Chapter 24: Bloodline and observation

POV: Holly Potter/Ronda Weasley

The first day back from the Christmas holidays was always a peculiar blend of excitement and dread.

Ronda Weasley felt both acutely as the Hogwarts Express rumbled through the snowy countryside.

She gazed out the frosted window, her reflection blurred against the white expanse. The satisfaction of knowing her sister, Ginny, was safe now brought her some solace, but an undercurrent of anxiety lingered.

The future felt unpredictable, a feeling that unnerved her deeply. The plot she once thought she understood had begun to shift, leaving her without a clear path forward.

Holly Potter sat across from her, chatting animatedly with Hermione Granger about their holiday experiences. Holly's smile was brighter, her laughter more genuine than Ronda could recall in recent months.

Ronda couldn't help but notice the change in her friend. It was subtle yet unmistakable—a newfound confidence, a lightness in her demeanor.

The source of that change, Ronda mused, likely lay with Alya Black. Holly's godmother had clearly taken her role seriously, providing Holly with both emotional support and guidance.

Ronda's thoughts flickered briefly to Arcturus Black, Holly's frequent companion over the holidays.

She'd seen Holly slipping away to visit him more often than not, treating him with a protective fondness that reminded Ronda of how she herself might treat a younger sibling.

Arcturus, in turn, seemed conflicted. Whenever their paths crossed, Ronda observed an odd tension in his posture, as if he carried some heavy burden.

She'd noticed his quick, thoughtful glances at Holly during meals, and she suspected he was grappling with something deeper than mere family dynamics.

The Gryffindor common room was bustling with energy that evening. Holly and Hermione had dragged Ronda into a corner to discuss their plans for the term.

"Did you see how the snowstorm covered the grounds?" Holly said, her eyes alight with excitement. "We should try sledding on our shields again. It'll be even faster this year."

Hermione groaned. "You're impossible, Holly. Sledding is dangerous enough without adding magic to the mix."

Ronda chuckled, leaning back in her chair. "It's just Holly's way of celebrating. She's been practicing her spells like mad these holidays. Alya's influence, I'm guessing?"

Holly nodded, her expression softening. "She's been… incredible. She told me stories about my parents I'd never heard before. It made me want to… I don't know, be better. For them."

Ronda smiled warmly. "You're already doing them proud, Holly. But yeah, it's showing. Your Expelliarmus is sharper than ever. You even disarmed me before I could blink the other day."

"She's been drilling me on it," Holly admitted sheepishly. "I'm starting to see how much I've been holding back."

The trio spent the rest of the evening immersed in conversation, their laughter mingling with the crackling of the fire. Despite the lingering weight of uncertainty, moments like these reminded Ronda of the strength they found in each other.

The train ride back to Hogwarts had been its own adventure. Ronda found herself sitting with Holly, Hermione, and a few other Gryffindors who popped in and out of their compartment.

Their laughter echoed through the corridors as Holly recounted her attempts to charm snowflakes into different shapes over the break. Even Hermione, ever the perfectionist, found herself grinning at Holly's enthusiasm.

"You must've driven your aunt mad," Hermione teased, her tone light.

Holly smirked. "She pretended to be annoyed, but I caught her laughing when she thought I wasn't looking. Alya's amazing like that."

Ronda leaned back, listening to the rhythmic clatter of the train on the tracks. The conversation flowed effortlessly, a comforting reminder of the camaraderie they'd built over the last year.

Yet, beneath the surface, Ronda felt the weight of their unspoken fears and hopes.

The uncertainty that had haunted her over the holidays hadn't vanished, but here, surrounded by friends, it felt a little less daunting.

Later that day, Ronda found herself crossing paths with Arcturus in the library. He was buried in a tome on ancient curses, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Holly's laughter drifted in from a nearby alcove, where she and Hermione were discussing their Charms homework.

Ronda hesitated before approaching him. She had no desire to interrupt, but the way his shoulders slumped made her pause. She tapped the edge of the table lightly, catching his attention.

"Hey, Arcturus," she said softly. "Everything alright?"

He glanced up, his expression neutral but guarded. "Fine," he said curtly. Then, perhaps realizing he'd been too abrupt, he added, "Just trying to keep up with… everything."

Ronda offered a small smile. "If you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me."

His lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. "Thanks, Ronda."

The day's classes passed in a blur of parchment and quills. When it came time for History of Magic, Ronda felt a surprising flicker of anticipation.

Professor Alaric Fawley's lessons had been a revelation last term, transforming the once-dull subject into something vibrant and engaging.

As she filed into the classroom with Holly and Hermione, she couldn't help but hope for another one of his enthralling lectures.

Taking their seats, the trio exchanged speculative glances. Holly whispered, "Do you think he'll talk about the Goblin Wars again? I still can't believe how intense that last lesson was."

Ronda grinned. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be dramatic. Fawley doesn't do boring."

As the classroom filled with chatter, Ronda couldn't shake the feeling of a new chapter beginning—for her, for Holly, for all of them.

The uncertainty of the future loomed large, but for the first time in weeks, she felt ready to face it.

In the days following their return, Ronda noticed more changes in Holly. Her spells were sharper, her focus more intense.

During a Gryffindor-Ravenclaw dueling practice, Holly had managed to deflect three consecutive Stupefy curses with a fluidity that left their classmates stunned.

"You've been practicing," Ronda said, catching her breath after a particularly fierce exchange.

Holly grinned, her eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and mischief. "Alya doesn't let me slack off. She says I've got too much potential to waste it."

Ronda nodded, her expression softening. "She's right, you know. You've always had it in you."

The conversation drifted to lighter topics as they packed up their wands and headed back to the common room. Holly's happiness was infectious, a beacon of hope in the midst of their uncertainties.

When the time came for History of Magic, the anticipation in the air was palpable. Ronda found herself seated between Holly and Hermione, her quill poised above her parchment.

Professor Fawley entered the room with his usual dramatic flair, his presence commanding instant silence.

The warmth of the early autumn sun filtered through the tall, arched windows of the History of Magic classroom.

Professor Alaric Fawley now stood at the front of the room, his robes impeccably pressed, his sharp gaze sweeping across the rows of students. The magical chalk floated next to the blackboard, poised and ready.

"Today," Fawley began, his voice smooth yet commanding, "we delve into a subject as controversial as it is foundational to our understanding of magical society: the Sacred Twenty-Eight and the role of bloodlines in the wizarding world."

The students shifted in their seats. Some, like Daphne Greengrass and Stella Malfoy, sat straighter, their faces carefully neutral. Others, like Hermione Granger and Dean Thomas, exchanged wary glances. Holly leaned back slightly, her expression unreadable.

Fawley raised a hand, and the floating chalk began to write. The words "Sacred Twenty-Eight" appeared on the board, followed by a list of the ancient family names.

"The Sacred Twenty-Eight," Fawley continued, "is a term coined in the early 20th century to denote the pureblood families that were considered 'untainted' by Muggle lineage. However, let me be clear—this list is a reflection of a specific moment in time, not a definitive measure of worth or capability."

He turned to face the class fully. "Still, the significance of bloodlines cannot be dismissed outright.

Bloodline traits, as you all know, are unique magical abilities inherited through generations.

For example, the Black family's transformative abilities or the Gaunt family's Parseltongue are such traits. These are passed maternally, reinforcing the matriarchal structure of our society."

A hand shot up. It was Hermione Granger. "Professor, does that mean those without bloodline traits are inherently less capable?"

Fawley's lips curved into a faint smile. "An excellent question, Miss Granger. The answer is both yes and no. While it is true that no witch or wizard has reached the tenth level of magical power without a bloodline trait, it is equally true that determination, ingenuity, and study can elevate any wizard to great heights.

History is replete with examples of Muggleborns and half-bloods who have reshaped our world.

Albus Dumbledore herself is a half-blood, yet she stands as one of the most powerful witches of all time. Even she carried a bloodline but it doesn't diminish her accomplishment."

The class murmured at this acknowledgment. Holly Potter's green eyes flickered with interest but remained fixed on her desk.

Fawley gestured, and the chalk began drawing a family tree on the board. "Consider this: bloodlines act as reservoirs of magical potential, but they are not guarantees of greatness. They are tools, nothing more. A wand in the hand of an untrained wizard is merely a stick."

He let the statement sink in before continuing. "That said, the preservation of bloodlines has undeniably shaped our society. The Sacred Twenty-Eight, for instance, wielded significant influence in forging alliances, creating institutions like the Ministry of Magic, and defending our world from external threats. Yet, their insistence on purity also led to stagnation, arrogance, and, in some cases, extinction."

His eyes scanned the room. "What does this teach us?"

Ronda Weasley raised her hand tentatively. "That… it's about balance? Preserving tradition but not letting it blind us?"

"Precisely," Fawley said, his tone approving. "The future of our world depends on adaptability. Bloodlines offer a foundation, but innovation builds the tower."

He walked to the center of the room, his voice lowering slightly. "Magic is not a birthright. It is a gift. Those of you without notable bloodlines, remember: you are the architects of your own destiny. And those of you who carry ancient names, remember this as well: legacy is not a shield against mediocrity."

The room fell silent as the weight of his words settled over the students.

Fawley returned to the blackboard. "Now, let us examine a few key families and their contributions—and failures. The Black family, once the most powerful in Britain, stands as a cautionary tale. Their refusal to adapt nearly led to their ruin. Yet, their influence endures, thanks to strategic alliances and their mastery of magic."

The chalk began listing the Black family's achievements: their role in the creation of protective wards, their contributions to magical theory, and their extensive library of spells.

"We'll contrast this with the Ollivanders, the oldest known British wizarding family. Their innovation in wandcraft reshaped magical practice worldwide, demonstrating how a single idea can outshine even the grandest bloodline."

Fawley's lecture continued, weaving together tales of triumph and tragedy, innovation and hubris. By the time the bell rang, the students were left with a profound understanding of the weight of their heritage—and the choices that lay before them.

The bell had rung, but Professor Fawley held up a hand, halting the students as they began to pack up.

"Before you go," he said, his tone firm yet inviting, "let me leave you with a challenge. For your next assignment, I want each of you to research your family history or, if you're Muggleborn, a family of your choice from the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Find a bloodline trait or magical contribution, and analyze how it shaped not only their legacy but the wizarding world at large. You'll present your findings next week."

The students exchanged glances, some intrigued, others apprehensive. Hermione's quill was already poised over her parchment, scribbling furiously. Holly glanced briefly at Ronda, who whispered, "Guess I'll be writing about the Weasleys' endless supply of red hair."

Fawley smiled faintly. "Remember, this is not a celebration of superiority, but an exploration of history and its nuances. Each story, whether grand or humble, holds lessons for us all. Dismissed."

The students filed out, some chattering about their chosen families, others silent and contemplative. As Holly made her way to the Great Hall for lunch, her mind lingered on Fawley's words. Legacy is not a shield against mediocrity. For her, the phrase carried a weight she couldn't yet define.

She glanced back at the classroom one last time, catching a glimpse of Fawley wiping the board clean. His gaze briefly met hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something—perhaps recognition, or perhaps simply the wisdom of someone who had lived through histories more personal than he let on.

Whatever it was, Holly resolved to approach the assignment with the same determination that had carried her through every trial so far. The past might be written, but the future, she thought, was hers to shape.