Wake up Lazar

I was surprised and pleasantly so. I had expected Harry Potter and the other students of his year to fail.

I had literally summoned Mahoraga even if it was a weaker version of the shikigami yet instead of being slaughtered, they fought.

Not that there was any moment where they had an advantage but nevertheless, they fought.

Instead of falling into the throws of despair, they chose to rely on each other. Magic was in itself a possibility. Magic could be defined as a rejection of the natural order. The imposition of the will upon the world.

Even then, some were able to do more than others. Humans would never be able to naturally reach the power of a god, of a seraph.

The magic of the world created by JK Rowlings was one that was versatile but not powerful by nature.

I had forgotten the fact that no matter how inexperienced my students were, no matter how weak they were, no matter how human they were, they still had magic and sometimes even if rarely, magic could turn into a miracle.

Magic could be shaped by emotions. Magic was will itself! Gods could fall! This is why the term of godslayer existed! Nothing, nothing was truly impossible even without magic as long as one tried. Magic just made things easier.

Just for a brief moment, just at the end, when they were at their lowest, I felt them grow. For a moment, they had been able to reach together a might I knew was superior to the one of Voldemort.

The freaking power of friendship and I wished I was joking. All of them at that moment had synchronized. It had been impressive, especially coming from them.

Of course, they died instants after but looking at the giant Form of Mahoraga that was now lacking a stomach and a left arm, I can't say that they didn't give more than their best.

Had Mahoraga not been able to adapt, had he not grown in size to kill them, he would have been destroyed.

My gaze turned toward the false world I had created. 'The clash between Mahoraga and them had also left marks,' I thought as I observed cracks lingering in the sky like spider webs.

The strength they had displayed even if incredible for this world shouldn't have been enough to create such.

I guess the cause could only lay in the fact that brief incarnations of Death with a primordial D and Life had clashed against each other.

If only my essence wasn't so powerful, I would have used Mahoraga as my cyanide pill. Unfortunately, I knew that it would be pointless not because he wouldn't grow strong enough but because my essence worked faster than his wheel. This fight proved it.

Anyway, I think it is time for me to resurrect them. Harry Potter, maybe, maybe I had made the right choice in coming here. I hope they'll continue to surpass my expectations.

*scene*

Pansy Parkinson opened her eyes when she shouldn't have. It wasn't something that should happen, something that could happen.

Panay Parkinson had died. The fear, the horror, they hadn't left. They were still there, inscribed, marked on her soul.

Pansy Parkinson knew she had died. She had known that she would die. The monster, the grinning monster had been playing with them, hunting them. Draco, Millicent, Goyle, they died before her eyes and she hadn't been able to do anything.

They were purebloods, they were supposed to be better, stronger. They shouldn't have died as if they were cattle.

The ones who had stood proud, who had fought even when it seemed hopeless, who had seemed Noble had been Half-bloods like Potter and Mudbl- Muggleborns like Granger.

Purebloods were supposed to be the best. Purebloods were supposed to be noble. Purebloods were supposed to be the strongest. This is what had been taught to her. This has been her gospel.

This is what she had believed all of her life, how inherently superior she and her pureblood pairs were but it was a lie. Mahoroga had shown it to her.

Draco had been crushed! Millicent Neck had snapped! Goyle had been butchered. Being Pure-blood didn't help.

It was a lie! A lie! Everything she had been taught stood on a lie! If that was the case, what was the truth? If that was the case, did it mean everything taught to her, everything that she believed was a lie?!

They had died. They had been killed. Pure-blood, half-blood, muggle-born, it didn't matter. There was no distinction when Death itself came.

She had been weak, useless. Her parents would have spit on her before cursing her if they had seen to what state she had been reduced. They would have used the Cruciatus on her if they had seen how she had let herself be touched, embraced by a Muggleborn. Maybe, they would have killed her if they knew she had at that moment felt safe in the arms of Granger, if they knew how Granger's hand hadn't felt dirty but comforting.

Pansy, heiress of the Parkinson family died. She was sure of it yet she could still feel herself breathe, she could feel her heartbeat.

Looking around her, she could see the garden created with the Amethyst sky and vegetation by the DADA teacher, the confused and horrified faces of the other students.

She could see Draco. Draco, he, He was still moving! He was still alive! His head wasn't… images of blood, blood seeping through cracks on the ground, the sound of crushed bones assaulted her mind. it wasn't real! It wasn't real but why looking at him, why looking at Goyle and Millicent only made her want to puke.

Was she becoming mad? Had she gone mad? Was everything that happened a delusion, the result of a spell?

Pansy Parkinson had died and nothing, nothing indicated that it had been real, that she truly had died.

"What did happen?" she heard Blaise whisper. She wished she understood too.

"You died," a voice answered dryly, the voice of her teacher. Pansy gaze travelled to the beautiful red-haired woman, the woman who scared her more than the dark lord, the woman with too much power at her disposal.

The woman was lying on her throne looking at them, a bored expression etched on her face "Everything that happened was real. It wasn't an illusion or anything of that sort. You all died," she spoke her voice as cold as the presence of a dementor "And I brought all you back. I don't think Dumbledore and the others would have been happy if I hadn't done so."

The woman, their teacher spoke of resurrecting them the same way one would do about doing something mundane, not extraordinary. It had taken time for the dark lord to come back from the dead. The woman before them resurrected them easily, too easily.

It was nonsensical! It was madness! It shouldn't be possible! Who was she? Who was this woman with so much cruelty and power?

"I am supposed to teach all of you defence against the dark arts but what's the point if none of you is confronted to them? What's the point of learning and never applying what you were taught?" the woman spoke.

"So all of this, it was supposed to be a lesson?!" Draco at her side shouted at the woman, his shock morphing into indignation and horror. It twisted his pretty features making him look so different, almost raving mad.

"We died!" he yelled. "I died," he said more softly. The last thing the boy had felt before dying had been soul-crushing despair.

The professor was looking at him, seemingly undisturbed by the words of the Malfoy. They all waited with bated breath and feared her reaction. The woman had shown her dislike of being interrupted and a cruelty even the dark lord would have difficulty to match. After all, the dark lord couldn't bring back to life people like she did or not as easily. It meant that she didn't have to worry about what she could do to them because, in the end, she could resurrect them if they died.

"And?" the woman asked. The sky is blue, the grass is green, fishes swim. The Professor didn't look as if she cared at all.

"And?!" the Malfoy repeated in confusion.

"You died but you're now back. What about it? You died because you weren't strong, lucky or smart enough. You are lucky. All of you are. Few usually come back."

"What you did was wrong Professor!"

"Was it?" she questioned the words of the Malfoy scion. "My only duty is making you strong. The means don't matter. Do you know why you are angry? Do you know Why you are shooting at me, The reason why I'm sure most of you hate me deep down right now?"

"I will tell it to my father!" the Malfoy threatened her.

"And your father will die failing to do anything," she answered dryly. "If you want to spice your backstory a little more like a dark knight, I can kill your parents. I wouldn't even do it in an alley. I would do it in broad daylight and after will go take a nap."

No one talked. The eyes of the woman shone like gems. At that moment, it seemed for Pansy as if Death itself was held in the eyes of the teacher.

"You hate me because I proved to you all something. You are all weak! I could see, feel the desire in you to grow strong the moment you entered in my class but how could someone search for strength without being ready to sacrifice?! You all thought it would be easy, that it would be a given when power can never truly be given but taken, taken and kept by efforts. Mahoraga's strength was reduced and you still lost."

The woman pointed a finger at Draco "Right now, if I wanted, I could kill you and nothing, nothing that you would do would be able to change that. Just one bang and this will be the end for Draco Malfoy." The Malfoy looked pale and Pansy understood him.

It wasn't like the usual backstabbing pure-blood politics that existed amongst Slytherins. Here, the menace was so much greater, so much more and worse, nothing, nothing they would do would be able to change anything like the woman had said because she had power and they didn't.

Her finger lowered and Pansy felt the Breath she hadn't noticed losing come back. Draco sat back, quieter at her side.

A sigh escaped from the lips of the teacher like someone preparing themselves to do something they truly didn't want "Nevertheless, I think congratulations are in order for most of you, for those who survived until the end."

No one said anything and Pansy knew it was because most of them didn't know how to react. "You should be proud you know. For an instant, your combined strength surpassed the one of the Headmaster and the dark lord. I wouldn't say combined but probably not that far."

Potter was the only one to say anything. He said what they all thought "What?"

*scene*

Honestly, I thought it would be easier. Sure I knew mentally, they'd be acting different with the fact that they died but Hey, the wizarding world found it normal to keep Dementors, Cerberus and Acromantulas in and around a children's school. At this point, they probably should be used or less affected by things like that, right?

I had hoped that maybe they would have bounced back more easily or something. Draco had yelled at me. Even though I had found displeasing we would say, I had allowed it because I thought it fair.

He was lashing out instead of keeping it in like most of his peers and maybe it was more healthy.

I had tried to compliment them. Children, students, they like the approval of older figures of authority right? I knew I unfortunately did when I was their age.

I had told them they should be proud because, for a moment, they had surpassed for a brief moment Voldemort and Dumbledore in strength. They looked at me as if I had grown a second head.

"I have no reason to lie to you. There would be no point," I told them.

"The Headmaster and Voldemort," Harry Spoke, the Slytherins flinching as if they expected Tom Riddle to appear before my eyes "Are the strongest. We all know this. We are students. There is no chance of this possibly happening."

I felt approval at the words of the boy who lived radiate from most of my students. It seemed that I would have to teach them something.

"Humor me, Mr Potter," I spoke. "You think me saying you surpassed the dark lord and Dumbledore is untruth. I can understand why you think that. They're the pinnacles of your society, wizards spoken in the same breath as Merlin and Morgana."

My gaze travelled and moved to each of them "I can understand what you all think that. Zabini," I spoke the name of the dark-skinned Slytherin who looked as if he wished to be everywhere but under my gaze.

"Is the strength of a Wizard determined at birth?" I asked him.

I watched his face take a thinking expression. After a moment, he spoke, the words carefully pronounced as if one wrong word would be the reason for his end "I think that some people are born more blessed than others."

"Go on," I told him. The other students were also focused on the Dark-skinned Slytherin.

"I think that a muggle-born wizard would most likely not be as strong as someone coming from a powerful line like one descending from a founder."

Well, the boy had just said as politely as he could probably to not irritate as much as possible the half-bloods and Muggleborn students that Pure-bloods or half-bloods from long and powerful lines were inherently better.

I guess you can take the boy away from Slyethrin but not Slytherin away from the boy. I peered into his thoughts.

He had changed and for the better. He still was changing. Blaise Zabini was the kind of Pure-blood that thought they were inherently better. The difference between him and Draco was that he didn't display it as openly and brazenly as the Malfoy. There was a reason why Draco saw him as a friend.

To put it in perspective, he would have been the kind of guy who wouldn't call you slur or try to hurt you directly but buy or manipulate others in doing so, the kind to call you a slur mentally but smile at you in the real world making you believe he truly liked you. However, things had changed. Labels like Pure-blood, Half-blood and Muggleborn were quickly forgotten when you had to survive, fight for your life.

They were discarded when the ones fighting at your side, choosing to face death with you were Half-bloods and Muggle-borns.

It wasn't that he was not a bigot anymore, that all of sudden, he had turned into a person so compassionate Mother Theresa would weep in joy. Maybe Mother Theresa was the wrong example but the point stood and it wasn't only him.

All the Slytherins who had survived until the end like Pansy, Daphne, Tracy, Crabbe were kinda similar too.

It's not as if they had turned into little perfect angels. Far from it. They still mostly thought of themselves as superior due to being Pure-bloods. It's just that their views on those they considered also superior had broadened but I'm sure Crabble wouldn't care if a Muggle was treated badly before him. If it was Hermione Though or someone that reminded him of her, he would try to do something.

I wondered how things would change due to that. I was really young when I had watched the Harry Potter movies but if I wasn't wrong, most of them had decided to follow Voldemort. Would they now?

A frown had bloomed on the Face of Hermione. She had understood the meaning behind the words of the boy and she didn't like it.

Accepting them as the truth would be akin to agreeing with everything Malfoy had been spewing since she became a part of the magical world.

"Before I explain the reason behind my question, Does anyone disagree with Zabini?" I asked my students.

Hermione wasn't the one to speak. She was beaten by the Boy who lived "I do Professor," the boy spoke, his voice firm.

He looked at me as if expecting me to say anything. Understanding flashed into his eyes as he understood I wanted him to go further, elaborate more than I simply I do "I disagree because two of the three strongest wizards of today who we all know here aren't Pure-blood."

His eyes lingered on me before moving to the Zabini. I didn't need telepathy to know that I was one of those three wizards "Would you say, Zabini that The headmaster and Voldemort aren't among the strongest wizards alive?"

Blaise reacted as if he had been slapped and the other Slytherins didn't fare better. The Gryffindors except Hermione and Ron looked at Harry as if he had gone crazy.

"The dark lord?! A half-blood?!" Draco Sputtered. "Even for the likes of you, it is low Potter."

They didn't believe him. There were no chances they would at this rate. Voldemort had been their Symbol, the champion of their cause. What Harry had just said was equivalent to someone saying Hitler was Jewish or Stalin a capitalis… Maybe the latter didn't make sense. Well, if nothing was done, I knew they would be arguing without an end and I wouldn't be able to make my point. Time was still passing and honestly, I missed my bed.

"He's not wrong," I told them my voice cutting through their chatter. With an application of my demonic energy, letters appeared floating over my students. Tom Marvolo Ridde they displayed first before changing places.

"It can't be," Pansy Parkinson whispered. She and the other Slytherin looked as if they were children learning for the first time that Santa wasn't real.

The one they had worshipped, the one they had chosen to follow, who had promised them to cleanse the filth was exactly what they had seen as lesser.

Amusement coursed through me for a brief moment replacing the emptiness. My devilish instincts found all of this more than amusing. The irony of it. Just for that, just for that, a part of me wanted to thank Voldemort. Maybe I would ship him garlic and tomatoes preferably coming from the same area as the orphanage he had been living in.

"You see," Harry said Glee filling his voice. "Voldemort and Dumbledore, two of the strongest wizards of all time are half-bloods. It means that descending from a long magical line doesn't mean much."

I wonder if Voldemort's followers knew he wasn't what he presented himself as. I wonder if they knew and hated it, unable to disobey him for fear of him attacking them.

Nah, I don't think it was the latter. Maybe it was for some some really close to him like those to whom he had ordered to protect his Horcruxes but I would be surprised if most knew.

Walburga Black would have killed herself before encouraging her children to join him if she had known that.

Would the Slytherins share this information with their parents? What would their parents do? Maybe Harry wouldn't have to do anything in the end. Maybe the problem of Dumbledore will resolve itself. Nah, fate was never this kind.

"Some Wizards," I began "are born stronger, different from most. This is a fact. You, Draco Malfoy would never be as good at magic as Salazar Slytherin."

The boy nodded even if he seemed still shocked and appalled "It wouldn't be wrong to say Some wizarding families are more likely to create exceptional wizards. The Black family had since the beginning of their existence transmitted the gift of Shapeshifting to their descendants." The eyes of the golden trio flashed in recognition. They probably have already met Tonks.

Blaise was smiling. Not so fast, little snake. Time to wipe your smile out "the only alive inheritor of this ability is a Half-Blood."

"Even then, such abilities are rare. Let's say that lineage matters, that it gives an advantage in strength. You all seem to forget something. You are wizards and even though you may wield Magic, magic inherently doesn't make sense. Magic is a primordial force of nature! Magic is like a stream. You may try to divert it, to use it for your own needs but you never truly be able to understand it."

It was also the case of my Demonic energy. Sure, I just needed to pump enough of it to create any phenomenon I wished to but how did it truly work?

How did my will, something ungraspable could change, force the world to bend? The truth was that most magic users were monkeys playing with things they shouldn't have been able to control.

"Magic is changing the rules of the world! Magic is defying the world's natural rules! Magic is the impossible itself! Those of you who survived until the end against Mahoraga. What did you feel? What did you think when the orb was ready to consume you?" I asked them.

Pansy was the first to answer "Survive," she whispered. "I wanted to survive," the Parkinson heiress admitted.

"Me too."

"Me too."

"Me too"

The others followed suit confirming the words of the Slytherin girl. "Magic can do incredible things. Magic is more than moving a wand and saying words. Magic like you said is will! Magic can be shaped by emotions."

My gaze met with the one of the boy who lived "Magic can accomplish anything like making sure a child would survive a blow from the killing curse."

Hermione rose her hand "Yes?" I told the girl.

"Professor, if I understand what you said, some are born with more facility, talent to control magic but magic being magic means it would be possible for those less naturally strong to be more powerful than those inherently born with more power."

"Yes. Ten point to Gryffindor." I watched a smile bloom on her face. It was a good sign. Maybe I hadn't traumatized them as bad as I feared.

"You want a proof of what I'm saying?" I told them. "Accidental magic."

Magical children were prone to using magic accidentally when feeling angry, scared, or confused, as a form of self-defence. It was a kind of magic that most of them didn't control yet it was the proof that even without a wand, their emotions were enough to create effects, things that shouldn't have been like Harry's hair growing back because Petunia gave him a bad haircut or Ariana Dumbledore that exploded things around her.

I wonder if maybe Wands didn't cripple wizards a little. I had never liked the idea even as a kid of fundamentally depending of a tool. Sure, you could have a wicked sword that could allow you to shoot laser beams as bright as the sun but what's the point if the sword could be destroyed? What was the point if the sword could be taken?

"Accidental magic is you changing the world through magic powered by strong emotions. Even the killing curse," I turned toward Draco "needs from its user to feel hatred to be used. Don't worry Draco Malfoy. I was the one who said every spell was permitted. I promise you there'll be no negative consequences awaiting you outside this class."

I would have to talk with Dumbledore. In the case the ministry tries to become a headache, maybe I would have In the worst case to flex my demonic energy to make them do what I wished.

"With everything I just said, is it a surprise the spell you all fed your magic to would be one stronger than anything the Dark Lord or the Headmaster would have been able to cast? You were before Death itself and instead of giving up, even though it was foolish, you fought and struggled until the bitter end. Magic doesn't make sense naturally and even less when powered by hope. 40 points to Slytherin and 50 points to Gryffindor by the way."

There had been more Gryffindors than Slytherins. It was only fair, right l? "Be proud," I told them. "You are strong."

I'm sure it would have come better coming from the king of curses. I'm sure the guy would have said the same thing or something similar. Oh, you threw a broom at his head? He would call it magnificent, something not seen since the Heian era. As long as your name was Yuji Itadori, you could be assured of being congratulated by him in a fight or while dying.

Smiles had bloomed on their faces. Stockholm syndrome for the go! Just had to give them points for a trophy that didn't really mean anything and congratulate them after being the cause of their death and they were all smiling, well those smiling were those who had survived until the end.

With a wave of my hand more because it was something I was used to more than anything else, w book appeared on each of their table.

They all looked at it as if it was cursed. With the way the magical world was, I couldn't blame them. Hermione was the first to touch the book before. "The Latin Dictionary," she said out loud.

"What would be the point?" I heard Ron whisper under his breath.

"Latin? Latin! How did I never think of that?" the girl of the golden Trio said as if she had arrived at the answer that had always been before her eyes.

Others have chosen to open the books now that the Gryffindor girl has shown that they wouldn't attack them.

"Miss Granger, could you explain it to your peers? It seems that they hadn't understood yet." The look of confusion on their faces highlighted that.

This is why I have never understood about the world of Harry Potter and the self-insert fanfics written about it.

Most spells are either in Latin, in a butchered form of it or in ancient Greek. There were probably spells in other old languages but the bulk of the magic that seemed to be used in the wizarding world seemed to be based on Latin.

If I had been reincarnated in Harry Potter and knew I had magic, one of the first things I would try to do would be to buy or find a Latin dictionary.

What could Voldemort do if, with a spell, I threw him in the middle of a black hole? The magic from this world wasn't strong but it was so versatile it almost seemed limitless and it was almost frustrating how it wasn't explored more.

Sure, I understood there are risks with experimenting especially with magic which is a primordial source of power. If I wasn't wrong, Luna's mom died because of a failed experiment but you never made anything, create anything without trying.

"Most Spells are in Latin, a dead language. For example," Hermione explained to the others as she turned the pages of the dictionary before stopping "Here is the world, Lumen." She showed the page to the other students.

A quick glance in the minds of my students showed me that the only ones following were those with a muggle background like muggle-borns or half-bloods. There is no chance in Heaven I would be the one teaching Pure-Bloods how to use a dictionary. It was a proof that their muggle study's course was bullshit.

Maybe I could change it. I knew that one word on my part would be enough to make Albus change the current order of things. Should I like what would be the point? Would that help them in becoming stronger, more lethal?

Now that I thought about it deeply, would it be a good idea to introduce in the same time guns and heavy weapons to them?

I don't know, maybe the Weasley twins would be able to enchant a gun, making it strong enough to kill me or something of the like. A sigh escaped me. Yeah, I will have to speak to Dumbledore after which means Less time for a nap.

"Lumen like the wand lighting charm we were taught in first-year Lumos?" Neville asked her. He seemed to be the first one to catch the resemblance.

"Exactly Neville!" The Longbottom heir's face turned pink at her words. "The word Lumos is derived from the Latin word lumen, which means light"

The girl raised her wand, the tip of it pointed at the sky "Lumos," the girl said before the tip of her wand began shining a soft light. With a box from the girl, the light was extinguished.

The Gryffindor girl turned toward me "Professor, may I try something possibly dangerous?"

"Don't worry I'll make sure that none of you are hurt in case something wrong happens," I told her even though I didn't think it would be the case.

With a nod, she turned back toward the other students. I heard some of the Slytherins whisper under their Breathe Morgana's name.

"Lumen," Hermione whispered before being momentarily blinded. Gasps of shock and surprise echoed around her as hovering over her wand was an orb not bigger than a basketball reminiscent of a star.

"Are you telling me that this book," Blaise spoke now looking and holding the dictionary with more respect "can make it possible for us to understand and even create spells?"

"Yes," Hermione smiled. "It is the case. I have so many things I want to try."

Ron was looking less dubious at the dictionary. He seemed as if he didn't know if to be happy or scared.

Harry looked as if the answers of the universe had been given to him. Harry Potter wanted to be strong, so strong than nothing, no one could threaten and or take something from him or the people he cared about. 'Maybe,' the boy who lived thought 'if he had the dictionary earlier, maybe if he had been smart enough go search for one, Cedric would still be alive and Mahoraga may have lost.'

Daphne Greengrass held in her arms the book created by her professor as the most precious thing in the world. 'Maybe, hopefully,' she thought, 'curses would be lifted.'

The other students had reacted similarly some with awe and others with barely restrained glee and greed. All of this because of dictionaries. I'm sure a lot of people will learn about their existence.

I was kinda regretting to have created those dictionaries because I realized that it meant that I had to create other copies for the rest of the students.

I didn't like it Even though it would be less than a formality for me. Why did everything have to be so complicated? I am sure that if Sirzec-

Never mind, I had been awake for long enough. Thinking about any of them was a sign. At least due to sleeping with the help of magic, I wouldn't have to think about them. Harry's year was supposed to be my last today.

"You will be given only one assignment and it'll be at the end of the year," I said cutting bringing back the attention of my students on me. "Your last assignment will be to face a non-weakened Mahoraga."

If they couldn't do this, it would be the proof that everything I had been trying here was useless and that it was time to leave to find another way. In any case, I'm sure that Voldemort shouldn't be a threat to any of my students.

I watched their faces pale in horror and fear at my words. Good, they'll be good motivators and with that last night, I teleported them away, to reappear before the door of my classroom.

With another brief release of my demonic energy, I fell on my bed in my room, my eyes already closing. A straight-through I wished hadn't appeared in my mind before I fell asleep 'Brother, what would you think of me if you saw me?'