Peverell Ascendant Chapter 11 (Patreon)

Hogwarts hadn’t even begun, and Harry Potter was already getting on her nerves.

They had walked most of the length of the train already, making fools of themselves over and over again as they searched every compartment for Potter’s presence.

It didn’t help that her two closest allies, being her sister and best friend, seemed to be reveling in her humiliation. Daphne threw a glare over her shoulder as Astoria and Tracey giggled at something, soon turning back around as she resisted the urge to sigh.

Where are you, Potter? Her eye twitched in irritation, before taking a breath and using what occlumency she possessed to calm down. They were nearing the end of the train, having long passed through the groups of Gryffindors which Potter usually sat with. Other than being with his friends, all that was left were-

“What if Potter is a Prefect?” She voiced aloud, suddenly realizing why they might not be able to find him.

The Prefects always had to attend a meeting on the train ride to Hogwarts, located in their own carriage on the opposite end of the train from where they were now. It would explain why they - nor anyone else - had seen Potter since leaving the station.

It would make sense he was selected to be a Prefect after all, as despite his mediocre academics, the Boy-Who-Lived was still the poster boy for Gryffindor, and McGonagall would happily jump at the chance to make him a Prefect. And not just her, as Dumbledore’s favoritism towards Potter was well-known as well, making the explanation fit perfectly.

“Ugh, why didn’t I think of that?” Tracey groaned, unintentionally voicing Daphne’s own thoughts as she rubbed her forehead in shame. “That would mean he’s in the Prefect car with the others.”

Meaning they wouldn’t be able to meet with him on the train. She deduced with a frown. “Let’s check one more car before we head back.”

They were already at the doorway which connected to the next carriage, and so she pushed it aside to cross from one passenger car to the next. It was one of the nicer and open ones, not divided into compartments like most, instead decorated with wooden tables and cushioned chairs.

And it was sitting at one of those tables that the last person Daphne wanted to see was present.

Fleur bloody Delacour sat comfortably in one of the chairs, her posture confident and perfect as she took a sip of tea. The former Beauxbatons champion wore a plain Hogwarts uniform of the highest quality - likely custom tailored to fit her in Magical Paris - with no colored tie to designate what House she had been sorted into.

Of course she is here. Potter attending the Delacour Gala as her date had been plastered on the front cover of Witch Weekly for an entire month, and it made perfect sense she would cross the Channel to attend Hogwarts with him. Daphne cursed herself for not expecting it!

However, it was the two witches sitting across from Delacour that truly made her hackles rise.

The Carrow twins, being Hestia and Flora Carrow, sat across the table from Fleur Delacour with their own cups of tea. It almost looked like they were old acquaintances enjoying a reunion, and not two of the most contradictory individuals possible sitting down for tea.

The Carrow twins were dangerous to the point that even Daphne didn’t mess with them. The fact they were able to exist on their own within Slytherin - being a House that required one to forge alliances to exist without being cursed in the back - was a tremendous feat unto itself.

Daphne was able to command her own faction outside of Malfoy’s due to her family’s connections and wealth after all, their grey political alignment and sheer influence allowing them to walk a thin line of neutrality. And yet the Carrows had been able to outright refuse joining Malfoy, as well as fight off the numerous attempts from other students to get them in line.

Yet now they were meeting with Delacour, a Veela who was sure to cause a stir this coming year, and a direct ally to Harry Potter. She tried to keep a neutral expression and resist the urge to gape at this unexpected turn of events as she approached them. “Flora, Hestia, I hope you had a good summer.”

“Greengrass.” It took her a long moment to recognize that it was Flora speaking to her, being the older identical twin. Most couldn’t distinguish the two girls apart, with the only giveaway being their different personalities. Flora was the older twin and heiress, with a stricter personality as befitting her station, while Hestia was known to be much softer.

“And you must be Fleur Delacour. I assume you transferred over from Beauxbatons if you’re on this train and wearing our uniform.” She turned to the Veela. “I am Daphne Greengrass.”

“I see my reputation precedes me.” The older blonde smiled, showing off two rows of perfect teeth. “As it always does.”

She tried not to react to that arrogant comment. “I did not realize you knew each other?”

“We are acquainted.” Hestia said.

“Delacour requested we hear what she had to say, and so we agreed.” Flora continued.

“Oh.” She tried to hide her surprise. “Have you made an arrangement?”

“We have.”

She failed to hide her surprise at that answer, eyes briefly widening before she blinked the shock away. The Carrows had never made an agreement or any form of alliance with anyone before, and yet here they were negotiating with Fleur Delacour on her first day. “Anything you can share?”

“Perhaps you read ze news over ze summer, non?” Delacour asked her. “That ‘Arry was in attendance at my family’s ball, and I was on his arm? Did you ever wonder why he was there?”

The naked arrogance of the Veela rankled her, yet Daphne kept her cool as she decided to fish for information. “I assumed it was maneuvering on your Mother’s part. Is that how you became acquainted with Potter and then the Carrows?”

“Non, I reached out to Flora and Hestia on my own.” Fleur replied. “Maman has her own interest in ‘Arry, of course, but ‘Arry has his own plans as well. He was ze one to reach out to me after all, further accepting my invitation to ze ball and using ze opportunity to seek out connections. He made this clear to me and Maman, and so I thought I would go and make him some friends here to help.”

She came here just to help him? Delacour’s loyalty to Potter was shocking to say the least. “And he knows you’re making friends for him?”

The Veela let out a laugh, a tinkling sound that would make most mens trousers tighten. “Of course he knows what I am up to, as I’ve written to him many times. But you are wrong to assume I make ze decisions for Harry, as he is not that sort of wizard.”

“I see.” This was further confirmation that Harry Potter was indeed playing a deeper game than Daphne originally thought. Originally she had assumed Fleur was manipulating him with her Veela allure, only for it to be revealed that she was basically his underling.

“You are welcome to join us.” Flora suddenly said.

Daphne looked at her, wondering how the Carrows could agree to work with Potter so quickly. Whatever Delacour offered them had to be substantial, as the two had declined all previous attempts at negotiation.

“There’s room.” Hestia’s eyes sparkled almost mischievously, referring not just to the empty seats at their table, but positions inside Potter’s confidence.

And now she was being offered a place at the table, being a golden opportunity to get close to Potter. Her Mother had instructed her to do exactly that after all, the underlying mission that she should seduce him going unspoken.

Say yes. Her throat felt sore, knowing one word would move her that much closer to him which was exactly what she wanted. Yet her pride was getting in the way, that same pride that had been the bane of House Greengrass for generations. Her house was not made of followers, but instead of those who stubbornly refused to fall under the sway of someone else. It was what kept them out of wars and remaining neutral for generations, being the willfulness that refused to subside.

The idea of agreeing to this Veela, of being under her sway in order to get close to Potter… It was far too much for Daphne’s own pride to swallow. Already she had agreed to get close to Potter on her Mother’s orders, but debasing herself to this level on top of it all was too much.

“That’s very generous.” Her mouth felt dry as she finally spoke. “I will consider it.”

“Of course.” Flora nodded in understanding, but her eyes betrayed her, narrowing in like she was a threat.

“I will wait for your response.” Delacour had a small smirk on her face as she stirred her tea.

“How kind.” Daphne grit out, inclining her head before turning around. “I hope you enjoy the coming year at Hogwarts, Delacour.”

She did not look back as she walked out, her two allies following closely behind. Tracey had a neutral expression, while Astoria followed while craning her neck to look back as they walked. Soon the carriage door slid shut and they entered the next train car, standing alone in a corridor outside of the row of closed compartments.

“Well…” Tracey spoke first, voice dry. “That was a remarkably civilized conversation.”

“Don't.”

“Just sayin’.” The brunette shrugged. “You looked ready to hex them at the end of it, but otherwise it was alright.”

Daphne glared, but it didn’t stop her sister from speaking next in a small voice. “She’s nicer than I thought.”

Both of them turned to look at the smaller brunette.

“Delacour is really pretty.” Astoria added, as her voice picked up. “I mean, she’s snobby like those French purebloods we’ve met before, and also kind of haughty - but not in the pompous way like Malfoy. Then there’s the Carrows who invited you, did you think they-”

“Astoria.” She had forgotten her sister’s obsession for these sorts of things, as the younger brunette was an avid reader of the gossip rag known as Witch Weekly.

“Yes?” Her sister turned to look at her.

“Please stop talking.”

/////

Harry felt oddly confident as he walked into the first carriage onboard the Hogwarts Express, located right behind the old steam engine. He could feel the clacking of the train’s wheels against the tracks under his feet, the shifting of the car as it came around a sweeping curve. Behind him, he heard the carriage door slide shut as Hermione entered behind him.

The Prefects’ meeting place wasn’t a regular compartment, but instead one open train car with rows of seating along its sides. Roughly two dozen students were already present, being mostly upper years with all of them wearing their Prefect badges proudly.

“Harry!” The call of his name made him turn to see Susan Bones waving him over, with two empty seats next to her.

He nodded, not being outright friends with the Hufflepuff redhead, but at least being on friendly terms. He was acquainted with her aunt after all, and could definitely say she took after the woman in some aspects.

Susan had the same fiery hair, braided with bangs cutely framing the sides of her heart-shaped face. The girl had the face of an angel, but a body built for sin, thick in all the right places with tremendously large breasts that stretched her dress shirt to its limits. A glance down showed her yellow skirt hugging her wide hips, leading down to thick thighs that looked very soft.

“Hey.” He smiled as he sat next to her, with Hermione sitting on his other side. “How was your summer?”

“Good.” Her cheeks were slightly pink. “My aunt was very busy though, which I have you to thank for.”

“Sorry about that-”

“No, not at all!” She dismissed his concerns quickly. “Fudge is the worst, and it’s about time he gets his comeuppance. That said, he’s not making things easy, and auntie mentioned he had some things planned for Hogwarts.”

She grimaced at the end, while Harry remained clueless. “I’ll be on my guard then.”

What is Fudge planning? He thought back, but couldn’t remember any schemes the various Order members spoke about related to Fudge and Hogwarts. He opened his mouth to ask Susan for more details, only for a low voice to suddenly interrupt him.

“Good morning.” Kassandra Malfoy said.

Her voice was cool and unhurried, and it reached all of them without effort, causing whatever quiet conversations taking place to end. They all looked towards the front, where the two leaders of the Prefects had stood to address them.

Damn. Harry got his first look at Narcissa’s daughter, and immediately knew why she was so sought-after. She was tall and gifted with the immense assets of her Mother, combined with that combined aristocratic look of Houses Malfoy and Black which made her face intimidating yet beautiful. Her hair was straight and long, a silvery blonde that was slightly darker than Fleur’s, framing cool gray eyes.

“I am Kassandra Malfoy, Head Girl. This is Aden Ferris, Head Boy.” A sandy-haired Ravenclaw nodded to them from her side, his face covered in pimples and glasses ajar. Clearly he had earned his position through academics, being a studious Ravenclaw and all that.

“You are here because the Headmaster and your Heads of House have judged you capable of a modest amount of responsibility. I hope, for your sake, that they were correct.” No one made a noise as Kassandra spoke. Off to the side, he noticed that Pansy Parkinson was sitting very straight, while Draco had a light sweat covering his brow. “Your duties are not complicated, starting with our newer fifth year Prefects who will assist the first years after the sorting ceremony tonight. For the rest of the year you will maintain order in the corridors, and report infractions as you see fit.”

‘Report as you see fit.’ He resisted the urge to snort, knowing none of the Slytherin Prefects would snitch on one of their own.

“The most important of our duties are the nightly patrols, decided through randomized patrol rosters.” The Head Boy, Ferris, spoke up from beside Kassandra then. She didn’t bother moving from her place in front however, as if her counterpart was beneath her notice. “Yes?”

Harry turned to look at Susan, who he didn’t notice had raised her hand. “How are the patrol rosters randomized exactly?”

“Professor Flitwick uses an enchantment to randomize them.” The Head Boy answered. “Rarely does one patrol with the same person more than once.”

“I see.” Susan nodded, glancing at him and looking oddly disappointed for some reason.

The Head Boy launched into a long explanation about the nightly patrols then, nearly putting Harry to sleep as he went over the different routes, times, along with how punishments would be dished out.

“Moving on, the prefects’ bathroom is on the fifth floor. The password will be given to you in writing and will not be shared. If I learn that it has been, the person responsible will lose their badge, and the person who received it will lose a good deal more.” Kassandra paused, as the meeting was about to end. “Are there questions?”

“Excuse me!”

Harry blinked in surprise at the unexpected voice, and turned to see Hermione holding her hand up. She had an expectant expression on her face, and in her lap sat a thick, hand-written notebook that she had clearly written herself.

Proposals for the Improvement of Prefect Duties and Inter-House Cooperation. The title of it was a mouthful, and he caught one of the last pages of it sticking out from the bottom with its page number visible. Thirty-two pages.

Harry closed his eyes briefly, already knowing what was about to happen.

“I've prepared a few suggestions.” Hermione began to speak in her lecturing voice, the kind that drove Ron insane. “Perhaps if we could go over them, such as how we might make the patrol system more efficient. There's also a section on rotating the pairs between Houses, and also how we might better handle the new first years who are struggling to find their way. I’ve also prepared an addendum to the point-deduction system, as well as-”

“Stand up, please.” Kassandra stated suddenly, interrupting her.

Her tone wasn’t harsh, but Hermione stopped talking nonetheless, standing up awkwardly. It made it so only the two of them were standing in the midst of the silent passenger car.

Malfoy’s sister crossed the distance with a clack of heels, the contrast between the new Gryffindor Prefect and older Slytherin Head Girl clear as Kassandra was much taller and better endowed than Hermione. She wordlessly took the booklet, and examined it while walking back to her place at the front while the Gryffindor bookworm remained standing.

Part of Harry expected her to burn it, or perhaps even throw it out the window. Instead, Kassandra Malfoy skimmed it, spending no more than four seconds on each page. It was only thanks to his improved senses that he noticed the slightest change in her expression, the polished neutrality no longer evident as he caught the slight narrowing of her eyes, the perceptible tightening of the corner of her mouth.

“What is your name?” She asked at last, ending the deafening silence that had consumed the room’s inhabitants.

“Hermione Granger.”

“And your blood status, Ms. Granger?”

The carriage went absolutely still, and there was more than one raised brow.

Hermione’s cheeks flushed. “I don't see what that has to do with-”

“It has to do with everything, such as how high you will rise in our society, along with what career paths are open to you upon graduation. In your case, I can tell by your reaction that you are Muggle-born.” Kassandra observed neutrally, her voice never changing in its neutrality but the perceived insult clear to everyone present.

“T-That’s not important!”

“The prefect system at Hogwarts is older than the Ministry of Magic, and has been set in place since the Founders created it.” Kassandra stated without raising her voice. “It has been carefully refined across nearly a thousand years by people who understood this school, and this world, in ways that cannot be learned from five meager years of Magical Education.”

Hermione's mouth opened and no words left it. On the other side of the train car, one of the Slytherins let out a contemptuous snort.

“You have been a prefect for approximately one day. You have been a member of our world for less than five years. It is instinctual for someone to want to personalize something upon coming into possession of it, but that instinct will not serve you well here.” Kassandra continued. “Generations of our ancestors have taken part in Hogwarts’ Prefect system, and it has rarely - and only carefully - been refined over the centuries. With that said, in a few years I can only hope you might understand better how our traditions are best left alone.”

That was when something unexpected happened, as Kassandra handed Hermione’s notebook back to her. But rather than walking across the carriage, she instead floated it across the space in a controlled burst of wandless magic.

Stunned and partly taken aback, Hermione silently took her notebook before sitting down with tears in her eyes. She didn’t say anything more, even as Susan along with some of the Hufflepuffs and fellow Gryffindors looked over to make sure she was alright.

Some of them looked to Harry also, clearly wondering what he would do next, but he surprised them by doing nothing. The old Harry Potter would’ve been outraged in that moment, and probably would’ve been on his feet, ranting and raving in the face of this injustice. But the new Harry knew better, in that his best friend had gotten off lightly.

It was a bitter truth, but Hermione needed to learn subtlety. Proposing changes to the Prefect System would be fine at the end of the year after recording its flaws, but putting said suggestions forward on the first day - before even arriving at Hogwarts - was a step too far.

And so he let Hermione take her punishment, not only because she needed to learn, but also admittedly because he was annoyed by her overreach. But there was another reason, being that he wanted to get a feel for Kassandra in that moment.

She’s dangerous. That much was obvious. If Malfoy’s sister had immediately called Hermione a mudblood or used a spell to destroy her notebook, then he would have a better feel for what she was like. Instead, she had played the situation expertly, not outright insulting Hermione but still giving her a dressing-down that everyone present witnessed firsthand. Combined with the wandless magic at the end, and now all of them knew not to mess with her.

This is going to be harder than I thought. It seemed Draco’s sister wasn’t sex-starved and desperate like her Mother, but instead a formidable witch who played her cards close.

Disclaimer: All Characters are over the Age of 18