human again / hp.

Chapter 29

The classroom hummed with the low murmur of voices and the rustle of parchment as we filed into Transfiguration. The air was tinged with the faint smell of ink and polished wood, a comforting reminder of routine amidst the growing tension within the castle. At the front of the room, Professor McGonagall stood tall, her sharp gaze scanning the students as they shuffled into their seats. Even before the lesson began, her presence demanded respect.

I slid into my usual spot beside Draco, who was reclining in his chair with his usual air of indifference. His wand twirled lazily between his fingers, the emerald glint of his Slytherin ring catching the light. He looked bored already, but I knew better. Beneath his cool exterior, he lived for moments where he could prove himself superior—or tear someone else down.

Across the room, Potter and Weasley slumped into their seats, both looking distinctly worse for wear. After yesterdays events, leaving behind only tired expressions and likely a heap of detentions. Granger, however, sat upright, quill poised in a way that almost made her look as though she were about to transcribe every word McGonagall uttered. Typical.

Draco followed my gaze and snorted softly. "They look like they've been sleeping in the owlery. Though I suppose with Weasley's robes, it's hard to tell the difference."

I smirked faintly but stayed silent as McGonagall strode to the center of the room, her voice cutting through the chatter like a knife.

"Could I have your attention, please?" she said, her tone brisk but not unkind. Instantly, the room fell silent. Even Draco sat up a little straighter, though he maintained his air of disinterest.

"Today, we will be practicing an advanced transformation," McGonagall began, pacing slightly as she spoke. "Animals into water goblets. Pay close attention—this is not a spell to be taken lightly. Like so."

She gestured to a small bird perched on a post near her desk, its black feathers gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the windows. With a precise flick of her wand, she spoke the incantation: "One, two, three, Vera Verto."

A ribbon of magic shot from her wand, shimmering like liquid silver. The bird trembled for a moment before morphing, in a cascade of light, into a perfectly formed goblet, its surface glinting in the light. The class collectively leaned forward, a murmur of awe rippling through the room.

"Now," McGonagall said, her sharp gaze sweeping across us, "who would like to go first?"

The silence that followed was predictable. Students glanced at one another, clearly reluctant to be the first to fail under McGonagall's watchful eyes. Her stern expression didn't waver as she scanned the room. Her gaze landed on Weasley, and a faint flicker of a smile crossed her lips—though whether it was out of humor or exasperation was anyone's guess.

"Ah! Mr. Weasley. Let's see how you fare. One, two, three, Vera Verto."

Weasley's face turned a shade of red that matched his hair as he stammered through the spell, tapping his wand on his rat—no, pet rat, Scabbers with a trembling hand. The result was, to put it kindly, disastrous. Scabbers transformed into what could only be described as a mangled hybrid of rat and goblet. The furry, misshapen cup twitched its tail, letting out a pathetic squeak as the class erupted into laughter.

Even I couldn't suppress a smirk, though I noticed Granger biting her lip in dismay.

"That wand needs replacing, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said dryly, her tone cutting through the laughter as if slamming a door.

Not one to be outdone, Hermione's hand shot into the air. Of course.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked, her tone unreadable.

"Professor," Hermione began, her voice unwavering, "I was wondering if you could tell us about the Chamber of Secrets."

The shift in the room was immediate. The laughter died away, replaced by a heavy, anticipatory silence. Even Draco, who had been leaning back in his chair with a smirk, straightened up slightly, his interest piqued.

McGonagall's expression tightened for a moment as she folded her hands in front of her. Then, with a slight nod, she began.

"Well," she said, her voice steady and deliberate, "you all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. These four worked together to create this school, but their unity did not last."

Her eyes flicked toward the Slytherin side of the room, lingering for just a moment before continuing. "Salazar Slytherin believed that Hogwarts should admit only students from pure-blood magical families. He felt that magical education should be reserved for those he considered worthy."

I felt Granger's gaze dart toward me, but I didn't return it, keeping my attention fixed on McGonagall.

"When he could not convince the others to agree with his views," McGonagall continued, "Slytherin left the school. However, legend has it that before his departure, he created a hidden chamber within the castle—a Chamber of Secrets. According to the legend, only the true heir of Slytherin would be able to open this Chamber and release the horror within to purge the school of those Slytherin deemed unworthy."

A shiver ran through the room, the kind that comes when a story feels too real. Granger, barely above a whisper, said, "Muggle-borns."

McGonagall inclined her head slightly. "Indeed. However," she added firmly, "the castle has been searched many times over the centuries, and no such Chamber has ever been found."

Hermione raised her hand again. "Professor, what exactly is the horror within the Chamber?"

McGonagall hesitated, her gaze flickering toward the windows for a brief moment before answering. "It is said to house a creature—one that only the Heir of Slytherin can control."

The room seemed to grow colder. I risked a glance at Draco, who was grinning wickedly, the flicker of something dangerous behind his pale eyes. It unsettled me, but I pushed the feeling aside.

The lesson resumed, but the weight of McGonagall's words lingered. By the time class ended and we spilled into the corridor, students' conversations were hushed and speculative. I walked beside Draco, who still wore his unsettling grin.

"Imagine it," Draco said, his voice dripping with malice. "A monster, waiting to rid this school of all the mudbloods. About time, don't you think?"

I didn't respond immediately, feeling a strange unease.

Ahead, Potter, Weasley, and Granger walked together, their heads close in conversation. Draco nudged me. "Look at them. Bet they're terrified."

"They should be," I said sharply, though my tone surprised even me. "Enemies of the Heir, beware."

Draco chuckled darkly, and Crabbe and Goyle joined in with their clumsy, braying laughter. But as we passed the trio, I caught Granger's determined expression and the way Potter's hands clenched at his sides. Something about their defiance unsettled me.

Ron's voice broke through the murmur. "Let's think... Who do we know who thinks all Muggle-borns are scum?"

Draco turned, his grin venomous. "What's the matter, Weasley? Scared you'll be next? Don't worry, your family's pureblooded. You've got nothing to fear—except for the life of your Mudblood friend."

Ron stepped forward angrily, but Harry held him back. Granger, however, met Draco's gaze without flinching. "You're pathetic," she said coldly.

Draco's smirk widened, but I saw the irritation flicker in his eyes. "Say what you want, Granger. We'll see who has the last laugh."

As the trio walked away, Draco leaned toward me. "Granger's getting too bold."

"They all are," I replied, though my voice felt hollow. A part of me couldn't help but admire the fire in her eyes—and wonder what would come next.