The Tenth Weasley - CH - 55

Ever since Harry brought his sisters, Astoria, and Luna into the Slytherin common room, they had not left him alone.

It started with Ginny, who had heard Harry bragging about finding secret passageways and hidden rooms in Hogwarts. Now, she was determined to learn everything he knew.

"Come on, Harry! Just one passageway!" Ginny pleaded, following him around everywhere.

"I already showed you the hidden staircase behind the tapestry on the fourth floor," Harry sighed, trying to shake her off.

"That one leads to an old storage room! I want a real secret passage!" she huffed, crossing her arms.

Rose, Astoria, and even Luna were just as persistent.

"I heard Hogwarts has passages that lead outside the castle," Rose whispered, eyes shining.

"I read about a passage that leads all the way to the Honeydukes sweet shop in Hogsmeade," Astoria added excitedly.

"Some passages are known to have hidden creatures in them," Luna said dreamily. "I’d love to find one with a colony of Nargles."

Harry rubbed his temples, knowing he had brought this upon himself.

"Listen, I might—just might—show you a useful passage, but not today," Harry said, avoiding a direct promise.

Ginny grinned mischievously. "That means yes!"

Harry groaned. "No, that means stop following me around!"

But the worst part was that it didn’t end there.

As if badgering him for secret passages wasn’t enough, Ginny, Rose, Astoria, and Luna had another request.

"You have to teach us Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions," Ginny demanded, plopping herself onto a chair next to Harry in the Great Hall during breakfast.

Harry stared at her blankly. "Excuse me?"

"You know Lockhart is useless," Rose pointed out, spreading butter on her toast.

"And Snape is awful," Astoria added.

"He does tend to glare at students until they forget their potion instructions," Luna said thoughtfully.

Harry sighed. "That’s not my problem."

"But you are good at both subjects!" Ginny said stubbornly.

"You know more Defense spells than anyone else in your year," Rose argued.

"And I saw you brewing potions during summer, and you didn't mess them up," Ginny added.

Luna, ever calm, simply looked at him and said, "It would be fun."

Harry groaned, realizing he had no way out of this.

"Fine," he muttered. "I'll tutor you guys, but only when I have time."

The girls cheered, and Ginny smirked victoriously.

"We’ll meet in an empty classroom after dinner," she announced. "And bring your wand, Professor Weasley!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I already regret this."

Harry, Blaise, and Daphne made their way to Sophia Bennett’s secret training room deep in the dungeons.

The room, though small and cluttered with books, had been carefully hidden from prying eyes—a necessity for a Slytherin with ambitions.

Sophia, a Sixth Year prefect, was known for her dueling skills and passion for Defense Against the Dark Arts. She had offered to train them in exchange for Harry warding her private space.

At first, the lessons were useful. Sophia had experience, and she knew many advanced spells from the standard Hogwarts curriculum. Blaise and Daphne benefited greatly, absorbing new techniques that most of their peers wouldn't learn for another two years.

But for Harry, it was… disappointing.

He quickly realized that Sophia’s knowledge came entirely from books and the occasional duel. She had no understanding of ward-breaking, ritual magic, or the darker arts. Her spells were predictable, her movements too refined, and her strategies textbook-based.

Harry had trained himself beyond standard magic—thanks to his lessons under Quirrell, his study of forbidden texts, and his own research into magical combat.

Sophia might have been a great duelist by Hogwarts standards, but Harry had surpassed her long ago.

And soon, the lessons flipped—Harry was teaching instead of learning.

"You're not attacking fast enough," Harry said, dodging a hex and countering with a silent Stupefy.

Sophia barely deflected it, her wand trembling slightly.

"You’re using standard Hogwarts dueling rules," Harry continued, pacing in front of her. "That won’t help you in a real fight. Dueling clubs teach formality, not survival."

Sophia scowled. "It’s how professional duelists train."

Harry shook his head. "A real fight isn’t a competition. It’s about winning."

He flicked his wand, sending a Blasting Curse toward Sophia—not powerful enough to cause harm, but enough to test her reflexes.

Sophia barely dodged in time, her eyes widening.

"That’s borderline illegal," she accused.

Harry smirked. "No, it’s borderline grey. Big difference."

Sophia opened her mouth to argue, but Blaise and Daphne exchanged a knowing look—Harry was right.

Sophia, for all her skill, was holding back—too afraid of breaking the rules, too reliant on structured magic.

Blaise stepped forward. "Teach us more, Harry."

Daphne nodded. "Not just what Sophia teaches. Show us what you know."

Sophia bristled. "Excuse me? I'm the teacher here."

Harry crossed his arms. "Then start acting like one. Magic isn’t about playing fair."

Despite the power struggle, Sophia honored their deal.

Harry spent an entire weekend warding her secret room, using spells far beyond standard Hogwarts magic.

The walls expanded, creating a larger training space.

The air hummed with protective enchantments, preventing spells from leaking out.

And, most importantly, the room was now bound to Sophia—no one else could enter unless she personally allowed it.

When he finished, Sophia was speechless.

"This is… impressive," she admitted, running a hand over the enchanted doorway.

Harry smirked. "You’ve got your paradise. Just remember—knowledge is meant to evolve. If you stay stuck in Hogwarts' curriculum, you'll never grow stronger."

Sophia said nothing, but her expression softened.

Maybe, just maybe, she was starting to understand.


By now, everyone in Hogwarts with half a brain knew that Professor Gilderoy Lockhart was a fraud.

His classes were a disaster, filled with dramatic retellings of his so-called adventures rather than actual lessons. His fangirls still worshipped him, but most students—especially the upper years—had long since realized he was all style, no substance.

Even the teachers seemed frustrated with him.

But to everyone’s shock, Harry Weasley—the boy who prided himself on real knowledge and skill—suddenly became Lockhart’s biggest fan.

He started asking for autographs, praising Lockhart’s supposed adventures, and even publicly defending the fraud’s ridiculous stories.

It didn't take long for rumors to spread.

Malfoy sneered whenever he saw Harry near Lockhart. "Sucking up to famous people now, Weasley? Hoping to be the next celebrity brat?"

The Gryffindor Mini-Marauders snickered behind his back. Even Charlie Potter—who usually ignored Slytherin business—gave Harry confused looks.

Daphne and Blaise were outright suspicious. They had been his closest friends for a year now, and they knew Harry despised incompetence.


But Harry didn’t stop.

He sat in the front row in Defense Against the Dark Arts, nodded enthusiastically during Lockhart’s rants, and even asked for extra reading material on Lockhart’s “exploits.”

It was too much to ignore.

One evening, as Harry left Lockhart’s office—holding a signed copy of Magical Me—Blaise and Daphne cornered him in an empty corridor.

Blaise crossed his arms. “Alright, Weasley. What the hell are you up to?”

Daphne raised an eyebrow. “Are you under the Imperius Curse?”

Harry smirked. “Why? Can’t a student admire his professor?”

Daphne scoffed. “You? Admire that idiot? Don’t insult my intelligence.”

Blaise narrowed his eyes. “You’re always three steps ahead of everyone, Harry. But this? This is absurd. What’s the game?”

Harry sighed dramatically, then reached into his robes and pulled out a small, slightly crumpled piece of parchment. He unfolded it and handed it to Daphne.

She read it. Then read it again. Then her eyes widened.

"This is—"

Harry grinned. “Lockhart’s permission slip.”

Blaise snatched it from her hands and scanned it.

"Permission granted to Harry Weasley to access the Forbidden Section of the Hogwarts Library, as he has shown a great academic interest in magical research."

Blaise let out a low whistle. “I hate you.”

Harry smirked. “I know.”

Daphne groaned. “I can’t believe he actually gave you unrestricted access.”

Harry shrugged. “He’s an idiot. And easily flattered. I just had to act like a loyal fan and tell him I wanted to learn about defense magic—‘just like he did in his adventures.’”

Blaise shook his head in amusement. “So while the rest of us are stuck with Lockhart’s garbage lessons, you’re out there collecting real knowledge.”

Harry smiled. “Exactly.”

Daphne leaned against the stone wall, staring at the parchment in her hand.

"So… what books are you after?"

Harry’s green eyes glinted with excitement.

"Everything Hogwarts doesn’t want us to know."

The Hogwarts Library was massive, filled with thousands of magical books, stacked high in endless shelves, each containing centuries of knowledge. Sunlight streamed through the tall stained-glass windows, casting dancing colors across the stone floors.

But for Harry Weasley, only one section truly mattered—the Restricted Section.

It was smaller, tucked away in the farthest corner of the library, but its significance was unparalleled. While the main library held general magic, history, and theory, the Restricted Section contained the most dangerous, advanced, and powerful magic ever recorded.

And today, for the first time, Harry would walk in without needing to sneak past Filch or hide under his invisibility cloak.

Harry was just about to push open the iron gate to the Restricted Section when a sharp voice called out from behind him.

"You are not permitted to enter there, young man."

Harry turned to see Madam Pince, the Hogwarts librarian, standing behind her desk, peering at him over her spectacles with an eagle-eyed glare.

He had half-expected this.

Without missing a beat, Harry reached into his robes and pulled out the signed permission slip from Lockhart.

"I have authorization." He handed the parchment to Madam Pince.

The librarian snatched it from his hands, adjusting her glasses as she read through it. Her frown deepened with every word, and Harry could practically hear the disdain dripping from her voice as she muttered,

"Professor Lockhart… granting you full access… the man barely knows which end of a wand to hold."

Harry bit back a smirk.

Madam Pince sighed dramatically before handing the parchment back to him. "Very well. But if I find you damaging or stealing any books—"

"I know, Madam Pince," Harry interrupted smoothly. "No damaging, no stealing, no dark rituals in the reading area."

Her eyes narrowed, but she stepped aside, allowing him through the gate.

Harry strode inside—legally, for once.

Despite having sneaked in before, Harry always found himself in awe upon entering the Restricted Section.

The atmosphere was different here—darker, heavier, almost like the books themselves carried secrets waiting to be discovered. Dust-covered tomes rested on ancient wooden shelves, some of them bound in dragonhide, others in enchanted silver chains that rattled ominously.

Harry knew exactly what he wanted.

His main focus for this trip was ritual magic and warding.

He had touched upon rituals last year, but he knew he needed more knowledge. Rituals were powerful, and many of them could strengthen magic, enhance endurance, or even modify the wizard’s body.

And then there were wards—magical defenses that could protect anything, from a simple locked box to an entire castle. With the kind of enemies he was making, Harry knew he needed the strongest protections possible.

Harry scanned the shelves, running his fingers over the old spines, reading the titles etched in gold, silver, or even blood-red ink.

Some books he recognized from his previous late-night visits:

Magical Barriers and Warding Secrets

The Blood Pact: Ritual Magic of the Ancients

Dark Sigils and Their Meanings


Harry had been expecting it—the moment when Dumbledore would intervene.

It started subtly. A few extra glances during meals in the Great Hall, an occasional pause when Harry passed Dumbledore in the corridors.

At first, Harry ignored it.

But soon, it became clear.

Dumbledore was watching him. Closely.

It happened one afternoon, just as Harry was leaving the Hogwarts Library.

He had spent the last few hours absorbed in The Blood Pact: Ritual Magic of the Ancients, carefully noting down important details about rituals that could boost endurance and magical resilience.

As he exited the library, he nearly bumped straight into Dumbledore.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley," the headmaster greeted, his eyes twinkling, but Harry knew better than to trust the harmless grandfatherly act.

"Professor," Harry greeted back, keeping his expression neutral.

"I have been meaning to speak with you," Dumbledore continued, falling into step beside Harry as they walked.

"You seem to be spending quite a bit of time in the library. A thirst for knowledge is always admirable."

Harry felt the trap coming and kept his face blank.

"Yes, sir. Hogwarts has an incredible library," he said carefully. "A lot to learn."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.

"Indeed. And I see you’ve been granted access to the Restricted Section. Quite a rare privilege for a second-year."

There it was.

Harry knew where this was going.

"Professor Lockhart gave me permission," Harry said casually, watching Dumbledore from the corner of his eye.

Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled, but there was something sharp behind them.

"Ah, yes. Professor Lockhart is quite… generous with his permissions," Dumbledore said lightly. "Still, one must wonder—what subjects interest you so much that you require such reading material?"

Harry knew the game—Dumbledore was probing.

But Harry had spent years outmaneuvering his parents, professors, and even Draco Malfoy. He would not be outmaneuvered here.

"Mostly warding," Harry replied smoothly. "I’ve always found it fascinating how magic can be used defensively. Hogwarts itself is one of the greatest examples of advanced warding in existence. I wanted to understand it better."

Dumbledore’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer.

"A very mature interest for a young wizard," he mused.

Harry shrugged. "I grew up around Bill. He’s a Curse Breaker. He always said wards are one of the most important aspects of magic."

That was true—and a perfect excuse.

Dumbledore nodded, but his expression remained thoughtful.

"Still, Mr. Weasley, knowledge is a powerful thing. Some knowledge can be dangerous. I would advise caution."

Harry met his gaze calmly. "Of course, Professor. I appreciate the advice."

Dumbledore studied him for another second, then finally smiled.

"Good, good. Well then, enjoy your studies."

And just like that, he was gone.

But the next day, Harry discovered just how serious Dumbledore was about monitoring him.

Madam Pince stopped him at the entrance of the Restricted Section.

"I’m sorry, Mr. Weasley," she said in her usual tight-lipped manner, "but your permission slip has been revoked."

Harry kept his face blank.

"On whose orders?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore," she said stiffly.

Harry felt his blood boil, but he simply nodded and walked away, outwardly calm.

Inside, however, he was furious.

Dumbledore had moved against him.

And that meant one thing—

Dumbledore saw him as a threat.