Chapter 3: Prefect's Dilemma
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of classes and whispered conversations. By the time lunch rolled around, Asher felt as though he'd been awake for days. The weight of everything he'd observed, every nuanced interaction and loaded glance, pressed down on him like a physical burden.
As he picked at his shepherd's pie, Asher foun gaze drawn once again to the Gryffindor table. Potter sat with his friends, his head bent low in intense conversation. Even from across the hall, Asher could see the tension in Potter's shoulders, the way his hand clenched around his fork.
"You're staring again," Blaise murmured, his voice pitched low enough that only Asher could hear. "People might start to talk."
Asher tore his eyes away, focusing on his plate. "Just trying to figure him out," he replied quietly. "There's more going on than meets the eye."
Blaise hummed noncommittally. "Just be careful, mate. Curiosity killed the kneazle, you know."
As they made their way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom that afternoon, Asher couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into something far more significant than a simple lesson. Umbridge's sickeningly sweet smile and her insistence on putting away their wands only confirmed his suspicions.
"Wands away, books out," she trilled, her voice grating on Asher's nerves. "We'll be taking a more theoretical approach to defense this year."
As Umbridge outlined her Ministry-approved curriculum, Asher exchanged glances with Daphne and Theodore. The implications were clear - the Ministry was afraid, and they were determined to keep the students of Hogwarts ignorant and unprepared.
When Umbridge called on him to read aloud from the mind-numbingly dull textbook, Asher complied, but his mind was racing. This wasn't just about denying Voldemort's return. This was about control, about shaping the next generation of witches and wizards into docile, unquestioning followers.
As the lesson dragged on, Asher found himself growing increasingly frustrated. He had always prided himself on his ability to see the bigger picture, to understand the subtlenessof power that shaped their world. But now, faced with such blatant manipulation, he felt a growing sense of helplessness.
When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of class, Asher lingered behind, pretending to gather his things slowly. He watched as Umbridge simpered at a group of Slytherin girls, her saccharine voice extolling the virtues of the Ministry's new educational decrees.
"Mr. Gray," Umbridge's voice cut through his thoughts. "Is there something I can help you with?"
Asher straightened, meeting her gaze with a carefully neutral expression. "I was just wondering, Professor, if we might have the opportunity to discuss some of the more advanced theoretical concepts of defense later in the year? Perhaps in relation to current events?"
Umbridge's smile widened, but her eyes remained cold. "My dear boy, I'm sure I don't know what you mean by 'current events'. The Ministry has made it quite clear that there is nothing to be concerned about. We'll be focusing on the approved curriculum, which I assure you is more than sufficient for your O.W.L. examinations."
Asher nodded, his face a mask of polite interest. "Of course, Professor. Thank you for clarifying."
As he left the classroom, Asher's mind was whirling with implications and possibilities. Umbridge's presence at Hogwarts was more than just an inconvenience - it was a direct threat to their education, their safety, and possibly their very future.
That evening, as Asher sat in the Slytherin common room ostensibly working on his Transfiguration essay, he found himself observing his housemates with new eyes. The casual cruelty, the whispered rumors, the jockeying for position - it all seemed so petty in the face of what was really happening in the wizarding world.
He watched as Draco Malfoy held court near the fireplace, regaling a group of younger students with tales of his father's influence at the Ministry. Pansy Parkinson sat at his right hand, her shrill laughter grating on Asher's nerves a quiet corner, Daphne and Tracey Davis were bent over a copy of the Daily Prophet, their expressions grim as they read the latest propaganda piece against Dumbledore. And in the shadows near the entrance, Theodore Nott stood alone, his dark eyes scanning the room with a calculating gaze that rivaled Asher's own.
As curfew approached and students began to drift off to bed, Asher made a decision. He couldn't sit idly by while the world changed around him. He needed more information, more allies, and most importantly, a plan.
Pulling out a fresh piece of parchment, Asher began to write. Names, observations, questions, and theories flowed from his quill. By the time he finally crawled into bed, the first rays of dawn were beginning to filter through the lake water outside the dormitory windows.
As he drifted off to sleep, Asher's last conscious thought was of Harry Potter's determined face. Whatever was coming, whatever battles lay ahead, Asher Gray was determined to be ready. The shadows in Slytherin might be deepening, but he would not let them consume him - or the school he had come to call home.
The first week of classes at Hogwarts flew by in a whirlwind of new schedules, mounting homework, and whispered conversations. Asher Gray found himself caught in a delicate balancing act between his prefect duties, his studies, and his growing curiosity about the undercurrents of tension rippling through the school.
On Friday morning, Asher made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, stifling a yawn. He'd been up late the night before, poring over his Arithmancy charts and trying to make sense of Professor Vector's latest assignment.
"Oi, Gray!" called out Blaise Zabini as Asher approached the Slytherin table. "You look like you've been dragged backward through a Venomous Tentacula. Late night ?"
Asher slid onto the bench beside his friend, reaching for a slice of toast. "Something like that," he mumbled, suppressing another yawn. "Vector's not pulling any punches this year."
Daphne Greengrass, sitting across from them, rolled her eyes. "It's O.W.L. year, what did you expect? Tea and biscuits with every assignment?"
"A guy can dream, can't he?" Theo Nott chimed in, plopping down next to Daphne with a sigh. "I swear, if Snape assigns us one more essay on the properties of moonstone, I'm going to lose it."
As his friends bantered back and forth about their workload, Asher found his gaze wandering to the staff table. Professor Umbridge sat there, resplendent in a fluffy pink cardigan, her eyes sweeping over the student body with a satisfied smile that made Asher's skin crawl.
"Earth to Asher," Daphne's voice cut through his thoughts. "Are you with us?"
Asher blinked, turning back to his friends. "Sorry, just thinking about that Charms essay due next week."
Blaise snorted. "Mate, it's Friday. Live a little. We've got all weekend for that rubbish."
Before Asher could respond, a commotion at the Gryffindor table caught their attention. Harry Potter had stood up abruptly, his face flushed with anger, while his friends seemed to be trying to calm him down.
"Wonder what's got Potter's knickers in a twist this time," Theo mused, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Daphne shrugged, but Asher noticed a flicker of concern in her eyes. "Probably just the stress getting to him. It can't with everyone talking about him like he's gone mental."
Asher nodded absently, his mind racing. He'd been watching Potter closely all week, noting the way the other students gave him a wide berth in the corridors and whispered behind their hands whenever he passed. It was clear that the Ministry's smear campaign was having its intended effect.
As they finished their breakfast and gathered their bags for the day's classes, Asher found himself lost in thought. He barely registered Parkinson's shrill voice as she complained about her prefect patrol schedule, his mind already jumping ahead to the weekend and the mountain of homework that awaited him.
The day passed in a blur of classes and note-taking. In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall drilled them mercilessly on Vanishing Spells, her stern gaze brooking no nonsense as she reminded them of the importance of O.W.L.s. Charms was a whirlwind of Summoning and Banishing Charms, with tiny Professor Flitwick squeaking encouragement from atop his stack of books.
By the time they reached Defense Against the Dark Arts, Asher's hand was cramping from all the note-taking. He settled into his seat with a sigh, exchanging a resigned look with Daphne as Professor Umbridge simpered her way to the front of the class.
"Wands away, books out," Umbridge trilled, her saccharine smile firmly in place. "Today, we'll be continuing our discussion on the theory of defensive magic."
As Umbridge droned on about the Ministry-approved curriculum, Asher found his attention wandering. He doodled idly in the margins of his parchment, his quill sketching out intricate patterns as his mind churned over everything he'd observed that week.
A sharp elbow to his ribs jolted him back to attention. Daphne was looking at him pointedly, her eyes flicking towards the front of the classroom where Umbridge was staring at him expectantly.
"Mr. Gray," Umbridge said, her voice sickly sweet, "perhaps you'd care to share your thoughts on the proper theoretical approach to countering a stunning spell?"
Asher straightened in his seat, his mind racing. "Well, Professor," he began carefully, "theoretically, one would need to understand the magical principles behind stupefy charm, including its wand movement and incantation. Then, one could develop a counter-strategy based on either dodging the spell or using a Shield Charm to deflect it."
Umbridge's smile tightened almost imperceptibly. "Very good, Mr. Gray. Though of course, in any real-world situation, you would simply need to alert the proper authorities rather than attempting to engage in combat."
Asher nodded, biting back the retort that sprang to his lips. As Umbridge turned her attention to another student, Daphne shot him a warning look. Asher sighed inwardly, knowing she was right. Now wasn't the time .
As the final bell rang, signaling the end of classes for the week, there was an almost audible sigh of relief from the students. Asher packed up his things slowly, his mind already turning to the prefect meeting scheduled for that evening.
"Fancy a game of Exploding Snap before dinner?" Blaise asked as left the classroom. "I've got a new deck that's supposed to be extra volatile."
Theo grinned. "You're on. Asher, Daph, you in?"
Daphne shook her head. "'t. I promised Tracey I'd help her with her Herbology essay. Apparently, she can't tell the difference between Devil's Snare and Flitterbloom."
"What about you, mate?" Blaise turned to Asher expectantly.
Asher hesitated. Part of him wanted nothing more than to relax with his friends, to forget about prefect duties and Ministry interference for a few hours. But another part, the part that had been watching and analyzing all week, knew he couldn't afford to let his guard down., guys," he said finally. "I've got to finish that Arithmancy chart before the prefect meeting. Maybe tomorrow?"
His friends nodded, understanding if a bit disappointed, and headed off towards the common room. Asher watched them go, feeling a twinge of regret. Then, squaring his shoulders, he made his way to the library.
The library was quieter than usual for a Friday afternoon, with most students eager to start their weekend. Asher found a secluded table near the Restricted Section and spread out his books and parchments.
As he worked on his Arithmancy calculations, part of his mind was busy processing everything he'd observed over the past week. The tension between the houses seemed to be growing, with Slytherin bearing the brunt of suspicion and hostility from. Meanwhile, Umbridge's influence was spreading through the school like a noxious weed, choking out any real learning or preparation.
"Knut for your thoughts?" a quiet voice interrupted his musings.
Asher looked up to see Daphne sliding into the chair across from him, her Herbology textbook in hand.
"I thought you were helping Tracey," he said, raising an eyebrow.
Daphne shrugged. "She figured it out on her own. Turns out she just needed a confidence boost." She eyed the scattered parchments on the table. "Arithmancy giving you trouble?"
Asher sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not exactly. Just... thinking."
"Dangerous pastime," Daphne quipped, but her eyes were serious. "Want to talk about it?"
For a moment, Asher was tempted to brush her off with a joke or a vague reassurance. But something in Daphne's steady gaze made him reconsider.
"Have you noticed how weird everything feels this year?" he asked quietly, leaning in so they wouldn't be overheard. "It's like... like everyone's walking on eggshells, waiting for something to happen."
Daphne nodded slowly. "I know what you mean. It's not just Potter and all that rubbish in the Prophet. It's like... like the whole school is holding its breath."
"Exactly," Asher agreed, feeling a rush of relief that someone else had noticed. "And Umbridge... she's not just a bad teacher. She's actively preventing us from learning anything useful."
"But why?" Daphne asked, her brow furrowed. "If You-Know-Who really is back, shouldn't they want us to be prepared?"
Asher shook his head. "I think that's exactly why they don't want us prepared. They're afraid."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation hanging between them. Finally, Daphne spoke up.
"So what do we do?"
Asher met her gaze, seeing the same determination he felt reflected in her eyes. "I don't know yet. But we can't just sit back and do nothing."
Before they could discuss it further, the library clock chimed, reminding Asher of the impending prefect meeting. He gathered his things quickly, promising Daphne they'd talk more later.
As he hurried through the corridors towards the prefects' meeting room, Asher's mind was whirling with possibilities and plans. He had always prided himself on his ability to see the bigger picture, to understand the subtle currents of power that shaped their world. Now, it was time to put that ability to use.
The prefects' meeting was already in full swing when Asher slipped into the room, nodding apologetically to the Head Boy and Girl. He took his seat next to Pansy, who shot him an irritated look.
"Nice of you to join us, Gray," she hissed under her breath.
Asher ignored her, focusing instead on the discussion at hand. The Head Boy, a Ravenclaw named Roger Davies, was outlining new patrolling schedules in light of educational decree.
When the meeting finally adjourned, Asher lingered behind, pretending to organize his notes. He watched as the other prefects filed out, chatting amongst themselves about weekend plans and upcoming Hogsmeade visits.
Making his way back to the Slytherin common room, Asher's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of raised voices around the corner. He slowed his pace, listening intently.
"You can't seriously believe that rubbish, Greengrass!" It was Draco Malfoy's drawling voice, tinged with anger and disbelief.
"I'm just saying we should keep an open mind, Draco," came Daphne's calm reply. "Blindly accepting everything the Ministry says isn't very Slytherin of us, is it?"
Asher peered around the corner to see Draco and Daphne facing off in the middle of the corridor, with Crabbe and Goyle flanking Malfoy like hulking bodyguards.
"Watch yourself," Draco snarled, his hand twitching towards his wand. "You wouldn't want people to start thinking you're a blood traitor, would you?"
Before Daphne could respond, Asher stepped into view. "Is there a problem here?" he asked coolly, his prefect badge gleaming on his chest.
Draco's eyes narrowed as he took in Asher's sudden appearance. For a moment, it looked like he might argue, but then he seemed to think better of it. "No problem," he said, his voice dripping with false politeness. "Just a friendly discussion between housemates. Right, Greengrass?"
Daphne nodded, her face a mask of calm. "Of course. We're done here, aren't we, Draco?"
With a final glare at both of them, Draco stalked off, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering after him. As soon as they were out of earshot, Daphne let out a shaky breath.
"Thanks," she said quietly. "That was getting a bit intense."
Asher nodded, his mind racing. "What was that all about?"
Daphne glanced around to make sure they were alone before answering. "I may have suggested that Potter might not be completely mental. Draco didn't take it well."
Asher couldn't help but grin. "No, I suppose he wouldn't. You okay?"
"I'm fine," Daphne assured him, though Asher noticed she was still a bit pale. "But things are getting weird in Slytherin, Asher. People are choosing sides, even if they don't realize it yet."
As they made their way back to the common room together, Asher filled Daphne in on the prefect meeting and the new directives from Umbridge. Daphne listened intently, her brow furrowed in thought.
"We need to be careful," she said as they approached the entrance to the Slytherin dungeons. "But I think you're right. We can't just sit back and do nothing."
Asher nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude for his friend's support. "We'll figure it out," he said. "Together."
As they entered the common room, they were greeted by the usual Friday night chaos of students celebrating the end of the week. Blaise waved them over to a corner where he and Theo were engaged in a particularly explosive game of Exploding Snap.
"There you are!" Blaise called out. "We were beginning to think you'd been eaten by a library book."
Asher and Daphne exchanged a quick glance before joining their friends. As they settled in, laughing at Theo's singed eyebrows and Blaise's exaggerated tale of his latest romantic conquest, Asher felt a strange mix of emotions.
On one hand, he was grateful for these moments of normalcy, for the simple pleasure of being a teenager among friends. But on the other, he couldn't shake the feeling that everything was about to change. The carefree laughter and playful banter seemed almost surreal against the backdrop of growing tension and uncertainty.
As the night wore on and the common room gradually emptied, Asher found himself staring into the dying embers of the fire. The flames danced and flickered, casting strange shadows on the stone walls. In those shadows, Asher saw the challenges that lay ahead - the delicate balance he would have to strike between his duties as a prefect, his loyalty to his house, and his growing conviction that something had to be done.
But as he glanced around at his friends - Blaise's easy grin, Theo's quiet intelligence ,Daphne's steady presence - Asher felt a flicker of hope. Whatever came next, he wouldn't face it alone. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.