Chapter 8
The Eighth Year common room glowed warmly, the flickering fire in the hearth doing little to ease the tension that filled the space. Hermione, Ginny, and Pansy sat together on one of the sofas, their expressions ranging from anxious to defensive. Across from them, Harry, Ron, and Draco perched in armchairs, their faces a mixture of shock and disbelief as they tried to process what they’d just been told.
“So let me get this straight,” Ron said slowly, his tone a mix of incredulity and wariness. “You’re telling us we’re… soulmate bound to you? Like, forever?”
“Yes, Ron,” Hermione replied, her voice calm but tinged with frustration. “It’s not like we asked for this.”
“And who even decides this sort of thing?” Draco cut in, his tone sharp. “Some cosmic force just looked down and thought, ‘Oh, let’s tie Malfoy to Granger for eternity’? It’s ridiculous.”
“Trust me, Draco, I don’t find this any more appealing than you do,” Hermione shot back, her cheeks tinged pink.
Ginny let out a long sigh, exchanging a knowing look with Pansy. “Look, this isn’t about what we want. It’s about balance. Snape said the bonds are tied to the Charmed magic—it’s meant to strengthen us as a unit.”
“That doesn’t explain why we’re the ones involved,” Harry pointed out, his green eyes flicking between the girls. “I mean, we were all on the same side during the war, but this? This feels… intense.”
“It’s not about the war,” Hermione said, rubbing her temples. “It’s deeper than that. The magic chose us because of the connections we already have—or the ones we’re meant to have.”
Ron looked visibly paler than usual, his freckles stark against his skin. “But what if we screw this up? What if… what if we make things worse for you?”
Pansy arched an eyebrow, her arms crossed. “Honestly, Weasley, could you be any more self-deprecating? If the universe thinks you’re good enough for me, who are you to argue?”
Ron’s mouth opened and closed, his ears flushing a deep red. “Oh, well, excuse me for not being thrilled about being stuck with you, Parkinson.”
Draco smirked, leaning back in his chair. “If anyone’s getting the raw end of the deal here, it’s me. Granger and I are about as compatible as fire and oil.”
“Funny,” Hermione snapped, “because I was thinking the same thing.”
Ginny groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Can we all just stop bickering for five minutes? This isn’t about whether or not you like it. It’s about accepting it and moving forward.”
Harry placed a hand on Ginny’s shoulder, his touch grounding her. “She’s right. We can’t change what’s happened, but we can figure out how to make it work.”
Draco huffed but didn’t argue, though his sharp gaze lingered on Hermione for a moment longer. Ron muttered something under his breath about “bloody destiny,” while Pansy rolled her eyes.
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Later that evening, the eighth-year common room buzzed with activity. Groups of students clustered around tables, working on assignments or chatting in low voices. Hermione, Ginny, and Pansy sat at their usual corner table, the Book of Shadows open before them.
“This one looks promising,” Hermione said, tracing her finger along the curling script of an ancient vanquishing spell.
“By promising, do you mean it won’t explode in our faces?” Pansy asked dryly, leaning back in her chair.
Ginny grinned. “At least Hermione’s spells are getting better. Remember that charm she accidentally set off in the library last week?”
“That was a one-time thing,” Hermione muttered, her cheeks pink.
Their banter was interrupted when Theodore Nott sauntered over, a curious glint in his eye. “What are you three up to?” he asked, gesturing to the ancient book.
“None of your business, Theo,” Pansy said smoothly, snapping the book shut.
Theo arched an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “Since when are you this secretive? And since when do you hang out with Granger and Weasley?”
“Since it became necessary,” Pansy replied, her tone cool.
Across the room, Neville Longbottom and Blaise Zabini glanced over, their curiosity piqued. Luna Lovegood, perched on the arm of a chair, tilted her head as she observed the conversation with her usual dreamy expression.
“You’re definitely hiding something,” Theo said, folding his arms.
Before anyone could respond, the room’s torches flickered, and an icy chill swept through the air. The cheerful chatter around the common room ceased as a guttural growl echoed through the space.
“Oh no,” Hermione whispered, standing up abruptly.
In the center of the room, a swirling vortex of shadows coalesced into a hulking demon, its glowing red eyes scanning the room hungrily.
“Everyone out!” Hermione shouted, her voice cutting through the stunned silence.
The students scrambled for the exits, though Theo, Neville, Blaise, and Luna stayed rooted in place, their wands drawn.
“What the hell is that?!” Theo exclaimed, his voice shaking.
“A demon,” Pansy said grimly, using her telekinesis to hurl a chair at the creature.
The demon snarled, deflecting the attack as it lunged toward Ginny. She dodged, narrowly avoiding its claws as Hermione raised her hands to freeze it in place.
“Hermione, now!” Ginny shouted.
The air around the demon shimmered as Hermione cast her freezing spell, encasing it in a layer of glittering ice.
“Is it dead?” Neville asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Not yet,” Ginny said, her eyes narrowing. She placed a hand on her forehead, concentrating as a flood of images filled her mind. “The sigil on its chest—that’s the weak spot.”
As they prepared to vanquish the creature, the demon broke free from the ice, letting out a bone-chilling roar. It lunged toward Pansy, its claws slashing through her arm.
Pansy cried out, collapsing to the floor as blood seeped through her robes.
“Pansy!” Ron shouted, rushing to her side.
Before anyone could react further, a swirl of shimmering lights appeared, and Snape materialized in the room. He knelt beside Pansy, placing a hand over her wound as golden light flowed from his palm. The injury healed almost instantly, leaving only a faint scar.
“Are you all completely incapable of staying out of trouble for one evening?” Snape drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Severus?” a voice said from the doorway.
Everyone turned to see Headmistress McGonagall standing there, her eyes wide with shock.
Snape straightened, folding his arms. “Minerva. How delightful to see you.”
“You’re… alive?” McGonagall stammered, clutching the doorframe for support.
“Not quite,” Snape replied smoothly. “I’ve been promoted, if you can call it that.”
As the room settled from the chaos of the demon attack, McGonagall stepped further into the eighth-year common room, her sharp eyes darting between the students and the lingering scorch marks on the walls. Snape, standing with his usual air of impatience, crossed his arms as he regarded the headmistress with a sardonic expression.
“Well,” McGonagall began, her voice dangerously quiet, “would anyone like to explain what exactly just happened here? Or shall I assume the lot of you have decided to take up recreational demon summoning?”
“It wasn’t us!” Hermione said quickly, stepping forward. “The demon came after us because… well, because we’re the Charmed Ones.”
“The what?” McGonagall’s brow furrowed deeply, her usual composure cracking just slightly.
“The Charmed Ones,” Ginny echoed, glancing nervously at her friends. “It’s… a long story.”
“An understatement if ever there was one,” Snape interjected, his tone dry. “Perhaps you’d like me to draw her a diagram, or would you prefer to stumble through this explanation yourselves?”
Pansy shot him a glare before turning back to McGonagall. “We didn’t exactly choose this, you know. We just… are the Charmed Ones. A powerful magical trio destined to fight evil and protect the balance of the magical world.”
McGonagall stared at them for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You expect me to believe that three teenagers have somehow been chosen as the magical world’s ultimate defenders?”
“Well, technically, we’re adults now,” Hermione muttered.
“Oh, that makes it so much better,” McGonagall replied, her voice laced with sarcasm.
“What does being a Charmed One even mean?” Blaise asked, stepping forward. His usually relaxed demeanor was gone, replaced with genuine curiosity.
“It means we have powers,” Ginny explained. “Unique ones. I get premonitions, Hermione can freeze time, and Pansy can move things with her mind.”
“Wait,” Theo cut in, his eyes narrowing. “You mean all those times you were acting weird, that’s what you were doing? Using powers?”
“Yes,” Hermione admitted, glancing at her friends. “It’s all connected to an ancient power that has resurfaced. We’re still trying to figure it out, but it seems to have chosen us for a reason.”
“And what reason would that be?” Neville asked, his tone cautious but kind.
Snape sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Must I do everything? Fine. Allow me to enlighten you all before your collective idiocy summons another demon. The ancient power tied to the Charmed Ones is a force of balance and protection, dormant for centuries until the magical world fell into significant turmoil—such as a devastating war.”
McGonagall blinked. “The war caused this?”
“Not directly,” Snape replied, his voice clipped. “But it weakened the barriers between realms, allowing this ancient force to awaken. And when it did, it sought out individuals uniquely suited to wield its power.”
“And it picked them?” Theo asked, looking skeptical.
“Yes, them,” Snape snapped, his black eyes narrowing. “As hard as it may be for your feeble mind to grasp, these three possess the traits necessary to channel this power—courage, intellect, and cunning. A rare combination.”
“And yet, it also chose us,” Draco drawled, gesturing to himself, Ron, and Harry. “Because apparently, we’re soulmate bound to them.”
Blaise nearly choked. “Soulmate bound? To Granger? And Weasley? You’ve got to be joking.”
“You think we’re happy about it?” Pansy shot back. “Believe me, Blaise, if there were a way to undo it, I’d have done it already.”
“Excuse me?” Ron exclaimed, his ears turning red. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Pansy said with a smirk, “you’re hardly my dream partner, Weasley.”
“Right, because you’re such a joy to be around,” Ron muttered.
“Enough,” McGonagall interjected, her voice cutting through the bickering. “Soulmate bonds? Charmed Ones? Ancient powers? Severus, why am I only hearing about this now?”
“Because I enjoy watching you flounder in confusion, Minerva,” Snape replied smoothly. “It’s one of the few joys in my current existence.”
McGonagall shot him a withering look. “Don’t test me, Severus.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Snape replied, his lips twitching into the faintest of smirks.
“What I don’t understand,” Luna said, her dreamy voice breaking through the tension, “is why the ancient power chose to reveal itself now. Surely there must have been other times when the magical world was in chaos.”
Hermione nodded. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. I’ve been having dreams—visions, really—of something ancient tied to Hogwarts. It feels like it’s connected to the castle itself.”
“Visions?” Neville asked, his brow furrowed. “Like Ginny’s premonitions?”
“Sort of,” Hermione said. “But these feel more… personal. Like they’re meant for me to uncover something.”
“And you haven’t told us this because…?” Draco asked, his tone bordering on accusatory.
“Because we’re still piecing it together,” Hermione snapped. “And frankly, we didn’t need more people panicking.”
“Too late for that,” Blaise muttered, earning a glare from Pansy.
McGonagall sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. “So, let me summarize. You’re the Charmed Ones, bonded to these three boys, and tied to an ancient power that may or may not be linked to Hogwarts. And Severus is somehow your… what did you call it? White lighter?”
“Guardian angel, more or less,” Snape said, his tone dripping with disdain. “Though I wouldn’t say the term fits me particularly well.”
“It certainly doesn’t,” McGonagall retorted, crossing her arms. “And yet here you are, playing babysitter to these children.”
Snape’s lips curled into a wry smile. “As you well know, Minerva, I excel at taking on thankless tasks.”
The girls exchanged amused glances as the banter continued, the weight of the evening’s revelations momentarily lightened by the familiar dynamic between Snape and McGonagall. But as the group settled into a cautious truce, the looming question of the ancient power remained—unanswered, yet undeniably urgent.