❛ASTERIA EDWARDS was your average, typical eleven-year-old child stuck in a pandemic with her mother Isabella Diggory until she found out where she truly came from.. and where she truly belonged...❜
[extended summary inside]
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harry potte...
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Harry had immediately forgiven Ron and Hermione the next morning. But for the next few days, no one of them had uttered a word about the idea of Harry teaching DADA in front of him. Behind the scenes, the news was going around the deeply trusted ones in the school.
Soon, their first visit to Hogsmeade had arrived too, and Ron, Harry and Asteria followed Hermione through the windy, snowy weather.
"I'm telling you again that this is a bad idea. Who'd wanna be taught by me? I'm a nutter, remember?" asked Harry.
Ron shrugged. "Look on the bright side; you can't be any worse than old toad face."
Harry gave Ron a ridiculed look. "Thanks, Ron." He said sarcastically.
Ron patted him on his back. "I'm here for you, mate."
"Harry," said Ria gently, "but all the same, there's no point pretending that you're not good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, because you are."
"Yes," Hermione joined in. "You were the only person last year who could throw off the Imperius Curse completely. You can produce a Patronus. You can do all sorts of stuff that full-grown wizards can't. Viktor always said—"
Ron looked around at her so fast he appeared to crick his neck; rubbing it, he said, "Yeah? What did Vicky say?"
"Ha ha," laughed Hermione in a bored voice, rolling her eyes. "He said Harry knew how to do stuff even he didn't, and he was in his final year at Durmstrang."
Ron was looking at Hermione suspiciously. "You're not still in contact with him, are you?"
"So what if I am?" said Hermione coolly, though her face was a little pink. "I can have a pen pal if I—"
"He didn't only want to be your pen pal," said Ron accusingly.
"Jealous, Ronald?" Ria mused in between the two. The two gave her a look while she wiggled her eyebrows at them, making Harry chuckle. They snapped their gazes away quickly.
"What?" She chuckled as they reached an old, musty bar named the Hog's head. "I just asked! You shouldn't have any problem.. unless you are jealous."
"Oh, shut up!" Hermione scolded, though her face had gone red. "Four butterbeers, please," she said to the barman. The man reached beneath the counter and pulled up four very dusty, very dirty bottles, which he slammed on the bar.
"Eight Sickles," he said.
"I'll get them," said Harry quickly, passing over the silver. The barman's eyes travelled over Harry, resting for a fraction of a second on his scar, but he turned away quickly.
Hermione retreated to the farthest table from the bar and sat down, looking around, while the barman served another customer their drink, which was a veiled witch.
