It's eerie how things still echo canon. Watching Snape bully Harry? Honestly, I just feel sorry for him. He really needs to grow up.
Classes have been tame. I put my all into last year learning the basics, so I pretty much know most of these beginning lessons. At least it's a good review.
It's Wednesday. Astronomy's my only class tonight. This is why I am in an unused music room programming more songs using Sonorus Harmonia. Everyone needs a hobby, and music is a great stress reliever.
The corridor outside the unused music room is quiet. Too quiet.
I step out, letting the heavy wooden door drift shut behind me. My footsteps echo softly in the afternoon light, a calm rhythm in the silence.
Then I hear it.
Three more footsteps. Too close. Too casual.
I do not glance back.
I already caught them watching me during lunch. One of them, a stocky third-year with too much ego and not enough wand control, kept glancing my way like he expected me to flinch. I did not.
Now they are following me. Sloppy. Predictable.
I turn left, then right, weaving through empty corridors until I reach what I am looking for. A short, narrow hallway that ends in a cold stone archway. No portraits. No escape routes. Only one way in. One way out.
Perfect.
I stop.
Wait.
The footsteps grow louder. Less cautious. One of them snickers. Another cracks his knuckles like we are about to square off in a back alley.
I let them have their moment.
"Hey, Rosier."
I turn, slow and steady.
Three of them. Older. Confident.
Fake confidence.
The tallest steps forward, wand already in hand. "We heard you think you're better than the rest of us. Just because you've got a fancy name and a sharp tongue."
I tilt my head. "That is what you heard?"
"Malfoy says you need reminding how things work."
Of course he does.
I smile, small and knowing. "You boys ever play chess?"
They look at each other. Confused. Good.
"Let me give you some advice," I say calmly. "Do not be the piece someone else sacrifices."
The stocky one snarls and flicks his wand.
"Expelli—"
My wand is already in motion.
"Expelliarmus."
His wand flies from his hand and clatters against the wall. I do not look away from the others.
The second moves. Too slow.
"Stupefy."
He hits the ground, robes billowing as he slides out cold.
The last one hesitates. His eyes go wide. Sweat beads at his temple.
Smart.
I take a step closer, wand lowered.
"You can throw a curse," I say, voice even. "But here is what you do not understand. I have already won. You walked into the wrong hallway. You followed the wrong orders. And now everyone who matters will know you lost to a first-year."
I let the words hang. Let them settle.
Then I turn my back on him, pick up the wand from the floor, and hand it back with a polite smile.
"Tell Draco," I say, "he should pick better pawns."
I walk away, leaving him frozen in place.
Making my way down to the dungeons, I wonder if I should retaliate in some way, but honestly, I can't manage the energy to care.
By the time I get back to my dorm, the common room is buzzing with whispers.
Word travels fast.
I ignore it. The fight's already done. I have other things to focus on.
I notice Daphne talking with Millicent Bulstrode. She acknowledges my entrance and goes back to her plotting.
Blaise and Tracey are with a couple of second-year girls who, if I recall correctly, are Half-bloods.
I go up to the room and make sure my curtains are closed, and I silence them. Today is a special day. I activate my interface.
[30 GP]
[Would you like to spend 30 GP for a 10x pull?]
This will be my second pull until next month. I have grown exponentially, magically, and skill-wise with the help of the clones. I believe it's time to increase my strength.
The machine hums as I insert the points.
[30 GP Confirmed.] Initiating 10x Pull.]
The capsule drum begins to spin, colors flashing behind the glass. One by one, plastic orbs drop into the golden chute with soft clinks.
I crouch down, cracking them open one at a time. The usual mix.
A sleek mechanical pencil. Feels perfect in my grip.
A plain gray cap that almost seems to shimmer when I look away.
A small canteen that smells faintly of broth.
A compact toolkit.
An empty Poké Ball. Not sure what I'll do with that.
A pair of heavy gloves that seem to pull at my hands.
A battered messenger bag with just enough room for ten things.
A brass-rimmed lens with a faint purple gleam.
Nothing too exciting. Until the last two.
The ninth capsule hisses as I twist it open. A gust of invisible energy rushes out.
Force Push—Epic
The card hovers in front of me, glowing deep violet. A wave of pressure pushes gently against my chest, like standing too close to a burst of wind. I reach out, and the card hums as it syncs with my magic.
"Blast enemies in a cone. 15 feet. One-minute cooldown."
I smile. This one's going to be fun.
The final capsule clicks open.
Zuko—Rare
The card emerges with a flicker of orange flame and sharp metal. For a moment, I see him—a teenager in armor, eyes intense, two swords drawn. Fire dances in the background. Then he vanishes, and the card floats in my hand, glowing softly with silver lettering.
Firebending. Dual swords. Lightning redirection.
I exhale slowly, eyes on the flickering image etched into the card.
"Okay," I murmur. "That's a pull."
I reach out and tap the Zuko card with my wand, just like before.
It glows deep orange, spins once, then dissolves into glowing embers that swirl around me. I feel the heat—not burning, just warm—and then it sinks into my chest.
My breath steadies.
Suddenly I understand firebending. I feel the way heat moves through my body, how it responds to emotion and control. My arms shift instinctively, my posture changing, as if I have trained for years with twin blades.
Lightning hums faintly in my fingertips.
I smile.
Next, I tap the Force Push card.
It pulses with blue-white energy, vibrates once, then vanishes in a wave of air. My core tightens, and a strange pressure coils in my chest and shoulders, ready to release.
I stand and stretch out my hand.
The air responds, invisible but sharp.
A quiet room. A breath held. Power is now in my hands.
I clench my fists and exhale. "Good."
Very good.
Checking the time, I notice it's almost time for class. I store all the items in my chest for now until I have time to go through them.
I freshen up with some spells, then head out whistling a catchy tune.
Daphne intercepts smoothly as I emerge into the common room.
"I heard about the unfortunate situation with the third-years." I smile, noticing satisfaction in her eyes.
I rub my hairless chin. "Do I need to worry?"
"Let's just say Draco will think twice about doing something like this again."
That is when I notice some upperclassmen sneer at Malfoy while some whisper with each other. Ah, I see.
Reputation matters.
He notices my stare and avoids my eyes as he walks out with his boy toys and Pansy Parkinson.
<><><><><><><>
Clone P.O.V.
The forest is alive with sound.
Twigs crack beneath my feet as I move through the undergrowth. Leaves shift with the wind, but something heavier stirs nearby.
I hear it before I see it.
A branch snaps. Birds scatter.
Then the troll steps out.
Ten feet tall, gray skin like old stone, and a stench that hits like a punch. Its eyes are dull and angry, its club a splintered tree trunk in one massive hand.
It roars and charges.
I do not run.
Instead, I drop low, sliding to the side. Ezio's reflexes take over. Every step is clean. Balanced. Controlled.
The troll swings, and I flip backward over a fallen log. My robes flare as I land and thrust both arms forward.
Fire answers.
It bursts from my palms in twin streams, wild and hot. The troll bellows as the flames wash over its chest. It stumbles back, arms raised to block.
I move in a circle, feet steady, pulling the fire back into myself. I twist and flick it outward again, this time in a wide arc. It cuts across the troll's legs, forcing it to kneel.
I leap onto a rock and blast forward. Fire trails from my heels. I spin midair and land on its back. My palm slams against its neck, and a jet of flame erupts point-blank.
The troll howls and rolls, but I am already gone. I dive off and land in a crouch.
It charges again. Slower now. Angrier.
I plant my feet.
No more holding back.
I breathe deeply. The fire inside me settles, shifting from heat to focus.
I separate the energy within. Positive and negative. Like two tides pulling apart in perfect balance. Calm. Controlled.
My right hand lifts slightly as I guide the charge upward through my core, along my arm.
This is not rage. It is precision.
Cold. Focused. Lethal.
The troll lifts its club and bellows.
I thrust my arm down in a sharp arc, channeling the energy through my fingertips.
Lightning answers.
It does not roar like fire. It hisses. Crackles. Pure and surgical.
A spear of blue-white energy tears from my hand and strikes the troll in the chest. The blast is silent for half a second, then detonates with a deep, ripping crack. The forest shakes. Leaves spiral in the air.
Smoke rises.
The troll collapses.
I lower my arm slowly, fingers still tingling.
Cold-blooded fire.
The boss is going to love this.
<><><><><><><>
The sky is clear tonight. Stars scatter across the dark like spilled glitter, and the breeze at the top of the Astronomy Tower is just cold enough to keep me awake.
Professor Sinistra drones on about constellations and orbital something. I nod along, eyes upward, quill tapping absently against my parchment.
Tracey leans over. "Which one is that?" she whispers, pointing at a cluster that looks like a spoon someone dropped upside down.
"Pretty sure that's the 'Constellation of Mild Disappointment,'" I whisper back.
She snorts and tries to hide it behind her hand.
Then it hits me.
Not hard. Not painful. Just... sudden.
A flicker behind my eyes. A jolt in my fingertips. A memory not mine but familiar all the same.
Smoke. Lightning. A troll hitting the dirt like a fallen tree.
I blink once, and it's gone.
"What was that?" Tracey asks, still smiling but watching me carefully.
"Brain freeze," I say smoothly. "From stargazing too hard."
She rolls her eyes. "That's not a thing."
"Everything is a thing if you say it with confidence."
Professor Sinistra clears her throat, and we both straighten up just enough to look innocent.
Above us, the stars keep burning. Silent. Distant.
And somewhere far below, the last curl of smoke fades from the forest floor.