Ascension 33

“Professor Lockhart, you are going to stop Slytherin’s monster, right?” “Hmm, what did you say Ms. Patil?” Harry watched the man turn around

“Professor Lockhart, you are going to stop Slytherin’s monster, right?”

“Hmm, what did you say Ms. Patil?” Harry watched the man turn around, stopping his demonstration of the Incendio spell as the Ravenclaw witch raised her hand.

“The Chamber of Secrets, Professor,” she replied, ducking her head as Lockhart walked over to her seat, and Harry sighed as he extinguished the budding flame at the tip of his wand, knowing that this lecture was gone now, in Lockhart’s lore of the Chamber and how he was going to defeat the monster. Even now, several weeks later, Harry and Persephone weren’t sure what to make of the man, and whether his deeds were true or not. Every agency and department in the world had looked into him over the years, especially after the man had claimed to have destroyed a Dementor, something not even Fiendfyre had been able to do. But yet, the doubt remained. Even Dumbledore was not left without the marks of the battles he had fought, with Voldemort clipping off one of his fingers a publicly known fact.

But Lockhart stood here, without a single blemish or mark of his countless gruesome fights against literal monsters.

“Ah well, it does not fall under my purview,” he shook his head, smiling genially, “Headmaster Dumbledore is looking into the matter himself, and I am sure that this is nothing but an ill-tasted prank from someone. Not everybody likes Filch now, do they?”

“Cho said that the message was painted in human blood,” Lisa Turpin spoke up, and instantly, a wave of murmurs swept across the classroom, “Is it true, Professor?”

“It was just paint Ms.Turpin,” he replied, before walking back towards his desk and leaning against it, “Now, as for the Chamber, it is just a myth, one of the hundreds that revolve around this castle and the Founders. Hundreds of attempts have been made to find it, but none have succeeded, some led by wizards for dozens of years. Headmaster Dumbledore himself has been in this castle for about a century now, to be honest, and I doubt there is a person alive who knows more about its secrets than him.”

“But there are newspaper clippings about the same happening half a century ago,” Tur[in frowned, and several students agreed, nodding vehemently and supporting the girl as she produced the said clippings from her bag, “Four students died, and several were petrified like Mrs.Norris, before the person was caught. However, the name was never disclosed, and it has been two weeks since the cat was petrified and we don’t know anything.”

“That is because it was nothing but a prank,” Lockhart chuckled, crossing his arms as he looked at them all, “There is no Heir of Slytherin, or a Chamber built by an ancient wizard in this school. If either of them were true, then I doubt the Heir to Salazar Slytherin would care about petrifying cats, instead of coming into the open and claiming what’s rightfully his.”

“There are legends,” Patil began again, her face turning towards them for a moment, and Harry sighed mentally as he realized where the girl was going, “of Salazar Slytherin having built the Chamber to house a great monster, to purge Hogwarts of muggleborns when the day came. Those four students that died…they were all muggleborns, Professor Lockhart…”

“And?” Lockhart leaned forwards, his face losing some of its amusement, “That’s not all you were going to say, Ms. Patil. Go on, continue.”

“Some of the Slytherin students…they have been proclaiming the same thing for the last two weeks, and it has only been increasing,” Boot, a half-blood by traditionalist definitions, and a pureblood by the newer one said, giving a flinty look to the smug looking Draco and his cohorts, “There has also been some harassing going on in the corridors and behind closed classrooms…mostly done by these so-called Purebloods.”

“I’d take care of how you speak about your betters Boot,” Draco’s smug voice floated through the classroom, and while everyone turned to look at the Malfoy Heir, Harry’s eyes never strayed from Lockhart’s face…and it was only because of that, that he caught eh flash of sheer rage that passed through the man’s eyes. It wasn’t easy to notice, but then again, he had lived with Vernon Dursley for the most part of his life. Gasps rang throughout the chamber, and for good reason. For while Draco had a history of bigoted comments adn snarks made in corridors, he had never had the gall to do so in front of a teacher…or at least, one that was not Snape, “For all we know, the Heir of Slytherin would hear it.”

“That’s enough,” Lockhart stood straight, uncrossing his arms and taking a step towards Draco’s seat, “I don’t know what kind of jokes you make outside this classroom, Mr. Malfoy, but you shall not make one more statement like that, or it will be fifty points and detention for a month. Are you clear on this?”

“Crystal Professor,” Draco lowered his head slightly, not at all chastised, “I was just worried about a classmate.”

“Hn, and as riveting as the tales and ancient fables surrounding Hogwarts are, the matter is being handled personally by the Headmaster, and even Deputy Headmistress Professor McGonagall,” Lockhart spoke with a sudden smile loudly, yet everybody heard the steel in the man’s voice, “You are second years, and need not concern yourselves with pranks made to spread misinformation and fear. And I think your top priority should be the Mid-term evaluations scheduled just three weeks from now.”

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“Its a shitstorm out there,” Tracey groaned as they all watched Draco zip through the air, laughing and he dropped below Angelina Johnson, one of the three Gryffindor Chasers, “They are only winning because of the 2001s.”

“A win is a win,” Daphne remarked, and yet she couldn’t help but narrow her eyes in distaste at the sight of the shiny, black brooms. She wasn’t against gaining advantages over her opponents, but she didn’t find it necessary to rub it in their faces, something Malfoy hadn’t ever learned, as the blond wizard continued to goad the Gryffindors by commenting about their lack of luck and finances, “I am surprised you two didn’t apply for the team.”

“Everybody knew Draco was going to be there, and I’d rather not be in the same room with him more than absolutely needed, “ Harry rolled his eyes, quietly sucking upon the candies Tracey had somehow procured ot of nowhere, and Daphne shuddered as she saw the shiny pink sweets. How they weren’t dealing with sore, swollen tongues and a ruined liver, she didn’t know in the slightest, “Besides, they would have won anyways. Draco is a better flier than the Gryffindor one easily. If Gryffindor doesn’t get a lead—which they have no chance of with those Cleansweeps and Thunderbirds, then Slytherin has already won this match.”

“I am more surprised Longbottom hasn’t been drafted into the team,” Persephone commented, and Daphne found herself turning her gaze towards the said wizard, finding him to be seated along with his two friends, the Boy-Who-Lived sitting with his arms crossed and his eyes upon the seekers.

“Must be his Grandmother, I guess. Quidditch is a dangerous and unpredictable sport.”

“Hmm, could be,” she nodded at Harry’s words, before turning towards him, “Let’s go. I’d rather not waste my time on a match as one-sided as this.”

“True enough,” he nodded as they both stood up, Persephone and Tracey following a moment later—though as always, Tracey gave qa long, suffering moan about it, sucking on those sickening sweets once again. Besides her, Harry shoved his hands in his robes and moved forwards, “I don’t know why Professor Sprout suddenly had us uproot the Amethysts this morning, my hands still hurt from those barbs.”

“My guess is that the Headmaster ordered her to plant some Mandragoras,” she answered, taking a glance at the distant greenhouses, “They are the only plants that can grow quick enough to counter complete petrification.”

“Still doesn’t answer that question of why it was a full garden.”

“Because they are expecting and preparing for more attacks,” Tracey spoke softly, and Daphne nodded at her words, mentally thanking Crice that Astoria still had a year till her time to come to Hogwarts. The next moment, a collective gasp from each and every student around them made her look up, her following their gazes to find Draco zipping through the wooden framework of the stands on the other side of the ground, the Gryffindor Seeker right behind him, while a bludger followed them, wrecking through beams and supports in its mad rush to catch up to the two players. 

The seakers weaved through the crisscrossing obstacles in their path, and even Daphne had to admit Draco’s skill as the Malfoy Heir skillfully rolled, ducked, and swerved around each wooden beam in his path, looking a dozen times more refined than the frazzled and almost bucking Gryffindor behind him. 

“For fucks sake, is that how wild a bludger can get?”

“Sometimes, if the tracking and seeking enchantments on it have been neglected for too long,” an amused voice from their left said, and Daphne’s eyes turned to stone as she turned her head, regarding Eveline Rookwood with all the murderous intent she could muster—which was brushed off by the older girl with a laugh, while her two stooges, Hestia and Flora Carrow simply looked at them with amused expressions, “Common Greengrass. Are you still hurt by that incident? We were children, get over it. No one was hurt, were they?”

“Malfoy looks like he has got the snitch,” Flora spoke, her brown eyes glinting with satisfaction, and that caused them all to turn towards the game again, Draco shooting up into the sky in a straight vertical. However, the next moment, Daphne found her eyes turning towards a streak behind him, as the bludger suddenly veered of course, almost barreling into one of the Slytherin chasers—and then shifting mid-air, changing directions towards the teacher’s box.

“What the fuck?” The grating, alarmed voice of the current commenter shouted into the mic, echoing all over the grounds as she saw the bludger shoot leftwards, zipping through the air erratically, almost bucking against itself as it drew closer and closer to the Gryffindor side of the stands, “That bludger has gone mad! Seems like someone is messing with the match, well beyond the douchebag that gifted seven ne-”

“That’s enough Mr. Hitch!”

McGonagall’s shout silenced the commentator, but yet, no one seemed to care as the bludger gained more and more speed, and maybe it was just a hunch, but her eyes shot towards where Longbottom had been sitting, finding the Longbottom Heir to be moving away from the stands, towards the top, his wand already brandished in his hand. “Why would a bludger target Longbottom?”

However, before they could answer that question, she saw the bludger ground to a halt in the air. As one, everyone looked towards the teacher’s box, only to find the teachers themselves looking surprised, with Flitwick and McGonagall standing with their wands half raised. At the same time, Dumbledore seemed to be smiling genially, his eyes looking at the top of the Gryffindor side of the stands, or more specifically, at Longbottom—who was pointing his wand at the bludger. Instantly, cheers went across the stadium, and even the game above stopped for a moment as even the seekers paused to view the spectacle.

The rogue bludger shuddered and vibrated in place, struggling with all the power of its enchantments against the hold Longbottom had on it. But yet, she watched, with a sense of awe growing in her, as the Boy-Who-Lived finally lived up to his name, beyond the propaganda and galas and the standard spellwork. For five seconds, she watched a second-year student hold a professional grade bludger still, forcing it to be stationary…and on the sixth, the bludger seemed to contract, before exploding into nothing but dust that rained down on the ground.

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“It was the Dragon-blaster!”

“No, you doofus, I heard Lavender say it was one of Dumbledore’s spells!”

“That’s not true!” she finally exclaimed, looking up from the Charms text she had been reading, her eyes looking at the surprised ones of the Ravenclaw girls before her, “It was just a Reductor!”

“Yeah no, it was a dragon blaster,” Chang rolled her eyes at her, before turning away with her posse to resume her gossiping, and Hermione almost groaned out loud in frustration. Why were people so stupid to believe every rumor they heard in this castle filled with a thousand different renditions of a simple event?!

“Hey Hermione, what are you doing?” Ron’s excited voice broke her out of her thoughts, adn she smiled motioning towards the stack of parchments and books by her.

“Researching about the Reductor spell, and I am trying to find out how Neville stopped that bludger in its tracks.”

“Oh, that?” he frowned, sitting down by her and glancing at the Charms and Defense books, before he shrugged and opened his own bag, taking out his quills and inkpot, “Must have been an impedimenta I think, or something like it.”

“You know it?” as surprised by the fact that Ron knew a spell she didn’t, as she was by the thought of him knowing one at all, “Is it taught at Hogwarts or is it one of those family spells?”

“I don’t know that Hermione,” Ron rolled his eyes, “I have seen Mom and Charlie use it at home. Same purpose too, though Mom once stopped Fred from banging his head on the window. It slows objects down, from what I saw.”

“But Neville stopped it completely!”

“Well, he is the Boy-Who-Lived!” the ginger laughed, shaking his head as if she was the one being stupid, “Wouldn’t be that if he did the same things as everyone else now, would he?”

“I guess,” she sighed, because as…illogical as that statement was, it made sense when it came to Neville. Over the year and a half she had known the world-famous celebrity wizard, he had shattered her expectations at every turn, whether it be his spellwork or even his written assignments, Neville had never come short of being the best—well, alongside the Potter twins when the practicals were counted. She had been hoping to befriend them at the start, but knowing who and what their parents were, she had immediately placed them with the likes of Malfoy in her eyes, especially when even several teachers and every student had treated them with caution, and outright hostility in some cases.

But then she had seen Neville associate with them, and Lord Black, a man who had vanished off the face of the Earth prior to the Blood War take them under his wing. Over time, from Neville’s own experiences with the twins, she had come to view them in a..much less hostile light. But yet, the trepidation about them lingered in her heart. However, even that had changed into gratitude for a moment when he had heard from Neville, how had been able to fight off Quirell only because the twins had been supporting him, distracting and protecting Neville when he faltered in that fight.

“-ey Hermione!” fingers snapped in front of her face, bringing her spiraling thoughts back to her friend, and she blinked finding Ron’s freckled face.. awfully close to her, especially since she could see the gravy at the corner of his lips, “What are you thinkin’ about? You spaced out for a while there.”

“You have gravy on your mouth,” she jerked back, narrowing her eyes as he simply swiped his tongue all around his lips, “That’s disgusting Ronald!”

“Oh shut up mom,” he groaned, before taking a look at her Charms homework, “Hey, can I copy?”

“You can’t,” she narrowed her eyes, but yet, she knew just as he did, that it was nothing but a token protest on her part. Because the sooner Ron copied the homework, the sooner he would stop bothering her and return to doing…whatever he did normally—which was mostly playing chess and reading Quidditch magazines, “...you have five minutes.”

“Thanks, Hermione!” Ron beamed, adn she sighed at his brightness as he quickly set about copying down her neat, clear cursive in a scratchy, ghastly way, “I’ll save you an extra tart tonight!”

“Don’t,” she shook her head, “I will be in the library. I want to learn this impedimenta spell, it sounds useful.”

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“I am starting to feel the chills now,” Harry muttered as they came by him, standing by one of the floating lanterns, his hands outstretched towards the dull white flames, “Bloody Hell, it is Binns the first thing. I might as well go to bed right now.”

“You are going to cut classes now?”

“Are we scored for attendance?” he asked, getting a silent hum from Tracey, while Persephone made to smack his arm, which he edged as he moved towards Daphne, “Haven’t ever heard anyone take attendance.”

“It is not appreciated by the teachers,” Daphne narrowed her eyes, “Or you try it with Professor McGonagall.”

“Well, she actually teaches,” he rolled his eyes at her, raising his wand and floating his bag towards himself—and even though she had seen them perform wingardium wordlessly, she was still caught off guard by how effortless it was for him, “Besides, I like transfiguration. I don’t like goblins. It's not that hard to understand.”

“Are you like…a creature hater or something?” Tracey whispered conspirationally, and Harry laughed, while the portrait to their left gasped, the centaur in it throwing them a dirty glower before he sped out of view. Her oblivious, and loudmouthed friend, on the other hand, leaned in closer to the boy, “Oh, the Heir to the Potter name is a known creature hater! What shall the world say!”

“Add it to the least of the crimes already committed by the said Potter name,” he chuckled, before rolling his eyes as Tracey faltered at his grim words, “It's a joke, Tracey. Don’t feel bad for something that isn’t your fault in the first place. It’s just how it is going to be for us, so the sooner we get to laughing about it, the easier it is for everyone. Besides, the worst of it has already passed.”

“That is because you are just living in Hogwarts for the most part, under the eye of the teachers,” Daphne said, shaking her head, remembering the words her parents had said to her when they had first learned of her decision to befriend the Potters, “Once the third year starts, the real interactions will begin. And only then will you learn the true extent of what one thinks about you. Hogsmeade, Wizengamot, the wider world…nothing truly has reach-”

“All students are to remain in the commons rooms, and those who are already on their way to the Great Hall, enter your nearest classrooms,” Professor McGonagall’s voice suddenly blasted throughout the common room. She watched everyone look all around them for the source, as murmurs swept through the chamber about why she woul-oh Merlin! As if confirming her thoughts, she heard the Deputy Headmistress take a deep breath, “Neville Longbottom, Ronald Weasley…kindly come to the portrait of the Gryffindor commons, The Head Boy shall be awaiting you there.”

“Granger,” she breathed out, the air suddenly turning a chilling, biting cold as she saw Tracey’s gasp, while both Persephone and Harry shared a look. Whatever had attacked Mrs. Norris, it had gotten Granger too…and the fact that it was not a harmless, ill-thought prank anymore seeped into her thoughts, along with the fact that Granger was a muggle-born.

The thought that the Chamber was just a fable..it didn’t seem that solid anymore.