Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognisable characters, plots, and settings are the exclusive property of Joanne K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
Edited and beta-read by Himura, Bub3loka, Ash, and Kingfishlong.
Also, if you're feeling generous, want to support me, or want to read ahead, you know where to find me.
15th of March, Monday
Juno was bored. It had been two weeks since Quirrell decided to shuffle around the duelling partners in the Defence practice. No longer having to struggle against Harry, Juno was faced with Granger, Robins, Dunbar, Goldstein, that coward Brocklehurst, Brown, and Turpin - fighting against all of them was pathetically easy. To her surprise, Weasley was slightly better, but not enough to give her pause. Padma, Morag, and Diana were interesting opponents.
Juno tried to make those spars a learning experience for her new friends. She punished their mistakes as best she could while trying to duel them in a way that would challenge them, not overwhelm them.
Ducking under the jelly-legs jinx, Juno fired a barrage of spells, "Aculeus, Petrificus Totalus, Expelliarmus."
Her foe had hastily dodged the stinging hex. Yet a moment later, Longbottom fell on the floor like a bag of potatoes, tied up in a full-body bind, his wand in her hand. If looks could kill, his glare would have killed Juno a hundred times. But it only showed her how foolish she had been to lose to someone so worthless.
The boy wasn't even worth wasting time on to plan revenge or watch him try and avoid her stinging hexes.
Even destroying Longbottom in a mock duel had been amusing for exactly half a minute. While slightly better than Weasley, he was still inflexible with his casting and less agile. She had demolished him handly every time. No eye-catching or cruel spells that would invite scrutiny upon her, of course. And then a second and a third victory followed with the same ease.
There was no joy or glorious revenge for that attempt on her life, only emptiness. Beating him tasted like ash on her tongue - Neville Longbottom simply wasn't a… worthy adversary in any meaningful way. At least, now that she was not tired, underestimating him, and had a season of practice under her belt. At most, the boy was as annoying as a buzzing wasp; if you knew to beware of the sting, there was no challenge, no danger.
She had grown used to fighting against Harry. His attacks were far sharper and more calculated, and he nearly approached those of Flora and Hestia in power, and they were bloody third years! For each spell her yearmates could cast, Harry could have got in two, three, or even four.
Silent magic was a ridiculous advantage in a duel, even if it made you tire faster or your spells a tad weaker. Juno had gotten so used to Harry's unrelenting focus that fighting anyone else was child's play. Even the twins had to team up to defeat Juno now.
Her respect for Harry only grew, and even when he had toned down the training slightly, his time was spent reading runes and arithmancy or helping Diana, Padma, and herself. Juno realised he was planning for the long run; while her sights were on defeating Harry, he was already looking years ahead.
It made her feel childish and silly, and she resolved to do better. Small wins meant nothing if Juno lagged behind in the long term.
Unwilling to spare Longbottom more time, she left him in a body bind on the floor, twirling his wand between her fingers and looking around in boredom. Magic flew wildly across the classroom, accompanied by the yelps, grunts of pain and the incantations of first-year spells. Morag was struggling against Weasley, Diana and Padma were better than their opponents, and Harry was fighting against Granger in a way that was trying to help her.
The prickly muggle-born girl seemed to realise it too, and it only pissed her off more, especially when the Boy Who Lived tried to talk to her.
"I don't need your help, Potter!"
Juno understood why Harry seemed to favour Ronald Weasley of all people - despite being destitute, The Weasleys had strength in numbers, and Ron's brothers had all risen above the norm in one way or another. Five magically talented pureblood males would all make for powerful connections, especially since they all seemed to branch out in different areas. Granger, however, had nothing to offer aside from being bossy and overly proud of her diligence and memorisation. It would be impressive if she could back it up with competence in duelling.
Soon enough, the class ended, and Quirrell assigned a short essay on the disarming charm and its uses. Juno threw the wand back at Longbottom's body on the floor, dispelled the full-body bind, and made her way over to the frowning Harry, Diana, and the rest.
"Your advice is wasted on Granger," Padma patted Harry's shoulder. "As stiff as a broom handle, that one."
"And pricklier than a hippogryph," Morag agreed as the bushy-haired Gryffindor threw Harry a scathing glare. Sophie Roper followed as she left the class. "Should've just crushed her mercilessly."
Harry's shoulders only sagged further.
"You can't be friends with everyone," Juno added. She had seen a few others like that before - stubborn and proud. Yet, it would all fall apart when they faced an obstacle they could not overcome. Granger could be as stubborn as she wished, but the world would not bend to her whims. Such dogged perseverance could turn her into a witch of some repute, but she was alone. Yet there was much more to magic than studying hard and wand waving - connections were paramount, and even someone like Dumbledore took great care to nurture his own.
"So," Diana coughed, trying to change the topic. "Did you guys hear about the third-floor corridor?"
"You mean the forbidden one?" Padma stretched with a groan.
"What about it?" Harry asked stiffly, and Juno narrowed her gaze - he looked too blank; even his feelings felt like an empty pond.
"Petrov caught the Weasley twins there yesterday."
"Nothing new," Morag shrugged as they entered the hallway. "Those two are always up to mischief."
Diana's face, however, was grim. "They claim they found a cerberus behind a locked door this time."
"Well, the headmaster did warn us," Harry said evenly. "A most painful death, was it?"
"I haven't forgotten," the muggle-born girl pouted. "Rumour is the beast is protecting something."
"Duh," Padma yawned. "Cerberi are guard dogs, after all. It's probably some cursed object or the headmaster's old socks."
"But…" Diana looked away, only to find that all of them were disinterested. "Aren't you guys a little bit curious? We could also go and see the three-headed dog. I mean, from what the twins say, that thing was huge! How did it fit through that small door?"
"Grown cerberi are big enough to bite off half your body with one chomp," Harry's voice was cold. "And obviously, by shrinking it through magic or expanding the doorframe."
Juno couldn't help but nod in agreement and placed a hand on Diana's shoulder. "My Aunt warned me to stay away from Dumbledore. Even though he looks like your friendly old grandfather, the games of a warlock of such calibre can turn deadly; any stray spell from him could leave you dead or crippled for life."
"Bah, spoilsports," the auburn-haired girl shook her fist in mock petulance, earning herself a chuckle from Harry and Padma.
"Come now - we are the house of wit, not foolish daring," Padma tutted. "There's over three hours before dinner."
"Library?" Diana proposed with a yawn.
"Homework?"
"Flying?" The four of them paused to look at Harry, who raised his hands defensively. "What?"
"You've like… never ever asked to do something fun," Diana coughed, gazing at the boy as if he had grown a second head. "It's always studying or training or stuff."
"I… not always," the boy muttered weakly. "Do you guys want to come or not?"
"Only if we can fly the Nimbus 2001," Morag quickly added. "We've barely seen it once."
"Probably because every time I bring the broom out, Slynt and the Quidditch team want a piece of me," Harry murmured.
The Scottish girl snorted. "Can you blame them? The broom isn't available for sale for another two months!"
"We can meet Hagrid too, I suppose," Diana nodded to herself.
The group turned left towards the Grand Staircase, and Harry turned to her. "Juno, care to join us?"
"Maybe next time," she deflected smoothly. "I promised to meet my cousin."
Harry's green eyes squinted, but he eventually nodded.
It would be the perfect chance to try and gain an upper hand over him, Juno told herself. The more time Harry spent playing around, the more she could catch up with training. And she had yet to take up Nymphadora's offer - the fifth-year Hufflepuff prefect would make for a perfect sparring partner.
Juno most certainly didn't decline because she detested heights. Not at all.
21st of March, Sunday, 1992
Juno was glad that her cousin's promise of help had been genuine, and she had even taken her up on the spot; the last few days had been quite productive, if somewhat frustrating.
Fighting against Nymphadora Tonks was something else entirely. The older girl was quick and powerful, cycling between deflection, blocking, and transfiguration. Juno couldn't do much against the more powerful and complex magicks that required greater magical maturity and control than someone her age could wield.
A red jet of light shot out from Juno's wand, but the silent Disarming Charm sizzled out against Nymphadora's shield. A smoke screen funnelled out of her cousin's wand, filling the room. Juno barely managed to tumble out of the way of a green spell before being struck with a Tarantallegra, making her feet dance. Before she could dispel it, her wand flew out of her hand. Her cousin emerged out of the now dispersed smokescreen.
"Silent casting already, cuz?" Nymphadora whistled, offering back her wand. "You're a little monster and a half."
"I am not the best in my year," Juno huffed in frustration. She knew a fifth-year prefect would be a strong wand, but that did not make losing any easier, even if her cousin was as graceful as Harry about it. And while she had gotten a hang of her first silent spell, it was only a single one. "That was supposed to be a trick to catch Harry off-guard."
"So Potter is as good as the rumours say?" The older girl was a metamorph like her brother, even if she had probably forced herself to master her ability down to a subconscious level to avoid inviting attention. The ease with which transfiguration came to her gave it away, and Juno had noticed her hair had turned from brown into a perfect caramel colour and was woven into a long fishtail braid, though her face was unchanged.
"Better."
Nymphadora groaned. "How? You got nurtured with everything House Black had to offer while the boy was orphaned in the muggle world."
"So," Juno's lips twitched with amusement, "you don't believe Dumbledore trained him?"
"I might have bought that rumour a few years ago. But the old headmaster would never be able to hide having an apprentice, let alone Harry Potter."
"True, he doesn't like the headmaster either, for some reason," Juno hummed. "Harry is just talented, smart, and hard-working."
"The most dangerous combination," her cousin clicked her tongue. "Pity he's still a short twerp."
"Short twerp?" She echoed, blinking in confusion. Harry was not tall but one of the youngest in their year. If his parents were anything to judge for, he would grow up to be quite tall.
"You'll get it in a few years," Nymphadora waved dismissively. "Anyway, my O.W.L.s are soon, and I'll be rather busy. How about meeting once a week?"
Juno pushed down her irritation at being dismissed as a child and bowed. "That's fine. Thank you."
"No problems, cuz. And stop with the bowing 'n stuff."
"It would be impolite, especially when you're doing me a favour."
"Eh, if you say so," Tonks shrugged. "I should probably go study. Mum will tan my hide if I give the exams anything less than my best."
With a jaunty wave, her cousin disappeared through the door, leaving Juno alone in the abandoned classroom where they practised.
Would Harry be able to defeat her cousin? Juno wanted to dismiss such a notion but couldn't.
With a sigh, she left, heading back to the Ravenclaw tower. Her mind couldn't help but wander - Nymphadora was an odd conundrum. She was friendly and kind, even though she cared little for things like courtesies. Her Occlumency was nothing to scoff at - she had to have developed a strong control over her emotions to conceal her metamorphic talent so well, and Juno could hardly glean anything from her. The house of hard work and loyalty was easy to underestimate, but Juno wouldn't make such a foolish mistake anymore.
Contrary to popular belief, her aunt Andromeda had managed to find her place under the sun even without the support of House Black. She was a respectable seamstress with a senior healer for a husband and two talented children. Juno wanted them all on her side, especially after seeing Nymphadora in person. The way her cousin used her prefect status to pressure the Gryffindors after Longbottom's duel only made her more reliable in Juno's eyes.
Lord Black would not like connecting with someone banished from the family. Any official overtures had to be made subtly, but Juno did not lack patience or time.
"I am easy to lift but hard to throw," the bronze eagle knocker echoed lazily as she arrived. "What am I?"
"A feather," she snorted, and the door swung open.
Mrs Norris was the first to greet her, lazily rubbing her grey head and neck on her ankles. Though all of her hackles seemed to be raised, it didn't take much for the girl to discover why as a wave of fear and trepidation slammed into her mind, forcing Juno to clamp down on her ability.
Harry and Diana were sitting in one of the chairs to the side. The boy was reading something that looked suspiciously like a third-year runes textbook… Of course, a majestic black serpent was lazily coiled around his shoulders.
"Potter," It was Rowan, looking all stern as he loomed over Harry while avoiding the triangular pitch-black head that tangled to Harry's chest and blinked around the room curiously. "You know that snakes and the like must be approved and registered with Flitwick?"
"Yep," the boy popped out nonchalantly while idly running his fingers under the serpent's chin. "I did so the very first morning."
The seventh-year prefect nodded stiffly and returned to his studies while a wave of complaints filled the room.
"Ah damn it, of course, Flitwick would favour Potter."
"He is the Boy-Who-Lived, after all-"
"A stroke of luck-"
"Maybe, but Potter has earned more points for our House in a month than you have in four years."
Juno pushed her way through the crowd and reached her friends. A few housemates lingered nearby but dared not approach the snake, and her cat was much the same, preferring to lounge by the fireplace.
"Potter," Davies, a third-year boy and one of Ravenclaw's chasers, approached cautiously. His eyes did not leave the snake, which looked like it would lunge forward and bite him. "Is it poisonous?"
"I haven't tried eating my familiar," Harry replied with a mocking lilt, making the older boy redden and earning himself a few jeers from the gathering crowd. "But Nyx here is harmless."
Eddie Carmichael, a second-year boy, didn't look convinced. "Is it venomous or not?"
"Nyx is a she and… dunno, I haven't tried," Harry shrugged with a devilish smile. "I have a bezoar in my pocket, though. If you wish, we could go to Pomfrey and test it for ourselves?"
"He doesn't look tasty, Harry!" The snake hissed out, to Juno's bewilderment. She had always spoken Parseltongue, but this was the first time Juno had seen a serpent understanding human speech. "And you told me not to bite any humans unless they attack me!"
The hiss made the older boy gulp and take two steps back, and Juno could finally take a closer look at the serpent preening under Harry's fingers. She was a majestic thing with beautiful inky-black scales, two small horns atop her head, and a dark zig-zag pattern on her back. Juno clamped down on her mind lest her abilities slip out - Parselmouths were regarded with mistrust and suspicion as much as the snakes themselves.
"Are you guys morons?" Diana exploded then. "It's just a pet; if Flitwick allowed it, it means there's no harm." The muggle-born girl did not look even slightly surprised at the snake for some reason, while Padma and Morag were cautiously eyeing the black-scaled serpent.
"Snakes are dangerous, Taylor," Clearwater warned. "It's not child's play like with regular pets."
"So are kneazles, owls, and dogs," Juno snorted. "They could just as easily send you to St. Mungo's, you know?"
"It is not the same-"
"I don't see the problem," she interrupted and walked over to Harry. "May I?"
"Sure," her friend agreed after a pregnant pause.
Nyx's black eyes curiously moved onto her offered limb, and the serpent wrapped around her wrist and slithered atop her shoulder as Juno ran her fingers through her inky black scales. It was hard to gauge her size, but Nyx was as thick as Juno's wrist, looked just shy of three feet in length, and was unexpectedly heavy.
"You're mental," Davies stabbed a finger at her, and many students murmured in agreement.
"To me, it looks like she's got more balls than you, Davies," an older girl snarked from the side of the room, making him flush red to the laughter of many.
Soon enough, the other students lost interest when they saw Juno wasn't bitten, although she suspected a rumour about her being mental would spread soon enough. Not that Juno would care much - being a Black always came with allegations of madness. Her eyes drank in Nyx's every feature. The serpent seemed to be some odd cross between a horned viper, an adder, and a black mamba - each more venomous than the last.
With a fond smile, Juno continued running her fingers around the inky snake. The area two inches behind her skull and under her chin seemed to be her favourite. Oddly enough, even the scales on her belly were pitch black and delicate.
"Your magic tastes nice," Nyx lazily hissed under Juno's hand as she turned to her owner. "I like this two-legs, Harry!"
Harry regarded her with a heavy, piercing look, and she couldn't help but wonder why her friend was keeping such a dangerous and intelligent serpent without any fear.
3rd of April, Friday
After a month of vigilance, he had grown sloppy. A bunch of older Slytherins had cornered him outside the castle grounds when nobody was looking.
"Sho," Ron groaned dizzily as he swayed like a pendulum, his legs tied up with a conjured rope to the branch above. His tongue was swollen like a balloon, and his nose was broken. "Whash you' pro'lem?!"
"Your brothers are an annoyance," Montague smirked nastily, and the other older Slytherins nodded in agreement. "And, well, you shouldn't have broken poor Orwell's nose."
His body ached from all the stinging hexes and boiling jinxes that had landed upon him. The cold breeze and the lack of robes would have disturbed him if Ron hadn't been so bloody done with it all. And well, it was almost a warm breeze compared to having Petrov drag him to cut up trolls and other beasts in the darkness of the night.
"You shtarted the fight, you bunch of shlimy pillocksh!"
"Merlin, look at him waving his fist like some muggle," another older Slytherin jeered. It was all Ron could do as they stayed five yards away, and his robes and wand were on the ground, out of reach.
"I say we hex him a few more times-"
"Wait, are you mad? Any more, and we might get into serious trouble!"
"It's just a blood traitor-"
"The bloody Weasleys are close to Dumbledore, Leo."
"Yeah, you're right," Montague agreed with a frown. "Any more, even the headmaster won't be willing to think this a schoolyard spat."
"Why don't we just obliviate the firstie? Beat him up a bit more, and he won't even remember who?" A mean-looking boy with ratty hair laughed, making Ron's spine crawl.
"Obliviation takes more talent and practise than you have, you lout. Unless you know what you're doing, Weasley might just forget what he had for breakfast five days ago."
"Merlin, do you fools want to spend time in bloody Azkaban? Obliviation is a crime; it will be investigated, and he has five bloody brothers, too! And who knows how many cousins."
"Forget it, Weasley ain't worth the risk. Let's go," Montague corralled the rest of them away, and Ron groaned out an angry sigh of relief, even if he was dizzy.
Now that the adrenaline was gone, the welts and bruises across his body started aching painfully, and breathing became cumbersome. He felt silly and helpless, hanging at the edge of the grounds like a burlap sack.
The world ain't fair, boy.
Petrov's words echoed in his mind, and Ron couldn't help but agree. What was he supposed to do, though?
Get stronger, and stack all the possible odds in your favour.
Ron kept cursing for a few more minutes, but it only made him dizzier as the sky outside started darkening, and the chill deepened. At that moment, he finally noticed the rope around his legs was tied with a knot.
It took him some struggle, but Ron swung up like a pendulum until he could grab the rope. His numb fingers took another minute to untie the knot. His joy was short-lived as Ron's face painfully met the cold, hard ground, and the air was knocked out from his lungs as he rolled onto the roots and dirt. The world kept spinning for a few more heartbeats until Ron could gather and shakily stand up.
"Bl'dy bollocksh," he groaned as he pulled over his tattered robes and grabbed his wand. Thankfully, it wasn't broken - even the Slytherins weren't stupid enough to do something illegal. At least he had managed to avoid biting his swollen tongue.
"Oh," the new voice had him spinning around, which only made him dizzier as Ron fell on his arse again, cursing the Slytherins. "You look quite banged up."
"W'o 'r you?" Ron muttered suspiciously at the older Hufflepuff girl. She was tall, had braided caramel hair, and looked at him with a heavy frown.
Damn it, Ron was too tired to fight again, and he wasn't supposed to hit girls, according to his dad.
"I'm a prefect," she patted the badge on her chest, and all he could do was blink. He hadn't done anything wrong; why was a prefect coming after him? "Some firstie snake said you were in trouble, and I daresay he was right."
It only made Ron squint suspiciously, "S'th'rin?"
"Yeah, the Greengrass boy. I thought he was pulling my leg, to be honest," the girl confessed, and the boy couldn't help but feel numb. Damien watching his back was oddly reassuring, and he ought to thank the boy later. The girl took out her wand, and Ron flinched away, but she was faster. "Episkey!"
His nose hurt less suddenly, and his tongue no longer felt as swollen. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it." The Hufflepuff girl gazed at him with kind eyes, and Ron couldn't help but shuffle awkwardly; he had never spoken to an older girl before, especially one who did not look at him like he was an annoyance. "So, care to share what happened?"
Ron was about to say he had tripped down. Swapping the whole thing under the rug was a no-brainer, but then he remembered Petrov's gruff advice.
Stack all the odds in your favour.
"Errr, I got attacked by a few older Slytherins-" It would immediately brand him as a snitch to confess to the professors and prefects, but Ron was too fed up to care anymore. None of his housemates ever bothered to help him, so he didn't care what they'd think of him for doing so.
Not anymore.
His weekly meditation to cleanse his mind of the Death Stick's influence had been interrupted most unpleasantly.
It had been a while since the headmaster's office had been so full. The Weasley twins shifted uneasily from side to side, along with young Ronald. Arthur had also been called in, face unreadable. The seven Slytherin boys were to the other side, with all their parents present, and Minerva and Horace stood between the two groups, looking profoundly disappointed.
"Come on, Dumbledore." Arnold Botley spoke first, the father of Orwell Botley and a duelist with some international renown but no big titles under his belt. "You can't believe the word of one boy. Arthur's kid probably tripped and fell!"
"It's just a schoolyard spat," Richard Montague added, hand on his son's shoulder. "Boys exchanging heated words and a jinx or two is nothing new."
"That is true," Arthur agreed, yet his fists were balled so hard his knuckles had turned white. "But seven against one, Richard?"
"He came out fine, didn't he?" Higg's father waved at Ronald, who was looking at his feet. "It took Pomfrey fifteen minutes to fix the boy, and your twins are ten times the nuisance if half the things I hear are true."
"Why you-"
"Silence!" Dumbledore thundered, and everyone froze. "I have seen for myself the memories of young Ronald. I have not yet grown senile so that a young boy could deceive me. See them for yourself if you desire."
He generously motioned his hand towards his swirling pensive, but none dared to take up his offer. "My decision has been made, and you are here to be officially informed. Messrs Weasley, Botley, Montague, Bole, Derrick, Brogins, Higgs, and Tyndall shall be suspended for a week and have detention until the end of the school year."
"You can't-"
"You do not tell me what I can or cannot do in my school, Richard," Dumbledore rumbled, choking the room with his magic, and all of them paled. His nonchalant and friendly demeanour and tolerance for mischief seemed to be mistaken for weakness all too often lately. "In addition, the nine of them will be barred from participating in club activities for a year and will lose wand privileges outside their classrooms."
"But… what about Quidditch, professor?" Fred Weasley asked faintly. He, his twin, and the four Slytherin boys had all gone pale.
"We haven't done anything wrong," George protested.
"Nothing wrong?" Dumbledore smiled wryly. "Perhaps I can refresh your memory. How about sabotaging the Slytherin team several times before practice? Before the morning training, you slipped laxative potions into Mr Higgs' breakfast the second week of February. Ten days later, some of their brooms and bats were jinxed. There are a few more incidents that I won't share in polite company. I'm old, not senile, my dear boy."
The ugly picture unravelled with each accusation from both sides. Albus had been forced to test his mind to the limit to sense truthfulness from falsehood. Portraits, ghosts, and house elves had been leveraged to clear up things for this fiasco.
"Things like that can get you banned from Quidditch for life, boys," Arthur looked particularly disappointed with his twins. "I expected better."
Fred wanted to retort something, but his twin elbowed him, and their heads sagged in defeat.
Dumbledore sighed. "Let us not forget poor Melony Burke, who spent a few days in the hospital wing just before Samhain because of you two. Elise Farlyn, who slipped down the stairs, could have broken her neck in September. Eloise Midgeon had to spend some time in St. Mungo's to be treated from the beautifying potion you two offered her in January. And… need I list everything else?"
Arthur's face grew darker with each sentence, and both Weasley twins bowed their heads further; at least they had the sense not to deny it. Truth be told, Dumbledore didn't mind some mischief and the like, but the two boys had started getting out of hand without any care about their younger brother.
None of what they had done was anything but silly, childish pranks. Alone and by each other, Dumbledore could forgive them. He'd be able to dole out some detentions or dock house points. It was the escalation that bothered him greatly, and regular punishments had proved woefully ineffective. This was a good moment to halt things and remind the public that Albus Dumbledore had not gone soft with age.
If he only punished the Slytherins while closing his eyes to the many problems Fred and George Weasley had been stubbornly causing, the Slytherins would lose faith in their headmaster. It was one thing to be angry; Albus had often been victim to bouts of fury and pride in his youth.
He could forgive some mischief in the heat of the moment or the posturing and squabbling children ought to do. But when that anger turned into a weapon? A sharp tool which cleaved both ways sooner or later?
Such a thing would not do. Not here. Not at Hogwarts, where help should've always been available to those who asked for it.
"Banning our boys from Quidditch is unfair," Edrick Higgs protested. "They took part in no such sabotage!"
"That is true," Dumbledore lied with a sharp smile, looking from the Weasley twins to the Slytherin boys. It was, in fact, not true, but he was tired of all this childish bickering over nonsense and released the tight leash he always maintained on his magic, drowning the room. Reason didn't work with the young and the foolish, but power did. "Yet neither of them came to myself or Horace with their problems. For all of your sake, I hope none of you find your way to my office in such a fashion again."
The students were pale and wobbly, close to fainting under the pressure despite not bearing the brunt of it, and their parents were all sweating. Sighing internally, Albus halted, pulling back all of his magic and returning the kind, grandfatherly smile to his face.
Now, they would know he was not paying lip service anymore. Old, but not weak nor feeble. The next heavy infraction after the suspension was the expulsion and snapping of the wand. Even if the children were moved to another school and bought new wands, Dumbledore had enough pull to write a letter of denouncement to every magical academy - from Castelbruxo to Koldovstoretz. Being expelled from Hogwarts could not easily be covered up. Such threats need not be said, but the parents… the parents would know.
Fawkes thrilled softly, but his attempt to uplift the atmosphere in the room only made Dumbledore feel worse.
April 9th, Thursday
Hermione rejoiced after the headmaster finally did something about the two red-haired menaces. Fred and George Weasley's suspension would end tomorrow, and she wondered if the headmaster's punishment would finally teach the two to focus on their studies rather than being nuisances.
The memory of trying to wash out the stench from her hair for hours after being stuck with a dung bomb to her face was something Hermione would never forget.
Ronald Weasley had become almost a pariah in Gryffindor for snitching and getting his brothers suspended from the Quidditch team, which was silly. The Slytherins were also pissy about losing half of their Quidditch players. The House of the Snakes had fallen to third place in House Points, far behind the Hufflepuffs.
But… nobody dared to make any trouble anymore. The occasional jinx and hex between the two Gryffindors and Slytherins were gone, and taunts and jeers took their place; regardless, both houses were more busy rallying themselves to restore some of their previous points and standing.
However, everything else was not going half as well. Potter's advice infuriated Hermione - as if the Ravenclaw boy thought she was stupid.
Maybe… maybe she was. No matter how hard Hermione studied and practised, the ease with which Harry Potter outdid her in classwork, grades, and even Defense duels irked her. It made all of her effort and smarts feel inadequate.
The Boy Who Lived had more experience than she could - he had doubtlessly trained for years now.
It left Hermione with no other choice.
"I mean… why is being first so important to you?" Sophie asked quietly. "You're already getting an Outstanding on every subject aside from Defence practicals. Even that Greengrass boy is behind you in total grade now. More than enough to pass the year."
"I just like being first," Hermione replied stubbornly as they finally arrived on the second floor. "Potter and Lestrange had received tutoring in magic since they were young, and it's unfair to the rest of us."
The coltish girl nodded along. "But do you think Professor Quirrell will agree to help you?"
"He did say the doors of his office were always open to students before dinner hours." Asking for additional help from the teachers rankled her fiercely, but not as much as Potter or Lestrange.
Soon enough, they passed by Myrtle's bathroom and faced a pale, lacquered doorway with a silver knocker the shape of two crossed wands.
Pushing down her apprehension, Hermione reached out and knocked.
"Enter," Quirrell's silky voice invited them in.
It was the first time she had entered his office. It was an ordered room, walls covered with shelves heavy with books, and the professor sat behind a rustic-looking desk.
"Professor," she greeted, throat dry under his charming smile. God, he was even more handsome up close!
"Miss Granger, Miss Roper, take a seat. Tea?" They shook their heads as they sat on the soft chairs before his desk. "Now, what brings the two of you to my office?"
"We've been wondering if we could get some tips on how to improve," Hermione admitted begrudgingly.
"It depends on what you want to improve."
The amused response made her pause to rearrange her thoughts better. "Duelling. Potter and Lestrange trounce anyone in Defense without even trying!"
"Duelling is a complex thing," Quirrell began slowly. "Entirely different from fighting. But do you wish to be a powerful duelist, fighter, or simply a witch?"
"There's a difference?" Sophie asked timidly.
That earned them another charming smile. "A vast one. Duelling is for show, and fighting is a matter of life and death. Every powerful fighter would be a formidable wizard or witch, but the reverse is untrue. Alas, you lack something essential. Instinct."
"Instinct?" Hermione parroted, confused.
"Why yes, Miss Granger." Quirrell took out his wand and slowly spun it between his fingers. "Everyone can learn powerful spells with enough persistence. But the instinct to fight is rare."
She frowned at the response. Would Hermione be forever a second fiddle to Potter?
"Can't we-"
A white spell burst out of Quirrell's wand, and the roof of her mouth suddenly stuck her tongue; Sophie was not different, blinking around in confusion and gaping like a fish, yet all they could do was grunt.
"Missus Lestrange and Mr Potter would be cautious of a drawn wand no matter what, and I daresay that they would have tried to avoid the spell."
He snapped his fingers, and Hermione could talk again.
"But why would they expect a teacher to attack them!"
"Because neither of them trusts any of the teachers," Quirrell smiled thinly. "And even if they did, they have the caution. It's common sense to beware of a drawn wand. Who do you think is the most dangerous person in this school?"
"Everyone says Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard," Sophie mumbled weakly.
The professor looked at the two of them with pity in a way that rankled Hermione. "But I didn't ask everyone. I asked you who is the most dangerous."
"Grigori Petrov," she answered without hesitation. "Rumour says he was a killer." The caretaker always looked like he was up to something, a feeling Hermione couldn't shake.
"A dangerous man forced upon us by the Board of the Governors for sure, and he's not afraid to show it," Quirrell agreed. "Yet he's only a distant fifth in the castle, I'm afraid. But I do not think you care one whit about fighting or power. The real question, Miss Granger?"
Hermione flushed. "C-can you teach us to beat Potter and Lestrange?"
"Or at least some advice," Sophie coughed.
"I most certainly can, but why should I?" The two of them gaped at his cold words.
"Because… we asked for help, and you're our teacher?" Hermione offered weakly.
"I would gladly help the two of you with schoolwork, but this is not what you're requesting of me." He shook his head. "You two lack the determination."
"Our resolve is strong!" The words sounded weak under Quirrell's unimpressed face.
"You have a dogged persistence that would get you far, Miss Granger. Yet a petty school rivalry is not enough. Harry Potter is dangerous because he does not trust anyone but himself and hates being weak. Juno Lestrange is much the same because she has to be, or the weight of House Black would bury her beneath its colossal weight. For both, it's a matter of life or death, and they are not distracted by trifles."
"But they're just kids in school," Sophie muttered. "Like the two of us."
"So was our illustrious headmaster back in the day. I'm too busy to take on one apprentice right now, let alone two, and neither of you has earned such an honour," Quirrell responded bluntly and leaned forward, looming over them. "I shall give you some advice, however. No witch or wizard can be master of all trades… unless they live forever, of course. Play to your talents, find a worthy goal you desire, and forget about mundane distractions. Do you want to dive into the depths of the arcane, or are you content with just learning a few books and being first in your year?"
The following silence was deafening, and even Hermione wasn't sure what to ask anymore. Quirrell's words had struck into her very being. Then, the Divination professor entered the office, and the two girls were politely chased away.
The conversation left the two of them only more confused. Neither Hermione nor Sophie said a word for the rest of the day. She couldn't help but wonder… What did she truly want to do in life?
The fact no answer came to Hermione's mind scared her greatly.
Only after the evening had come and the bushy-haired girl was in her bed that another question arose in her mind. If Grigori Petrov was the fifth most dangerous person in Hogwarts… who were the other four?
Author's Endnote:
Starring:
Harry 'I-should-probably-stop-hiding-my-snek-from-everyone' Potter, Ron 'I smack 'em in the nose, but they keep coming at me with numbers!' Weasley, Nymphadora 'What-the-fk-are-they-feeding-those-firsties-these-days?!' Tonks, Juno, 'I have plans n' stuff, but poisonous snakes are cool~!' Lestrange, Hermione 'What-am-I-to-do-with-my-life-now?!' Granger, Quirinus 'Can you handle the truth, child?' Quirrell and Albus 'Pipe-down!' Dumbledore
Now, a side note - Dumbledore gave up on fairness or such bollocks and just wants to nip any escalation in the bud. Especially now, and this is why he's being heavy-handed with both sides despite personal biases. It wouldn't have even gone that far if Ronnie Boy wasn't fed up with taking the flack for the Twins' constant pranks, and Nymphadora brought him straight to the headmaster. As you see, he was perfectly ready to sweep it all under the rug. I am aware that the British humour in the early nineties can look outright cruel, and added to the fact that wizards don't have the same sense of damage/danger that normal folks do… yeah.
Lastly, everything is an unreliable narrator - the character's thoughts are subjective and their own.
Overall… I'm happy with how this chapter turned out.
Lastly, a list of the new OCs in this chapter -
Orwell Botley is the older Slytherin boy who got decked by Ron. Arnold Botley is his father. Richard Montague is Montague's father. Edrick Higgs is Higgs's father.
I update a chapter every two weeks(Thursday or Friday)! You can find me on my discord(dgj93pNeAD), where you can read ahead or simply come chat or ask me or others some questions.