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[HP] 58: Third Disturbance of Fate
🕑 Added 2025-07-28 14:39:05 +0000 UTC“Good afternoon, everyone. I’m really sorry for startling you all.”
Louis wore a deeply apologetic expression. “Truly sorry, I don’t know why my broom suddenly broke apart—I just crashed in like that.”
As he spoke, he completely ignored the Slytherin students groaning on the ground, and instead glanced at Professor Quirrell standing at the podium.
Quirinus Quirrell...
Louis looked at Quirrell’s pale face, and a strange glint flickered in his eyes.
In his mind, the knowledge of Qi Magic resonated with the Qi Magic seed inside him. He seemed to glimpse a cloud of deathly aura enveloping Quirrell’s face.
The professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts looked like a man on the verge of death. Louis wondered how much longer he could actually hold on.
But there wasn’t time to dwell on that, as Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey came rushing in, clearly having been alarmed by the commotion.
As Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall was always busy—unlike Dumbledore, who was perpetually off doing who-knows-what.
“What on earth happened here?” Professor McGonagall exclaimed in shock, her voice loud enough that Louis thought her hair might blow her hat off.
“Sorry, Professor McGonagall. I don’t know why my broom cracked. I was trying to save Neville, and I lost control. I ended up crashing into the classroom and injuring some innocent students. I deeply apologize,” Louis said, taking full responsibility with a look of guilt.
“You?” McGonagall looked at him like she’d seen a ghost.
She glanced from Louis to the Slytherin students now being treated by Madam Pomfrey. For a moment, she seemed to want to ask why it was always Slytherin getting hurt—but thought better of it.
At that moment, Madam Hooch finally arrived, late to the scene, only to be greeted by a mess.
“Oh my goodness—are the students alright?” she said, clearly shaken. “I’m so sorry, Minerva. This is all my fault.”
“It seems like it was an accident, Rolanda,” McGonagall replied. “Mr. Wilson, could I take a look at your broomstick remains?”
“Of course, Professor.” Louis handed her the broom handle—originally intended to be ‘accidentally’ left with some unlucky victim.
Professor McGonagall examined the handle, which had very distinct features. At the crack, she noticed faint traces of tampering.
Her expression darkened even further.
“Very well then, Mr. Wilson. I saw your heroic rescue on my way here. Your actions were reckless, but brave. I’ll award Slytherin ten points.” Her voice then turned stern. “However, the break in your broom was suspicious. I will investigate this. If I find out who did it, I swear I’ll—”
“How about deducting a hundred points instead? One hundred each,” Louis suggested.
Professor McGonagall paused, clearly caught off guard, and stared at Louis with a meaningful look.
“Fine. One hundred each.”
With that, she conjured several stretchers with a Transfiguration spell, and helped Madam Pomfrey transport the injured students out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Louis gave a respectful bow to everyone, then left the room with Neville.
If Louis knew magic, he might’ve tried to use Scourgify or some repair spell to clean up the mess. But he didn’t—and with this kind of household magic, it wasn’t something he could fake convincingly with sleight of hand.
So… better to leave the mess as it was.
Back in the courtyard, Louis was met with a hero’s welcome from the Gryffindor students. The scene of him flying out on his broom had been far too epic to forget.
As for the Slytherins… well, you couldn’t expect friendly faces from snakes who’d just been smacked down. Did they even have dignity left?
And so, the very first flying class ended. Madam Hooch, concerned for the clearly shaken Neville (and supposedly shaken Louis), let class out early so they could rest.
After class, the students returned their brooms and left in an orderly fashion. As Louis made his way to the library, a system notification popped up:
> [Fate Disturbance Detected – Established Fate Altered]
> [Disturbance Intensity: Weak (Can be corrected with minor effort and coincidence)]
> [You have received: 5 Fate Points]
> [Current Fate Points: 10]
Thanks to Louis’s interference, the Chosen One—Harry—had lost his chance to showcase his natural talent. For someone as modest as Harry, this actually had a significant impact.
Originally, it was only because Professor McGonagall witnessed his talent firsthand that he was selected early for Gryffindor’s Quidditch team.
Now, without another such coincidence, Harry likely wouldn’t realize his passion and talent for Quidditch until after his first actual match.
So yes—those 5 Fate Points? Absolutely deserved.
“That’s enough for one draw now… how could I not try?” Louis mused as he scribbled out his Charms homework.
A draw from the Fate Pool—how could anyone not be excited?
He quickly finished his homework, and after seeing Hermione walk into the library, he approached her with a greeting.
“Hermione, I’ve got something to take care of today, so I won’t be studying with you.”
“No problem. Oh, and don’t forget—we still have one more class tonight,” she reminded him.
“One more?” Louis blinked, then smacked his forehead. “Ah, right! Astronomy. Today’s Wednesday?”
“That’s right. And tomorrow we’ve got Herbology, and another session the day after,” Hermione said. “Three classes a week. The schedule’s a bit messy this week because of the term just starting.”
“Got it. I’ll remember,” Louis nodded. “Oh, by the way—Astronomy is taught to all the houses together, right?”
“I think so,” Hermione replied, clutching her book. “See you tonight, then.”
“Yeah, see you.”
At Hogwarts, aside from all the magical subjects, Astronomy was the most scientific—held every Wednesday at midnight.
As insane and inhumane as that sounds, it couldn’t be helped. Wizards still used telescopes and the naked eye to observe the stars—no convenient Muggle tech here.
Back in the dorm, everyone else had vanished to who-knows-where. But Fafnir had woken up and was meditating quietly in his cage.
Sensing Louis had returned, Fafnir opened his eyes, leapt out of the cage, and spread his wings in display.
Fafnir had changed a lot—his wingspan had grown by three centimeters, his height had increased a bit, his posture was more balanced, and his feathers had become thicker and more vibrant.
In short—Fafnir was looking even cooler.
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