Harry Potter: The Legend of Nero Ravenclaw

Christmas break was approaching at great strides, and students could already feel the excitement in the air.

The usual rumors of Hogwarts being haunted by ghosts carrying candy canes or the occasional whisper of secret presents hidden in corridors weren't the hot topics this year.

No, this time it was something far more peculiar: a school-wide frenzy of studying. The fire ignited by Nero, Ember, Alaric, and Lilith had yet to die down, and the result was an unusual holiday season at Hogwarts.

It had become a daily occurrence to see students receiving howlers from their parents.

The letters were increasingly filled with frantic concern, as parents sent long, scolding messages about how the students should come home for the holidays and spend time with their families instead of locking themselves in the library.

One particularly creative howler that echoed throughout the Great Hall came from none other than Callum Ashridge's mother, the roommate Nero had helped reignite a fire for studying.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE STAYING AT SCHOOL TO STUDY FOR VACATION? YOU'RE 11 YEARS OLD FOR MERLIN'S SAKE! YOU HAVE ALL YOUR LIFE TO STUDY! COME BACK HOME FOR CHRISTMAS THIS INSTANT!"

A few students giggled as they passed the letter around, but Callum's face turned an alarming shade of crimson.

The next howler came from Lavender Johnson's parents, whose concerns were equally extreme but much more… emotional.

"LAVENDER! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE STAYING AT HOGWARTS? YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY THINK YOU'LL BE ABLE TO LEARN ANYTHING MORE IN THE NEXT TWO WEEKS THAN YOU COULD FROM SPENDING TIME WITH YOUR FAMILY! DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT'S BEEN SINCE WE'VE HAD A PROPER SUNDAY DINNER TOGETHER?! COME HOME, NOW!"

Lavender sighed, but when her mother's voice screeched through the hall, she gave a resigned nod. "I know, I know, Mum... I'll come home next year... probably."

Rumors had it that Dumbledore himself had been forced to handle some parents who were particularly vehement in their objections. 

The entire school buzzed with the idea of studying through the holidays, even if it had made a handful of families raise their eyebrows.

In the staff room, the professors were having a rather intense conversation about the turn of events. McGonagall was the first to speak, adjusting her glasses with a tight-lipped frown.

"I had never seen anything like this in my whole career," McGonagall said, clearly shocked. "The students are so eager to study that they've completely disregarded the very idea of a proper holiday."

"Me too, Minerva," said Flitwick, his usually upbeat demeanor replaced with something like mild bewilderment. "I was even scolded by a student because I wanted to finish the lesson one minute early!"

McGonagall's eyes widened. "Scolded? A student scolded you?"

"Yes! Well, technically, a student asked me to calculate the exact number of minutes we would spend in lessons over seven years, only to insist that every single one must be used to its fullest. A thirteen-year-old lectured me on the value of time! I've never felt so guilty for even thinking about ending a lesson early."

At that moment, Snape, who had been silent in the corner, finally spoke, his voice dripping with his usual dry sarcasm.

"I warned you," Snape said coolly, folding his arms over his black robes. "The heirs are a calamity, and look where we are now. Students chanting in the corridors about 'time management,' using their free periods to study for fun. What's next? Students petitioning for more homework? Honestly, Hogwarts has never seen anything like this."

Professor Sprout, who had been listening intently, smiled softly, her round face showing faint amusement.

"Yet, Hogwarts has rarely been so full of life, Severus," she countered, her voice gentle but firm. "I don't know about you, but I think it's quite the turn-up. It feels like the whole school is alive."

Snape narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Alive, you say? If by 'alive' you mean chaotic, then yes, I would agree."

Professor McGonagall and Flitwick leaned in, eager to hear his thoughts.

"Gryffindors," he began, voice dripping with disdain, "have decided that levitating their textbooks and hurling them across the room is a legitimate method of spell mastery. The library has become a war zone, Madam Pince is one frayed nerve away from a complete breakdown, and I was nearly decapitated by a rogue copy of Intermediate Transfiguration just this morning." He scowled. "I assure you, I am not exaggerating."

Flitwick let out a quiet chuckle, but Snape was far from finished.

"Slytherins, meanwhile, have taken it upon themselves to transfigure their robes into miniature dragons. Miniature dragons. Because apparently, fashion should now breathe fire. I had to extinguish a third-year whose sleeve spontaneously ignited during Potions. And before you ask, yes, the dragons are quite realistic. The claw marks and burns on my classroom's desk can attest to that."

McGonagall muttered something about "creativity," but Snape steamrolled ahead.

"Hufflepuffs," he continued, voice edged with disbelief, "have transformed their common room into a full-scale indoor garden. With wildlife. I am informed they have a family of Bowtruckles living in their coffee table, their sofas have been overrun by carnivorous ivy, and, because restraint is a foreign concept to them, there is now a pond. A pond, Minerva." He folded his arms. "

Professor Sprout beamed with unmistakable pride.

"And then," Snape drawled, fixing his gaze on the ceiling as though seeking divine patience, "there are the Ravenclaws. Academically gifted. Incredibly intelligent. And yet" He inhaled sharply. "They have taken it upon themselves to hold midnight debate tournaments on such pressing issues as 'The Ethics of Time Travel' and 'If You Memory Charm Yourself, Is It Considered Cheating on an Exam?'" His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "And just this morning, I intercepted a petition titled: 'Should We, As a House, Attempt to Build a Time Turner?'"

A heavy silence fell over the room. Then Flitwick, positively delighted, murmured, "Innovative."

"Innovative?" he hissed. "If this madness continues, we won't have a school left to teach in. We will have a flaming, overgrown, parchment-littered ruin held together by sheer insanity and an aggressive disregard for school rules."

The professors exchanged looks, ranging from amusement to mild alarm. Before anyone could respond, a weary groan filled the room.

Professor Thornfield, who had been quietly listening from the back, finally snorted. "Times are changing. The students are... enthusiastic. We teach them to defend themselves, and instead, they compete to see who can invent the most innovative spell in class. It's chaos."

A heavy silence fell over the room as they all reflected on the sheer absurdity of their current situation. Then, finally, McGonagall sighed.

"Do you think we should... ask Dumbledore for a raise?" she asked, rubbing her temples.

Flitwick perked up at this. "Actually, I happened to hear from Filch that Severus has found a rather... creative way of negotiating his salary.... And I've been meaning to ask him about it."

Snape, who had been quietly sipping his tea in mounting irritation, froze. His eyes snapped to Flitwick, narrowing dangerously.

"What," he said, voice dripping with suspicion, "did Filch say?"

"Oh, something about you developing a 'new method' to ask the Headmaster for a raise," Flitwick replied innocently. "He seemed quite inspired by it, actually."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Snape set his teacup down with such force that the entire table rattled. "That blithering!" He inhaled sharply, visibly reining in his temper. "For the last time, I was not petitioning for a raise!"

Flitwick exchanged amused glances with the others. "So you're saying it didn't work?"

Snape's expression darkened so thoroughly that for a moment, even Binns looked mildly alarmed.

With a sharp huff, Snape stood, his robes billowing dramatically. "I am leaving before I lose what remains of my sanity."

Snape's glare intensified. "I have no interest in discussing my salary with any of you."

As he stormed toward the door, Thornfield leaned toward McGonagall. "We should probably still ask Filch if it did work, just in case."

A low growl echoed from the hallway, followed by the sharp snap of retreating boots.

And for the first time in a long while, the Hogwarts staff room erupted into laughter.

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3rd chapter of the day ! (3/4) 🎉

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