AN: I want to take this moment to thank all of my wonderful readers and reviewers for your continued support. While I'm doing this primarily for fun and for your enjoyment, without you I would not be writing this story. So thanks a lot. It is very appreciated!
That said, as some you you may have realised in the last few months my posting speed has decreased drastically from weeks to once a month. This can't be helped as real life has to remain my priority. Writing this story does not pay bills, if anything it creates them (internet costs etc). All I can say is that I'll post when I'm ready to post. Writing this takes time.
As it is I have no idea how many of you are reading - and hopefully enjoying - what I write. Every time I post I wonder why am I doing this if not for you to read and enjoy. Every time I wonder if it's worth it. I put a lot of work into these chapters, hours which I could easily spend doing other things. I don't ask for much... but please... would it be possible to get a few more reviews? Even Flames. What you liked, What you didn't like? Suggestions, Comments. What could be improved... A simple well done! Anything!
It get's quite disheartening when I sometimes only get a single review and then silence. I have no idea if this is even being read (besides the community traffic)...or liked. I have no way besides the reviews to know if it's liked. A small review would go a long way to reassure myself that I'm not doing all of this for nothing.
So please...it only takes a few seconds.
Thank you!
The New Princess
Hogwarts Year 1 - Arc 2 - Part 2 - Chapter 25
...the more unpredictable it gets!
Previously:
Aryanna sighed softly to herself. Defense against the Dark Arts was imminent. She would soon discover for herself how much truth lay in the tales. She steeled herself, preparing for the worst, yet hoping for the best. Who knows, she pondered optimistically, perhaps she could unravel the mystery and break the curse?
At least so far... 'the curse' only seemed to affect the professors, never the students.
That, at least, gave her a glimmer of hope.
And now the continuation:
The Guardian, September 1991:
"Guardian Alliance Party Emerges Victorious: Promises of Safety and Prosperity Resonate with Voters"
In a stunning electoral upset, the Guardian Alliance Party (GAP) has emerged victorious in the recent general election, capturing the hearts and votes of the British electorate. With firm vows to bolster defenses against the escalating Youma menace and pledges of a new era of prosperity, the GAP's triumph signifies a seismic shift in the nation's political landscape.
Under the dynamic leadership of the enigmatic rising star, James Blackfoot, who last night replaced outgoing Labour's Margaret Thatcher as Prime Minister, the Guardian Alliance Party has claimed a resounding victory over its longstanding rivals. Staying true to its principles of courage, unity, and progress, the party, which traces its origins back to the tumultuous era of World War II, now resonates deeply with voters from all walks of life.
The victory of the Guardian Alliance Party signals an unmistakable call for change and a repudiation of the status quo. Against looming Youma incursions, voters have now turned to the GAP as a beacon of hope and security in these tumultuous times. The party's promises to commit to strategic investments in cutting-edge technology, bolstering education and healthcare, creating employment opportunities, and fostering economic growth have struck a chord with a populace weary of strife and uncertainty.
In his inaugural address in front of number 11 Downing Street yesterday, James Blackfoot expressed his gratitude to the electorate for their trust in these unprecedented times. He vowed to uphold the party's campaign promises with an 'unwavering' dedication never seen before by the British people. "No longer will we be held back by the empty promises and platitudes of previous parties. The Guardian Alliance Party is steadfast in its commitment to safeguarding the well-being of all citizens and charting a course toward a brighter future for generations to come…
Slowly, releasing a satisfied sigh, James Blackfoot, a seemingly older man with quickly greying hair, set down the morning newspaper, on the Prime Minister's - now his - table. The events of the past few days - indeed the past few years of his life - and their implications for the United Kingdom and its realms flooded his mind, reminding him of his vows and the promises he now had to keep.
He had done it! He had won! In only three short years - an incredibly short time - he had gone from an unknown nobody, disillusioned, uninterested in the political domain, to do the unprecedented.
When he was first approached by the party leader, a few years ago, with promises of protection and an open invitation to join, he was at his lowest ebb—a broken man, friendless and alone, betrayed, with nothing left to lose and everything to gain. Little did he anticipate back then, not even in the wildest dreams of his wildest imagination, that he, of all people - a wizard - would end up emerging as the leader … not just the party leader, but as the Prime Minister, of one of the world's most esteemed nations - of the muggles. Yet, incredibly as incredible and improbable as it was, here he now stood, entrusted with the welfare of a country.
His smile slowly turned into a grin, which turned into a laugh! He laughed at the sheer irony of it all.
His dear parents, may they burn in hell, were probably turning in their graves at this very moment being the pure-blood supremacists that they were in life. He idly wondered how they would have reacted if they were still alive to see him now. He, the 'white sheep' and shame of the family, the unwanted outcast… was now the Prime Minister of those they despised the most! He was sure it would have been their largest nightmare.
His grin turned predatory.
OH!, He was going to LOVE his new job! He just knew it. Especially when he finally got to see all of those almighty bigoted faces fall slack with shock and denial when they finally found out. It would be his greatest achievement to date. His greatest prank! Those backward bigoted fools would never know what hit them until it was too late and he was going to enjoy every moment of it.
Of course, that's not to say it had all been easy. Far from it! Not everything had gone his way. Getting the support of not only his party but also the public... as a complete unknown, with no political background and no muggle education, would have been impossible—indeed should have been impossible—had it not been for his magic and his... 'benefactor'.
The promises he had to make were both empty and truthful, not to mention the political backstabbing and the many Obliviations and sleepless nights when things went wrong. He sighed at the memories. He never liked mind-wiping his opponents. It made him feel dirty, even for a politician. But they had all been necessary to ensure his win. All necessary for the 'greater good,' or so he constantly told himself.
Luckily, and this had played a large part in making him feel better about himself, there was also the magically binding vow he had to make. To achieve his current position, he first had to agree to a failsafe. After all, there was always a catch. To get power, you had to give first before you could get it. But that was okay. He had done so willingly, gladly even, once he had found out who he was doing it all for. To fulfill his goals—their goals—ultimately her goals, he had to swear an unbreakable vow on his magic and life to always stay true to the cause, the people, and ultimately, to 'her'. In the end, it had been an easy choice to make, seeing as their goals had always been his goals.
In return…he had received near unlimited funds, the backing of the world's mightiest 'superheroes', a standing promise of non-interference from the same - as long as he behaved himself - and with it the ultimate opportunity of a lifetime to show up all of those pureblooded bigots and expose them as the fools they truly were.
The Ultimate Prank!
James was still daydreaming about his ultimate victory and what it would mean for the world—all three of them—when the sharp ring of the telephone jolted him back to reality.
"Right! Work first, pranks, and playtime later. Time to get to work," he reminded himself. Reaching for the phone, he hesitated, recalling past mistakes with the unfamiliar muggle device, such as his habitual gaffe of speaking into the wrong end. Blushing slightly, he corrected his grip on the receiver. As the prime minister, he knew such errors were no longer acceptable.
Though he was learning quickly, especially for a technology-ignorant wizard like himself, such mishaps were still far too common. His cover story—that his parents, and therefore he, had lived in a remote corner of the countryside with an unnatural dislike for technology—had served him well. However, he knew it would only suffice for so long. As a member of parliament in one of the world's foremost technology-using nations, he had to know how to use such devices, especially now that he was its leader.
He was making progress but he knew he still had a long way to go. Once again, he thanked Merlin for the mind-altering spells which had allowed him to get away with his mistakes, so far.
The voice of his secretary interrupted his thoughts. "Sorry to interrupt, but Lady Setsuna is here to see you."
"Already?" James's surprise was evident, quickly masked by practiced diplomacy. "I mean...of course. I'm always delighted to see her. Send her right in," he responded smoothly before the call ended. With a composed demeanor, he readied himself for his esteemed guest, savior, and greatest benefactor.
Setsuna exchanged a cordial smile with the receptionist before entering the Prime Minister's grand office. Her garnet eyes swept over the opulent surroundings as she entered, betraying a hint of admiration for the power and history imbued within the room.
"Mr. Prime Minister," she greeted with a respectful nod, her tone measured yet warm. Observing him keenly, she concealed her silent assessment behind a polite facade. "Thank you for granting me this audience," she continued, a subtle smirk mirroring his own. "I hear congratulations are in order."
Returning her smile with genuine warmth, James gestured graciously to the plush armchairs before his desk. "Setsuna!" he greeted warmly as if speaking to an old family friend - which in a way she now was. "Always a pleasure to see you. Please, take a seat."
After exchanging a brief hug, Setsuna settled into the chair, her posture relaxed yet attentive.
"Tea? Coffee? Or perhaps something a bit stronger?" James offered a bottle of Firewhiskey already in hand. Both shared a knowing smile, acknowledging the magical drink's presence in the muggle Prime Minister's office.
As their aides discreetly left the room, Setsuna and James raised their glasses in a silent toast before taking a sip.
"I presume it is safe to speak?" Setsuna asked cautiously, glancing around the room, her gaze lingering on a nearby portrait. Despite reassurances, caution dictated the need for verification, even within the depths of an ally's fortress.
Seeing where her attention lay, James smiled disarmingly. "Of course. I took care of the portrait the moment I entered the room last night," he assured her, casting a glance at the magical painting that had been intended to spy on the Muggle Prime Minister. "After all, we don't want Fudge to 'fudge' things up before we're ready to enlighten him about his demise, do we?" His grin was light, accompanied by a hint of mischief.
"Indeed... that would be quite counterproductive," Setsuna replied, her grin matching his, the atmosphere tinged with shared determination.
"Have you had 'The Visit' yet?" she inquired, referring to the obligatory meeting between the magical and muggle ministries after a new Prime Minister is elected. Each time, someone from the magical ministry would inform the new Prime Minister of the two worlds and spell the muggle minister to secrecy.
"Not yet... though I expect it will be soon," James replied, a hint of anticipation in his tone.
"Do you need help?" Setsuna offered her willingness to assist evident in her expression.
"Hardly necessary," James dismissed confidently. "I will be his best and most submissive friend... right until I bite him in the ass." He noticed Setsuna's eyebrow raise at his choice of words and clarified, "He probably won't even come himself and will leave it to one of his flunkies. They won't expect a wizard to be the Muggle Prime Minister. In the unlikely event that they try to use magic to ensure my secrecy, it won't work anyway, as I am not a Muggle. Spells meant for Muggles, like the Muggle Secrecy Charm, don't work on wizards. A safety feature I plan to fully exploit."
Setsuna nodded in understanding, though a flicker of concern lingered in her eyes.
"What if he uses Obliviate... or worse?"
James's expression grew serious. "He shouldn't have a reason to... but if he does, I'll make him regret it, Minister of Magic or not."
"I see... well then, let us hope it doesn't come to that and that our esteemed Minister is wise and sticks to the rules."
"Need anything to ease your first day with the people?" she asked, shifting the focus to James's responsibilities.
James smiled. "Nah, I'm good. It's nothing I can't handle. With the funds at our disposal thanks to your... 'generous donations,' I could run the whole planet, not just a country, for hundreds of years and barely scrape the surface." He laughed to himself, thinking of the vast fortune safely hidden away in Setsuna's vault. "Together with your Philosopher's Stones and that ludicrous bottomless ocean you call a bank vault, money is the least of our problems. As long as nobody questions where all the money comes from, nothing can go wrong," he answered confidently.
Setsuna looked at him with a touch of apprehension. He seemed to not be taking this seriously enough.
"Still, that's no reason to become careless," she cautioned. "I'd prefer if we didn't have to resort to brainwashing every opposing politician or well-meaning citizen who sticks their nose into our financial history."
James smirked. "Panis et ludi. Don't worry, I have that covered. That's what 'bread and games' are for. The Romans may have been civilized barbarians, but they knew how to keep the masses content, and so do I. As long as the people are happy, fed, and entertained, nobody will care... or even want to care about what I do. If I can ensure all departments are well-funded and the other ministers keep their election promises, the plebs will be happy, so happy that even a dog could run the country and they'd turn a blind eye. Literally."
"Hmm... I hope you're right." Already she was thinking of a dog running the country and shuddered at the thought. 'What have I done? The country is about to go to the dogs... well, dog.'
"Trust me... I know what I'm doing. You just worry about the Youma and getting your companies and the technology of this world up to speed. Merlin knows I have no idea how to do it myself. Get the promised employment levels up and those smartphones of yours into the sheeple's pockets while you're at it. After all, I'd hate to be branded a liar. I promised the voters innovation in technology and prosperity, and I aim to keep my promises."
"Hmm...will you?" she wondered. "I guess we'll see," Setsuna answered, thinking about the new phone she would soon be launching. It would be a true smartphone, the first of its kind—a huge step away from the current bulky dinosaurs they called cell phones. Her smartphone would catapult the world's communication technology forward by at least forty years by the world's current technology standards and no doubt upset the status quo. But it was that the world needed to survive.
She had secured ownership of the Internet years ago when it was still known as ARPANET. Employing a dedicated task force of experts, she ensured its continuous development, with plans to establish free public access points nationwide and maintain its perpetual openness to all. In the years to come, her influence would expand globally.
Control over information meant control over minds. And with control over minds came dominion over the world. If you controlled the news, you controlled the people. And if you controlled the people, you controlled the world. It was as straightforward as that. Where the Silver Millennium had faltered, she was determined to succeed.
Earth could no longer be allowed to remain fragmented, risking another disaster as it had in the past. This time, her vision was clear: the entire galaxy would unite under one rule—the princess's rule. A unified world was crucial with the impending Youma storm on the horizon. Without unity, defeat was inevitable. She would not allow that. She would not allow history to repeat itself. Never again!
Her upcoming new computer system, poised to surpass current Windows and DOS operating systems, would mark a monumental leap. It would not only revolutionize the technological landscape but also extend into critical areas like the military. The world needed weapons capable of truly harming the Youma, not just provoking them. The current armaments might as well be sticks and stones for all the good they did.
She was resolute in her mission to transform and upend the muggle and magical worlds, even if it required enforced compliance. Her goal was clear: protect and prepare them for the inevitable future her visions foretold, with as little resistance as possible.
She would even embrace the role of the 'Devil' and take the ultimate fall if it proved necessary to ensure victory and their ultimate survival. The Guardians could only do so much, and if her visions were correct, they would soon need all the help they could get. Even then, she feared it might not be enough. Time was rapidly dwindling—an irony not lost on her, given her cosmic role and identity.
Watching 'James' take another sip of Firewhiskey, still reveling in his victory, she once again hoped she had chosen the right person for the job. When she had broken him out of that hell hole they called a prison, she had done so knowing that his loyalty to the cause—and his goddaughter—would be nearly absolute. Alas, the man himself left a lot to be desired. She wished he could be more...well, 'serious' at times.
"I'll simply have to trust him. His oath will ensure he stays on the correct path. For the rest... I'll have to be ready to stop him and clean up after him if he messes up," she told herself.
"Well then, let's drink to that," she said, raising her bottle of Firewhiskey.
"To the United Kingdom, the Earth, and the Silver Millennium. May she rule eternal!" They raised their glasses in salute and took another sip.
Aryanna sighed as she sat at the Hufflepuff table, her attention divided between her friends' excited chatter about the upcoming Quidditch team trials and her own increasingly restless thoughts and worries - especially her growing insecurities - which seemed to weigh heavily on her mind. Was she becoming paranoid? She didn't think so. Alas, she was no longer certain and that was never good, especially not when you were a secret superhero...and they really were out to get you. Hopefully, she would soon have an answer to her problems, preferably before they escalated. If not, well, then she didn't know what she would do. She knew she should have been happy with the result, enjoying herself and her newfound popularity. Yet...she could not.
A few weeks had passed since she became a student at Hogwarts, and a lot had changed since that fateful first potions class and her encounter with Snape. Even if his absence was expected to only be temporary and last until after Christmas, at best, it had already done a lot to improve the atmosphere of the school. Madam Tonks, the new potions mistress and interim head of Slytherin house, had swiftly taken over the class and was practically turning the curriculum on its head. No longer were students expected to know everything beforehand or brew without preparation. Instead, they were first taught safety and the interactions between ingredients before being safely guided through the potion-making process. Only then, when each student could prove that they understood, were they allowed to attempt it themselves—a stark contrast to Snape's teaching methods. The results were remarkable and had already resulted in better grades and fewer potion accidents. Madam Pomfrey now sported a beaming smile whenever anybody visited her in the hospital wing and could even be heard singing her praises to anybody who would listen.
Aryanna glanced around the Great Hall, noticing the other subtle but significant changes that had occurred since Snape's departure. The rest of the school was similarly affected by his absence. It was as if a heavy burden had been lifted from everybody's shoulders. Everyone - students and professors alike - seemed happier.
She looked down at her plate, her food nearly untouched. All was well or should have been... She and Susan were now unofficial heroes to the student body, so much so, that Students from all houses, including some Slytherins, openly greeted her and Susan respectfully in the corridors, performing random acts of kindness that were once unthinkable under Snape's tyranny. Some even opened doors and others offered to carry her and Susan's books in gratitude for their role in Snape's departure, a clear departure from the fear and animosity that had once permeated the corridors.
And yet...
Despite the prevailing mood of optimism, Aryanna couldn't shake the nagging feeling of unease that lingered within her. It was as if a shadow loomed over Hogwarts, casting doubt on her newfound happiness.
It was difficult to explain. There was a constant sense of foreboding, an inexplicable feeling like a sixth sense. Perhaps it stemmed from her alter ego - Sailor Moon? She wasn't certain, but whatever it was, her instincts were sounding an alarm that was increasingly difficult to ignore.
Initially, she had attributed her discomfort to the adjustment of being back at school after a long break. However, the typical back-to-school excitement had since been replaced by a lingering dread. It was as if something new and ominous had arrived, and she felt powerless against it.
For instance, her instincts screamed danger whenever her professor was around, yet her mind told her otherwise.
She shook her head, trying to calm her thoughts. Was it just lingering jitters from dealing with Snape? Or perhaps anxiety about the upcoming 'missions' she would resume once Setsuna gave her the all-clear? Would her friends be ready?
Her gaze drifted once more to the professors at the staff table, pausing at a certain DADA professor—Professor Quirrell. The timid and nervous demeanor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher always unsettled Aryanna. His behavior seemed unnatural, staged even, as if there was a veil of some sort, something darker beneath his jittery facade, concealing him from her.
She frowned at the man. She knew she had no evidence or tangible reason to justify her unease and dislike. According to older students she had asked about him, Quirrell hadn't always been this way. Supposedly, he had returned from a sabbatical a changed man - and not for the better - after an encounter with a Vampire Lord. She had asked Setsuna to investigate, but frustratingly, his story seemed to check out. He truly had encountered and barely escaped from a Vampire Lord.
Was her unease simply the aftermath of his proximity to a 'dark' creature? she wondered. As Sailor Moon, she was naturally more sensitive to dark creatures. Sometimes she could sense their presence, just as they could sense hers if she wasn't careful. Being a light-sided being leaning towards the divine, she knew such creatures rarely coexisted peacefully with the purely evil.
It was infuriatingly frustrating!
She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, truly she did. But Aryanna couldn't shake the shiver running down her spine as she observed him, even now as he sat at the head table attempting to communicate with Silvanus Kettleburn the Care of Creatures professor. It didn't help that the man seemed to dislike her and and friends and was steadily taking Snape's place as the most disliked professor. Was she only looking for a reason to dislike the man?
She gave her meal one last look, then deciding it was a lost cause she shoved away her plate and glanced towards her friends.
And then there was also the 'other issue' she now faced as well, she thought as her mind shifted towards the other worry to plague her mind.
Sighing again to herself for the umpteenth time, her thoughts drifted away from her professor and towards the other major issue - the sudden onset of her magical struggles.
Once again Aryanna thought back to her first DADA class - a class that had once held such promise and excitement, had now become a source of frustration and confusion...even dread.
The phenomenon first appeared during her first practical lesson.
Aryanna had always prided herself on her magical abilities, yet she now found herself suddenly faced with a rather perplexing dilemma. It seemed she was woefully unable to cast a certain type of spells, particularly curses and some hexes. It was as if her magic had somehow selectively decided to abandon her, leaving her suddenly feeling helpless and inadequate.
As strange and unexplainable as it was she was unable to cast certain spells. Or so it seemed. She had no explanation for it.
Sure, some spells were always more difficult to learn than others and took more time...that was natural, and no need for worry, but she had always managed to cast them in the end, usually after a bit of practice. Not so, however with curses or hexes.
It wasn't that she didn't know the theory, the incantation, or that she had issues with the wand movements - her movements were perfect,...or as close to perfect as they could be. At least she thought so.
No! The problem lay not with her application of the spells but... with the fact that, try as she might, the spells... Just! Would! Not! Work!
It was maddening!
To fail and show no improvement, at all, without any explanation. That was not normal, least of all to a known overachiever like herself. Luckily it was only in one class or she would never have been able to live it down.
She hated failing and she didn't know how to deal with her new disability. It was, in short, driving her nuts and why she was currently on tenterhooks waiting for Setsuna's reply. If she didn't have an answer for her... Well, she didn't know what she would do.
It was also another reason why she thought something was wrong with Quirrel, and that it had to be his fault, as it only happened, or only seemed to happen, in his class. She was fine in every other class.
Have her cast a charm? She could do it, no problem. Have her perform some transfiguration? Sure, it took some time and she wasn't the best at it - probably due to her large magical core, but she usually achieved at least some sort of transfiguration by the end of the class. Have her cast a curse or a hex, however, and it was as if she had no magic at all. It was so perplexing, and quite frankly... worrying!
To make matters even more mysterious, she wasn't the only one having problems either. Susan, - her sister Guardian, also had the same problem to contend with. She too seemed to be suffering under her own sudden 'sickness'. Like her, she too seemed to experience sudden unexplainable difficulties with casting simple curses, and like her, it only seemed to happen during Defence class. Unlike her, however, at least she was able to cast that blasted tripping curse at the end of the class - even if it had been a weak little thing and the cause of a lot of merriment for the class. She, however, couldn't even do that.
Was something wrong with her? With their magic? With Susan? Was it because they were Guardians? It was the only explanation she could think of. That only worried her even more.
She bit her lower lip in worry. No, that couldn't be it. Hermione was not having the same problems. She seemed to be fine. Thriving even. She, unlike herself and Susan, was having no problems at all and had managed to cast the spells on her first, at worst third try.
So what was it then? What was the reason for her sudden ineptitude? Why was Hermione able to cast the spells while she could not? Was it because she had not had her first transformation as Mercury yet? Would she lose her ability to cast once she had?
Oh, she hoped not. She did not want to be the one to have to tell her friend that she was being sabotaged by her own powers. That she was somehow defunctive, broken...or worse, sabotaged by what she had become.
Deciding to put it out of her mind, at least for the time being, she forcefully shoved her worries to the back of her mind and redoubled her efforts to join in the conversation at hand.
"It's too bad they don't allow first-years on the team. Rather than banning us completely, they should have us do a competency test instead," she said, jumping into the conversation. Anything to get her troubled mind of her current problems.
"Yes, that's so unfair, some of us have been flying for years..."
Later that Friday, Aryanna hurried towards the Quidditch pitch, determined to watch the year's try-outs with her friends as promised, even though she couldn't participate until next year. Fate, however, had different plans in store for her that day.
After emerging from her final class and dropping off her books at her dorm room, Aryanna stepped out of the castle gates with the Quidditch pitch in sight. Suddenly, a harried-looking prefect intercepted her, clad in Quidditch gear with a broom in hand. He paused briefly to hand her a hastily written note before rushing off towards the pitch, eager to spectate—and likely participate—in the yearly event. Realizing it was probably best not to delay, Aryanna sighed as she opened the note, her plans for the day promptly overturned by its contents. The note turned out to be a short yet commanding summons from Cordelia, the president of the Sailor Guardian fan club Aryanna belonged to.
Cordelia urgently needed Aryanna to "drop everything" and assist in finalizing the new school uniform, due for presentation to the Headmaster the following day. The prefect's delivery ensured Aryanna couldn't claim ignorance, and with the first Hogsmeade trip approaching and the meeting already postponed twice due to her injuries thanks to Snape, there was no room for further delay.
With Cordelia on the verge of a breakdown, emphasizing Aryanna's commitment and the impact on Cordelia's Slytherin reputation if she didn't help, Aryanna felt obliged to comply. Despite her eagerness to watch the Quidditch tryouts and the fact that as a first-year she couldn't participate either way, as made clear in Cordelia's note, Aryanna reluctantly accepted her fate. She cast one last wistful glance at the Quidditch pitch, muttered a self-directed complaint about agreeing to help in the first place, and then turned back towards the school.
What followed was an entire evening of Aryanna playing dress-up, trying on various versions of the new, upcoming skimpy school uniform. All the while, she couldn't ignore the sounds of jubilant—or some not-so-jubilant—cries from the successful and unsuccessful Quidditch participants echoing through the open window of the Guardian fan club tower, which conveniently faced the Quidditch pitch. What fun!
However, not all was bad. Amidst the ordeal, Aryanna found a silver lining. Wearing a uniform that, while not an exact copy of the real thing, still closely imitated her true superhero costume had practical advantages. The school uniform's resemblance to their official costumes would make hiding and sneaking in and out of the school easier whenever she was in her true Guardian guise. Sure, their tiaras couldn't be hidden and the colors might be off, but as long as nobody looked too closely, no one would be able to tell the difference.
"Now that," Aryanna thought, "was a true victory and made this all worthwhile!"
Finally, after several hours of deliberation, a final choice was made, leaving both girls satisfied. Aryanna bid Cordelia farewell, agreeing to stand by her side during the impending meeting with the Headmaster for support and recognition of her hard work. Relieved at escaping cleaning duty—leaving it all to Cordelia, as the elder student who could stay up later - thanks to curfew - Aryanna hurried off into the night, her secret corridor pass safely tucked away. After all, some secrets were best kept hidden.
The next day dawned peacefully, and being a Saturday—meaning no classes—Aryanna found herself in a rare moment of solitude, lounging in the Hufflepuff common room. Hannah was serving a detention for 'ruffling Professor Quirrell's feathers' by 'defending herself' (aka talking back to the professor), while Susan was in the library, likely keeping Hermione company and getting a head start on her homework. This left Aryanna alone with her thoughts, mentally preparing for her upcoming meeting. In just an hour, she was scheduled to meet with Cordelia to support her during the important meeting with the Headmaster. If all went well, they could soon be wearing the new school uniform by the next Hogsmeade weekend, a design Aryanna had helped to create. Even now, she wasn't sure how she felt about that, but the pros sure seemed to outweigh the cons.
Cradling a steaming cup of tea provided by a helpful house elf, Aryanna let her mind wander as she observed an unusual spectacle unfolding in the Hufflepuff common room: a cactus and a snake plant engaged in a comical attempt at a tango. The sight amused her deeply, as the prickly cactus awkwardly mimicked the passionate steps of the dance while the graceful Sansevieria swayed in synchrony, skillfully avoiding its partner's thorns. Such oddities were not uncommon here, reflecting the delicate balance between Hufflepuff and Slytherin—cautious yet intrigued by the prospect of a romantic dance, all the while mindful of potential hazards.
Legend had it that the Sansevieria dancing before her, skillfully avoiding its partner's thorns, was a descendant of a plant with profound historical significance at Hogwarts. As the tale went, Salazar Slytherin had once presented an earlier version of the plant to Helga Hufflepuff as a symbol of friendship and cooperation between their houses. Despite their differing values, Helga and Salazar had shared a passion for plants, and this particular Sansevieria embodied the enduring bond between their houses, serving as a reminder to students of the importance of unity within the Hogwarts community.
Aryanna found comfort in the symbolism represented by the plants, aspiring to one day restore this bond to its former strength. With Snape temporarily removed, she had taken the initial step toward reconciliation between the two houses. Only time would reveal whether her efforts would yield results or prove futile.
She sighed slightly to herself, a frequent occurrence lately. Unfortunately, not everyone shared her passion for unity, particularly those from families embroiled in longstanding feuds. The animosity between the Malfoy and Weasley families, in particular, ran deep, originating from a scandalous love potion incident centuries ago.
According to legend, a daughter of House Weasley at the time had allegedly spiked a drink of the heir of House Malfoy with a love potion. House Malfoy, seeing an opportunity to discredit their political rivals, claimed it as an attempted theft of lineage, leading to an extended legal dispute and numerous honor duels before the entire Wizengamot. House Malfoy emerged victorious from most of these duels, resulting in House Weasley losing much of their wealth and noble status to House Malfoy.
Since then, these two families had remained bitter rivals verging on hatred, each willing to resort to any means to undermine the other. It seemed like a feud without an end in sight. Even now, centuries later, and despite the recent classroom incident, Aryanna doubted the feud would conclude anytime soon...
Flashback to a day before, Broom Flying class.
Aryanna sat confidently atop her broomstick, a worn-out school broom that had seen better days. It lacked the familiar, comforting weight of her state-of-the-art racing broom, which she had to leave at home since first years were not allowed their own brooms. She didn't feel she needed the extra flying lessons, given her years of flying experience, but participating in the class as a first-year was compulsory. As such, she did her best to listen attentively as Professor Hooch instructed the beginners on how to mount their brooms correctly.
As the class was about to begin, a few of the more advanced flyers were getting some early practice under their wings. Glancing around at her classmates, she noticed and rolled her eyes at the competitive glares exchanged between Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley. Their ongoing rivalry, bordering on outright bullying, was a constant annoyance, but Aryanna knew better than to get involved. Instead, she focused on her flying, though she couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Hermione.
Hermione was once again struggling to control her broom, her expression a mixture of determination and frustration. Despite years of watching her and Susan fly around the Potter Mansion pitch and practicing with a broom, it seemed Hermione just couldn't get over her ever-present fear of heights. Aryanna wondered what it would take to help her friend overcome it.
"Alright, class! To the ground, please! Come on, quickly now!" The strict voice of Professor Hooch cut through the crisp air, commanding attention and calling the class to order. Aryanna smirked as she noticed how Hooch gave Draco and Ron stern looks and smiled as she began to reprimand them once more. Not that it did any good, it never did, but still... it was the thought that counted, right?
"Today, we will continue to practice some basic maneuvers," Hooch announced. "Up and down, maybe a small slow loop around the field, nothing too fancy," she continued, giving Draco and Ron another stern look as she spoke.
"Just like before, hold out your hand above your broom...and then, in a confident voice, say...' up'," she instructed, stressing the word 'up', performing each step as she called them out. Almost immediately, as the words left her mouth, her broom leaped and came to a smooth yet firm stop in her hands. "Now...your turn!"
Holding out her hand, Aryanna confidently spoke the familiar command and executed the maneuvers flawlessly, as she had done countless times over the past three years. Turning back to check on Hermione, she saw her friend's broom rolling on the floor like a shy puppy before suddenly shooting into the air in response to Hermione's frustrated cry. Aryanna winced as Hermione narrowly dodged the handle of her broom, which zoomed past her face, narrowly avoiding injury.
She shook her head in disbelief and a hint of denial at Hermione's ongoing struggle. Aryanna was certain that only Hermione's enhanced Guardian reflexes, derived from her alter ego Sailor Mercury, had enabled her to dodge the broom in time. Any other person would likely have been struck in the face, possibly resulting in a bruise or worse a broken nose. Alas, such were the perils of learning to fly a broom.
Almost immediately after witnessing her friend's mishap, Draco burst into laughter, boasting about how such a mishap had never occurred to him. Annoyed by Draco's insensitivity, Aryanna was about to defend Hermione when Professor Hooch intervened.
Aryanna smirked as Hooch firmly reprimanded Draco and reminded him that he had no grounds for boasting, especially since he wasn't executing the maneuvers correctly himself. This public embarrassment caused laughter to ripple through the class, with Ronald's chuckle standing out most prominently. While Hooch proceeded to demonstrate the proper broom-handling techniques to a visibly embarrassed Draco Malfoy, Aryanna, feeling satisfied, redirected her attention to Hermione.
"Hey, Hermione," Aryanna called out, offering a reassuring smile to catch her friend's attention. "Try adjusting your grip a bit, like this," she said, demonstrating her grip, and showing her friend how to do it correctly. "No...you're still holding on too tightly. Relax your shoulders. More...yes, that's better. Just let the broom do the work. Treat it like a pet. It can feel you, sense your intentions. If you're afraid, it will know," she encouraged.
Hermione looked over at Aryanna, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I know... I know... But I can't help it!" she replied, worry evident in her voice as she nervously eyed her broom. "I'll fall. I just know it."
Beside them, Susan, who had been watching silently up to that moment, chuckled softly. "No, you won't. Trust me, Hermione, you won't. Even if you did, the broom's enchantments won't let you get seriously hurt. Just focus on finding your balance. You're doing great!" she reassured her friend.
"Besides, I'll be there to catch you if you do fall...which you won't," Aryanna added, giving Hermione an encouraging smile.
Suddenly, Aryanna's attention snapped to the commotion erupting from the far side of the pitch. She swiftly turned to investigate, locking eyes on Neville's broom as it lurched unexpectedly, thrusting him skyward. His panicked expression betrayed his loss of control, turning him into a reluctant passenger at best.
Recognizing the danger, Madam Hooch sprang into action without hesitation. "Clear the area, everyone!" Her authoritative command echoed across the pitch. "Mr. Longbottom, descend immediately," she ordered, her voice firm and commanding, hoping to calm Neville amidst his struggle.
Alas, it was not to be. Despite Hooch's efforts, fate seemed to intervene. Neville's panicked struggles intensified, drawing fearful gasps from the watching students.
Anticipating Neville's fall, Hooch propelled herself onto her broom with determined agility, speeding towards him. However, before she could reach him, Neville's broom veered unpredictably, eluding Hooch's grasp. Panic spread as Neville slipped further, clutching desperately to the broom with one weakening hand. Then, with a violent buck, the broom snapped in half, sending Neville plummeting to the ground with a sickening thud. His scream of terror joined the chorus of gasps and cries echoing through the pitch.
Cursing under her breath at the faulty broom, Hooch landed swiftly beside Neville. Aryanna watched helplessly, her heart sinking as she noticed Hermione pale and step away from her broom at their teacher's words. She held her breath as Hooch assessed Neville's condition with practiced efficiency. Relief washed over Aryanna when Hooch's expression softened from worry to concern. Tears welled in Neville's eyes as Hooch gently asked, "A broken wrist?"
Aryanna sighed deeply, feeling a pang of frustration. All her efforts to help Hermione overcome her fear of heights seemed to have been in vain. Now, instead of making progress, Hermione would no doubt be even more frightened than before.
Meanwhile, Madam Hooch wasted no time taking charge. She swiftly led Neville away towards the school, issuing a stern warning to the remaining students as she departed.
"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! Leave those brooms right where they are or, so help you Merlin because I won't, you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'! Come on, dear," Hooch instructed firmly, guiding Neville away from the crowd, who watched on in somber silence.
However, the solemnity of the moment was quickly shattered by the rash actions of Draco Malfoy and Ronald Weasley. Ignoring Hooch's instructions, they chose to disobey and put themselves in unnecessary danger.
As soon as Hooch and Neville were out of sight, Draco noticed a small spherical object on the ground, about the size of a golf ball. It was a Rememberall, encased in glass with a swirling mist of vibrant colors inside. Aryanna recognized it immediately—a magical device meant to help its owner remember forgotten tasks or obligations.
Aryanna eyed the Rememberall with disdain. 'Useless trinket,' she thought, skeptical of its practicality. She watched with disapproval as Draco picked it up. The Rememberall was supposed to glow with ethereal brilliance when held in one's palm and shine brightly if the holder had forgotten something. Unfortunately, it would never indicate what had been forgotten, only that something had slipped one's mind, which Aryanna found rather pointless.
"Hey, that's Neville's! Keep your slimy fingers off it and give it to me, now!" Ronald's voice cut through the air, demanding the return of the Rememberall.
Aryanna closed her eyes briefly, feeling exasperated by the unfolding drama. It didn't take a genius to know what would happen next. She also knew intervening would likely be futile as she braced herself for the inevitable conflict between Ronald and Draco.
And sure enough, as expected, she was right.
Draco, unwilling to yield to Ronald on principle alone, smirked and held the glowing orb just out of reach. This only stoked the redhead's anger, intensifying his efforts to retrieve the Rememberall from Draco's grasp.
What followed was an impromptu duel of wills, bravado, and idiocy.
"You want it? You'll have to catch me first. Bet you can't," Draco taunted, his sleek blond hair catching the sunlight as he shot off into the air on his broom, darting dangerously close to Ron, who narrowly dodged to avoid a collision.
Ron, infuriated by Draco's challenge, gritted his teeth. Determined not to be outdone, he mounted his broom and pursued Draco. "Of course I can. I'll fly circles around you, Malfoy. Just watch!" he shouted, accelerating in pursuit of the Malfoy scion.
Aryanna shook her head in disbelief. She couldn't fathom the audacity of the two boys and wanted no part in their reckless antics. While she disapproved of Draco holding Neville's Rememberall hostage, she knew better than to intervene. Past experiences had taught her the futility of such efforts, often leading to trouble. She was certain that getting involved would only result in lost house points or, at worst, a swift visit to the headmaster's office, potentially leading to disciplinary action. If they were determined to get into trouble, that was their choice. She wanted no part in it.
Draco and Ron continued their risky game of one-upmanship. Draco executed a clumsy loop-the-loop, narrowly avoiding crashing into the Transfiguration classroom window as he evaded Ron, who pursued closely behind. Ron, determined not to be outdone, mirrored Draco's maneuver, but his broomstick grazed the window, leaving a scrape in his attempt to keep pace.
Inside the classroom, Professor McGonagall, engrossed in her lesson, was abruptly alerted by the commotion at the window. She swiftly made her way over, opening it to peer outside, her stern expression a clear warning of the trouble brewing.
As fate would have it, at that precise moment, Draco taunted Ron and threw the ball, daring him to catch it. Ron, unable to resist Draco's challenge, sped after the Rememberall. Unbeknownst to him, McGonagall had just leaned out of the window. Startled by her sudden appearance, Ron fumbled in his astonishment and fear, missing the catch as he locked eyes with the stern professor's face looming before him. The small glass ball sailed past McGonagall, narrowly missing her head as she dodged at the last moment. Instead, it crashed through a nearby window with a sharp, resonating noise.
A tense silence settled over the scene like a heavy shroud of dread. Professor McGonagall's stern gaze swept over the gathered students and troublemakers alike, her fury almost tangible in the charged atmosphere.
Outside, concerned onlookers exchanged uneasy glances, while inside her classroom, McGonagall's students stared in stunned silence at the unexpected turn of events.
Aryanna closed her eyes briefly, bracing herself for the inevitable fallout.
Suddenly, McGonagall's voice sliced through the tension like a blade. "Mr. Weasley! Mr. Malfoy! What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing? Detention, both of you! Fifty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin! Into my office this instant!" Her face flushed with anger, McGonagall's authority brooked no argument.
The class fell silent. The two troublemakers, momentarily forgetting their rivalry, exchanged pale-faced glances before obediently heading toward McGonagall's office. McGonagall's glare followed them until she slammed the remains of the broken window closed, showering the ground with new fragments of glass from the broken window.
Only after the professor was safely out of earshot did Aryanna allow herself a sigh of relief. "In another life, that could have been me," she thought, grateful that she had avoided the inevitable fallout from Draco and Ron's recklessness by choosing not to intervene.
End flashback:
The memory of the chaotic scene faded as Aryanna returned to the present. She smiled as she recalled the aftermath of the boys' actions. Word had spread quickly about their severe punishment, and judging by their stiff gaits the next day, Aryanna had no doubt it had been harsh. That evening, she noticed Hermione glancing at the Gryffindor points board with a satisfied expression—it had never looked so empty for Slytherin and Gryffindor, leaving Hufflepuff in the lead with Ravenclaw closely behind.
She wondered, would Draco and Ron learn from this experience? Aryanna doubted it. But one thing they had been right about: Quidditch did sound like fun.
Aryanna had every intention to try out for the team next year. Who knew? Maybe she would even become a star player? "Aryanna Jasmine Potter—Quidditch Star!" she mused to herself. It did have a nice ring to it.
Just then, the alarm from her wand reminded her of her upcoming meeting. Aryanna sighed and stretched her legs, preparing to leave the common room.
"But that's for next year," she thought aloud. "First, I have a meeting to get to."
With a grin, Aryanna added playfully, "New skimpy school uniform... here I come!"