster before anyone else saw it. He did not need anyone hurling allegations of him being a mad dark wizard who created eldritch abominations to set against unsuspecting classmates. Well at least not yet.
He cast a dry look at Xeno who looked at him with exasperated despair, almost used to Steven's crazy experiments at this point.
Eventually class came to an end and Steven made his way out of the classroom before he was interrupted.
"Steven!" called out Amelia. Cue raunchy sniggers and suggestive expressions from Xeno, Abe and Doug.
"Amelia! How was your summer?" said Steven as he nonchalantly turned and addressed the Gryffindor who was making her way towards him. He obviously ignored the not very subtle teasing from the group of testosterone crazed baboons whom he unfortunately called friends. He'd deal with them later.
"Oh it was excellent. My parents took us to Barcelona for the Europa League Dueling Finals," replied she.
"I read about that in the paper. Wolff won, did he not?"
"He kicked the shit out of Gautilier. It was a poor matchup. Gautilier's footwork is weak and he relies too much on shielding. Wolff's transfigurations are a hard counter for that."
I waved at my friends and indicated that I would join them later for History.
"You'd know better than me. You're probably the biggest duelling nut in the entire school, now that Moody's graduated."
"Oh come off it you sod. Moody was telling me about how good you've become. I still don't get why you don't join the Duelling Club!"
"I just don't have the time, Amelia. You know that better than anybody," replied Steven. What went unsaid was that he didn't want to show off his skill with a wand. His First Year had been bad enough with all the Slytherins targeting him for scoring better than them. But they'd left him alone since his second year once he'd wiped the floor with Rosier and his goons.
Most of the Slytherin Upperclassmen were willing to leave the matter be as they thought he was just a talented muggleborn who'd picked up a few tricks. But if he showed any more skill or power, they'd feel threatened and the status quo would change. And not in his favour.
"Yeah well, you better be on time for our library sessions, oh Mr. I'm-Too-Busy," stated Amelia as she crossed her arms underneath her chest. It took much willpower on Steven's end to keep his eyes focused on Amelia's face.
"8PM? Mondays and Thursdays?" questioned Steven.
"That works for me. I was thinking we can focus more on History and Potions this term. My grade wasn't that great in either," replied Amelia.
Steven grimaced slightly at that. He'd barely scraped an O in History and he was fairly confident that the only reason he'd gotten an EE in Potions was because of Slughorn's favouritism. Potions…..was not a subject he excelled in.
The two of them had similar interests in Transfiguration, Charms and DADA, but had soon realised that their interests lay in very different applications. Amelia was a battle nut that would make Vikings blush in embarrassment. Steven on the other hand was more interested in those aspects of these Arts that were derivatives of the Old Magics.
But their weaknesses were similar. And so a strange bond had formed.
"I'll see you then," said she as she walked away with a slight sway in her hips.
Damn Hormones.
Hogwarts
History of Magic Classroom
2 Days Later
History was a boring affair. It hadn't always been like this, in the first four years of Hogwarts, they had covered so many topics of interest ranging from the establishment of the Wizengamot, the ancient druidic cultures that had populated Britain before the Roman conquest and even the impact of Roman Magical Traditions on the development of magical arts in Britain and Europe in general.
But this was their fifth year of schooling. Here, they would begin covering the OWL curriculum set by the Ministry. And much like its muggle counterparts, Magical Britain too did not want to teach its youth about its true sordid colonial history. And so attempting to pay as little attention to the third accounting of some goblin war or another, Steven and his friends amused themselves with quiet conversation.
"I reckon if you try a little harder you could set the back of her head on fire," Xeno joked, his voice carrying slightly further than he had intended.
A glare from Steven shut him up fast, "Think you could say that any louder mate? I'm not sure Binns heard you."
There were quiet snickers from the rows in front, fortunately it seemed the girl in question wasn't one of them.
"Sorry mate," the blonde boy said sheepishly, looking very much as if he was, in fact, not sorry at all.
With a sigh, Steven turned back to his book, attempting in vain to hide his whole body behind it. The book was, of course, nothing to do with the history lesson. After his conversation with Professor Flitwick he had begun reading up on the new magic he would be attempting to practise later today.
The Ancient Arts were truly fearsome. Or they had been at one point. Far too much knowledge had been lost or destroyed by the Church or the mages of the Roman Empire as they sought to eliminate any contestants to their power. A practice that had been further perpetrated by other magical monarchies across the world over the millenia.
The spell he was going to attempt today was a true invocation of the essence of water. Not the Aguamenti charm, that summoned water in its base form in varying volumes depending on the power and intent of the caster.
No what he was attempting, was an invocation of the the essence of one of the world's foundational elements, Water. The spell, if performed correctly, would allow him to summon a massive torrent of water, to be manipulated, directed and controlled in any manner he wished.
To call it a spell was a disservice. When dealing with the ancient arts, you did not intone any incantations, nor did you perform any wand movements. You practised each Art, your mastery over the Elements, your control, your understanding and knowledge, until one day your only limit was your imagination.
Steven still remembered Flitwick's demonstration from two years ago, when he had brought forth dozens of gallons of water and manipulated it, without casting any spell, transfiguration, charm or enchantment, into shapes of animals and birds, shields and spears, and then directed it all in the torrential flow of a river that smashed apart a massive stone boulder that he had set up to prove his point.
Steven had been hooked from that very moment.
The lesson flew by and soon enough everyone was packing up and shifting off, as Steven and his group of Ravenclaws joined the rest of the class in fleeing, he was pleasantly surprised to find himself walking next to the object of his previous fascination. He glanced at her and decided to start a conversation, his friends watching amusedly from behind.
"So how are you today Narcissa?" He spoke with a grin, hoping to look and sound passably confident.
The girl startled at his voice, turning away with a small smile as she recognised him, "Well enough, though I heard during Binns's lecture I might have to watch out for some form of predator."
Steven blushed and coughed, "Nothing of the sort."
A perfect eyebrow was raised in response as she hummed, "So you mean to tell me you didn't spend most of the lesson staring at me?"
Embarrassed, he rubbed the back of his head, a slight blush adorning his features, "Perhaps you were merely the most interesting thing in the room."
"So I'm a thing? A charmer you are not," the blonde girl chastised him with a huff, the only giveaway to her true feelings a slight twitch of the lips.
Holding back from stuttering an apology, the boy spent a few seconds searching in vain for some words before she took mercy, "I heard you got seven outstandings, pretty sure you set a record with that one."
Happy to be in more familiar territory, he gave her a grin, "I believe so. How did you do?"
Narcissa Black dryly replied, "Well, not as well as you, but still better than most of the class. Three O's, five EE's and two Acceptables."
The Ravenclaw was quick to assure her, "That's nothing to sneeze at, though I doubt the school could expect any less from a daughter of the House of Black."
The girl looked at him and smiled, "I suppose so."
They reached a fork in the hallway and Steven knew it was time to split, "I'll see you later then?"
"Not sure you'd manage to get through the next three years without seeing me. Try not to stare too much as I leave."
He blushed again at that, but managed to speak up, "No, I meant at our usual spot?"
A barely discernible flush spread across her cheeks as she just nodded lightly, "Usual spot. Usual time," she replied softly.
Just as she made to move, a familiar snide voice rang out across the hallway, "Now what would Lord Black do if he saw this! His niece cavorting with mudbloods, how scandalous," to Steven's frustration, Narcissa took a step away from him before sniping back at her fellow Slytherin.
"Piss off, Rosier. It's nothing like that and you know it."
Fortunately Rosier and his ilk had been too far away to hear the particulars of their conversation even as he and his gang of cronies sauntered over to them.
"Come now, Narcissa. I know nothing of the sort, all I see is you mixing with your inferiors."
Steven's eyes narrowed, "Infer-"
Xeno quickly caught up and grabbed his arm, Abel and Doug in tow, "Steve mate, leave it."
Evan Rosier had been a thorn in their side since they first arrived at the school. Despite being a few years younger he spent most of his time with Dolohov's group, they presumably allowed it as he was sufficiently vicious to be of use to them. He had hated Steven from day one, consistently being outperformed by the Ravenclaw in every class.
Evan barked out a laugh, "Yes, the blood traitor's right mudblood. You very much ought to leave."
Doug snarled a reply, "And why is that, scared he'll beat you?"
The Rosier Heir's eyes narrowed to slits and his wand was swiftly freed from his sleeve. Swagger and arrogance dripped from his tone. "Nothing of the sort, I merely think it would be a shame for the elves to dirty themselves cleaning up what's left of him."
This time it was Steve who had to put his arm on Xeno's to hold him back even as Rosier's comment caused some hesitant sniggers from his green-robed friends who had likewise prepared themselves. But behind their overt veneer of confidence, Steven could detect fear. Rosier's little gang undoubtedly remembered the beating he'd laid down on them two years ago when they had cornered him in a hallway after curfew.
"Now is not that time mate. Remember what happened last time." whispered Steven softly to his friends even as they pulled out their wands as well.
It was clear that Rosier was spoiling for a fight. Maybe he'd taken some duelling lessons during the holidays from some expensive tutor hired by his father. Maybe he'd been dropped on his head a few times too many as a baby. Either way he seemed to be out for blood.
Steven glanced up at Narcissa. She seemed to be preparing to step into the conflict herself. A near imperceptible shake of his head warned her off. Turning to Rosier and his goons, Steven simply said, "Get the fuck out of here Rosier, or I'll make what I did to you last time seem like a spa treatment in comparison to what I'll do to you today."
Stepping in closer to the fifth year Slytherin, he dropped his voice and whispered, "You seem confident today. But do you really think you can afford the humiliation of being curb stomped by me in front of all these witnesses?"
Taking a step back, the boy glanced around, finally noticing the dozen or so other classmates who had clearly witnessed him instigate the entire incident. Classmates, who would inevitably carry forward the outcome of a fight, if one occurred, to every corner of the school before the hour ended.
Steven watched as the infinitesimally small gears of his poor excuse of a brain turned slowly as they finally achieved the conclusion that his current course of action was most unwise.
"Lets get the fuck out of here lads. This mudblood isn't worth our time," announced the lout loudly as though the whole world was waiting with baited breath for his words. Moron.
The four dimwits marched away and his friends relaxed slowly as the tension faded. Slowly but surely, the other students dispersed, disappointed that there had been no fight. Even as the boys and Steven turned to head for Potions, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Narcissa ducking into an alcove towards the far end of the corridor.
Turning to the boys, he said, "I think I forgot my notebook in Binns's classroom. You guys carry on, I'll catch up."
The lads nodded and clapped Steven on the shoulder as they proceeded.
He turned, hefted his bag over his shoulder and walked into the alcove his quarry had entered a scant few moments ago. And there she stood, a breathtaking vision of beauty, leaning stylishly against the wall, her own satchel swinging from her shoulder.
Steven's breath hitched slightly and a blush covered his face as he took in her features. Piercing blue eyes, a flawless jawline, a perfectly angled nose and lush black hair rimming her face and flowing down past her shoulders. Undoubtedly, Narcissa was the most beautiful girl in their batch.
But then again, Steven was undoubtedly biassed. After all, outside of a brief period when he'd developed a crush on Amelia Bones last year, Steven had been smitten with Narcissa since his Second Year when the two had been partnered together in Potions.
"You know he's not going to stop hounding you until you put him down in a fight, don't you. You're gonna have to stand up to him one day," she said.
"I have already confronted him."
A raised eyebrow was the only response I realised that Narcissa was unaware of the incident from two years ago.
Taking a deep breath, Steven narrated, "It was a similar hallway. Three years ago, he and his goons tried to corner me, much like today. Unlike today, I gave into my baser instincts and along with Xeno and Doug, wiped the floor with Rosier and his ilk. And even though it was Rosier who instigated the fight, I was the one punished by Fawley for excessive use of force while the rest got away practically scot free."
That wasn't exactly true. Doug and Xeno had been there. But they'd only watched with their mouths agape as Steven had singlehandedly wiped the floor with the four Slytherins. And even though they had spoken up for Steven, and even gone on to say that they had equally participated in the fight, a lie that Rosier didn't refute for fear of even more humiliation, it was Steven who had been punished more heavily than his roommates.
It was on that day that it was hammered into Steven's head that Hogwarts in 1965, was not a good place to be a muggleborn.
Pity colored Narcissa's eyes as she looked into his own.
"I'll see if I can get them to ease up on you a bit."
A half hearted nod from Steven seemingly brought the conversation to an end before Narcissa spoke up just as she was leaving, "Usual spot, usual time?"
A soft smile formed on Steven's lips as he simply nodded at her.