Scala ad Caelum

by GRND

Ages ago, a wizard known as Herpo the Foul defied Death and doomed the world and those who were yet to be born. His ambition was put to an end, yet briefly, for the events of the past are bound to happen again as the ages come and go. It is in the present age, as Voldemort's reign of terror is deemed as over, that the Wizarding World would understand the story had yet to finish.

9. The Keeper

Chapter 8 is out! This one took a long time to write because I had literally zero time between classes, exams and hospital work. That being said, I'm now free!

This chapter is a heavy one in terms of explaining certain aspects of the magical system, especially in the last POV.

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Scala ad Caelum

Chapter 8: The Keeper

Ronald Weasley POV

Friday 20th October 1991 (Hogwarts' Outskirts) – Mid Afternoon

Ron sighed, frustrated, as the wood was only charred after his Incendio since he wasn't good enough to burn it completely. Come on... this is just a first-year spell. If I can't do this, what am I supposed to do? Since that day when Gerd showed him what was coming, he decided to use every single minute of his free time to practise and train. There he was, a bit past the Forbidden Forest's boundaries, practising some of the first year spells which he hadn't been taught yet.

"Don't get frustrated that easily," Gerd advised. "This might be a simple spell, but everything is trickier than it seems the first time you try to perform it."

It's easy to say that when you could literally glide through the air. Still, he tried to apply her advice, so he breathed long and calmly before trying it once again. So far, Ron was happy with his progress. Even before he started taking the training seriously, he was already capable of performing the Severing and Knockback Charms rather easily; he also was, much to his and everyone's surprise, fairly good at Transfiguration.

But after some talk with Professor McGonagall, Ron leant that both the core and the wood which composed his wand had always been considered good regarding transfigurations. However, since the said branch of magic wasn't very useful for combat magic, Ron didn't consider it a very valuable asset.

"There are different ways of training," Gerd went on. "One of them is actually very fitting for you, but it wouldn't be the one I would choose. If you aren't successfully performing a spell, you can always try it a hundred times until you get it. However, if you always do it wrong, it won't matter how many times you try it; doing something wrong a hundred times is still wrong in the end. That doesn't mean you can't learn from every single one of those failed attempts."

"Yeah, I know the theory, but what do you think I'm missing?" Ron asked. "It's true since the first attempt, every other one was better. In the last one, the flames were powerful enough to char the wood, but they still didn't set it ablaze."

"Well, I think your wand movement is still far from being perfect," the Essentia pointed out. "In fact, the first attempt was the one with the better technique. Every other one was getting worse and worse just as frustration clouded your mind. Then, there is the fact both your magical core and body are getting exhausted. You need to remember this is the third training of the week; an activity you've never done before."

"Well, I'm very sorry for my magical core, but I have to keep going. What am I supposed to do if I can't even ablaze some piece of wood?"

"Then, use that to fuel your motivation," she suggested. "Remember back in your first day of class when you couldn't transfigurate the match? I suggested you to use your emotions for that. You didn't just listen to my advice, you also focused your mind and performed the transfiguration calmly and totally in control."

I can't spend the whole day here, so I better listen to her. Ron breathed and focused his mind on the goal. What was this simple first-year spell to Ronald Weasley? Yeah, exactly, nothing at all. With those thoughts on his mind, Ron aimed his wand at the tree and muttered: "Incendio!" But this time, he performed the wand movement slowly, but firmly, and the flames flew from his wand to the tree, setting a piece of it ablaze.

"I bloody did it!" Ron exclaimed. "You saw that, Gerd? I did it"

"Yes, I saw it," Gerd beamed at him. "I'm happy for you, but I think you should extinguish the fire before it goes out of control."

Shit... I didn't think about that... Ron ran towards the tree and tried to extinguish the fire using one of his dirty training shirts. He didn't care about it because it was an old one that he was currently using for his training, and besides that, he had also brought his robes, so it wasn't like he was walking back shitless. "Bloody hell," the redhead sighed after extinguishing the flames. "I should also learn how to conjure water for things like these."

"What the hell are you doing, Weasley?" A voice said from behind.

Ron turned around almost instantly, just to find Theodore Nott shooting him a weird look. "So this is why you've been disappearing every moment we had a free period, eh? Not bad at all."

Shit... why did it have to be him the one to find me. "For how much time have you been watching me?" Ron asked. This is so bad... He had just been talking to Gerd a few moments ago, if the weedy boy had heard him... well, he would definitely be considered a loon since today.

"I've just found you," he answered. "But long enough to see you trying to extinguish flames with your shirt."

Thank Merlin, that was a close one... Nott walked past the redhead without even looking at him and examined one of the trees which Ron had used for his training. "Have you been practising your Severing and Fire-Making Charms with trees?" Nott asked. "Hmm, not bad, Weasley; your Severing Charm is on point. But... why are you doing this?"

"I'm just trying to get better, that's all," Ron shrugged it off. He couldn't imagine what was going on in Nott's mind, but that was the answer Ron had prepared in case someone discovered him.

"Yeah, I know that, but why?"

Bloody hell, why do you have to keep asking... "Because... I just want to be the best among my brothers," Ron partly lied. "Bill and Percy have some of the best academic records this school has ever seen. If I want to beat them, I have to work harder than anyone else."

Nott stared at him rather intensely; the way he used to do when discussing serious matters with him. "Are you interested in duelling?" He asked. "It is a very good way of practising many and different spells. It is also very useful to learn what your limits are."

Maybe this could turn into something interesting... "Well, I've never tried it," Ron answered with honesty. "But I would love to practise my duelling skills; you never know when you might need them."

"Take a stance," Nott practically ordered him, while taking out his wand from his robes.

"What?"

"I told you to take a stance," he repeated. "Everyone has a different stance, the one that suits better for their styles. But seeing that you have no idea of what I'm talking about... Let's see what we can do about it. With your body and knowing your skill... yeah, let's try the most common one." Nott walked towards Ron's side and kicked his right leg to separate it from the left. "Bend your knees a bit, that way, you'll be able to react faster. Now, place your right leg forward, we'll see later what your main leg is; yeah, that's it. Lastly, you just need to place your wand arm in front of you, so you can guard yourself easier."

"Like this?"

"Yeah, that will work, " Nott said, after going back to the spot in front of the tree where he was standing before. Then, he took a stance; his was very similar to Ron's, but it looked way more natural and menacing. "We'll count to three, and then, the duel will start. Since this is some shitty training sparring, I don't feel like explaining the rules right now, but you can hit me with everything you know. Give me your best, Weasley."

Let's see what you can do, Nott... "One. Two. THREE!" They both exclaimed at the same time.

Ron was about to cast a quick Knockback Jinx, but Nott was way faster than him. "Impedimenta!" He chanted. The redhead did his best to dodge it, just as Charlie recommended him years ago. The theory was easy enough, but he wasn't expecting the weedy boy to throw another three successive spells at him.

Crap… I need to counterattack, otherwise, he's going to hit me soon enough. Ron feinted a move to his right side, and then, he practically jumped to the left side, surprising Nott, who had tried to predict his movement by sending the spell to Ron's right side. "Incendio!" Ron chanted. "Impedimenta! Diffindo! Incendio!" Despite his frenzied barrage of spells, none of them was even close to hitting his rival, who was just sidestepping everything with ease.

"Glacius!" Nott exclaimed, pointing his wand at the redhead's feet.

What is he doing? Is he missing on purpose? Ron's questions were answered almost immediately when he tried to step back, just to find his feet slipping due to some thin layer of ice covering the ground.

There was nothing he could do to stop the fall, despite that, he wasn't going to give up so easily. As soon as his butt hit the ground, he shot a Severing Charm at Nott, who didn't have to dodge it because it missed by a large margin. "Diffindo! Expelliarmus!" He chanted in response. The Severing Charm hit him right in the cheek, resulting in a not very deep cut. At the same time, the Disarming Charm made contact with his wand, making it fly to the lanky boy's hand.

He had lost.

Bloody hell... it fucking hurts... Nott offered him a hand to help him get back on his feet. He accepted it, still touching the cut on his cheek with the other hand. "I gotta say," Nott started. "That you did better than what I expected. I assure you that no other first-year would have lasted that long; not even Draco, Blaise or Daphne."

"I still lost pretty easily."

"Of course you did! If I hadn't won this one, I'd be as good as a squib," Nott huffed. "This was your first duel, while I started practising at the beginning of this summer. My father won the World Duelling Series a few years ago; you could say I had a pretty good teacher."

What? I didn't know that... So this guy is a bloody psychopath with combat experience, nice... "But why the hell did you throw the Severing Charm when you already had me? You even disarmed me seconds after it!" Ron complained. The cut wasn't a serious thing, but a bit of blood was coming out of it and it wasn't going to close in at least a few days.

"I wanted to teach you a lesson," he explained. "When you lose, there is always something bad that comes with it. This lesson was about not messing with someone stronger than you, or at least, with someone whom you don't know enough to guess if you can win or not. It is something you must learn before it's too late; that hot blood of yours is one of your main flaws."

Yeah, he's definitely a freak. Still, his words were pretty similar to the ones Daniel used back during his fight with Malfoy. While the prefect was one of the most intelligent persons he had ever known, Nott was a troubled mind with anger issues; yet, the two of them agreed on something: there were dangerous people within Slytherin whom it was better not to mess with. The worst of it was the said statement could be applied to them.

"I don't know why, but I quite like you, Weasley," Nott went on. "Maybe it is because you are a breeze of fresh air from everyone whom I've socialized since I was a toddler, but whatever. The thing is I'm in the mood to give you a few tips, so you better take notes. First of all, you looked like a bloody cow jumping from side to side each time you tried to dodge a spell; breathe and think before making your move, otherwise, you'll get tired in an instant."

Then, he pointed at the trees which Ron had used for his training. "Secondly, you really need to work in your repertory. You just used three different spells against me. On top of that, they were all cast the same way and with the same intention; to hit me one way or another. Thirdly—the last but not the least important—you really need to fucking think before doing things, and this doesn't only apply to duelling, Weasley."

After finishing, Nott just walked out of the clear without even glancing at him. "That one isn't good in the head," Gerd said while gliding towards his shoulder. "I swear there are many more weird people now than there were in my time. However, everything he's said was right. He might be barmy, but he knows what he's talking about."

"Can't you teach me some of that nice magic I saw in your memories?" Ron begged.

"Nope," Gerd answered. "Back in my time, we didn't have any kind of wands, so we had to work our magical core out a lot if we wanted to do advanced magic. From what I've seen, in the present, your people don't really train using their bodies as conductors, so there are very few people out there who can imitate the magic we used to in our times. Anyway, there is no chance for a kid like you to do anything of what you saw; your body would just combust and you will die in a rather horrible and painful death."

"Oh, that's nice."

"Maybe in the future, but right now, we have to focus on what we can do; which is pretty lame, not going to lie."

Ron examined his hand, which had some blood that was starting to dry. He beat me as easily as I was some kind of toddler. I have to keep going; that troll is coming, and I have to save Hermione...

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Harry Potter POV

Thursday 31st October, 1991 (Charms' classroom, Hogwarts) – Morning

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practising!" Professor Flitwick squeaked. "Swish and flick! Swish and flick!"

Swish and flick... I got it. Today was the day the whole class had been waiting for weeks, since the moment Professor Flitwick levitated Neville's toad in front of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Today, they were learning how to make objects fly, or at least, try it.

The class had been put into pairs, with Neville being his partner, which was helping Harry to not feel so stupid; after all, neither of the two boys had managed to levitate the feather that was still laying on the desk.

"You are saying it wrong," the boy heard Hermione trying to correct Seamus, who was her partner for the class. "You have to make the 'gar' nice and long."

"Do it yourself then, smartass." Seamus snarled.

Hermione just rolled up the sleeves of her robes, and then, flicked her wand while pronouncing the enchantment. "Wingardium Leviosa!" The feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh! Well done!" The professor cried. "Everyone! Look here! Miss Granger's done it!"

By the time the class finished, no one but Hermione had made the feather fly. There were others, like Harry himself, whose feather almost rose from the desk. Then, on the other hand, people like Seamus who set ablaze theirs. "It's no wonder she has no friends!" Seamus exploded, just after the class. "Did you guys hear how she tried to correct me from the first moment? If any teacher pairs me with her once again, I swear that I'm asking for a change of class!"

"I-I think she means well..." Neville almost whispered, in that nervous tone of his. "It's just that... she isn't good at communicating with others. She was kind enough to help me a few times back in the first days."

"Then, if she's that good at magic, she should take some lessons about socialising," Seamus continued. "Because I even burnt the damn feather because of her!"

Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. Oh, oh... It was Hermione, and there were tears starting to fall from her eyes. "I think she heard you," Harry pointed out.

Seamus just grunted in response; looking a bit uncomfortable but still very angry.

It turned out the situation was way worse than what Harry had expected because Hermione didn't attend the next class, which was a double period of Transfiguration with Slytherin. However, it wasn't the only weird thing Harry observed during the class. For unknown reasons, Ron had been glancing—both nervously and worriedly—to where the girl was supposed to be sitting. What's gotten into him?

Another thing he had also observed from the redhead was the fact he started to behave differently two weeks ago. Ron definitely was the same bloke he befriended at the train, but now, it was as if he acted more serious and distant, to say something. Harry supposed it had something to do with his housemates, who were trying to instil some of that Slytherin crap in his head.

But even that was hard to tell because of how the snakes interacted with the rest of the Houses.

Sure, there were people like Malfoy and his group who were utter idiots, but the other half of the Slytherin first-years acted as if the others didn't exist. Harry knew his friend would never befriend the first group, but from what he knew, the redhead used to hang out with Greengrass, Zabini and Davies; they didn't strike him as bad persons, but he also didn't know if Ron becoming a bit like them was a good thing. Come on, sod it off. He's still Ron; your first friend. There is no way he's turning into one of those uptight snakes...

The class finished and they all walked towards the Great Hall. On the way, Harry heard Lavender and Parvati gossiping about Hermione spending the whole day crying in the bathroom wanting to be alone. Despite that—even with some guilty feelings lurking at the back of his mind—all the thoughts about the bossy girl were quickly pulled out of his mind when the boy stepped into the Hall; there wasn't any word to describe how amazing the Halloween decorations were.

Then, there was the food. "Eh, Dean, pass me some of that jacket potato," Harry asked, going for the fifth dish. He wasn't going to lose the tough battle against the food; his stomach would probably kill him that same night, but that was a thing he would worry about in another moment. Much to his disappointment, he didn't get to taste it.

Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the Great Hall with sheer terror written all over his face. "Troll!" He shouted. "Troll in the dungeons!" With that being said, the man passed out in the middle of the Hall.

For a few seconds, no one said a word; all the eyes set on the unconscious Professor. Then, after a student let out a loud gasp, the whole Hall exploded in a storm of curses and shouts. Until the Headmaster had enough of it and silenced them all with some loud and flashy fireworks. "Silence!" He exclaimed, barely raising his voice. "Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately."

Percy was the first one to react. "Come on, form a line behind the Head-Girl, you've heard the Headmaster!" He instructed. Soon enough, all the members of Gryffindor were on their feet, following the prefects back to their common room.

How did a troll get into the castle? This was supposed to be the safest place in the world! Wait, could it have something to do with the package Hagrid retrieved from Gringotts? The boy had many questions swarming his mind, but then, another thought came to his mind; one which drained all the colour from his face. "Neville!" Harry whispered into his friend's ear. "Hermione! She doesn't know about the troll!"

Neville started to tremble and sweat. "W-What are we supposed to do? We have to help her but-" Harry didn't let him finish what he was about to say. He just grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the Hufflepuff's column, just to get right past them when they weren't looking.

They made their way towards the dungeons, but Harry had to stop for a moment when he saw Professor Snape crossing a corridor that made a corner with theirs. Where is he doing? Why isn't he going with the other Professor towards the dungeons? Harry shook his head to clear those thoughts; there was no time to lose right now.

They smelled the troll before they saw it; not as if that mattered since they almost run into the beast seconds after that. It was a twelve feet tall beast with an absurd amount of green fat covering his body. It was a menacing sight—one which made Harry shudder in fear as soon as he caught a glimpse of it—but then, he realized something very important as the creature got into the bathroom. "Neville, the key is in the lock," Harry muttered. "We can lock it!"

It was a nice plan, one that would allow them to neutralize the creature rather easily, but as soon as he started running forward, Neville grabbed his arm to stop him. "H-Harry," he called with a trembling voice. "T-That is the girl's bathroom…"

Oh shit... The two of them started to run as soon as they heard some high pitched scream that froze their blood. Harry got into the bathroom by slamming his shoulder into the door, unsheathing his wand a quick as possible. The troll was already making its way towards a fear-paralyzed Hermione, who could do nothing but crawl back and cry.

He aimed his wand at the troll, but there wasn't any useful spell coming to his mind. Fuck it... "Eh! You stupid beast!" Harry insulted the creature. "Why don't you come at me? It's because you are too stupid for that, or what?"

That definitely caught the troll's attention, because it suddenly turned to look at Harry with a very annoyed look. "Neville," Harry commanded. "You go and get Hermione, I'll distract him."

Neville got under the sinks and started to crawl towards Hermione, who was shuddering at the end of the bathroom. Step one done, now you just have to distract him and don't get killed; great plan, Harry... The troll grunted and lunged at Harry with his club, but he was quick enough to jump aside. He is slower than bludgers... I can do it... The beast, now even more angered than before, raised his weapon to attack once again.

Its movements and attacks are slower than I thought… I can do it! This time, as soon as the club was raised over the troll's head, the boy started to run towards it. When the club was about to fall over him, Harry threw himself under the monster's leg, sliding over his knees thanks to the watery and slipping floor.

Harry got up from the floor as fast as he could, waiting for another cub to slam; only that he didn't see the troll's free hand coming until it was too late. The beast grabbed and raised him until he was at its eye's level; it was looking at him with a mix between rage and curiosity. This can't be it… I can't give up so easily… Neville and Hermione are still behind me.

Out of nowhere, a sink fragment hit the creature right in the nose. It roared in pain, but that wasn't enough to drop Harry. When the troll turned to see who the aggressor was, the boy saw both Neville and Hermione had been the ones to throw the piece of ceramic with their own hands. "Y-You drop him now!" Neville tried to shout. "You are ugly! And I bet your mother is even uglier!"

Harry didn't know how the troll was able to understand him, but its nostrils flared with anger as the club was hoisted over Neville's head, who was too shocked to move. "Incendio!" A voice shouted as some flames hit the hand which was grabbing Harry. The troll roared in pain, but this time, he dropped Harry.

The boy fell on his arse, and it hurt like hell, but he was clever enough to get on his feet as fast as he could and ran for his life. The bad thing was the only way he could run was towards the end of the bathroom, where Neville and Hermione were, but getting further from the exit. Wait... is that Ron? Now that he looked at his saviour, he was able to recognise the fiery-red hair of his friend even if his glasses were a bit broken.

"Ronald!" Hermione shouted. "What are you doing here! Run and get the professors!"

"What am I doing here?" Ron exclaimed, stepping back to dodge the troll's club. "I'm saving you! That's what I'm doing!" The beast was now only focusing on him, but Ron was throwing him as many Severing Charms and flames as he could. That's it! The Severing Charm, I can use that!

Harry turned to look at Neville and Hermione, who still were trembling and shocked. "Hear me!" He told them. "I'm going to help Ron with the troll, okay? You two need to reach the exit no matter what; I'll see you there!" He heard the two of them shouting at him, but he didn't listen.

"Diffindo! Diffindo!" Harry chanted. The troll, who had Ron cornered, turned to face him after the two spells impacted its back. At that moment, he appreciated that the redhead's Severing Charms had been able to make some cuts in the monster's face and neck; still, they weren't serious injuries.

Come on! You look at me now! The troll lunged the club at him, but he was tired and injured, so the attack wasn't nearly as fast as the first ones were. However, the force was the same, and it was proved when the weapon destroyed the many sinks it found on its ways after Harry ducked out of the way by going under the ceramic.

"Harry!" Ron shouted. "Focus on his club's hand!"

Yeah... that's a good idea. Harry got out of his cover and faced the troll, who didn't know who to face anymore. In the end, he decided to face the Gryffindor. I have to wait until the club is raised... that's the best moment to attack; I hope Ron realises the same. Harry waited and waited, and just when the weapon was getting raised, he threw a Severing Charm with all his strength at the beast's hand. Shit... too weak.

The spell was able to cut a few fingers from the hand, but Harry suddenly found himself very tired, as if the spell had consumed all his energy. I'm so done now, the boy thought as the troll walked towards him, his weapon already hoisted in the air for the next attack.

But just before the troll could slam the club down, a fireball came out of nowhere to impact on its hand. All the flesh from the fingers up to the forearm was left covered in flames; the smell of burning flesh reaching every corner of the bathroom. This time, the troll dropped its weapon and started to move its hand in a frenzy, trying—in vain—to extinguish the fire.

"Harry! Move now!" Ron shouted at him. The redhead was as pale as marble and leaning his whole body in one of the walls.

Shit... if I felt tired after my spell, that fireball must have been way worse. He would worry about his friend when they all were out of the bathroom; this was his chance to run towards the exit. It was a good plan, but the creature was too furious to let them go so easily. Its good hand came out of nowhere to grab Harry and hoist him up; the boy now was at its mouth level.

The beast wasn't playing anymore.

Harry heard how Hermione and Neville shouted his name, but he didn't really listen to them. He was completely frozen midair, watching how the troll's teeth were getting closer and closer in slow motion. Wait... is that... the troll's club? There it was, floating in the middle of the room and almost touching the ceiling. Then, like a flash, the club rocketed towards the troll's head, which didn't see its own weapon coming at him from its back.

The wooden club hit the beast right at the back of his head, with the familiar sound of bones breaking. After some seconds of uncertainty, Harry found himself falling on his back from the beast's hands once again.

The troll fell just after him, but he was quick enough to roll out of the way. He supported himself in the sinks to get back on his feet, and just when he managed to stand still, he looked at the creature, who was lying completely unconscious on the watery floor. That definitely knocked it out... His sight started to blur, but he was able to walk towards Neville, who caught him before his knees gave up.

"Ronald!" Hermione cried. "Are you okay?"

He wasn't okay. The redhead was even paler than before, sweating as if he was in the desert. Despite that, he managed to look at the troll before losing his conscience. "Not in my watch, you fucker," he just spat. With that being said, he fell to the floor before Hermione could grab him.

Yeah, Ron... a nap doesn't sound bad right now... The last thing Harry saw was Professors McGonagall and Sprout storming into the bathroom.

---

Ronald Weasley POV

Wednesday 1st November, 1991 (Hogwarts' Medical Wing) – Late Afternoon

Someone put that light down... Ron opened his eyes just to be blinded by the bright light which met his eyes. Agh... wait... w-where am I? The last thing he remembered was... The troll... we took him down, but what happened next?

"It was about time," a voice said, but when Ron looked around, there was no one in the place. "Down here, you dummy," Gerd was sitting, with her legs and arms crossed, in his stomach, looking at him with a raised brow and an inquiring look. "Well, how are you feeling?"

"As if I've fallen from a broom midair," Ron groaned. "What happened? You know, with the troll and all of that."

"You were stupid, that's was what happened," she answered. "I warned you. That last fireball was too much for your magical core, but of course, you had to ignore me and do it. Not only that, you even knocked the troll down with his own club after it. It's no wonder you ended up in this... place."

"Yeah, I remember it, but what happened after I passed out?"

"Oh, some Professor finally made it to the bathroom, not that she had a lot to do there, to be honest. You and that boy with glasses passed out after beating the troll, and then, you were both carried here by the school's staff."

Wait... Harry is here too? "The one with the glasses, Harry, is he also here?" Ron asked.

"He was," the Essentia told him. "They let him go this morning since he wasn't as exhausted as you. Oh, now that I remember it, your brothers and friends were here a few hours ago, but they left because they had classes."

"I see you've woken up," someone piped in. "Good, tell me, how are you, Ronald?" Madam Pomfrey asked. The witch was looking at him without blinking, with a quill taking notes on some paper at her right side.

"I feel tired, but other than that, I would say I'm pretty good," the redhead answered.

The witch just pointed her wand at him and muttered some words. "I see, that's good. Unfortunately, I can't give you permission to leave the medical wing yet; by tomorrow morning everything should be okay," then, she stopped for a moment to nod her head at him. "Your body seems to be okay, but now, you have to rest as much as you can. Tomorrow, I'll wake you up before dawn so you can attend classes."

With that being said, the witch closed the curtains of his little space to leave him alone. "Bloody hell, that was close," Ron cursed. "She almost caught me talking to the air. It would have been a bit hard to convince her that I'm okay if that would have happened."

"Then, learn to talk a bit less lousy," Gerd pointed out. "Oh, by the way, you had another visit; Albus Dumbledore came to visit you and your friend."

"What? Albus Dumbledore was here to visit me?"

"You could say so," the Essentia answered. "But I think he was more interested in your friend Harry. They talked for a bit, but when he was finished, he came here, to your bed."

"Did they talk about anything important?" Ron asked. "Maybe... something about me?"

"Not really, they talked about what happened in the bathroom and nothing more," Gerd related. "The old man mentioned something about both of you being rewarded with some House points for your bravery and courage; it's not like I know what those points are good for, but I'm telling you either way."

Does Albus Dumbledore think I'm brave? That's blimey! I'd love to see Percy and Ginny's faces when I told them about it! He was bedridden and exhausted, but that was a very fair price to pay for a compliment of the Headmaster.

"What's with that silly smile of yours?" Gerd asked with curiosity. "It's... because the old man talked about you?"

"Eh, he isn't just an old man!" Ron replied with indignation. "He is Albus bloody Dumbledore, the greatest-"

"The greatest wizard in history," the Essentia interrupted him. "Yeah, I already know, you've said it to me like a hundred times. But now talking seriously, I think you should really rest now. Your magical core it's not accustomed to all the work you put it through yesterday. Tomorrow, you'll be back in class, and we need to keep going with your training, so do yourself a favour and sleep."

"Wow, for a moment, I thought that you've turned into my mum," the redhead tried to joke, but he stopped as soon as he saw the seriousness on Gerd's face. "Okay... Merlin, woman, you can't even joke around now..." Ron laid back on his bed and closed his eyes, trying to succumb to the exhaustion. She is right. I think I've never been this tired in my whole life...

"That's what I like to see," Gerd said, sounding proud of herself. "You really need to listen to me more often, after all, I'm much wiser and more incredible than you."

Oh no... here we go again. She's back with that silly attitude of hers... sometimes I even miss that serious version of hers from that vision. But that thought made Ron remember why he was training that much and the reason why he was in the medical wing ring now. I couldn't even defeat a stupid troll without ending up here... and the worst of it was that I had help. Harry did a pretty good job, even though he was not prepared for it... unlike me. I have to keep working and step up, this was just the beginning...

---

Draco Malfoy POV

Tuesday 2nd November, 1991 (Slytherin Common Room, Hogwarts) – Middle of the morning

News and gossip used to run from one mouth to another very quickly in Hogwarts; that was why by the next day after everything happened, the whole school knew about the events of Halloween's night.

Now, both Weasley and Potter were bloody celebrities within the school.

Even two days after the events, people kept talking about it; especially since Weasley appeared at the Great Hall for breakfast this very morning. He even won fifty freaking House points... The situation was getting worse and worse for Draco. The older students preferred a blood traitor over the heir of the Great House of Malfoy; hell, even his own godfather had chastised him for his behaviour since he came into the school. Things weren't supposed to be like this... I was supposed to be the leader of my year...

"Draco, are you okay?" Pansy asked. They were all currently sitting in the common room, having finished all the morning lectures and waiting for the launch to come. "You've been very distant since breakfast."

"I'm fine," Draco grunted in response. He knew that Pansy meant well, but he wasn't in the mood to put up with her right now; he sure liked to be praised, but even for him, there was a limit of arse-licking he could tolerate.

"That was a nice one, Draco," Theodore piped in. He was with his nose buried in some book about duelling, just like always. "It was funny at first, but I'm starting to grow tired of all your grunting and moaning," he closed the book to look at him eye to eye. "I don't know what's happening to you, but I'm starting to miss the old Draco; the one who preached about how he was going to take Slytherin by storm and ascend in the House's ranks like no one ever did."

"Hey!" Pansy exclaimed. "Take it back now, Theodore. Draco is just-"

"Shut up, Pansy," the blond interrupted her. "You shouldn't be talking that much, Theodore. I'm the one who should be asking what's gotten into you. You've shown too much... friendliness to a blood traitor."

"He's still a pureblood from the Sacred Twenty Eight," the weedy boy shrugged it off. "I'm trying to reform him; besides that, no offence guys, but he got the better part of the group. Here, Pansy is just your minion, and Millicent is hers. They all follow you without even blinking, and there is nothing interesting about that."

Draco heard how Crabbe grunted and the gasps from the girls, despite that, what Theodore was saying was nothing but the truth. Blaise was the most intelligent of us all, while Daphne is the only one who's important enough to challenge me... and they both are in that stupid blood traitor's group. "Is that the reason why you play on both sides?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, that's pretty much the reason," Theodore answered. He grabbed his book once again, but he suddenly stopped and looked at Draco with a thoughtful look. "You know what?" He sighed. "Let's go to your room and talk about this seriously, Draco; just you and me, with no extra ears."

This could be my chance to bring him back to the group... Draco just nodded to his request and led the way towards the bedroom he shared with Crabbe and Goyle. Once he was inside, the blond boy just sat on the bed and waited for Nott to accommodate himself. "Here we are," Draco announced, opening his arm in a dramatical gesture. "In what was supposed to be our bedroom. For all of us; you, me, Blaise…"

"Don't start with that crap, Draco," Theodore smirked. "I want none of your silver-tongue right now, but it is good to see the old you once again; the one who would try everything to have all people circling about him. Unfortunately, I think you are a few months late."

"What... do you mean with that?" Draco asked.

"You already know what I mean," Theodore huffed. "The powerful Malfoy heir is being cast away in his own House by some poor blood traitor, and you've done nothing to stop it. Since the school started, Weasley has won so many points more than you, that he even has the favour from the older students; from more than one, it is not just that stupid mudblood prefect who thinks he rules Slytherin anymore."

"I don't care what they think right now!" Draco exclaimed. "They will all change their opinions with time! They couldn't have forgotten how we humiliated Weasley a few weeks ago! Hell, we even send him to the infirmary-"

"Humiliate?" Theodore laughed, not even waiting for him to finish the sentence. "Please, tell me you didn't just say that, Draco. In what world is a three against one a humiliation? If I remember correctly, it was you who ended up on the floor, being the laughingstock of the whole Slytherin common room."

Draco's face turned red with rage and embarrassment. What is this lunatic saying? Has he forgotten whom he is talking with? "Shut up!" The blond spat, standing up and confronting his old friend; almost nose to nose. "Do you want me to remember you how you 'humiliated' Shawn back in Greengrass' manor this summer-"

The blond couldn't finish what he was saying because Theodore suddenly grabbed him by the collar of his robes, pointing his wand at his face. "You don't go back there, Draco," he said with a threatening voice. "I'll get my payback someday with that American arsehole, but don't you dare to talk about it." The weedy boy let him go just as quick as he had grabbed him as if nothing had happened at all. "Sorry about what just happened, but that is one of the few things that can get on my nerves."

It's been so long since his last mood swing that I almost forget how much they can freak someone out. "I'm sorry too," Draco decided to apologise. "That was a low blow. I don't know what's gotten into me these past months." What is happening to me? This is not how the heir of a family like mine should behave... Am I really being cast away by someone like Weasley? I need to wake up, and I need to start thinking like I'm supposed to do. Theodore is my most valuable ally right now, I can't just fight with him for some petty comeback...

"I think you just need to ignore Weasley for some time," Theodore advised. "Just like he is doing with you right now. Use that time to up your game, Draco; try to get more house points; use that silver-tongue of yours with the older students; hell, you can even drop your father's name here and there. But for Merlin's sacred beard, stop acting like the stupid buffoon you've been these months. I'm starting to miss my best friend here."

"Yeah, you're right," Draco sighed. "I really need to wake up; thanks for being honest with me, Theo. I even forgot who my real friends and allies are." I'm the heir of the Great House of Malfoy. My father was Slytherin's golden boy once, and I will be no less...

---

Ronald Weasley POV

Saturday 4th November, 1991 (Hogwarts) – After Lunch

The quaffle fell with a soft thud on the grass. Damn, this is harder than I thought. Ron had been practising his Levitation Charm for almost half an hour, and like always, he was starting to get frustrated due to the lack of results.

"Why are you so keen on practising your levitation skills all of a sudden?" Gerd asked with curiosity. "You were so focused on that fire spell and your Severing Charm, but you have dropped them for a few days."

"Did you remember when Nott lectured me after the duel?" Ron answered.

"Nott?" Gerd muttered, trying to remember. "Wasn't he the madman?"

"The very same," Ron nodded. "He told me that I was only using a very short rotation of spells and throwing them in the same way. At first, I didn't understand what point he was trying to make, at least, not until the troll. During most of the fight, I kept using the Severing and Fire-Making Spells. Those two were my best weapons, and they were certainly working, but it was the Levitation Charm that saved our lives in the end."

"Well, it could have been way better if you had understood it before the battle," she teased. "But I guess it is better late than never… Did I use that saying correctly here?"

"Perfectly. You are starting to talk like a normal person," Ron smiled at the little spirit. "Changing the topic, do you have any tips to help me to improve my Levitation Charm? What I did fighting the troll was... pure instinct. I controlled the levitation of the club as I did with the feather in class, but when I launched it at the troll... it was something that came out of me naturally, almost raw. I didn't try to control it like I'm doing right now."

"That is nice!" Gerd clapped her hands happily. "It is proof you don't need to rely on specific spells to perform magic in dangerous situations. That move you pulled out was magic in its raw form. Now, if you ask me about tips to help you get better at levitating things," she stopped for a moment, tapping her chin with her finger in a thoughtful gesture. "I don't really know what to tell you. For me, it was pretty natural. If I wanted to control anything midair, I just did it, that was all."

"That doesn't help me at all," Ron sighed.

"I wasn't finished," the Essentia sent him a sour look. "Back when was a very talented and beautiful with—even though I was still pretty young and inexperienced—my master advised me to try making some sort of connection, figuratively speaking, with whatever object I was trying to control. It didn't only apply to levitating things, in fact, it helped me with many forms of magic and spells."

A connection? What the hell is she on about? "A connection like the one I kind of used to transfigurate the match into the needle back at my first day of classes?" Ron asked. "Back then, I tried to tell the match something like it was going to feel great being a needle, and then, I put all my emotions into it before casting the spell. As if I was trying to motivate both the match and myself at the same time."

"Mmh... that could work with a few adjustments," Gerd told him. "In that particular case, using your emotions to fuel that magical transfiguration worked very well because it was some kind of zero to hundred change; the same happened when you threw that club to the troll. But here, it's different. We are looking for control over power. We want you to control the movement at every time, and since you are pretty much a silly hothead, you don't know how to control your emotions, so it's better not to look at the problem that way."

"A silly hothead?" Ron raised a brow at her.

"You know I'm not lying."

"Whatever..." he groaned. "Now, back to the point. If what has worked for me until now doesn't work for this... how do I... control myself?

"That's the tricky part," she answered. "First, try to relax as much as you can. You are starting to get frustrated, and that's the worst thing that can happen to you if you want control. But you must still try to... communicate with that... ball. When you get it levitating, try to move it softly to the right, keeping eye contact with it at every moment, and picturing the movement in your mind before it happens."

Come on, Ron, you can do it. This is nothing for you, bloody hell, you have already knocked out a mountain troll. Ron took a few calming breaths and aimed once again his wand to the quaffle. "Wingardium Leviosa!" He chanted.

The ball started to go up for a few metres until Ron stopped it. This simple act still took a lot out of him, but he was getting better and better at it each day. Now is where the fun comes... He tried to move the quaffle to the right at the same time as he kept it floating midair. Picture the movement... yeah, that's it, go to the right you little fucker… The quaffle started moving to the right very slowly, but steadily. I'm making it! Gerd was right!

"Ron? What are you doing?" A voice suddenly interrupted him, making the quaffle hit the grassy ground with a soft thud.

Oh, come on, you gotta be kidding me... Ron turned around to face a very confused Tracey, who was looking at him with a raised brow and many questions in her brown eyes. "Were you... levitating that quaffle?" She asked. "By the way, why do you have a quaffle? Where did you get it from?"

"Yes, I was levitating it. Before I got interrupted, that's it," Ron replied, a bit annoyed. "And about the quaffle... I was wandering around the castle when it nearly hit me right on the head. I don't know who the one to throw it was, but I wouldn't want that guy in my team under any circumstances."

"So you stole it," Tracey smirked. "I wouldn't have expected that from you, Ron."

"Hey!" The redhead defended himself. "It nearly blew my head! I deserved some kind of compensation."

"I get it, but what I don't really understand is why you push yourself so hard every day," the girl added. "I've tried to find a reason, but I couldn't; neither could Blaise of Daphne when I asked them. In fact, that is why I came here. I realised you were on your own once again, and I wanted to know if there was something bothering you."

"My brothers are all pretty amazing guys, so I've always felt shadowed by them in one way or another," Ron started. It wasn't a lie, but neither was the full truth; to be honest, it just was his official excuse to hide the true reason behind his actions. "Not only in terms of grades or magical mastery, each one of them is pretty damn good at something. I don't have their talent or charisma, because of that, I need to work a hundred times harder than they did. So here I am, wearing the colours of Slytherin and working my arse up to get better."

"Is that the only reason?" Tracey inquired. "I know you've told us multiple times that you wanted to be more than another Weasley, but I don't know what to say, it still surprises me watching how much time you spend practising and training. Hey, don't look at me like that! I never said those were bad habits, it is just that… you are the first person I've ever met with so much determination and focus on his objective."

"You see?" Gerd piped in, as she flew around the girl's head in circles. "She's with me on this. I've told you many times to not get so lost on your training, Ron. It's important to not get yourself burned out and frustrated that soon; trust me, I know what I'm talking about... I was just like you once, and you already know how I ended up."

Ron sheathed his wand with a tired groan and looked at Tracey. "Okay, I might lose track of the time some days, but you just have to look at my brother Percy; he doesn't ever stop! Besides, there are times where you guys are doing your things, and it's not like I'm just gonna sit the whole day in the common room waiting for you to finish your business. Where are Daphne and Blaise, by the way?"

"Daphne must be practising for this week's classes," Tracey answered. "While Blaise was playing those card's games he likes that much, so I had nothing to do and decided to pay you a visit."

"See?" Ron pointed out. "Everyone has their own thing to do in their free time. Mine is just more... weird and exhausting than what others do."

"Well, you were kinda wrong there," Tracey said. "Not everyone. I don't really have anything to do, that's why I came here looking for you in the first place, but I can go back to the common room if you want to keep practising."

The last part came out much meeker than the rest of the sentence. Here we are once again with that thing she always does. Just as it happened when we discussed the meeting I had with my parents and she asked me if I was going to be re-sorted. I don't get it… Why does she get so miserable out of nowhere? The first time he realized about that habit of hers, it definitely caught his eye, but this was the first occasion in which he gave it much of a thought.

"It's because she's feeling alone, you dummy," Gerd told him, now back on her favourite spot; atop of his right shoulder. "Everyone seems to have a hobby or friends to hang up with but her. On top of it, based on what you've told me about the state of blood purity in these times, my bet is she also feels inferior to many people or fears what could be their opinion about her. Add those problems to a constant dread because someone might cast her away at any moment and you have a very horrible combination; such is the mind of a half-blood girl surrounded by purebloods in their place."

Wow, it was like she read my mind... but what she just said... "Don't worry," Ron answered with a tired sigh. He couldn't let things go that way. Tracey was the only one to befriend him at the beginning. "I was about to stop either way. I've been at it for some time and I'm feeling pretty tired." Then, he tried to smile at her as kindly as he could. "Wanna do something? I'm all ears here."

"R-really?" Tracey muttered. "Are you sure you don't want to keep going? You don't have to do it for me!" Ron just shook his head to deny those questions. "Well, then... I don't really know what we could do. Do you have any idea?"

Shit, you were the one supposed to give me an idea, woman. Then, Ron observed the quaffle he was holding in his left hand and an idea came to his mind. "I know!" He exclaimed. "There was a game I played with my sister when I taught her how to throw a quaffle. It's pretty simple; we turned to throw the quaffle to some objective, and if someone failed, you had to tell the other a secret. That was my way to motivate her, and to know something she didn't want to tell me, of course."

"A secret?"

"Well, that was my idea with her," Ron reassured her. "We don't have to tell each other our deepest secrets, so do not worry about that. It can be more of a game to learn some curiosities or funny things about the other person; trivialities like a favourite dish or hobby."

"Oh, that's better, but I still don't know how to throw a quaffle," Tracey smiled at him, almost as if she wanted to apologize.

Oh shit... I keep forgetting the girls here were raised to be ladies... "Don't worry about that," the redhead said. "My sister didn't know either, and now she's even better than me. You could say that I'm a great teacher." That made the brunette laugh, and it also helped Ron to feel better after his frustrating training.

"Oh, Ron, that was great!" Gerd clapped. "I can't believe you were the one talking! I didn't know you could act so sweetly."

"Shut up, you bloody woman," Ron whispered, so Tracey couldn't hear him. I hope my face isn't as red as I felt it... bloody woman.

It had been a very close call. In fact, he had felt so embarrassed to the point he did not realize the girl had moved from her spot until she grabbed the quaffle he was holding. "Well," Tracey smiled with excitement. "How do we start? How am I supposed to hold this thing? I hope you don't expect me to throw this ball very far."

"Let's start with... okay, listen to me. You need to grab the quaffle with confidence, don't let your hands turn soft."

"Like this?" Tracey asked, holding the quaffle with both of his hands.

"Not like that," Ron groaned. "You have to grab it with just one hand; remember that you will be throwing it." The girl grabbed the quaffle with one hand. "That's better! Now come with me." The two of them started to walk towards some big tree which wasn't far away. "This tree will do. Now, here comes the funny thing, teaching you how to throw..."

"It can't be so hard," she complained. "You could show a bit of faith in me, you know?"

"Come on, don't be like that," the redhead told her. "You'll see it is not so easy not to miss the tree, remember that you have to hit it," Ron beckoned the brunette to come closer to him. "The most important thing is that you need to use your full body for it, okay? Throwing using only your arm motion won't get you anywhere; you need to accompany it with the rest of your body, especially the hips."

Wait a moment... If I use this while throwing some spells... that could make them come off stronger, or at least, faster. That could be very interesting, especially with the severing charm. He had gotten so lost in his thoughts he didn't notice Tracey calling him until she was right at her side, looking at him with a questioning look.

"Hey there," the brunette called him with a pout on her face. "You got a bit distracted there. You even missed my throw!"

"Oh, sorry about that," Ron apologised. "But don't worry, it's normal to miss the first time. I'm sure you'll get it with more practice!"

"I hit the tree right in the middle, you dumbass," Tracey laughed quite loudly.

Wait, what? That was his first thought. "Wait, what?" He asked with confusion. "Are you sure? Or is this one of your jokes?"

"I'm pretty sure of it," Tracey hummed in response. "However, I have a sin to confess. I lied to you quite blatantly, but it was a tiny, inoffensive lie. I mean, this is the first time I've ever played this game of yours, but it isn't the first time I throw a quaffle at some kind of aiming game."

"For real? You could have told me before!"

"Sorry, not sorry" Tracey snickered. "I had to see you trying to explain this to a lady like me."

Yeah, sorry my arse... He was pissed about the girl tricking him, but curiosity got the best of him. "Why did you learn to play with a quaffle?" Ron asked. "I thought it was something that... well, ladies like you shouldn't do."

"Weren't we about to play a game that consists of answering questions?" Tracey replied. "If you manage to keep hitting the tree until I fail, I might tell you."

You know what? Let's play, then. Ron grabbed the quaffle from her hands and threw it to the three, which was around fifteen metres from them. It hit right in the middle of the log. Then, without saying any words, he went and grabbed the quaffle from the ground. The redhead made his way back the same way; a challenging look as his only expression.

Tracey looked back at him with a raised brow. "You are really taking this seriously," she grabbed the quaffle from his hands and threw it with confidence. It also hit right in the log. Then, she repeated what he had just done, leaving without any words and coming back with the quaffle on her hands and with a smug smirk on her face.

So be it, but you should know that I don't lose, Tracey. Both of them went at it for at least fifteen throws, each one being more precise than the previous one. Still, neither of the two stopped; that would mean admitting defeat, an inconceivable thought. Damn, we've been at it for too long, my arm is starting to ache. If I continue this, I will be too tired to train tomorrow. Luckily, the perfect idea to finish the game without losing his pride came to his mind.

"I'll give it to you, Tracey," Ron started. "You are much better than what I thought. But let's be honest, I'm starting to get tired, and you are way worse than me."

"So what?"

"Let's call it a tie," he proposed. "Since the point of the game was to tell each other a curiosity or a secret, let's change the ending. You'll tell me something about you, and then, I will tell you something about me, okay?"

Tracey thought about the proposition for a moment, and then, she sighed with resignation. "Okay, let's do it your way. Pity, I wanted you to tell me loads of secrets about you... but I guess one will be enough. Hmm, I don't really know what to tell you… Do you wanna start or ask me some specific question?"

"Where and why the hell did you learn to throw a quaffle like that?"

For a moment, she looked quite thoughtful. "Well, I suppose I can tell you," Tracey sighed, as she subtly bit her lip. "I think you don't know about it, but I have a little brother. When we were infants, we used to play a lot of muggle games that used different kinds of balls; football, basketball and handball were called the ones I enjoyed the most, even if you know nothing about them. However, as soon as we grew up, my father finally let us ride a broom, so we started with Quidditch not long after that."

"At first, we only threw the quaffle to each other while flying a few metres above the ground," the girl continued. "With time, I started to enjoy it more and more. Soon enough, flying and playing with my brother were my favourite things to do. However, it's been quite a while since I last flew on a broom. Ah, I really miss feeling the air hitting me in the face…"

"That is nice, but there is something I don't understand," Ron told her. "If you liked it so much, why did you stop?"

"Well, because... how do I explain this to you," Tracey sighed. "The thing is those activities aren't very... ladylike, and when I was introduced to Daphne, Parkinson and other purebloods kids... well, they kinda laughed at me, so I stopped doing it."

What? That's some bullshit if I ever heard one. I swear those purebloods have the stupidest things I've ever seen. The girl must have seen his annoyed glare because she decided to go on with the game before he could snap.

"Now is your turn," Tracey interrupted his thoughts. "You better tell me something good, because I've told you a pretty private thing!"

Bloody girl... I bet she told me that because she wanted me to tell her something important... Those snakes sure like their games. However, she had honoured her part of the deal, so now it was his turn, and since Tracey had been very sincere with him, an idea came to Ron's mind. Screw it, you've fallen into her game, now it's time to pay.

"Do you remember what was my answer when you asked me about the reason why I practised so hard?" The redhead started. "it was a lie, partly at least. It is true I want to be more than another Weasley; with all my heart. But that ain't all. The real reason behind my effort is… because I don't want to feel shadowed by them anymore. It is something that really gets to me, to a point in which it made me cry in the past. Not knowing who I wanted to be; what I wanted to do; what could I do to impress my parents…"

"It had been a few years since I first questioned myself about who I wanted to be," Ron went on. It was coming way easier now, especially after watching the reassuring smile Tracey was sending him. "Whatever thing came to my mind, a brother of mine had already done it; quite well, on top of it. My change to distinguish myself from them came during the sorting, and here I am. Although things are much better now than I first thought, so I can now say I took a good decision."

"I knew there was something else behind it," she smiled, understandingly. "So, it seems like we both have some secrets we've been keeping by ourselves."

If only you knew... "Yeah, seems like it," he ended up saying. "I'm glad to know you really like flying. You know what? We could fly together someday, that would be fun. What do you say? Deal?"

"I would love to do that. However, for it to happen, you need to promise me the next time you feel bad because those stupid thoughts of inferiority get into your mind you are gonna snap out of it, okay? Otherwise, it will be me the one to snap them out of your head, trust me, you don't want to see that. What do you say? Pinky promise?"

For the first time in days, Ron found himself truly smiling once again. "Of course, we have a deal. Gimme that finger."

---

Master Shana POV

Sunday 5th November, 1991 (Shawn Manor, USA) – Before midnight

"Do you really trust those men?" Lord Elend asked.

"Trust them? Not really," Shana answered with a shrug of her shoulders. "But I know we share some interests, and I definitely can play around it with their leader."

The two of them were currently waiting for Captain Jordan and some of his trusted men to come. After many weeks of preparations, Shana had finally managed to set up the meeting between her two most powerful allies, and now, only the worst part was yet to come; to see how the two of them would interact.

"You shouldn't be so careless, girl," the man said while taking a sip from his drink. "Captain Jordan is a man who was able to create and lead one of the most famous and biggest mercenary companies in the world out of nowhere. His record and actions say a lot about how dangerous he is."

"If things get that far, I'm sure you'll have no problems killing him," Shana dismissed the possibility with a wave of her hand. "I've seen the man in action and he isn't a warrior; not one at our level, at least. Take out the leader and see how the rest crumble, or so they say."

Despite that, I have yet to find what are his true intentions. He already knows too much about the whole thing, so it's better to keep him close. It was true he wasn't much of a warrior, but his leading capacities and brains were his best assets by a large margin. That kind of man could be as dangerous as elite warriors like Elden Shawn were, even if the mercenary did not represent much of a threat in battle. That being said, we have yet to meet that soldier of his, Levitt. People talk wonders about the man in the eastern underworld, which means he is a very dangerous and valuable piece on the table.

With a tired sigh, the red-haired witch ignored those thoughts and looked around. The first time she met with Lord Shawn, the man struck her as a boring person; one of those serious guys who loved to have their work done as soon as possible and without any fun involved. His office was a perfect representation of it. There were books everywhere, and the only trace of colour in the room came from the floor, where a very large, azure-blue carped covered it; the golden phoenix with the silver, crossed swords sewed on it; the shield of the Great House of Shawn.

"How about we talk about something interesting while we wait?" Shana asked, trying to change the topic. "I'm pretty bored here, and since I don't enjoy drinking, let's talk about something which is not going to make me fall asleep. What about... oh, I know. I've read that you've created some spells here and there, Lord Elend. Tell me about the experience, please. It's one of the things I've always wanted to do, but I have yet to find success."

"I always forget you are still nothing but a girl," the man sighed. "It is a miracle how far you have gotten at such a young age without an ounce of discipline…"

"Eh! I'm not a girl! I'm about to turn twenty-two!" Shana interrupted him with a smile on her face. This was the kind of conversation she enjoyed.

"Whatever," Lord Shawn continued. "I suppose you are asking me about my personal experience because you must already know all the theoretical aspects from all the different authors."

"Yep."

Lord Elend sighed with resignation for a second time. "Spell creation is a very personal experience, and it is not only different for each person, but also for each spell. In my case, creating some spells was as easy and natural as moving my arm, but there were some of them that were pretty tricky and arduous to create. It has nothing to do with the grade of difficulty or magic needed. It is more of a situational and compatibility factor."

"How's so?" Shana asked with curiosity.

"It would be better and easier to show you," Lord Shawn said before getting up from the chair he was sitting on. "Navari!" He chanted. Five shards of white light started to form around the fingers of his right hand—resembling some knife-claws made of energy—and then, with a swift movement of his arm, as if throwing some knife, the five shards of energy were launched towards the wall, where they impacted. They had pierced pure stone like it was butter.

"This spell was one of my easiest and first creations," he continued. "Actually, this one is just a variation from the standard and commonly used Anti-Shielding Spell; a personal variation which helped me to overcome a problematic situation. What do you have to say?"

"You just used the basic spell as a mould for your own variation," Shana deduced. "You had the idea, the power, and the intention. But... why was it so easy?"

"Only Magic knows why," Lord Elend told her. "I first performed this variation during a duelling training in which I was facing multiple adversaries. The idea of it came to my mind, and I just let my magic flow. Like I said before, the need and the situation are very important factors. In fact, most of the spells are created when one's life is in danger. Now, I told you this was an easy one to create and perform, however, the first time I cast the spell it was exhausting. Do you know why?"

That process of creation must be what the infamous and unknown Meaning must be. There was a very ancient theory—one which Master Lawrence liked a lot—that talked about how Magic, as the superior force of nature as it was, had given a Meaning to those spells the magical people used. Nowadays, everyone knew and could use the Stunning Spell without many problems due to it being accepted. Now, according to that theory, the first person to ever use the spell should have had a hard time creating it. No one knew if it was correct or wrong, neither could they prove it; still, it was a very respected hypothesis among scholars and researchers.

"I got an idea," the witch answered with an ironic snort.

"From the moment we start our magical education, we are taught performing magic is way easier with a wand," Lord Shawn explained. "It is even easier with an optimal wand movement and verbal incantation," he paused a moment to sit back on his chair. "That is because the said magic has already been given a Meaning for the particular action; to give that sense of identity to a spell is the hardest and most personal part in spell creation. When I created the spell Navari, since it was a wandless form, I did not need to think of the wand movement, so it was a detail I could omit. I just needed the verbal incantation to give it a Meaning. It might sound easy, but it is far from it. For the other few spells I created, I had way more problems."

"Was it because of not being in the perfect situation for it, or because you did not have a clear idea?" Shana questioned.

"That is something I will never know, I am afraid," the man answered.

"It was a pretty good explanation, but you only talked about the most basic spells; how about raw magic?" The witch kept asking. There were very few things she liked more than resolving mysteries and learning new things, to a point in which she was often carried away by the passion.

"When a wizard reaches a certain point of magical mastery, there are very few limits of him and the wonders he can achieve," Lord Elend went on. "Those spells, charms and curses we are taught at school are nothing but the most basic form of magic. That is the reason why they are so easy to perform, and the main advantage we have when comparing ourselves with our ancestors from the Ancient Times."

"They also had many spells," Shana piped in.

"Correct, but their use was more limited to survival and combat, rather than the large repertory we have in the present," the man nodded. "We also have wands, whose cores allow us to perform magic way easier and without so many risks for our body. But that is not the topic you asked me about."

"Sorry, I got carried away," Shana apologised.

"Back to spell creation, there are almost endless possibilities to create personal variations of those basic spells which already exist," Lord Shawn said. "Take the Shield Charm as an example, how many variations of it have you seen? Exactly, a great amount of them. Mainly, because it is a spell often used in life-threatening situations. It is funny because those who dedicated their lives to spell creation often burn themselves out due to the lack of results, while most wizards create spells unintentionally in certain situations during the course of their lives."

That is very similar to what Master Lawrence told me back during my training. Shana was about to thank him when someone knocked at the door. "It seems like our guests are already here," she just said.

A young, tall man opened the door and got into the meeting room. "Your guests are already here, Lord Elend," he announced.

Captain Jordan got into the room with his usual confident stride. "It is an honour to finally meet a man of your importance, Lord Shawn," the mercenary greeted with a respectful nod of his head. "I am Jordan, the leader of the Wings of Liberty, but I am sure you already know everything about me, so let me introduce the only one of my men who is going to accompany us this evening; Leader Levitt, my most trusted weapon."

A young man got into the room with his arms crossed on his chest and looking pretty uninterested in the situation.

The soldier did not look like most of the other experienced soldiers Shana had met. Hell, he probably was just a few years older than her. His skin was of a light brown, a very common look in Thai people. He was not the tallest of the men, but neither was he a very short one; maybe half a head taller than her. His hair was stylized in some kind of long undercut, his black locks contained by a rubber cord so they wouldn't fall over his eyes.

Leader Levitt seemed to be a very normal wizard. If it wasn't for his eyes, that was it. They were of a very cold grey which resembled pure steel, and they currently were trying to pierce through hers. What the hell is wrong with this man? Damn man, you gotta relax. Still, the witch did the same.

So this is the famous Levitt, the allomancer Jordan talked to me about. The meeting had started just as Shana had expected, with Elend Shawn literally interrogating Captain Jordan. However, she did not need to hear their conversation because she already knew what both of the men planned to say, so the Master decided to put herself on a more interesting task; analyzing the allomancer.

"What the fuck are ya looking at?" The man barked in rusty English, after some seconds of scrutiny.

"I'm just analyzing you," Shana answered with an amused smile. "Jordan mentioned the fact you are also an Allomancer, just like I am. It is not every day when you can meet some of our kind."

"Tsk, that man talks too much for his own good," Levitt sneered. "In fact, he talked to me quite a bit bout you, as if you were some miracle with whom we were blessed. Instead, the only thing I can see right now is some stupid girl who doesn't know what game is she playing."

Damn, who hurt you? Messing around with people and annoying them was one of her talents, but the soldier did not need much provocation to jump at her neck."Come on," Shana smirked. "Those were some rude words if I've seen some of them. A man like you shouldn't judge others just by their first impression. If you underestimate a fire, you can get burned."

"Are you really threatening me?"

"Who knows?" Shana continued. "I like to mess with other people's heads when I'm bored. Is either that or this." The witch left the words hanging in the air as she used one of her illusions to cover herself, changing her appearance in a not so subtle way.

A layer of magic over her hair made it look blonde, while her facial features sharpened a bit; adding a few scars in while at it. She also made herself a bit taller to others' eyes. "Problem is this skill of mind takes a toll on me, so I rather like to mess with people the classical way," the Master made a final remark, practically snickering at the soldier's expense.

In spite of her performance, the man's cold eyes remained almost the same, but she could appreciate some flash of surprise in them. "Are you a metamorphmagus?" He asked. "No, wait... That thing you just did wasn't like the times I've watched them using their powers. What you did was..." Then, in practically a second, the man's hand came out of the table with a sharp knife that, much to Shana's surprise, was thrown at her with incredible speed.

It all happened so fast she did not have time to react at all. Even though Valkyrie was screaming murder inside their head, Shana could do nothing but gasp in shock. However, no actions were necessary. The knife went flying a few centimetres above her real head, cutting through her illusion with ease. What the hell? How did he figure it out so quickly?

"It was some kind of illusion," Levitt muttered. "How is that possible? I have seen plenty of wizards creating them in a battle to trick their enemies, but none of them felt as real as yours; not even close. It felt as if it was an extension of your magic rather than some trick used to fool others. I gotta give it to ya, girl. You are way more interesting than what I first thought."

"How did he dare! I'm going to kill him!" Valkyrie raged in their head, but Shana was still too shocked to pay her other self any attention. He could have killed me in a moment. I couldn't even react... He was much quicker than me...

"I hope you two are done introducing yourselves," Lord Elend interrupted her mental rambling with a serious warning in his voice. "Because we have just finished our little presentation time. We can talk about the real thing now," then, he grabbed the knife which was stuck on the wall. "A knife made of goblin steel, eh? You should be careful with things like this, better not miss it."

It is made of goblin steel? That must be the reason why I couldn't react in time... Shana burned steel at a higher pace on her interior, and the ethereal, blue 'lines' that connected her to all the metals on the surroundings became more intense. Despite it, she still couldn't see the one that should have gone towards the knife; the goblins sure knew how to create weapons to fight wizards.

One of her primary mechanisms of defence, and a habit by now, was to be always burning steel or iron at a very slow pace. That way, she was able to feel all the things made of metal around her if she focused enough. At first, it was very hard trying to feel everything while not losing her focus on other important things, but with time, she had mastered that technique to a point that was almost unconscious.

Did that technique have a weak point? Definitely. Not even the best steel or iron-burner allomancer in history could feel some special metals like the goblin made was. The said material was also immune to the allomantic pushes when burning steel, and the pulls when burning iron.

However, the existence of weapons made of those special materials was so reduced in the entire planet that Shana did not worry about it as she should; after all, it was one of the dangers that could end her life in some stupid oversight.

"Do not worry about that, Lord Shawn," Levitt dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "I don't usually miss my target."

"Well," Captain Jordan cleared his throat. "Now that we all know each other, we can finally start the meeting. My men from all over Europe have reported that Jin's men are focusing on the old continent. There have only been a few sightings of their men in Asia or South America."

"Those reports coincide with mine," Lord Shawn agreed. "What is more, my men have reported that Jin the Stranger himself is taking an active part in their search in the Eastern Europe countries; especially in Croatia, Serbia and Romania."

"Did you really give an order to one of your men to track him down personally?" Levitt asked with a raised brow.

"Yes, I did," Elend answered. "One of my most trusted men with his best garrison. However, he has orders to just observe and wait for them to make their movements. We still don't know what their numbers and their power are, so we better act carefully. At least, until you finish your business in Asia so we can finally join our forces."

"Our war in the East is going according to our plans and provisions," Captain Jordan added. "I don't think it will take us more than a month to fulfil our contract, especially now that I'm going to finally use Levitt and his squad."

"Perfect, the sooner we get our men there, the better," Elend stated. "Joining our forces is the main objective for now. I will keep an eye on Raven, who seems to be another of Master Isaac's closest associates. Meanwhile, Master Shana will observe and inform us about the doings of the other Masters."

"I got another question for you, Lord Shawn," Levitt started. "As far as I know, the only men you've used for this project of yours have been mercenaries. What about your brother and the rest of your sworn, little, purebloods lackeys? We are talking about Jin the fucking Stranger and his men; they ain't playing any games here. We could use a man like Nalar Shawn."

"I will tell my brother the whole thing in the future," Elend answered. "Right now, we don't want nor need to engage the enemy in battle. We just need to keep an eye on them and their activities while we try to find whatever it is that they are searching before them."

The soldier sneered as if what Lord Shawn had just said was a stupid thing, but his captain talked before he could say something they could regret. "That is an intelligent plan, Lord Shawn. Forgive my subordinate. He is a negative person who always imagines the worst possible outcomes for every situation."

Elend Shawn just nodded at the captain, but Levitt didn't remain in silence for much time. "What about the other Masters of the order?" He asked Shana. "In theory, it is just Isaac the First, but would the others come to his aid if needed? We need an inside spy, girl. We need to know everything before it's too late."

Would they come to Isaac's aid? Maybe Xaladir would if he thought he could obtain something valuable from it... That was a very good question, and Shana had been trying to find an answer for it since her whole rebellion started. "I don't think so," she finally said. "In the Order, each Master minds their own business and let the others do the same. Lawrence the Third would never go into battle for someone who is not himself, while Xalidi could even benefit from Isaac's failure."

"That is good to hear, but you've only mentioned two of them," the soldier continued. "There are five masters in that order of yours. Why didn't you mention the fourth one?"

Memories came back to Shana's mind. A woman with thin robes, a mask, and a hood covering her head; her mysterious presence at the door of her childhood home. No, she wouldn't help Isaac.

Shana shook her head to regain the focus before answering Levitt's question. "To be honest, I know practically nothing about the Fourth Master. Unlike the rest of us, she never visits the Tower, much less spending a night there. Aura the Fourth is always travelling around the world, fulfilling her duty towards the Order. I only see her once a year, during our yearly council. That being said, I do not think she would help Isaac, or so I believe."

"That is reassuring," Captain Jordan commented. "But it would be better to know it with certainty rather than just suppositions. Tell me, Master Shana, when will that council be held?"

"The twenty-fifth of December," she answered. "That is the date for our yearly council; the only time when all the Masters meet in the same room."

"Then, it is settled," Lord Elend announced. "As soon as the Wings of Liberty end their contract in the East, we'll join our forces to focus on Europe. But first, we need you to discard other threats that may come from the Order of Merlin, Master Shana. All our plans will be postponed until we receive confirmation from you."

Shana took a long gulp of air. So everything is on me in the end, isn't it? Seems like we have a job to do, Valkyrie. Her other counterpart didn't even answer her, as she used to do with anything that didn't have to do with immediate danger or violence. "Leave it to me," Shana said to the three men in the room. "It was about time I had something to do."