-The girl atop the clouds-
Draco still remembered the first time they met. He was in an almighty foul mood then, having his outstretched hand be rejected by the Boy Who Lived. He never expected Neville to take the side of the Weasleys and the muggleborn when it came down to a choice between him and them. After all, they had known each other since they were children, attending the same balls and social events for the pure of blood. Furious and humiliated, as he strode alone down the carriage back to his own compartment, in the corner of his eye he spotted a lonely figure sitting in the compartment next to his.
The uniform worn by the person within was unmistakably that of a first year's, complete with the Hogwarts regalia instead of the House coats of arms that would appear after sorting. An easy target then. Roughly shoving the door open while rearranging his face into a well practiced sneer, he prepared his "introduction" for this unfortunate schoolmate of his. Then he saw it, those mismatched eyes, one green and one hazel looking up inquisitively at him. His words died in his throat as his eyes darted about, desperately avoiding the gaze that seemed to bore right into him. The girl was slight even for their age, her jet-black, messy hair reaching down to her shoulders. Moving his gaze to the ceiling, he then noticed something odd, it was snowing in the compartment.
"I've always liked snow." The offhanded comment snapped his attention back to the girl. Trying his best to avoid stammering, he opened his mouth and tried to introduce himself. Yet nothing came out.
"Do you not like snow?" She blinked at him cutely. Perhaps she thought that the unusual condition within the compartment was troubling him. Draco grimaced, of everyone that he could have come across he definitely did not expect it to be her. Gathering his wits, he finally managed a sentence.
"My name's Draco, Draco Malfoy."
"I'm Ivy, Ivy Potter, nice to meet you."
"Nice... to meet you too, I'll… see you at the feast tonight." He said as he slowly backed out of the compartment, closing the door behind him.
At the end of the Great War, as the dark lord unexpectedly perished, life in Wizarding Britain had slowly returned to normal. Whilst the powerful families that had sided with Voldemort retreated behind their wealth and power, biding their time until he returned, many extremist elements in society birthed by Voldemort remained active. The Potter family was decimated by a horde of dark wizards who had overwhelmed the wards at their residence. Lily and James, heroes of the Great War were dead, survived only by their daughter according to Dumbledore. Yet no one knew where the Potter heiress had gone. She had vanished off the face of the world it seemed, until now.
He would definitely need to write to his father about this discovery.
-The girl atop the clouds-
The sorting ceremony had gone as expected. The hat had barely touched his head before yelling out Slytherin, and the same went for his… followers, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and Greengrass. It was the same for the Boy Who Lived, those in his carriage were swiftly sorted into Gryffindor amidst great applause.
"Ivy Potter" The Great Hall was filled with whispers as the Potter heiress was called. Most were probably just as surprised as he was on the Hogwarts Express to see her at all. The hat took a moment to contemplate before yelling out.
"Ravenclaw!"
Despite the initial surprise, applause followed the Sorting Hat's decision, though with some conversation at the Gryffindor table.
"Ravenclaw? Potters have never been sorted into that House before."
"Yeah, even Slytherin would have been more likely."
His eyes followed her as she made her way to the Ravenclaw table. Just before she sat down, she looked over at him and gave him a gentle smile, causing him to swiftly duck his head. He wondered if he imagined the prickling sensation in his eyes and mind.
-The girl atop the clouds-
The first week went without much incident as everyone settled into their routines. Draco found the lessons monotonous. In fact, he was sure that anyone with a modicum of talent and prior experience with magic would. The spells and theory taught were elementary, he had known some of these since he was six, courtesy of his parents of course. He liked to think that he was fairly talented though, after all, he was the youngest Malfoy to master the family magics in more than 2 centuries, a set of lightning evocation spells granted to his ancestors by Taranis, Celtic God of Thunder.
The only entertainment he had in class all week was when Snape had embarrassed Neville in class with a few elementary questions. He had expected better from the Boy Who Lived too, who struggled to come up with the answers to questions that were answerable as long as one bothered to open the Potions textbook. However, the muggleborn he had met on the train, Hermione, was not struggling as much as he'd expected. She had produced exemplary work in both Potions and Charms thus far, even though he found her unquestioning adherence to the textbooks, written by lesser men as far as he was concerned, very amusing.
Today was transfiguration with the Ravenclaws, another chore to attend. The classwork was mundane, a spell to turn matches to needles. He could do it with his eyes closed. In fact, he never understood why transmutation spells were so specific in their nature. It seemed so inefficient for there to be so many limited spells.
Hold on… class with the Ravenclaws, that meant she would be here. This reminded him that he had not gotten to writing his letter to his father yet about the reappearance of the Potter heir. For the better it seems, he could observe her doing magic and include that in his report. One by one, the rest of the class began making their way through the door, and without incident, there she was. Professor McGonagoll then arrived promptly, starting the lesson.
"Today will be your second Transfiguration class, but your first with any wand-work. I trust that all of you have read up on pages 6 to 10 of your textbook as instructed." Waiting for the chorus of agreement from the students, McGonagoll continued.
"As everyone should know by now, transfiguration is a precise process. Spells in this class have been carefully calibrated by their creators to do very specific things. Hence, we need to approach transfiguration systematically lest our efforts result in something disastrous. Before we start, can anyone tell me the mathematical formula that determines if a particular transfiguration is possible?"
A Ravenclaw raised his hand and answered.
"That is indeed correct, five points to Ravenclaw. Yes, the mathematical formula is particularly useful if we're looking to design a new transfiguration spell. As first years though, you simply have to be aware of its existence and some specific examples of its application. Mostly, you will be working with ready-made spells that wizards before have come up with. The first of which will be taught to you today, Acuo, the spell which turns matches into needles. This spell is one of the simplest in transfiguration, since the initial and end product…"
He rolled his eyes as the professor continued to drone on about fundamental theory, casting his eyes on Ivy, who sat two rows ahead of him. It seemed like her mind was elsewhere as well, since she was playing with a needle in her hand, or was it a match? He smirked, she must have botched the spell somehow, the needle was still made of wood, with the flammable part of the match still attached to the tip. Perhaps she should have been paying attention.
He was about to turn back to look at the blackboard before the professor noticed his inattention when the half-needle, half-match transformed right before his eyes. It was now the appropriate end product, a perfectly transfigured needle, then it morphed again in her hand into a fully metallic match, then a wooden needle, and then a match made of bronze?! How was this possible? His eyes widened, though he knew of spells that would perform similar transmutations, they were far beyond their current curriculum, some were even family secrets of old Pureblood lines. Moreover, she had not made a single noise when transmuting the match. In fact, where even was her wand? Stunned in place, he only snapped back to attention when she looked back, as if aware of his attention. He quickly averted his gaze, though he swore her hazel eye bore a golden glint this time.
"And that concludes the theory for today. In the remaining hour, I want to see each of you turn 3 matches into needles. For those who need help, do not hesitate to approach me for help, especially those who were not paying attention just now." He felt McGonagoll's disapproving gaze on him. Damn that woman, and the Potter girl too.
The actual spell was a walk in the park. Within 3 flicks of his wand, he had his needles.
"What are you doing, Miss Potter?!"
He glanced up amidst the snickers and laughter that had filled the room. The Potter heiress was holding something ridiculous, a needle the size of the table. No doubt her experimentation with her matches had continued. He looked around, most of the first years did not seem to realise the significance of this transformation, they must have thought this was an accident. Only he knew that this had to be on purpose. To transfigure something into another object of similar size was one thing, to enlarge and transmute the object at the same time was much, much more difficult.
"Sorry professor, something must have gone wrong."
"Indeed it must have. This is why we have to be careful when practicing transfiguration. There are countless possibilities of unintended consequences. Bring it up here, I'll turn it back for you."
Turning back to his own needles, he collected them and made his way to the teacher's table, where McGonagoll was still fiddling with the giant needle and conversing with the Potter heiress.
"Oh dear, what exactly have you done here Miss Potter? This thing is just a needle, did you bring one into class and enlarge it?"
"I think it doesn't remember that it was a match professor, that's all."
"Remember? What are you talking about?"
"It's alright professor, I'll talk to it about turning into a match."
He couldn't hold back his snigger at the incredulous look McGonagoll gave her as she handed the huge needle back to the Potter heiress. Then he was sure he had the same look on his face as she took back the needle, and within moments, it had shrunk back down into a normal sized… match. The match then turned into an appropriately sized needle.
"Will this be acceptable professor?"
"Yes… of course. Stay back after class Miss Potter, I believe we have some things to discuss."
The rest of class was uneventful. McGonagoll had assigned them another essay to everyone's dismay. He slung his bag over his shoulder, was it always this heavy? Opening it to make sure that no one had slipped anything malicious within, he found an arm sized wooden needle at the bottom. Turning around, he found her doe like eyes gazing at him with a hint of playfulness before turning around to talk to the professor. Cursing to himself, he was supposed to be covert in his observation. He did not enjoy this newfound attention at all.
-The girl atop the clouds-
Choosing a club was made mandatory a few years ago by the school's board, arguing that students were becoming lazier and extra-curricular activities were the only way Hogwarts could ensure that its graduates remained competitive with the ones from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. He didn't mind, he would rather be doing something productive rather than the endless play-politicking that other Slytherins seemed to love. In particular, he wanted to play for the Slytherin Quidditch team, but that was unavailable to first years, or at least anyone who didn't receive special treatment, like Neville, who had become the youngest seeker in a century after a brilliant display during their first flying class. Fortunately, one could join another club while also being part of the Quidditch team.
Hence, he settled for the dueling club. Well, settling was a strong word. Rumor had it that the club was very loose with rules on what spells and magics were allowed, perfect for him to show off his talent.
Today was the first session, and the first years who had signed up were given a choice. Those who were new to dueling could choose to learn the fundamentals of a formal duel, along with a few basic spells, such as the shield charm and the stunning spell. Alternatively, those who think they were familiar with the basics could join the sparring sessions, where seniors would pair up with them and act as mentors in an introductory duel. It was obvious which option he was picking.
His mentor, or opponent today would be Sophie Bridget, a fellow Slytherin third-year, one of the best duelists in her year. He recalled what his father had taught him about the magical families in Britain when he was young. The Bridgets were well-known for their conjuration magic, in particular steel conjuration. Quite the challenge for his first duel. With the eyes of the other members of the dueling club on them, they moved to opposite ends of the dueling platform. Many of the club were certainly curious about the abilities of the Malfoy heir, and he had no intention to disappoint.
With a bow, the two combatants readied themselves. He was no stranger to dueling, his parents had made sure of that. And when the umpire's countdown finished, he struck.
"Stupefy!" A wave of energy rippled from his wand.
"Protego!" As much as he had expected, she parried it without much of an issue, though he knew she was going easy on him, shielding was always less efficient than simply dodging. Before he had the opportunity to sling a second spell at her, her reply came in the form of a disarming charm, which he dodged relatively easily.
The duel continued, each side taking turns on the offense and defense respectively. It was an exemplary educational duel, great for pedagogical purposes. Yet he couldn't help but want a bit more.
"Armis", he whispered, imbuing his robes with mage armor before darting forward, rapidly closing the distance between him and his opponent. And when another stunning spell came his way, he let the mage armor do its work, taking its impact head on and continuing to charge forward, raising his wand to cast a shield breaking charm. The look of surprise on his opponent's face when the charm shattered the shield charm she had prepared was something he would relish for a long time. He then concentrated, channeling his magical energy to cast a banishing charm as quickly as possible, choosing it for specifically its speed.
It was over, or should have been had his opponent been a green duelist. Instead, with a graceful flip in the air and a banishing spell of her own, his opponent propelled herself into the air, dodging hisattack and landed behind him on the platform. They were just a few meters apart now, and had he not instinctively rolled back, he would have been hit square by a disarming charm. The crowd applauded in recognition of the spectacle they had just witnessed. They too, could feel the heat within the duel rising.
His opponent was definitely beginning to warm up, the pace at which she was launching spells at him was increasing. Soon, he found himself under siege by a relentless barrage of attacks, Depulso, Stupefy, Expelliarmus, Levioso… The torrent of spells was never ending, and it took all he had to simply avoid and block them. Gradually, he felt himself being pushed back, inching ever closer to his end of the platform, whereby he would lose if he was pushed off of his end or incapacitated by a spell. All this, and his opponent wasn't even doing anything particularly special, she was just casting combinations of basic spells at him.
This could not go on, he needed to create some breathing room. Gritting his teeth, an idea struck him. He leapt back towards his end of the platform, barely sidestepping another stunning spell that would have ended the duel.
"Fumos!" It was the first time he had cast the spell, and it showed. Instead of creating a thick black cloud of smoke, only a thin barrier of gray smoke was produced, barely shrouding him behind it. However, it was good enough.
"Fulmen." He wanted to avoid casting his family's magics here, but there was a sense of pride within him that demanded he win this duel. A bolt of lightning crackled and rushed forth, a flash of light within the smoke being the only warning of its impending arrival.
"Ventus" His opponent was clearly experienced enough to know how to efficiently disperse his cover, but was clearly caught off guard by the follow-up. Her hastily conjured shield charm shattered upon impact, and it was only by a stroke of luck that the bolt of electricity merely grazed her shoulder, searing and slicing off pieces of her dueling robes. He had landed the first blow in the duel. The crowd erupted in a cheer, pleased that the underdog was matching one of the best duelists in the third year blow for blow.
"Not bad Malfoy." He knew that tone, it was that of a viper, poised and ready to strike. Then, he felt a rumbling beneath his feet before his world turned upside down, a massive piece of steel had been conjured beneath him then collapsed, throwing him onto the floor. Tendrils of steel snaked forward, and he leapt to his feet to avoid them. Had he not, they would have pinned him in place, incapacitating and disarming him.
"Fulgur flagellum!" An arc of lightning shot out of his want, yet instead of racing towards his opponent, it remained attached to the tip of the wand, shaping itself into a whip. Lashing out with his weapon, he aimed it directly at his opponent, who threw up a steel slab as a shield. Leaping forward, the whip changed forms into a hammer, which he swung with all his might to shatter the steel shield, before transforming into a shield that absorbed a reductor curse. His opponent was feeling the bloodlust now too, anyone hit with a spell during this duel will end up in the hospital wing.
Fighting at range would no longer do, he could feel magical exhaustion creeping up on him, retarding his thoughts and spellcasting. Though there was a chance that his opponent was also feeling similarly exhausted, he did not like taking his chances against a third year. The difference in age, especially since girls tended to reach magical maturity quicker would likely prove decisive. His instincts told him that for the greatest chances of winning, he needed to get into a melee brawl. Once again casting mage armor, he sprinted forward without regard, relying only on his reflexes to dodge spells coming his way.
He was closing in. They were 10 meters apart, then 7, then 5, then 3. He was almost upon her, and then, his vision suddenly turned dark. Choking and gasping, he realized that she had used the exact same trick he did earlier to buy time. But her smokescreen was much more refined, it was pitch black within the suffocating smoke, leaving him completely lost and without a sense of direction. Fighting back tears, he raised his wand and attempted to disperse the smoke. However, before the words had left his mouth, he felt a gust of wind, followed by the tendrils of steel that wrapped themselves tightly around his legs. It was over.
With a simple shield breaking charm followed by a disarming charm, his opponent swatted aside the last bits of futile resistance he could afford to put up. She had been too fast, too strong and too experienced for him to beat. He hung his head as he felt his wand shoot out of his hand onto the floor beneath the platform.
Initially, the crowd was silent, as if not believing that the duel was finally over. By now, all other spars had stopped, and the pair had the entire club's attention.
"What a fantastic duel between Sophie Bridget and Draco Malfoy! Let's give them a round of applause for this awesome showing today. Especially to Mr. Malfoy, with one of the most brilliant displays of dueling I have seen from a first-year." The head of the dueling club, Noah Bletchley led the cheers and applause which then followed.
"That was quite something, Mr. Malfoy, I look forward to our future duels. It's rare for someone to force me onto my family magic." Sophie smiled at him as she handed back his wand and released him from the metal tendrils.
He nodded his head begrudgingly. Defeat was certainly bitter, and he never wanted to experience that again. However, he barely had time to dwell on his thoughts when the great doors of the hall swung open, catching everyone's attention as the chatter amongst the students died down. A messy head of jet-black hair popped out from behind the door.
"Professor Flitwick told me to go find the Dueling Club, is this the place?"
"Yes, are you Ivy Potter? I've been told to expect you, what took you so long?" Noah strode forward to welcome her in.
"Sorry, I overslept today…" She muttered apologetically, looking down shyly, her cheeks pink with embarrassment as everyone's gaze turned to her.
"No matter, we still have plenty of time today. Professor Flitwick instructed us to get you to spar with some of us, but if you're not comfortable we can always start with the basics."
She nodded.
"Now the rest of you, we'll take a 15 minute break before continuing with the second round of sparring. Those who had their introductory lessons just now, feel free to pair up with each other after the break, but remember to find a senior to guide both of you along before you start throwing spells."
The crowd of students dispersed for the break, as Draco watched Noah pull Ivy aside for a crash course on dueling basics. Professor Flitwick wanted her to spar with the dueling club members? That certainly sparked his curiosity, professors usually stayed out of the business of student run societies and clubs. Looking back at the pair of them in the corner of the room, he was teaching her to bow and some basic dueling stances. Judging by her awkward stumbling, she could not possibly have had any dueling experience under her belt. Even if she had demonstrated some magical feats before, dueling was something completely different. Why the request then?
His second sparring opponent was a fellow first year, Su Li. While likely a less dangerous opponent than Sophia, he knew much less about her and her family magic, since her family hailed from Hong Kong. He knew that a lack of knowledge could be just as deadly in a duel as a more powerful opponent on paper. It was obvious that she was no pushover either, judging from her practiced movements and stance.
They bowed to each other and the duel began.
While Su Li had some experience, it soon became clear that he was the superior mage of the two, no matter in strength or speed. She did not even have time to employ any smoke and mirrors before his spells penetrated her defense, a stunning spell hitting her straight in the chest, ending the duel within a few minutes. Undoing the spell and helping her up as she fell to the floor, he apologised before moving to the center of the room, where he saw Noah speaking to Sophia.
"Since you're all warmed up, why don't you take her for a spar. Go easy on her alright, she seems completely new to formal dueling, I have no idea why Flitwick sent her to us."
He felt slightly sorry for Ivy. Taking it easy wasn't just something that could be done on command. He knew how it felt after an intense duel like the one he had before, one's thoughts and spellcasting were all going to be subconsciously, faster, more focused and more forceful. He sensed that Sophia was going to disregard Noah's words anyway, she herself was curious about Ivy Potter, the mysterious heiress who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Some whispers about her had made it across the school, and most of them seemed to suggest that she was at least fairly gifted for her age.
It seemed that many others were also just as intrigued as him about the Potter heiress, with a crowd forming around the central platform. Everyone had just witnessed the prowess of Sophia during her duel with Draco, and they wondered how well this new challenger would hold up. Their expectations were quickly subverted as they watched her awkwardly bow and get into a dueling stance, this surely had to be a walkover for Sophia.
However, the third year duelist clearly did not think the same way, and as soon as the duel began threw a flurry of spells at the Potter heiress, taking no chances and harboring no illusions about her opponent. Draco winced as he saw the flash of the cutting curse amongst them. This would be painful if it connected. He glanced at Ivy, who did not seem to be making any wand movements for the required spells to parry the attacks. In fact, she was barely moving at all, not even attempting to dodge the spells that came her way, looking fairly aloof for someone who was about to get stunned, knocked back and cut. Surely this was it?
Then it happened, a silver mist rose out of the ground and wrapped around the Potter heiress's legs, and in the blink of an eye, where there was once a person, now stood… nothing? The spells passed right by where Ivy was a moment ago and collided with the wall behind, chipping away some rock from the castle.
"Revelio!" Being the experienced duelist she was, Sophia immediately went with the logical assumption that her opponent had disillusioned herself. But… there was nothing.
"Revelio maxima!" Where was her opponent? How was this possible? The platform was incredibly narrow too, there was nowhere to hide from the spells she had cast just now. In the corner of her eye, she noticed a silver flash and a light, hesitant tap on her shoulder. Then, the air rushed out of her lungs as she was launched forward off the platform, colliding with the floor with a thump. She had… lost?
The room was deathly silent. Many students had their mouths agape as they tried to process what they had just seen. If Draco did not know better, he would have said that Ivy had apparated then disapparated behind Sophia. But that was clearly impossible, given that Hogwarts had ancient wards which prevented apparition and disapparition within the school and grounds. No, whatever he had seen is a feat of magic unknown to him thus far. What exactly was the Potter heiress? First the transmutations, now this. He would need to pen a second letter to his father immediately.
-The girl atop the clouds-