The Most Beautiful Witch Chapter 25

AN: As always, this is a commissioned work for an anonymous user.

PAGE BREAK

The Hospital Wing was unusually chilly the morning that Madam Pomfrey managed to track down Dumbledore. He’d been gone all week, a not-too rare occurrence for the busy headmaster, but that didn’t stop Harry from feeling bitter about the whole thing. He wondered if it was due to his blowup in the man’s office that’d caused him to disappear for so long.

It would be easier to believe that he had no part in it, but a part of his mind still wondered. Dumbledore had told him to consider the consequences of his actions more deeply. Was this a result of them or did it just happen to be a coincidence?

Was he simply overthinking this?

He supposed it didn’t matter now. What was done was done, and Dumbledore was finally here now. At least, he would be.

The cool stone floor was ripe to be tapped on by his foot, but Harry resisted the urge. Astoria already seemed nervous enough from the way her smile kept flagging and the nervous way she glanced down at her feet. Even Daphne’s calm, reassuring words didn’t seem to be doing much.

Once they saw the memory, they’d know what curse was used on her. Then it could be cured. In theory.

The Dark Arts were nefarious things. Some never truly recovered from the wounds they suffered. Mad-Eye Moody was a prime example of that—the man had so many artificial parts in him to make up for what had been taken away during his time as an Auror.

Maybe Astoria would end up with a scar like him. Only, it’d be easier to hide given that it was on her shoulder. He really should start coming up with some teasing jokes for that scenario just in case.

The doors to the Hospital Wing opened, and in strode Dumbledore, carrying the Pensieve in his hands.

“Finally,” Madam Pomfrey huffed. “Your students had to miss their first class of the day.”

“My apologies, to all of you,” Dumbledore said as he glanced at each of them in turn. “The Minister insisted on another floo call this morning after breakfast, and I could not afford to miss it.”

“No matter,” Madam Pomfrey said, already back to her professional manner. “The longer we wait, the more difficult it will be to unravel the curse that’s affecting Miss Greengrass.”

“I have the memory prepared right here,” Daphne said, holding up a glass vial with a swirling memory inside of it. Harry had helped her to make sure that she got it just right, but, honestly, Daphne was talented enough that she didn’t need his help.

“Excellent,” Dumbledore said as he conjured a table at Astoria’s bedside. He set the Pensieve down gently and gestured to it with his hand. “If you would be so kind as to deposit the memory.”

Daphne quickly uncorked the vial and poured the memory in. It mixed in with the swirling silvery liquid that already existed within the Pensieve.

“I will enter into it first in order to prepare the memory for viewing,” Dumbledore instructed them all. “The rest of you may follow me in a moment after.”

“How exactly do we enter into it, Professor?” Astoria asked.

“It is quite simple really. All you need to do is dip your head into the liquid and you will be whisked away into the memory,” Dumbledore explained. “It will feel odd at first, almost like you are falling into a lake, but things should smooth out quite quickly. We will end up at the beginning of the memory and watch it all the way through until we find the curse that was used.”

Harry squeezed Astoria’s hand. “It’s okay if you or Daphne don’t want to go in to watch this. I can’t imagine that it’s easy reliving something like this.”

“It’ll be easier with you there with me,” Astoria replied softly.

“I want to go in too,” Daphne added. “If only to find out who did this to my sister.”

“Now Miss Greengrass,” Dumbledore said with a stern look, at least as stern as Dumbledore of all people got. “After we uncover the individual who performed the curse, I will be the one to handle any punishments. I do not wish to see more fighting within Hogwarts from anyone trying to act the vigilante.”

Frankly, Harry felt like Dumbledore’s words were as meant for him as they were for Daphne.

Daphne didn’t quite respond to Dumbledore. She held his gaze for several moments before looking away, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with him.

Dumbledore let out a quiet, tired sigh. “Let us go in and see what happened.”

The old wizard leaned forward, dipping his face into the bowl. Suddenly, his body looked like it was being rapidly sucked into the Pensieve, like dust into a hoover.

“I’ll go in first,” Harry told Daphne and Astoria.

The two of them nodded, and Harry quickly stood up and mimicked Dumbledore’s actions. As he drew closer to the liquid in the bowl, he noticed strange runic carvings inside of the shallow bowl. They illuminated slightly when the tip of his nose touched the liquid, and that was when Harry was whisked away.

Harry’s very first instinct as he entered into the Pensieve was to pitch his body backwards to stop himself from falling. However, the sensation faded half a second later when his feet landed solidly on the stone floor. His surroundings had already materialised into the corridor where Harry had confronted the Slytherins. Only Urquhart, Malfoy, Bole, and Derrick were there, with Dumbledore walking casually amongst them. It was like they were standing inside a three-dimensional muggle photograph where everyone was completely still except for them two.

This was the first time Harry had been alone with Dumbledore since he’d blown up his office in a righteous fury. He didn’t necessarily regret what he’d done, at least not entirely, but it did feel awkward to be alone with the man again.

“I apologise for not thinking of this solution first,” Dumbledore said. “I must admit that as I get on in my years, the many wonders of magic become daunting to me once again. There is such creativity in how magic can provide solutions for us that it is often to overlook simple answers to problems.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something, anything, but his tumultuous feelings towards the man stilted his tongue. Thankfully, it was only a moment later that Astoria appeared right next to him, and then Daphne arrived immediately after.

Unaware of his previous words, Daphne looked around curiously. “How do we get the memory to play?”

“With but a simple thought,” Dumbledore smiled. “However, as I was the first to enter, it is my thoughts that will control it.”

Suddenly, the world around them came alive.

“Bugger off,” the Astoria from the memory snapped at the group of Slytherins in the corridor with her and Daphne. Already, the men were moving to surround Daphne and Astoria, but his girls were moving as well, ensuring that they couldn’t get cut off from a potential escape route if things grew messy. The training they’d done this summer certainly had helped to prepare them for situations exactly like this.

“You’re going to end up in more trouble than it's worth if you keep sticking by Potter,” Urquhart snapped. His wand was in his hand, but it was pointed down at the floor. “You two are pure-bloods. You don’t need to go sullying yourselves by entering into a tryst with a half-blood like him.”

“The only ones sullying themselves are you lot for being so pathetic to try and intimidate us like this,” Memory-Daphne said coldly. “We are free to choose who we spend time with.”

“You need to remember your place!” Derrick shouted. “And listen to your betters!”

Harry could feel the tension brewing in the corridor. Although it was a memory, the air was electric. Even Dumbledore was looking quite surprised at just how heated the Slytherins surrounding Daphne and Astoria were.

“Bole attacked us first,” Daphne pointed out to everyone, drawing their attention to the man a moment before he pulled out his wand and pointed it right at Astoria.

There was a momentary pause where no one in the memory acted. Astoria and Daphne had no one to block their retreat further back down the corridor, but they had no real cover to do so safely. Even knowing just how talented they were at wandwork, being so heavily outnumbered made everything more deadly.

“This is your one chance to back down,” Memory-Daphne told the group firmly.

“Or what?” Draco sneered. “You going to rat us out? The Professors won’t believe you.”

“No,” Memory-Astoria said with a dangerous gleam in her eyes. “But Harry will.”

“What’s Potter going to do to us?” Urquhart guffawed.

Everyone laughed along with him except for Draco. That, out of everything, struck Harry. The Draco he knew would have laughed along at that with snide glee. Did he know about what Harry had done at the end of the Triwizard Tournament? Did he know that Voldemort was alive again?

Before the thought could develop much further in his mind, Astoria spoke up.

“Here it goes,” she murmured.

“Enough of this!” Bole shouted. “Professor Malfoy told us to teach you two a lesson, so that’s what we’re going to do!”

Instantly, the other Slytherins in the memory looked at Bole like he was an idiot for revealing that fact, which was clearly meant to be a secret. But Bole took no note of their reaction because he was already casting the first spell.

Instinctively, Harry stepped out of the path of the spell as it flew past the memory forms of Daphne and Astoria. It continued past and smashed against a wall further back, leaving a deep gash in the stone.

The other Slytherins were slow to react, but Daphne and Astoria weren’t. They drew their wands instantly and fired off a pair of Blasting Curses as they ducked down into a duelling position that’d allow them to more easily block any incoming spells. Although their spells were strong, the overwhelming number of shields that appeared to block them stopped the Blasting Curses from doing anything more than creating a ruckus and a faint puff of smoke.

Retaliation was immediate. Harry walked around to the Slytherin Quidditch Team’s side and watched with a sick feeling in his stomach as they started firing off spell after spell at Astoria and Daphne indiscriminately. Bole had started a brawl.

Daphne and Astoria handled themselves well by blocking and dodging the spells that came their way, but they didn’t have much of a chance to counterattack. They were relegated to backing up and defending themselves as best they could, but it was only a matter of time before they’d slip up and let something through.

Although it felt like a much longer period of time, it was only half a minute later that a Cutting Curse from Derrick grazed Astoria’s side. She hissed in pain and blindly grasped at the cut with her free hand. With a sudden jab forward, she used a Banishing Charm to knock Bole into Urquhart before sidestepping another Cutting Curse from Derrick.

“They’re monsters for doing this,” Harry said darkly as he strode around behind the Slytherins. His blood felt like it was boiling in his veins.

“They made grave mistakes,” Dumbledore corrected him softly.

These were no mistakes. This was unnecessary violence chosen of their own free will. They could’ve backed off at any moment and left Daphne and Astoria alone, but they didn’t.

A flicker of green in the distance caught Harry’s eye. Astoria had said that she’d been cursed in the back.

He took off at a run, reaching the corner just as Miles Bletchley steadied his wand at Astoria’s back.

“Vulnus Malignum! Bletchley shouted as he fired off a powerful, dark curse made up of rippling scarlet waves.

A pained gasp left Astoria’s lips as the curse struck her. Seeing her knees nearly give out, Daphne wrapped an arm around her sister’s waist and slammed her shoulder against the closest door. It crashed inward, and Daphne and Astoria fell inside. As the Slytherins rushed forward to continue the fight, Daphne magically slammed the door shut and began weaving her wand in an intricate pattern to layer countless protective charms on it.

As the memory came to an end, they were all unceremoniously spat out of the Pensieve and back into the Hospital Wing where Madam Pomfrey was waiting impatiently.

“Were you able to identify the curse?” She asked immediately.

Vulnus Malignum,” Harry told her. “Bletchley cursed her in the back.”

“Vulnus Malignum,” Madam Pomfrey murmured softly to herself as she tapped her chin with her index finger. Suddenly, her eyes lit up, and she went running into her office before coming back with a stack of tomes in her arms.

“It’s bound to be in one of these,” she told everyone. “Thank you, Headmaster, but I’m sure that we can take it from here.”

“Wonderful,” Dumbledore said. “Please keep me apprised of Miss Greengrass’ condition.”

When Dumbledore picked up the Pensieve and turned to walk out, Harry cleared his throat. “Thank you, Professor.”

Dumbledore turned back to him with a grandfatherly smile on his lips. “Think nothing of it.”

It took nearly half an hour before they were able to find the curse in the tomes that Madam Pomfrey had brought out. They were borrowed from St Mungo’s and had clearly been thoroughly used. There were countless scribbles and notes in the margins of the texts, which covered everything from improvements to counter-curses and modifications and substitutions to potions.

Ironically enough, Astoria was the one to find the curse.

“Here it is!” She exclaimed excitedly.

Madam Pomfrey quickly snatched up the book. Her eyes swivelled back and forth as she scanned its contents.

“They have a counter-curse for it,” she said, relief flooding her every word. “And you’ll have to keep on a poultice primarily made out of Dittany in order to minimise any scarring for a couple of weeks.”

“Minimise?” Harry repeated with a grimace. “Not prevent it entirely?”

“Unfortunately, given how long it has been since the curse was applied, it’s unlikely that Miss Greengrass will get away with no scarring,” Madam Pomfrey said, looking as frustrated as Harry was.

“It’s okay,” Astoria told Harry with a small smile. “I don’t mind having a scar. Besides, it’ll help us match better.”

Daphne snorted loudly while Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “I’d rather you not have a permanent reminder about that attack,” he replied.

“I’ll consider it more as a reminder to always watch my back,” Astoria joked.

“Give me a few moments to practice the wand movements, and then we’ll get to it,” Madam Pomfrey told them. “In the meantime, please lay back on the bed and remove your bandage.”

Harry helped Astoria back up onto the bed and lowered the neckline of her robes enough to reveal the cut along her shoulder. He peeled the white bandage back, grimacing at the bloodstain on the other side of it.

Madam Pomfrey returned in short order with her wand. “Please remain still. The notes say that this will feel very unpleasant, but if you move around too much, I’ll have to start all over again.”

Astoria nodded her head. “Understood.”

Harry offered her his hand, which she took gladly.

Madam Pomfrey began weaving her wand in a smooth motion. Harry knew the moment that the counter-curse began to take effect because Astoria’s grip suddenly tightened quite a bit.

“It feels like I have insects crawling over my cut,” Astoria shuddered.

“We’re almost there,” Madam Pomfrey said encouragingly. “Just a few more seconds.”

“You’re doing brilliantly,” Harry smiled down at Astoria. She tried to smile back at him, but it came out a little awkward.

When Madam Pomfrey pulled back with a satisfied sigh, Harry quickly conjured a pair of mirrors so that Astoria could see what it looked like. He and Daphne each held one up for her, and Harry managed to get a glimpse of it himself.

Astoria was left with a scar as Madam Pomfrey said, but it wasn’t anything like a lightning bolt as he’d feared. It was actually two curving lines, looking almost like gentle waves washing upon the shoreline. The skin around it was raw and red, but at least she wasn’t bleeding anymore.

“If you keep up with the poultice, that scar should shrink down quite a bit,” Madam Pomfrey told them. “You’ll need to put one on in the morning and one at night. I’ll have a house-elf deliver them to your room.”

“Thank you so much,” Astoria said sincerely.

“Your welcome,” Madam Pomfrey smiled at her. “Now, I’d better not see you in here again for an injury until next year at the earliest. I’d hate for Mr Potter’s bad habits to be rubbing off onto you.”

PAGE BREAK

Harry felt lighter the following days after Astoria’s curse was lifted. Seeing the scar grow smaller each day helped to lift his spirits a bit too, but it didn’t entirely temper his anger around the situation.

As time passed by, Harry, Astoria, and Daphne settled into a very normal routine of attending classes, eating meals together in the Great Hall, and studying together in their dorm or in the library, where Hermione and Ron often joined them.

Surprisingly enough, the Slytherins who attacked Astoria and Daphne were keeping a wide berth between themselves and the three of them. While there were some angry looks on occasion, there were no further attempts to harass or intimidate Astoria or Daphne. Even Draco was keeping his distance.

On one hand, Harry was happy that whatever measures Dumbledore and Snape had put into place to deal with the Slytherins seemed to be working out. On the other hand, it was frustrating to see them continue to walk the halls of Hogwarts with barely a slap on the wrist.

Ultimately, Harry chose to keep an eye on them but did nothing to try to provoke an unnecessary fight. If they were being kept in check, then that was good enough for him.

However, this peace didn’t last forever.

All of the desks and chairs in Defence Against the Dark Arts had been moved aside to the edges of the room, and a large duelling platform sat in their place instead. Snape was quite fond of practical tests in his classroom, but this seemed to be taking things to another level entirely.

The door slammed shut sharply behind the last straggler to enter the classroom, and that was when Snape began his speech.

“The Dark Arts cannot truly be understood until you have faced them yourselves,” Snape said as he slowly paced at the head of the classroom. “Even witnessing them, as you did last year from ‘Professor Moody’, is not enough. The agonising, hate-filled nature of the darkest curses are visceral beyond your wildest imaginations. There are some spells, so called light magic, that can have similar sensations, but they are born out of love. Love and hate are as diametrically opposed as anything in this world. They counteract each other, and thus, it is impossible to know both until you have experienced both.”

Would Harry have understood the meanings behind Snape’s words had he not cast Fiendfyre himself all those months ago? The Patronus Charm was fuelled by love, but his experience with that charm was far from his experience with Fiendfyre. With the latter, he’d fallen into a pit of fury and anger that’d taken weeks to construct a ladder to help him climb out of. The Patronus Charm had seen him building a different sort of ladder as he sought the perfect memory of love, one that took him higher into the clouds where nothing could harm him.

“Unfortunately, the Ministry continues to restrict the darkest curses, even for educational purposes,” Snape sneered. “And so you will not be subjected to them until you find yourselves facing a malevolent foe. Heed my warning. Those who use the dark arts cannot be trusted to maintain their rationality. Those spells can overtake your mind and turn you impulsive and violent. And it is such a situation that I wish to present you all with today.”

Well, this was certainly bound to be an interesting test.

Daphne shifted next to him and ever so subtly bumped his hip with hers. He turned to look at her, only to quickly recognise that she was staring off at someone across the room. Harry followed her gaze to find Crabbe and Goyle huddled next to each other, murmuring something back and forth. The two hulking men had been avoiding Harry since he took them and the other Slytherins down. Goyle hadn’t been hurt too badly, but Harry’s Blasting Curse had apparently broken a couple of Crabbe’s ribs, which had taken a night in the Hospital Wing to fix. Harry wished that he’d suffered for longer.

“You will all be paired up for duelling practice,” Snape said. “One of you will be assigned the role of the attacker while the other will be the defender. The defender will not have their wand drawn at the start of the duel.”

A murmur of surprise rose up in the classroom, but Snape quickly snuffed it with a stern glare.

“The defender will only be allowed to draw their wand after the attacker casts the first spell,” Snape continued, once the noise had died down. “This is to simulate what could happen if you encounter those who practice the dark arts. While it is not as true to life as it could be, given the fact that you are aware that you are about to be attacked, it should provide a great deal of similarity. Enough that I expect all of you to write a four-foot essay explaining how best to react when unexpectedly attacked and how you can go about defending yourself.”

No one bothered to groan, knowing that it would only inspire Snape to prepare a longer essay for next time. Still, four feet wouldn’t be too difficult to write.

“I have placed all of your names on scraps of parchment in this hat,” Snape said as he levitated said hat over to his side. “I will call up one of you, who will be the attacker, and you will pull a name from the hat, who will be the defender.”

The murmurings between Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle returned, making Harry frown.

“Crabbe, Goyle,” Snape snapped. “Stop your whispering and pay attention. Five points from Slytherin.”

The men fell into submission and stared up at the man expectantly.

“You must all use your best judgement when duelling,” Snape instructed the class. “You are not trying to injure your classmates. The first spell that the attacker casts must be something simple, easily avoidable, and minimally dangerous. I will be watching over you all carefully, and if I see anything unacceptable, then you will not enjoy the consequences. Macmillan! You’re up first.”

The Hufflepuff walked up to the front and reached into the hat that Snape had in the air next to him. He pulled out a piece of parchment and grimaced. “Hannah Abbott,” he read aloud.

Harry watched with a pained expression on his face as Hannah was unable to dodge the very first spell that her housemate cast. It was a simple Disarming Charm, and she just froze up. Her wand went flying out of her hand instantly and clattered to the floor next to her.

Snape was furious as he stormed up to the duelling platform. “Get off,” he sneered at Hannah.

As the platform cleared, Snape turned back to his Slytherins. “Crabbe,” he said sharply. “Perhaps you can do better.”

When Crabbe walked up to pick a name out of the hat, Harry noticed Draco subtly hiding his wand within the sleeves of his robes. His other hand had a small piece of parchment in it. Right as Crabbe pulled out a scrap of parchment, the tip of Draco’s wand flashed white briefly, and the parchment in his other hand changed shape. It didn’t take a genius to recognise a Switching Spell.

“Harry Potter,” Crabbe read out with a grin.

Snape raised an eyebrow in surprise but made no comment.

“Be careful,” Daphne whispered to Harry.

Harry took his place on the platform with his wand still stowed on himself. Whatever game Draco was playing at, he didn’t think it would work out quite the way he intended. This was going to be a perfectly legitimate way to work out a bit of his frustrations towards the Slytherins.

Once Crabbe reached his spot and drew his wand, Snape spoke again.

“The duel will begin in three, two—”

Before he could finish, Crabbe lunged forward. “Reducto!”

Harry twisted his body out of the way just in time for the curse to fly straight past him. Fire filled his body as he looked at Crabbe with nothing short of surprise.

“I said simple and avoidable!” Snape shouted at Crabbe, but the hulking brute was in too deep to care now.

Harry drew his wand as quickly as he could as Crabbe unleashed a Bludgeoning Hex. He snapped a shield in place just in time, but the resulting bang disoriented him briefly enough to make him slow to react to Crabbe’s next spell.

“Aguamenti Maxima!” Crabbe cried, and a powerful jet of water exploded from the tip of his wand.

The rippling torrent came hurling towards Harry fast enough to knock him clean off the duelling platform. Any attempts to dodge it would be futile. He could keep up his shield and block it, but then he’d be stuck playing the defensive until an opening appeared. While letting Crabbe tire himself out was a perfectly sound strategy, Harry didn’t want to make it seem like Crabbe even had a chance in this duel. He needed to send a message to Draco that any more trickery like this wouldn’t be met timidly. And what better way than to do it here where he could show off a bit of that creativity he’d been working on.

Harry dropped his shield and silently cast the Freezing Spell. The jet of water froze in midair, but before it could fall to the floor and smash to bits, Harry followed it up with a Banishing Charm.

The thick chunk of ice went flying right back at Crabbe, who panicked. He clearly didn’t see this coming, but he still managed to get out a weak: “Incendio!”

Fire met ice in the middle of the air. There was a horrible sound as the ice squealed and cracked before rapidly melting from the flames. Crabbe’s spell had been imperfect though, so the fire gave out long before the ice did.

The man was buffeted by a wave of water and a pelting of small ice shards, exactly as Harry had hoped. Crabbe’s arms were crossed over his face as he defended himself from the onslaught, which gave Harry a free shot on the man.

There were plenty of simple ways that Harry could’ve taken Crabbe down. He could’ve stunned him or disarmed him easily, but that didn’t quite send the statement that he wanted. What better way to show his dominance than to use his opponent’s techniques against them?

So, with a wry grin, Harry jabbed his wand forward and cast the Lightning Spell.

A simple white bolt of lightning shot forward. Sensing a spell being cast, Crabbe instinctively brought up a shield, but Harry hadn’t been aiming for Crabbe.

The bolt of lightning collided with the puddle of water on the platform around Crabbe’s feet. The electricity shot through the water, leaping all the way up Crabbe’s body and frying him where he stood. Crabbe cried out in pain as his body convulsed rapidly, and then he stumbled backwards and fell off of the stage.

Snape immediately rushed to Crabbe’s side and checked on him. “Goyle! Take Crabbe to Madam Pomfrey. He’ll be alright after some medical care.” The look that Snape gave Harry as he stood up almost seemed to signify that he was impressed. “That was a clever way of turning your opponent’s actions against them.”

Naturally, Snape didn’t award Gryffindor any House Points.

Harry returned to Daphne’s side and spotted Draco fuming across the room from them. Draco’s mood only darkened when Daphne kissed his cheek and murmured a word of congratulations into his ear.

“Next is Granger!” Snape called out.

Hermione happily went forward and pulled a name out of the hat, but she didn’t read it off immediately. Instead, she frowned and reread the name in her mind again.

“You have to announce your opponent, Granger,” Snape rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Professor, but…” Hermione said, chewing on her lower lip in confusion.

“Out with it,” Snape said.

“This parchment says Harry Potter,” Hermione said, looking up at him with confusion.

Snape strode over and snatched the parchment right out of her hand. Once he read it himself to ensure that it wasn’t a trick, he turned and fixed Draco with a stern look.

“Pick another name out of the hat,” Snape said coldly as he crumpled up the parchment with Harry’s name on it.

By the end of the class, once Blaise Zabini’s name hadn’t been called, Harry was sure that Snape had figured out exactly what had happened. The man’s clear frustration with Draco was put on display when Draco was called up to be the defender against Susan Bones. Snape looked like he wanted to be in Susan’s place to teach Draco a lesson—something that Harry would have very much enjoyed seeing.

Daphne managed to get a solid victory as the attacker against Mandy Brocklehurst with an easy Tripping Jinx that made the poor woman stumble over her own feet before being caught by Daphne’s Stunning Spell. Harry greeted Daphne just as warmly as she’d greeted him upon his return.

After they packed up their bags and headed for the door, Harry heard the sweet words he’d been waiting for.

“Mr Malfoy, stay behind after class,” Snape told him.

It still wouldn’t be enough, but at least it would frustrate Draco at being told off again. Even a small win like this was enough to make Harry feel better.

The only question was if Draco would finally learn his lesson or try something worse next.