The Grind (And Helping Heather Potter) Ch.24.5 (Patreon)

[AN: This is just something simple and short I've been working on instead of what I should be working on. It's more of a collection of scenes instead of a cohesive chapter. I just needed to do something fluffy. Don't worry though. I'll be starting the next proper chapter immediately after posting this. Also, ideas for future WWO interludes are welcome. Give me your best!]

The week before the Yule Ball was about as normal as a week got when it came to a place like Hogwarts. Which, of course, meant it was full of things to keep me busy. Still, I was a professor, assistant thought that position may be. It was my job to take care of the concerns of the students and help out where I could.

“Neville? Do you mind staying after class for a few moments?” I asked as my students dismissed themselves and Professor Flitwick left me to my business.

“S-Sure thing, P-Professor,” Neville stuttered, nervously trying to figure out if he’d done anything wrong.

“You’re not in trouble. I just wanted to see if I can help you with something.”

My reassurance helped calm his nerves, “Right…”

On their way out, Hermione gave Neville an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Heather did something similar, but much more in line with her personality. Neville jumped and yelped, clutching his bottom.

Heather smirked mischievously at him, “Go get ‘em, Lion.”

I rolled my eyes, “Ignore her, Neville. She’s just like that.”

“I-I know. I just wasn’t expected to be slapped on the bum.”

“I never am either,” I muttered, mostly to myself.

“What was that, sir?”

“Never mind. We should get to what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What did you want to talk to me about? W-Was it my last Charms essay?”

“No, but that essay did help solidify this idea for me. Neville, what do you think is your strongest charm? Not the most potent, but the one you’re best at.”

“Well, Professor Sprout recently taught us the Herbivicus Charm and I seemed to pick that one up very quickly. But I suppose the charm I’m most familiar with is the Mending Charm. I’m rather clumsy and it sees a good bit of use from me.”

I nodded, “That makes sense. It’s a First Year Charm and you’ve probably had the most time to practice it. In the same vein, what First Year Charm do you feel is your weakest?”

Neville fought down a blush, “I-Incendio…”

Accepting his answer without scorn, I kept the conversation moving, “Okay. Now, I’d like you to do something for me. I’m going to lay a hand on your shoulder and I want you to cast both of those spells. Got that, Neville?”

“Yes, Professor Atlas.”

As he went about casting the charms, I observed, using the physical contact as a conduit for my magic. I didn’t try to touch his core or anything that invasive. Simply watch his magic at work. That observation quickly confirmed a suspicion of mine.

“How was that, Professor?” Neville asked once he was finished, breathing slightly heavier than when he started.

I hummed, “Hmm… I think I see the issue. One more time for me, please, Neville? Any spell. It doesn’t matter what you choose.”

After a moment of intense concentration, the tip of Neville’s wand lit up with a Lumos Charm. Still watching his magic through my hand on his shoulder, that moment of concentration only reinforced my hypothesis.

“Neville,” I asked. “Do you always strain your magic so hard when casting spells?”

He blushed, “Y-Yeah… I know I don’t have much magic. So I try and compensate by forcing it out of me.”

“Actually, I’d say the opposite is true.”

“What do you mean, Professor?”

“You have too much magic. I’ll be honest, Neville, your magical reserves are second only to Heather’s in your year, perhaps even in the whole school. Most Witches and Wizards only begin to match the two of you after they’ve graduated. But I think that’s also where your issues begin.”

Neville gaped at me with that news, “W-Wha-…? S-Surely, you can’t be serious, s-sir. I’m just Neville. Basically a Squib…”

“Again, I think that mindset is part of the problem. You think you’re a weak Wizard, barely better than a Squib when it comes to your reserves. And that mindset spills into your casting. You’re trying too hard, Neville. It’s like you’re trying to grab handfuls of water and throw it at the problem instead of directing the flow.”

“I-I-…” Neville stuttered, looking as if his whole world had been turned upside down. Eventually, that Gryffindor steel buried deep inside him made itself known. “What should I be doing then?”

I smiled, “That’s the spirit. Don’t dwell on past mistakes. We’ll just work on fixing what we can.”

I quickly fell into lecture mode, “Now, this is a matter of control, not power. That’s something for you to internalize at your own pace. Just know that I believe you’re about as far away from a Squib as you could possibly be, Neville.

“We’ll try this exercise first-…”

For once, there was hope in Neville’s eyes. Not just him resigning himself to being mediocre, but actual hope that he could be a great Wizard. It was a beautiful thing to see as his professor.

IIIII

“Frankly, I think it was a miscarriage of justice,” Theodore Nott said.

“And does that have anything to do with how the trial made a mockery of the law or how it made a mockery of the way Pure-Bloods interpret the law?” Susan Bones asked.

Theodore retorted, “What’s the difference? When the majority rules, is that not an indication of reality?”

Justin Finch-Fetchley snorted, “Hate to tell ya, but Pure-Bloods aren’t the majority in Wizarding Britain.”

“They’re the majority that matters,” Daphne Greengrass flatly pointed out. “Not saying it’s right or just or equal. Just stating the uncomfortable truth.”

Susan continued pressing Theodore, “The majority did rule. They ruled Lord Black guilty but clear of charges.”

“Precisely my point! That is a travesty!”

“Any other Pure-Blood Lord would have met the same fate. Once he was declared a Pure-Blood and a Lord at that, the verdict was all but decided. The Wizengamot wouldn’t have severely punished him. It would have set an untenable precedent for their other members.”

“The situation isn’t similar in the slightest.”

“So you’d deny that he’s a Pure-Blood Lord? After magic recognized his claim?”

“No… But he’s not the right sort of Pure-Blood.”

“Ah, this all comes back to prejudice. Of course…” Daphne interjected in deadpan.

Theodore shot back, “It’s not prejudice, it’s fact. He was raised by Muggles. He doesn’t know the culture.”

“And yet his defense relied entirely on Pure-Blood traditions.”

Aurora looked at me, concerned at the slander, “Are you sure you don’t want to do anything about that?”

I shrugged, “I don’t see why I should. The students are entitled to their own opinions.”

“Perhaps,” Aurora didn’t agree or disagree before raising her voice so our little conversation was overheard. “But right now they should be working on their star charts!”

In the Astronomy Tower, heads suddenly turned upwards toward the sky. The combined class of Slytherins and Hufflepuffs tried their best to act as if they weren’t more interested in the latest subject of Castle gossip — namely, me and my trial — than the stars they were supposed to be studying. Eventually, though, the pull of teenage gossip grew too strong and the conversation started back up.

“All I’m saying is that perhaps he should have seen some amount of punishment. He was considered a Muggle-born at the time the crime was committed,” Theodore Nott said, calm and dignified as if he was just playing Devil’s advocate.

“Oh, get over yourself, Nott,” Pansy Parkinson said in my defense.

Theodore sniffed, “There’s no need to be rude just because I’m the leading voice of reason within Slytherin, Pansy. And your opinion is largely irrelevant to the current conversation. We all know you’re biased now that he’s your Lord.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, “And I’m sure you’re not biased at all.”

“It isn’t my fault that the rest of the Pure-Bloods in the Castle have suddenly seemed to forget their roots. Someone has to advocate for Pure-Blood rights lest we get overwhelmed by the masses.”

“Don’t speak as if all Pure-Bloods agree with you, Nott,” Susan warned.

“Why shouldn’t I? I’m just saying what everyone knows. The magical world should be ruled by those with the most experience in its intricacies. And they just happen to be the Pure-Blood Houses. Besides, it’s just the way of things. Why should we change our society now?”

‘Not to self,’ I thought. ‘Teach my students about logical fallacies. Particularly Appeal to Tradition. The blood purists seem to love that one…’

While civil debate was healthy for the students, I couldn’t rightly allow them to win that debate with faulty logic. The young Nott was just the head of a very vocal minority but sometimes that was all it took for bad-faith-actors to sway the conversation. As their professor, the least I could do was teach them to use sound logic. If they still swayed the conversation in their favor after that… well, at least it would be deserved.

“That’s a logical fallacy, Mr. Nott. Three of them, in fact,” I interrupted. “For one, you’re citing the experience and wisdom of Pure-Bloods based on the testimony of other Pure-Bloods.

“There’s no telling where the gaps in that wisdom could lie. Could you reasonably say that you’re more experienced with dealing the the struggles a Muggle-born would face after graduation than I am? I may be a Pure-Blood but I didn’t know that when I was searching for work. And that’s just a somewhat poor example off the top of my head.

“Secondly, ‘everyone knows’? That may be the most commonly used logical fallacy. ‘Everyone knows’ doesn’t hold much weight if you don’t back it up with hard facts or evidence. A Muggle might say ‘Everyone knows magic isn’t real’. We, of course, know otherwise. But ‘everyone knows’ so it must be true! Do you see where I’m going with this?

“Finally, Appeal to Tradition. ‘This is the way things have always been done’! Of course! That means they must be just and perfect… right? Things can always get better, Mr. Nott. I’m not saying traditions should be abolished outright. But they also shouldn’t hold us back from making real progress. Nor should they be cited as reasons for injustice.”

The momentum Theodore had been building up through contrarianism was shaken by me, dismantling the logic behind his claims, “Yes, well…”

“I’m not trying to censure you for your point of view, Mr. Nott. I may not agree with you but your opinions are entirely valid for you to hold given your upbringing and heritage. But as your professor, it’s my duty to educate you. If you feel like arguing your point again in the future, you will do so using sound logic.”

Theodore averted his eyes, obviously conflicted, “Yes, Professor…”

It might have been strange to be so insistent about the correct way to argue Pure-Blood rhetoric but I wasn’t about to allow a student to embarrass themselves, no matter how prejudiced their personal opinion was.

If Nott had tried that argument on someone who actually knew how to debate (*cough* Hermione *cough*), he would have been torn apart. Plus, this opened the way for him to think about the faulty logic used to back up the cause he believed in.

After examining that cause through a more considering lens like the one I’d handed him, perhaps he would even change his stance. Of course, none of those possibilities affected the laughter I could see in Aurora’s eyes…

IIIII

“Atlas? I could use a bit of help here!” Pomona’s desperate voice echoed from her messenger Patronus.

Sighing, I dropped the fertilizer and other supplies I was fetching for her class and quickly made my way back to the greenhouse. I was already expecting trouble. Why? Today’s Herbology class was with the Third Year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. Which meant a certain loveable gremlin of mine was in attendance. I knew I shouldn’t have left her there for any reason, even if she was being supervised by Professor Sprout…

I didn’t even know what we were supposed to be working with today. Pomona sent me on an errand, and I was meant to join at some point after the class started. It seemed I would have to hurry though, judging by the urgency of her message.

As I approached, all I could see was chaos through the glass of the greenhouse. Some kind of plant seemed to be rampaging out of control. Herbology wasn’t my best subject but I passed my Herbology NEWT all the same. Even still, I wasn’t familiar with whatever was causing the students and Pomona to fly around.

A stupendous clamor hit my ears as I breached the greenhouse’s silencing ward. Students were yelling, screaming, squealing, and all sorts of other synonyms for the fact that they were making as much noise as they possibly could. I immediately locked onto Pomona, trying to get a feel for the situation before I did anything.

“What is happening?!”

Pomona, held up by two viney tendrils and barely able to reach her wand, replied, “Japanese Devil’s Snare! Immune to sunlight unlike its Scottish counterpart and much more frisky! Aaaaannhhh~! Watch those tentacles, Mister!”

I blinked, taking a step back to observe the situation once more with that information in mind. Students were being held in the air by the plant’s many tendrils, contorted and ensnared this way and that.

‘Frisky’… Sure… Because why wouldn’t the Japanese strand of Devil’s Snare be a vegan tentacle monster? At least this tentacle monster didn’t seem to discriminate by gender… No, wait, that was worse than if it did!

All of the students in the class were in some predicament or another concerning the plant. Arms were trapped, legs were spread, and bodies squirmed as thick vines writhed across clothing and skin alike. It was like something out of a horror movie. Or perhaps the worst kind of fetish Wizarding photos…

I asked Pomona for guidance, “If it’s not weak to sunlight, what should I do?”

“Just start cutting! Worry about the students first. I’ll get myself out of this mess and start helping soon enough!”

“Right…” I did just that.

Aiming carefully, Severing Charms and Cutting Curses poured from my wand. Tentacle after tentacle was chopped off, releasing students from the plant’s wicked clutches. Thankfully, the plant’s attention on the students seemed rather gentle and seemed to conform to some semblance of decency and morality. I would hate to explain to parents why their children’s first experience was with a glorified vine.

I quickly recruited more wands to my side as I released students. Most were more than eager for a bit of visceral revenge on the molesting plant. Though some still had… interesting reactions to being released.

One Gryffindor boy — Colin Creevey, if memory served correctly — moaned in loss as he was dropped from the tentacles. He squirmed slightly, trying to hide the unfortunate situation that had developed at the front of his pants. At least one of the female students joined him in disappointment and embarrassment.

I came across a trapped Ginny Weasley at one point. A tentacle held her arms together behind her back. Another slithered up her taut body and between perky breasts over her shirt. Yet another poked and prodded her lips of all things. She raged the moment I cut her down, joining the fight and probably doing more than I did from that point on.

By some coincidence, Luna was the last student for me to cut down. Mostly because she didn’t appear to be in any discomfort or danger. She’d seemingly tamed the tendrils holding her and was even talking happily to them as she rode them like some kind of Eldritch steed. Her clothes and hair were ruffled — much like everyone else’s — but her trademark enthusiasm was unaffected.

“-Oh! And there’s a giant squid in the Black Lake! Would you like me to ask and see if I can set you two up on a date?”

I sighed, “Why do I have the terrible feeling that you’re behind this somehow, Luna?”

Her attention shifted to me and she blinked, “Why would I do this?”

“I don’t know, Luna. Why would you do this?”

She nodded matter-of-factly, “I wouldn’t, of course. Not everyone likes tentacles, after all. It would be rather rude of me to not think of their feelings.”

“So you didn’t somehow cause the plant to run out of control?” I asked skeptically.

“No, of course not, Atlas. If this was somehow a prank instead of a mere circumstance, I would consider it bullying. And you know how I feel about bullying…”

Her fellow Housemates shuddered at Luna’s cold words. Yep, that more or less tracked. Luna may have been an agent of chaos in my life but she was anything but cruel. But then why did the plant act like this?

Pomona spoke up sheepishly, “Ahaha… I’m afraid this whole mess is my fault. A colleague of mine sent me the Japanese Devil’s Snare and I’ve been raising it on my own. I was just so excited by its progress and wanted to show it off to the students. I never expected something like this. And to think, it’s usually so well-behaved in private…”

“In private?” Something about that phrase made me raise an eyebrow.

Pomona’s eyes went wide but she tried to laugh off whatever spooked her, “Hahaha… Yes, you know, when I… water it.”

“Well, perhaps you should keep this particular specimen contained to your private collection, Pomona. I don’t think it’s fit for polite company, much less lessons.”

“That seems to be good advice, Atlas. I’ll just… put it away. Class dismissed. If you are injured, do not hesitate to visit Madam Pomfrey. If you feel the need to talk about your experiences, my door is always open.”

Thankfully, the Devil’s Snare seemed to be pacified by Luna’s promise of a date. It easily cooperated with Pomona’s experienced handling — though I could have sworn I saw one of the remaining tentacles continue getting frisky with the professor as she removed it from the greenhouse… — and I was soon left alone with a class of students who’d just had their lesson canceled for tentacle-related reasons. This whole thing should have been an abnormal event but really… Just another day at Hogwarts.