Ascension 29

“Weasley’s dad actually punched Malfoy?!”

“Right on his nose,” Harry nodded, petting Sgàil on his head as he fed it an almond, the little black bird nuzzling his fingers slightly, “it was Hagrid who pulled him back, and after a comment, Malfoy left the bookstore with Draco.”

“Damn,” Tracy breathed, leaning forwards to look him in the eyes, her irises wide and disbelieving, “Who knew the muggle-lover had a pair on him?!”

“Certainly not you,” Daphne rolled her eyes, looking up from the book she was reading to at the brunette, “Arthur Weasley has no way of harming Lucius Malfoy, and with how unruly and muggle-infatuated he is, I doubt that raising his wand even crossed his mind. Plus, it is natural for someone to react physically when angry.”

“I hate it when you act all smart and wise,” came the reply as Tracey stuck her tongue out at Daphne, before looking at Persephone, “Thank Merlin there is someone much more talkable in the dorms, otherwise I would have gone grey by now.”

“Parkinson not to your liking, eh Tracey?”

“Please,” the bubbly girl rolled her eyes, and the girl beside her cringed visibly, “Parkinson looks like a pug kicked by its master and denied its dinner—which, may in fact be true with how Malfoy keeps her at an arm's length. The only conversation one can have with her is about fashion magazines and how she doesn’t like Granger and Abbott.”

“Granger I can understand, but what’s the deal with Abbott?” Persephone asked from where she was lounging against the window, turning her head from the countryside towards her friend, waving a hand towards where she had seen the Abbott Heiress wal earlier, “She is a pureblood, isn’t she?”

“It isn’t about blood,” Daphne shook her head, “Abbott’s manor had been attacked by the Death Eaters just a few nights before the Dark Lord fell. Her uncle killed Parkinson’s father and older brother that night, and the wands captured that night were enough to convict the whole Parkinson house. More than half of their wealth was seized by the Ministry as a result.”

“That would explain it,” Persephone sighed, closing her to lean back against the seat, “we have not reached Hogwarts yet, and I am already tired. Merlin knows what the reast of the year is going to be like.”

“It is going to be amazing, have you seen who is teaching DADA this year?!” Tracey gushed, “Lockhart is perfect for the post…and he is so handsome! Did you know he once stopped dragonfire with just a protego maxima?”

“It was an Aegis regium,” Daphne muttered absentmindedly, turning another page in her book. A moment later, she looked up to find the three of them staring at her, “What?”

“You didn’t seem like you would be one of his fangirls," Harry shrugged, hastily correcting himself as he saw the way her eyes narrowed, “Not that it's bad, I just didn’t expect it!”

“I am not a fangirl,” she sniffed, “But I just like to read about his exploits, as he is amongst the best Magizoologists, and creature handlers in the world…and he is handsome.”

“Of course you do,” Tracey nodded theatrically, sighing as she closed her eyes and put a hand to her forehead, “Circe forbid Daphne has a crush on anyone, let alone the most handsome man in the country.”

Daphne’s silencing charm was much quicker than the last time.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It is wonderful to have you back in Hogwarts,” DUmbledore’s cheery, loud voice echoed in the Great Hall, silencing the loud conversation going on across the tables as every student turned towards the Headmaster, his beard somehow gleaming more than the silverware in front of them, “Another day without all of you shouting like leprechauns, and I would have gone, as dear Mr. Weasley so succinctly put it, barmy.”

Choking on his sip of water, Ron lowered hsi eyes as Hermione gave him a glare so fierce that if she was a Gorgon, Ron was sure he would have turned to stone. Besides him, Seamus and Neville both chuckled as a wave of laughter rippled through the hall, and he hesitantly smiled as both Fred and George gave him a cheerful wave. 

“How the hell did he hear me?!” he whispered to Neville, looking at the Headmaster worriedly, moving his eyes away as he caught the old wizard winking at him, “Blimey, he is one scary wizard.”

“Shh, he is about to speak again,” Hermione kicked his shin under the table, and Ron winced as she connected with the bruise on his leg, however, before he could protest, Dumbledore resumed his speech, blowing a trumpet out of his wand to silence them all.

“Now now, I am sure Mr. Weasley meant it in jest, but his particular usage of words is not why I am interrupting your dinner,” he spoke, smiling widely as he raised his glass of wine, “Today marks a historic event in the halls of Hogwarts, for never have we received the honor of hosting such a decorated, skill person as a teacher amongst us! Everyone, please welcome, Gilderoy Lockhart!”

With a bang, the doors of the hall burst open, and Ron turned with everyone to see their newest Defence against the Dark Arts professor walk in. As that day in the shop, Lockhart was smiling and grinning at everyone, adn he rolled his eyes as he saw every girl adn witch literally swoon out of their minds at the ponce’s sight. “I dunno what they see in him,” he heard Seamus whisper from his side, and Ron silently agreed with the Irish wizard, glaring distastefully at the shining robes, and the even more shiny hair bouncing song between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables towards Dumbledore. “Girls don’t have a brain idiot,” he said softly, as the whole Great Hall echoed with cheers and shouts, mainly from the witches as some even stood up on their seats to take a better look at the ma—wow, Abbott had actually fainted!

“Please autograph my robes Sir!”

“Will you sign my books?!”

“Can I have your kid-mmph!”

Ron cringed at the last one, and even more when he caught sight of McGonagall staring at their table like she was going to chew them into a paste, her eyes lingering on the seventh-year girls as she silently took a sip from her goblet. “They are dead,” he snorted, turning his eyes back to the git slowly walking towards Head Table, bowing and smiling at every single one in his way at a snailspace, “Ugh! Tell him to get a move on, we aren’t here to watch him show off!”

“He is a celebrity, he is going to show off,” Neville muttered, spearing a carrot with his fork as Lockhart finally reached the Head Table, giving a shallow bow to Dumbledore before turning around to look at them all, his arms spread as if to hug them, “and here comes his speech. Merlin, I hope it is shorter than the book signing.”

“Well, good evening to you all,” Lockhart’s voice echoed in the Great Hall a moment later as everyone focused back on the man, and somehow, even though Ron was halfway down the Gryffindor table, he could still see the twinkle in Lockhart’s eyes as the man grinned widely, “its good to be back in these walls, especially to teach and guide you all in a field that is probably more important than any other. I hope you all have brought the books that were listed in the syllabus though, it will be hard to go over every bit and piece of DADA without them. Now, I understand that every one of you, especially the fifth adn seventh years have had a lot of inconsistency in your Defence lessons over the years, and as the Headmaster informed me, the seventh years are especially underprepared for their NEWTS. As such, from tomorrow morning onwards, there is going to be a slight change in your schedules, approved by the Headmaster and the Heads of the Houses. Until I deem the seventh and fifth years to be upto the mark in their practical applications of the DADA curriculum, they shall have an extra class in the morning, or in the evening, based on their timetables.”

Instantly, groans of protest rose across the table as one, and even the most studious of the students started shouting for the classes to be canceled…and Ron could fully sympathize with them. Having to study before breakfast, and that too after waking up early was pure torture. But it wasn’t him that was going to be tortured, he realised with a sigh of relief. By the time he came to his fifth year, Lockhart would be long gone anyw-

“It's not fair,” Brown's angry whisper reached his ears, and as one, the rest of them turned towards the always laughing girl, only to find her glaring in Lockhart’s direction.

“What’s not?” Hermione asked, “You wanted extra classes too?”

“No,” the blond pouted, sullenly staring down at her food before she looked up, and Ron nearly cringed at the sight of the wetness in her eyes, “But Abella is going to be insufferable now, since she is in her fifth year and will have extra time with Lockhart.”

And that was the day, Ron realized, that Lavender Brown was absolutely bonkers.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Welcome to another year of Charms,” Professor Flitwick’s cheery voice floated through the air in a distorted, warbled tone, and Persephone looked up along with the rest of the class as the half-goblin wizard floated down…submerged in a globe of water of all things, “Hope you all had pleasant holidays! But that doesn’t mean you slack off, not in the slightest. So therefore, today we are going to revise the last year's charms and spells before we move on to the first task of the second year, the Aqua Orsus. Now, who can show me the Wingardium Leviosa, and move these books to the back of the classroom…all at once!”

The next moment, her wand snapped up, and she silently targeted the stack closest to her, easily levitating the textbooks through the air and maze of flying, falling books toward the indicated tables. Harry was right behind her, and she gave him an irritated smack as she caught him trying to topple her stack out of the air, his books moving and swerving towards her constantly. “Will you stop that?” she frowned, pinching his side, only for her young-older brother—and wasn’t that bloody weird now—to shift away with a grin, and his stack to slam against hers, shaking the topmost book off to the side, “Dammit Harry! Stop this game!”

“Make me, little sister,” the git had the gall to laugh as he flicked his wand once, and his stack shot towards the tables, landing with a thump on the ancient, rickety surface, “Oh, you lost.”

“Yo-”

“Since when can you do silent casting?!” Daphne’s voice overrode her own, loud enough that everyone looked towards them, from the Professor to the Gryffindors sitting the furthest away, and everyone’s eyes widened as they caught onto the witch’s words. Murmurs sprang up amongst the class immediately, and both Harry and her turned to each other, eyes slightly wide as they debated what to do. It was futile to brush off Daphne’s words now, especially since it would lead to their friend being made fun off, especially by Pansy and Draco…and it wasn’t as if they weren’t known for being good at magic already. And as if that was the cue for the two said Slytherins, Draco’s scoff echoed in the silence as he rolled his eyes from behind them.

“Silent casting? Have you lost your senses after staying with them for so long Greengrass, that you have begun hallucinating?”, Malfoy drawled, “Silent casting? That too by these two?”

“Hallucinations aren’t a good topic after your own place at Kastro Marvos turned out to be one, are they?” Daphne shot back, and Persephone had to hold back her laugh—she didn’t want to antagonise anyone more than her existence already did, but the rest of the class had no such worries. Chuckles and snorts were heard throughout the students, and she was half sure that even Pansy had let out a little giggle amidst the others.

“That enough Ms. Greengrass, Mr. Malfoy,” Professor Flitwick frowned, giving both the Slytherins a look before he floated over to them, his expression turning joyful once again as he looked at their respective stacks of books, “Well, is Ms. Greengrass correct, Mr and Ms. Potter?”

Sharing a look with Harry, Persephone just turned her eyes towards the book that had fallen on the floor, pointing ehr wand at it, and with a silent demand to her magic, she raised it into the air. Hearing the gasps of shock and the murmurs that followed, Persephone felt something she had seldom felt in her short life.

Pride.

And it was with that feeling of pride that she looked at the other five books, and lifted them into the air, moving and floating them around each other in swirls and circles. A moment later, she brought them to a stop right before Professor Flitwick, once again arranging them in a neat stack. The next second, her brother raised his own stack into the air, bringing it to a stop right beside hers.

“Marvelous, fifty points each to Slytherin for exemplary display of magical control and advanced understanding of concepts,” he beamed at them, flicking his wand to send their books shooting back towards the tables, before he lowered himself to look them both in the eyes properly, “Quite wonderful, Mr. and Ms. Potter. I see the Lord Black’s guidance and guardianship have done you both good. Keep it up, but do remember, silent casting gets more perilous the more complicated the magic you are attempting is. Charms like these are fine, but I would recommend caution for anything from the second year onwards, especially Transfiguration. A simple lapse in your control and thoughts can lead to serious injuries.”

“Yes Professor,” she nodded, lowering her eyes as she felt a smile threaten to break out across her face. It had been more than a year since they had escaped the Dursleys—killed them, a fleeting whisper in the back of her mind whispered, and since then, things had drastically improved for them both. Sure, they were still pariahs in this new society, and still had to hear whispers or promises of violence and revenge, but it was far, far better than what they had at in the Little Whinging. Yet, even after all this, hearing actual, meaningful praise and compliments was something that still made her feel like she was in a weird dream, which back in Number 40, had usually ended with Petunia or Vernon banging on their little door and demanding them to cook the ‘bloody breakfast’.

Humming a little, Flitwick turned around and looked at the rest of the class, “Well? What are you waiting for? Your assessment is still pending! And for Merlin’s sake, don’t try to copy them Mr. Finnega-”

“OW!”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Welcome, to Defence against the Dark Arts,” their newest Professor’s voice echoed in the room, and Neville glanced up at the stairs where Gilderoy was standing—stairs that had been absent the last year. In fact, as he looked around, Neville realized that none of the things were as they had been during Profess-Voldemort’s time here as a teacher. The tables were brand new, and several portraits adorned the walls now…half of them depicting their Professor trouncing upon one creature or the other…while the other half; just showed him flashing his smile and golden hair. Walking down the spiraling steps, Lockhart looked at his portraits and chuckled with a roll of his eyes, “Don’t mind them, they are all silent, and completely non-interactive. Now, settle down, one Gryffindor and one Slytherin—and no Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom is not a Slytherin, so move towards where Mr. Goyle is sitting.”

Pausing for a moment as he set his bag down, Neville looked beside him at the pained expression on Ron’s face, before he sat down himself, wondering which Slytherin would be joining him for the lesson.

“Mind if I sit with you?”

“Sure,” he replied after a moment, closing his eyes as he shifted to the right, watching Harry place his bag down, “So, silent casting? Guess I shouldn’t be surprised after the wandless magic you performed back in the chamber last year.”

“It was more of an accidental thing that Persephone and I did,” he shook his head in response, and they both knew that Harry was lying through his teeth, “Levitating things is something we have doing for years, silent casting for Wingardium Leviosa was easy. But that doesn’t mean we can do everything that way…I still can’t silently cast a clypeus.”

“Guess Professor Quirrell should have included a little bit of that in your extra lessons,” a pleased voice spoke over their shoulders, and both of them turned their heads to find their newest Professor breathing down their necks, his blue flashing with satisfaction as he patted their shoulders and stood straight, “Should you impress me the way you impressed my predecessor, I wouldn’t be opposed to a few extra lessons of my own, Mr. Longbottom. For now, though, you all have fifteen minutes to go through the first chapter of the book that has been prescribed to you all, after which we begin today’s lesson proper.”

“Yes Professor,” the whole class echoed, and Lockhart nodded with a smile as he moved back towards his desk, sitting down upon the lavish chair with a flair of his shining robes.

“Do you he is actually a monster hunter?” Harry whispered after a few moments of silence, as they both simultaneously turned a page of their books, and Neville saw the reason for his question. Right there, on the front page, was a picture of Lockhart standing atop a dead Chort, black fumes still rising from the beast as Lockhart gave the Class XXXX beast a slap on its mouth, his robes as pristine as the ones he was wearing now, “How the hell as no one ever seen even a drop of blood on the guy? Or a single injury?!”

“Merlin knows, but the most prevailing theory and generally accepted fact is that he is just that good,” he muttered back, turning the page to find the title of the chapter. ‘Scandivanian Chort, a laugh too short…, “Who comes up with these names?”

“Neville Longbottom and the Dragon’s defeat?”

“Touche,” he rolled his eyes, shuddering as he remembered the latest catalog of drafts those infernal writers had brought to the Longbottom Manor. Apparently, Veelas and Vampire princesses were a thing, and of course, the fact that he was only twelve didn’t register with the drafters…who thought catering to the teenage and adult audience was enough to make him a fifteen-year-old, “How is your shoulder?”

“Its healed, but the scar won’t go away,” Harry answered, shifting the said shoulder slightly, “According to Grandfather, I am lucky Quirrell was so weakened by himself, otherwise there was a chance that his curse could have cut off my whole arm. I need to thank Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape too.”

“And Persephone?”

“She had a couple of broken ribs, and her skull had a couple of cracks, but it was fixed by Madam Pomfrey easily,” the raven-haired boy smiled slightly, his eyes turning towards his sister for a moment before he looked back at him, “Ar-Are you alright? I was falling unconscious, but I still saw you jum-”

“I am fine,” Neville cut him off quickly, pushing down the sensation of burning ash beneath his fingers deep down his mind as he turned back towards his book, “I did what I had to…and I am fine. He would have killed us all otherwise.”

“You are right,” Harry muttered, staring down at his hands as he clenched them into fists, and Neville saw out of the corner of his eye how the Slytherin took a deep, calming breath adn exhaled slowly, “But it gets easier over time, you know? If you feel any guilt or regret…you look at the people you saved, and then imagine what could have been the consequences of letting that man live…and it becomes easier.”

And that was the day, Neville Longbottom realised, that Harry and Persephone Potter had already killed someone.