Chapter 7
Alone in his compartment, Harry read several of the books he had taken with him, both from school and the library. He quickly read through the entirety of his defense book and deemed it was absolute rubbish. Most of the theory didn’t even seem complete from what he knew about the spells in the book. What made everything worse was that they had OWL’s this school year, and from the looks of it, not a single person would be passing the practical application part of their exam. Well, except for him and a few purebloods who had private tutors.
Somehow, the library seemed to have predicted this would happen, and Harry had already learned most of the spells that were mentioned in the useless defense book from books the library had recommended him. At least, he knew how to do them without a wand, so how hard could the switch from wandless to wand be? Some random night when he was thinking about his interaction with Ron and Hermione in the hallway, he realized that it didn’t matter if he did magic without a wand. Like he knew that, but he didn't know that. It hadn't dawned on him how big of a loophole that was until that moment. He could literally do all the magic he wanted, just as long as it was without a wand.
After he realized that, it was like a whole new world was opened for him. Obviously, there was some stuff he just had to do with a wand, spells far too complex to start off wandless, but 5th year defense spells? Those were a piece of cake. Literally. One of the spells they had to know was conjuring a piece of cake to ward off Sorrowliches. According to a book from the library, the Sorrowlich was one of the most sorrowful creatures known to wizards, only able to be consoled by a piece of cake. Apparently, their cries were so heartbreaking they could cause death by heartbreak.
Harry had never heard of such a creature, and as they were only located in a very small region in Nepal, he was very confident he would never come across a situation where this spell was necessary. Instead, he decided to do the spell justice by using it to fulfill a late night craving more than once. When he learned how to change the cake flavors, well that was just the icing on the cake for him.
Unfortunately, the train ride ended far too soon, bringing Harry to a new type of hell. Sure, he loved Hogwarts. He loved all the possibilities the castle brought to him and all the magic at his disposal, but he hated how he was now stuck in Gryffindor all because of a decision he made when he was eleven years old, coming from a not so great household and just having made his first friend.
He felt like he didn't belong there anymore, and with the whole Cedric dying thing, Harry's chest hurt at the thought of the boy he couldn't save, he knew that he would most likely be isolated from the rest of the entire school again. Seriously, who would want to be near the freak who claims Voldemort's back? Harry has seen the papers that the residents of Grimmauld Place read. He knows what the Prophet is saying about him. How he is looney, out of his mind, senile like old-man Dumbledore. He hates it, but he understands it. If he thinks from the people's point of view, and if the war was truly as terrible as they describe it, he wouldn't want to believe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back as well.
Gathering all his books and placing them back in his trunk, Harry sighed as he got up and brushed off his Hogwarts robe. He had changed right before lunch, which was a sandwich and some fruit he had packed the night before leaving Grimmauld place, and it appears that some of the crumbs had remained on his lap for the rest of the ride.
As he neared the Great Hall, Harry debated just skipping the whole thing and avoiding everyone. There was no one to sit with, and he wasn't really feeling the whole loner-in-public vibe today as he had become so accustomed to last year when he and Ron were going through it.
Unfortunately, he knew that people would take note if he wasn’t there and he would definitely be called into either Dumbledore or Snape's office in question of his whereabouts. So, as much as he wasn’t feeling the loner vibe, he really wasn't feeling the interrogation vibe, so he decided to brave the feast and sit for the sorting ceremony and dinner.
Entering the Great Hall, Harry chose the first free spot he saw at the Gryffindor table. Not surprisingly, Hermione and Ron, who hadn’t sat down yet as they had been busy attending to their prefect duties, saw where he was and sat the furthest they possibly could from him. Looking to see who he was next to, wondering if he could strike up a conversation, Harry found that everyone near him had moved as far away from him as possible. Since the table was near full, they couldn't move far, but if looking from a bird's eye view, you would see a little space surrounding him, like the air around him was contaminated with something deadly.
It wasn’t a new feeling, but it was still a feeling that hurt. One would think with all the experience he had with this type of thing, he would eventually grow numb to it, but every time this happened, a little piece of him seemed to die. A piece from when he was younger, just wanting one person to be his friend. One person who accepted him unconditionally. One person who didn't think he was the freak his aunt always told everyone he was. In response, Harry did what Harry did best in this type of situation. He put on a blank face and made it appear as if none of this affected him, as if it didn't tear him apart on the inside. For all the bravo he put on, he still was a fifteen year old boy who wanted the approval of those around him. One day, he could escape this all. For now though, he would have to endure.
Suddenly, he was broken out of his depressing thoughts by Dumbledore standing to give his yearly speech.
“Good evening, children,” Dumbledore started, trying his best to look grandfatherly which just made Harry cringe, “Now, we have two changes in staffing this year. First, we're pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures while Professor Hagrid is temporarily on leave.”
Hagrid’s gone? If that wasn’t suspicious, Harry didn’t know what was. Hagrid was so far up Dumbledore’s ass that he would never leave Hogwarts grounds unless Dumbledore specifically told him to, meaning there was definitely something going on here. Harry’s first thought was to put it on his mental ‘To Be Investigated’ list, but then he realized, why should he investigate it? He didn’t even know if he liked Hagrid anymore, and he was trying to be himself this year.
“We also wish to welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor,” Dumbledore unfortunately continued, “Professor Dolores Umbridge. And I'm sure you'll all join me in wishing the Professor good luck.”
Staring at the pink looking toad whose smile looked so fake there was no possible way the lady was a Slytherin as her face was such a disgrace, Harry came to the realization that this was the bitch who had accused him of being a liar in his trial, Dolores Jane Umbitch, and oh wait, this lady had somehow been in Slytherin. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, falling over so his head hit the table with a semi-loud bang, causing a few people to look and attempt to move even further from him. Of course this lady was here. The world just hated him.
Turning his head which was now resting against the table to see the podium, Harry waited for Dumbledore to continue his speech.
“Now, as usual, our caretaker, Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you-” Dumbledore rambled before he was beautifully cut off by the pink lady.
Harry may hate Umbitch, but he hates Dumbledore more, so Harry had to give it to the wrench, she scored a point in his book.
“Thank you, headmaster,” she interrupted with a fake smile, “for those kind words of welcome. And how lovely to see all your bright... happy faces smiling up at me. I'm sure we're all going to be very good friends.”
That’s a load of hippogriff shit.
“The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. Although each headmaster has brought something new to this historic school... progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged. Let us preserve what must be preserved... perfect what can be perfected... and prune practices that ought to be prohibited,” Umbridge finished.
Harry liked to imagine she practiced that in front of a mirror, condescending smile and all. Also, what in the entire universe did her speech even mean? Prune practices that ought to be prohibited? Like what? Hogwarts is already as light magic driven as it can possibly be. The ministry just wants to interfere with Hogwarts is basically what she was trying to say.
Harry turned his head away from the podium, head still resting on the table, and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the world around him. There was already so much bullshit surrounding him and it wasn’t even the first day of lessons.
The rest of Dumbledore's speech was boring, and Harry, not really having an appetite, ate only a bit of chicken and some broccoli, playing around with the rest of his meal in silent contemplation, wondering what book he should read first when he reached his dorm. He decided that he should probably go over all of this year's course work and see what spells he can and can’t do already. He should also probably make sure that all the wandless spells he learned can also be done with his wand.
Sure, it will be tedious work, and he will probably be up all night going through every single 5th year school book, but if he can figure out what he needs to learn and work on now, he can focus more time later on things he is actually interested in. Besides, it's not like he would be sleeping anyways. The nightmares were still too prevalent for that. Maybe he could steal some sleeping droughts from Madam Pomfrey in the near future, but for now, it was all sleepless nights for him.
There was only one problem though, Harry suddenly realized. He now had roommates. Roommates whom he definitely couldn't disturb all night doing magic. Harry pondered what he should do for a moment, thinking as he began walking towards the Fat Lady’s painting, noticing everyone else had gotten up and was walking out the Great Hall since Dumbledore had dismissed them all. He had to at least go to the Gryffindor tower first, if only so he could learn this year's password and grab his books from his trunk which the house elves had undoubtedly placed in front of his bed.
What should he do after that? He could place a silencing ward around his bed, draw the curtains shut, and then practice spells just sitting in his bed. The only problem was, the space of his bed was too confining, and some of the spells they needed to know this year required more space than the size of a twin size bed. He could sneak out. He had the invisibility cloak and the marauders map. They probably wouldn't even notice him leaving since it appears everyone was trying their best to avoid even thinking about him.
Making his decision, Harry decided the second option is what he would do. He didn’t know where he would go, but Hogwarts was large, and there was definitely an abandoned room somewhere he could practice spells without getting caught. If worse came to worse and Harry couldn't find a place, there was always Slytherins Chamber. No one would find him there, and even if someone somehow figured out where he went, which there was almost no chance they would, there was no one other than Voldemort who could speak parseltongue, so they wouldn't even be able to force out until he was ready to leave anyways.
Harry, so lost in his planning, suddenly realized that the group of Gryffindors had stopped walking and they were standing in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait, waiting for the Head Boy and Girl to give this year's password, which apparently was Mimbulus Mimbletonia.
Harry recognized the word as being the name of a very rare magical plant originating from Assyria. He had learned about it in a book for potions because the plant’s sap, though horrific smelling, had many useful properties. He distantly wondered if this new password meant Neville would finally be able to remember the password for the tower since he seemed to only remember things that involve plants.
Neville may not be the brightest in most subjects, but in Herbology, he was basically Hermione Granger but better, remembering not only every plant fact he ever had come across in his life, even a random one line sentence from the Quibbler, but being smart enough to take the information he had learned and apply it in new, never seen before ways in the various independent studies he did by himself in Professor Sprout’s greenhouse, with her permission of course.
Harry was truly proud of his friend, aspiring to be as intelligent as Neville one day, only in subjects that interested him though. Herbology didn’t really seem to be his thing. He had so many horrific memories about gardening back from Privet Drive that he would rather avoid it all together now. It interested him when it applied to potions, but past that, Harry had no interest in the subject.
Walking up to his dorm, which was now five flights of stairs away instead of the four from last year, making him shudder to think about when he was in seventh year, Harry didn’t immediately grab for his books. Instead, he thought it better to make his presence known and set up his things for the school year first.
He took his clothes out of his trunk and put them in a dresser next to his bed. Then, he took out his toiletries and placed them in his spot in the 5th year boy’s bathroom. He got his school bag ready, placing some quills, parchment, and all his school books in there. Fortunately, he was smart enough to place a feather light and expanding charm on the bag before placing his things in there, because if he had forgotten, the bag would either rip or he wouldn't be able to lift the bag.
He also decided to put the cloak and map in there. It would be suspicious if the Fat Lady’s portrait opened by itself, so people had to see him leave. He could put the cloak on outside of the tower. Additionally, it would be difficult to leave with all his books in hand, hence why they are all in the bag, even if he normally wouldn't carry all of them at once. For safety measures, he wandlessley placed some wards he had learned in the library around his things since he wouldn't be surprised if someone tried to trash his things again. It wouldn't be the first time it had happened anyways, so it was better to be safe than sorry.
Turning to make sure everything was set for his first school day tomorrow, bag slung across his body ready to leave for the night, Harry was met face to face with Neville, smiling at him awkwardly in the way he often does, like he wanted to say something but was too scared to say it.
“Hi Neville,” Harry neutrally greeted.
He didn’t know where Neville stood in the whole Voldemort's back thing, but he always had liked Neville and enjoyed the time they spent together. It would most definitely hurt if Neville joined the Ron boat and hated him now, but Harry could manage. He always did.
“Hiya Harry,” Neville greeted back, “How was your summer?”
“It was… interesting,” he responded, not really giving Neville much to work with.
How was he supposed to respond to that? It actually really sucked until he found the library, but he didn’t really want to tell Neville about the library. Even with the library though, he still couldn’t sleep at night, and the world seemed to be closing in on him at every waking second. Things at Privet Drive were awful, things with Sirius were awful, things with his ex-friends were awful. Everything was just awful, but who says all that to a simple ‘how was your summer question? He would just sound like an attention seeker or something.
“I’ll bet. Gran told me about your trial. She was there, actually. She said she was really impressed with the way you represented yourself,” Neville complimented.
“Well, tell your Gran thanks for the compliment. That means a lot coming from her. How was your summer, Neville?” he asked.
He was genuinely thankful for the compliment. It meant a lot coming from a woman like Augusa Longbottom.
“Certainly not as eventful as yours. I mainly spent my time gardening. I think Gran is finally starting to come to terms with the fact I won't be an Auror like my pops and is starting to support me in becoming a herbologist.”
“That’s great to hear,” Harry said with genuine cheer and a smile on his face.
Neville deserved to do what he wanted in life, and Harry couldn't be happier to hear that.
“Thanks, Harry. I just wanted you to know…”
Neville's demeanor changed, suddenly biting his lip and scratching one foot against the back of his leg, clearly nervous. This is what Neville had wanted to talk about all along.
“Well,” Neville continued, “I just wanted you to know that me and my Gran, we believe you. I mean, we believe you when you say He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back. Just wanted you to know that we have your back and support you.”
Harry, although he knew that there were definitely some people who believed him and not everyone hated him like the Prophet tried to suggest, was surprised. He didn't realize people who supported him actually existed right now.
“Neville… Thanks. That really means a lot. More than you know, actually,” Harry responded with a tentative smile.
Neville smiled pityingly at him, and Harry knew he was trying to look supportive. It was just, his smile looked as if he knew what Harry was going through, as if he knew what he had been endring ever since Cedric died, and although Harry liked Neville a lot, in fact, Neville may be his only friend right now, he hated pitying looks. Pity felt like people were looking down on him. Like they thought they were better than him. The way Neville was looking at him, it made Harry feel as if he had just made a dumb mistake and Neville was supporting him in his journey to better himself, even if he knew that wasn’t Neville's thoughts at all.
He didn’t put his name in the Goblet of Fire. He didn’t choose to fight in the tournament. He didn’t choose to be in the graveyard. All he had agreed to was sharing the cup with Cedric, to make them both winners. He didn’t agree to Cedric’s death.
Nevilles pity made him feel like the situation was somehow avoidable and Harry was just to dumb to see it, even if Neville wasn’t thinking anything like that at all.
He didn’t want Cedric to die.
Why did Cedric die?
Oh Merlin, why did Cedric have to die?
Harry suddenly had the feeling like he needed to leave the room. He needed a safe place.
“Harry, are you ok? You suddenly got pale,” Neville asked, all concerned.
Neville really was too nice. He didn’t mean anything by the look. Harry knew that, but he had a hard time convincing himself that was actually true.
“Yeah,” Harry forced out, even if it was getting harder and harder to breathe, “I think I ate something funny at the feast. I'm going to see Madam Pomfrey for some stomach pain relief.”
Harry abruptly turned around before Neville could say anything more and began to speed walk out of the dorm. He knew Neville was probably surprised at his sudden mood change and was possibly trying to figure out what he had done wrong. Neville hadn’t done anything wrong. Harry just read far too much into one look, but now that his mind was on that track, he couldn't get it off of it. He should apologize later.
This always happened whenever he thought of Cedric. Although he never got this worked up about it anymore, as he often had in the beginning of summer, he still thought about Cedric every single day, thinking of a million different ways Harry could have saved him.
He knew, logically, that there was nothing he could have done. After all, how was he to predict Voldemort’s exact plans, but his brain kept telling him that he should have been able to predict it. Or that he should have just been selfish and taken the cup for himself. Or that he should have been prepared for something like this to happen. He knew, deep down, that it wasn’t his fault, but his mind, his conscience, and his heart told him otherwise.
Harry, who had somehow made it out of the tower, found himself pacing in front of a tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy’s attempt to train trolls as ballet dancers, which he could only tell that's what it was from the label below the tapestry.
All he could think of though was that he needed a place to escape. He needed a place like the library. He needed the library, really. That’s all he needed. He kept pacing, and pacing, and pacing in front of the tapestry, thinking about the library, feeling the magic in him get more and more antsy, threatening to escape his body and cause an explosion, manifesting into a physical representation of his inner turmoil. If he couldn’t find a place where he could have a panic attack in peace soon, well Harry didn’t know what would happen, but he knew it wouldn't be good.
Suddenly, Harry noticed a door underneath the tapestry that most definitely hadn’t been there before. Needing a place to escape to immediately though, Harry ignored how suspicious the door was and gripped the handle, yanking the door open, and rushed into the room, not caring for its surroundings or the sound of the door shutting behind him.
All he could think to do was run to the apparent center of the room, fall down on his knees, cradle his head in his hands, and burst into tears. He felt his magic rushing out his body, like how it did when he spread his magic, but much more forceful and much less controlled. He screamed. He screamed for Cedirc and the life the Hufflepuff could have lived. He screamed for himself, and the life he could have lived if none of this Voldemort shit had happened.
If Voldemort had never existed, he would still have his parents. He would never have gone to the Dursleys. He would have had a normal childhood. He would never have had to deal with all this Dumbledore crap. He would maybe even have real friends, not ones who wanted him only for his fame and the notoriety that came with being associated with him. He wouldn’t have to deal with the weight of the wizarding world entirely on his shoulders. He wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cedircs death. He could have been just Harry his whole life.
Harry took a deep breath and calmed himself down. He vowed then and there that he would end Voldemort, not for the sake of the wizarding world, the world that had failed him. He could honestly care less about that world right now. He would do it for the sake of the life he could have had. For what could have been. For Cedric. He would make Voldemort regret having ever been born, and while he’s at it, maybe he would do the same for Dumbledore, the man who seemed to be the root of all his problems.
In order to do that, he had to get stronger. He had to be greater than all of them. After he got rid of both Dumbledore and Voldemort, either by death or other means, then he could rest. Then, he could take the remainder of his parents fortune and lay low for the rest of his life. Until then, he needed to grow stronger.
With renewed vigor to be better, Harry whipped his face to get rid of the tear stains and opened up his school bag so he could begin to sort through his books. The sooner he mastered this stuff, the sooner he could get to learning actually useful information. As he was laying out each of his school books, debating which one to grapple first, Harry finally took note of his surroundings.
The first thing he noticed was that there seemed to be a 6 foot radius around himself where his magic appeared to have blasted everything away, except for his bag, which had still been attached to his body during the time of his freak out. Beyond that 6 foot radius though, Harry was surprised to see that he seemed to be back in the library.
But that wasn’t possible, was it? He was just in Hogwarts. How was he now in the great Black Library? The fireplace was there. The chairs, the couches, the desk, the table. Everything was there. But how? Harry mentally greeted the library, seeing if its semi-sentient self would respond.
Harry jolted in surprise when he felt a mental response back, a warm greeting; however, when Harry studied the feeling he received, he realized it wasn’t the same as the library. It was similar, but different. The library had this sort of wise personality feeling to it, while whatever had responded to him had the same sort of feeling Nymphora Tonks gave off in that it was always changing. Recently, he had been able to identify certain people by the personality their magic gave off, as everybody's magic had a personality of its own linked to their person. What if it was the same for magical rooms, such as the library and now this one? What if he had just come across another semi-sentient, or even fully sentient room?
Harry could feel his mind start whirling at a mile a second, thinking of all the implications this had, but reminded himself that he had to stay in the present right now. He could think about this and make theories later. Right now, he had to investigate this room. Well really, he had to get through all these books, but the room takes top priority right now.
“Hello?” Harry asked the room, wondering if it would respond.
Harry received a feeling in his mind like the room was greeting him in response. No, Harry realized, the feeling he was receiving was from the room interacting with his magic. It was like it was sending signals through magic.
“Oh my Merlin this is so cool,” Harry whispered under his breath.
Ever since he met Hermione, he had never really felt the want to research things as he sometimes had in elementary school because she seemed to suck all the fun out of it. Her voice was so monotonous, reading out of a book all the time, never thinking outside the box, taking everything she saw as fact if it was in a book. But now, away from her influence, Harry felt the same want to investigate he had the first time he asked his teacher why 2 + 2 couldn’t equal 5, or when they dissected frogs and he didn’t understand it’s internal system, wanting to understand how food could be turned into waste, or when they learned about the water cycle and he wanted to find out how temperature made the molecules change the waters physical states.
“You’re not actually the library, right?” Harry asked.
He wanted to make sure he was right.
The room sent him a message that seemed like a confirmation to his question.
“What are you called then?” Harry questioned, wondering how the room would respond.
Could it say words, or would it find a different way to communicate?
To answer his question, the room produced a banner out of nowhere which stated ‘The Room of Requirement’ in gold, cursive letters.
“Nice to meet you,” Harry responded, and it felt like the room nodded its metaphorical head to say ‘likewise.’
“Am I bothering you by being here, or do you mind if I stay here and get some work done. Also, do you look like the library because all sentient rooms look like this or is it because you can change, cause I get the vibe from you that you can change, like Tonks, who is a metamorphmagus. Also, I was thinking about the library when a door suddenly appeared which led me here, and then all the sudden I’m in the library. Do you perhaps create your interior to what people are thinking of? Is that where the change vibe comes from?” Harry rambled.
That was really embarrassing. He just rambled to a room. Maybe the Prophet was right and he was going looney.
Harry noticed that the banner changed into a large piece of parchment, taller and wider than Harry himself. A giant quill began to write on the parchment, and Harry noticed that it seemed to be a description of the room. It said:
‘Room of Requirement: A secret room within Hogwarts Castle that only appears when a person is in great need. Walk across the Barnabus and Trolls tapestry three times while thinking of what you need, and a door leading to a room containing what you need shall appear. The room has the unique ability to provide or transform itself into anything that a witch or wizard required of it at that moment in time.’
“This is literally so amazing,” Harry said out loud, “So you don't mind me being here?”
The room responded by sending a feeling that seemed to say ‘no, I don’t mind’ along with a sense of vague amusement, the kind that a grandparent may have when looking upon the younger generations and laughing in their oldened wisdom. It made Harry wonder how old the room was.
“Thank you very much.”
Harry made sure to thank the room respectfully. Even if the room wasn't human, it was at least semi-sentient, so he needed to be polite to it, especially since it was allowing him to stay here.
Now having the room's approval, Harry looked down at the books he had laid out, and decided to just start from left to right. It looked like it would be astronomy he would be starting with. There aren't many spells required to know for the subject, but there were still a few, such as pointing spells and tracking spells, which had other uses than just finding stars. He found that changing from wandless to wand wasn’t terribly difficult, he just needed to make sure to not overpower his spells. He needed to think of his magic like a faucet. When he was performing wandless magic, he needed to turn that facet up, producing a full stream of water. Not a waterfall, or something crazy like that, but he had to produce more magic then when he was with a wand. When he was doing spells with a wand, he only needed the facet to produce a little stream of water. Once he thought of the facet analogy, the change became a whole lot easier.
Additionally, he found that although he didn’t know most of the spells yet, he could easily perform them just because he understood magic theory. This is solely thanks to the library, which had given him a book on magic theory which he had read on the train ride. Harry had never even realized that just understanding magic and its theory could be beneficial to his casting and vowed to take studying theory more seriously.
He continued similarly with the rest of the books, seeing which spells he already knew and which he didn't, seeing if he could master any of them tonight instead of having to figure them out later in the semester. Harry was pleased to find that he had already learned most of the transfiguration and defense spells thanks to the library, and most of the other spells he needed to know, he could figure out easily because of his understanding of the theory. It made him feel smart for once.
Along with making sure he knew the spells, he also looked at what information he needed to learn, such as if there was any foreign potions ingredients he would need to familiarize himself with or if there was any new plants he would have to study this school year that he hadn't already learned about from the library. If Harry had to give a rough percentage comparing what he already knew to what he needed to learn in all his subjects combined, he would say he knew about 80% of the material and still needed to learn about 20%.
Now, some of that 80% was stuff he had just learned tonight and he would definitely have to review later on to make sure he didn't forget any of it, but Harry felt insanely proud of himself nonetheless. He did that. He is the one that studied so hard over the summer he was practically ready to take his OWL’s and the school year hadn’t even started. He is the one who put in all that effort and actually achieved the results he wanted, without anyone's help, and without Hermione holding his hand through his studies. Maybe, just maybe, he was smart all on his own.
All he had to do now was learn the other 20%, whether that be in class or in self study, and he would be getting all O's in his OWL's this year. He couldn’t keep the stupid grin off of his face. This was something he had done himself and was a result of his hard work. He had never been more happy with himself in all of his life.
Harry wondered what time it was, as he had been going over books for a long time now, and in response to his thoughts, the room presented him with a clock. Looking at it, Harry saw the time was about 7:00 a.m. Harry thought back to what time he entered the room, which was probably around 8:00-9:00 p.m., so that meant he had been in the ROR for about 10-11 hours, give or take. Made sense, given how much material he had studied, but now he realized he had to go to classes in the morning, which he was not looking forward to, especially now knowing that he most likely would already know most of the information covered.
Harry would create a plan later with how he would spend his new freetime in classes he could get away with, but for now he would just sit in boredom. He would, unfortunately, have to pay attention in classes like Snape’s since that man gets pissy if you so much look at something other than him, the board, or your potion in class, but classes like Flitwicks, he would not be listening a single second in that class. Now that Harry actually liked potions and believed he could do them well since he actually understood them, he didn’t think the class would be as awful, but then again, it was Snape, so you could guess how well that class would go.
The idea of skipping breakfast to sleep instead was tempting, but today they are getting their yearly schedules, so Harry has to actually be there. Hopefully, his first period started at like 10:00 rather than the 8:30 that some classes do.
Harry wondered if anyone had snitched on him last night and told Professor McGonagall that he hadn’t been in the dorm. That would have been a dick move if they had. If she asked him about it when handing out the schedules, well he was always good at creating excuses on the spot so he would think about it later. The room was kind enough to procure a bathroom and a fresh pair of robes where he was able to get ready in peace, without having to deal with four other roommates.
“Can I come back here whenever I want?” Harry asked when he was finished getting ready, time reading 7:20 a.m.
The large piece of parchment which the room had written its self description on last night appeared in front of him again. Harry hadn’t even noticed it disappeared, too immersed in his studies. It showed him a response.
‘If you find a need for me, yes.’
Harry nodded and put his bag, which contained all his books once again, over his shoulder in preparation to leave.
“Thank you, and goodbye for now,” Harry said as he left the room.
He could feel the lingering sentiment in the back of his mind that the room was saying goodbye as well.
After the 10 minutes walk from the seventh floor to the Great Hall, Harry noticed that there was already great liveliness despite it being only 7:30 in the morning. It seemed the first years were already forming their friend groups and everyone else was overjoyed to be reunited with their friends. It hurt Harry’s heart a bit, seeing everyone have someone they could talk to, a sudden pang of loneliness going through his chest, but he ignored it and made sure his poker face was in place.
He sat towards the end of the table, grabbing an orange and some toast to eat for breakfast. He was doing well in his journey to reach a healthy weight and he wasn’t going to relapse now. Getting lost in thought once again, Harry wondered if he should start working out. Sure, he worked out often because of Quidditch, which he was apparently captain of this year, but it wasn't Quidditch season currently. Besides, it was always beneficial to be in shape, especially with how often his life was threatened. Weighing the pros and cons in his mind, he decided he would start a workout regime.
“Hiya, Harry,” Neville interrupted his train of thought.
“Hey Neville,” he responded.
“Is your stomach feeling better?” Neville asked.
It took Harry a second to figure out what Neville meant, but then he remembered the excuse he made last night.
“Oh yeah, a lot better. Funny thing is, I didn’t even end up going to Pomfrey. I felt better halfway along my way there. It was really bad in the moment, but it passed pretty quickly. I’m sorry for walking out on you like that, must have been pretty confusing,” Harry apologized.
He wanted to make sure no one would check Pomfrey's medical records and see he wasn't actually there. Was he being overly paranoid? Definitely, but it's better to be paranoid than caught.
“That’s good at least. You don’t need to apologize. I understand. I was really worried when you got all pale like that and just sprinted out the dorm. I’m glad you're feeling better,” Neville said, “Well, I should probably go eat breakfast. See you around?”
“See you around,” Harry responded, waving bye to Neville with a smile.
He noticed that Neville went to sit with some Hufflepuffs. Harry studied the group closer and found that it was Hannah Abott, Susan Bones, and Anothony Goldstein. To be honest, he hadn't even realized you could sit with other houses. Neville never really had become close friends with anyone in Gryffindor, so Harry supposed it was only natural that Neville had gone to find friends elsewhere.
Turning back to his meal, he poured himself some black coffee, hoping it would keep him awake in his classes today. He wasn’t a monster though, so he added some cream and sugar to his coffee, making the bitter drink slightly more digestible.
Alone in the silence, Harry spread his magic some, wanting to just take in the entirety of Hogwarts for the first time in months. He loved feeling the castle, the people, and just the general magical vibe around him. It never failed to calm him. It was in doing this that Harry was able to notice McGonagall approaching him about a minute before she reached his spot.
“Your schedule, Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall promptly stated, handing him a piece of parchment containing a layout of his weekly class schedule.
“Thanks, Professor,” Harry responded.
McGonagall nodded and turned away from him quickly, looking for the next student she needed to hand a schedule to. Guess no one had reported him missing last night.
He looked at his schedule, wondering what class he had first. Finding his first period, Harry came to the horrible revelation that he had Defense Against the Dark Arts first thing. Of course he had that pink amphibian first on a Monday morning. What was worse was that it was the 8:30 a.m. class, not even the 10:00 a.m.
Casting a quick wandless tempus, Harry saw the time was now 8:00 a.m., meaning he needed to be in class in 30 minutes, but this professor was most likely the type to be like ‘if you're not early, you're late’ so he should really be there in 15 minutes. Also, Harry really wanted to try to get on her good side, if only so he could avoid a year's worth of detentions that she probably wanted to give him for calling her blind at the trail. If he was trying to get on her good side, might as well go all the way and apologize for his ‘disrespect’ at the trial, even if he didn’t mean it. If she thought he was being genuine, maybe she wouldn’t be a bitch to him.
Gathering his things, Harry left the table and made his way to the Defence classroom. He took his time walking, looking out the windows of Hogwarts, noting it was a cloudy day. It didn’t seem to be too cold, so maybe if he had time after class he would sit out there and get some work done. It was nice to slow down and just take his time walking for once.
He arrived at her door at exactly 8:12 according to another wandless tempus. He was the first one there since the door was shut and the hallway empty. That marked probably the first time in his life as Harry Potter that he had ever been the first one to a class. He always edged on being late, but that was mainly because Ron would always get them lost or distract them. It appeared that without Ron, Harry would be arriving to classes on time this year.
At around 8:15, Professor Umbridge opened the classroom door, and when she saw him, she blinked in surprise, as if she wasn’t expecting anyone to be there. It made Harry feel a little awkward for being so early.
“Morning, Professor,” Harry respectfully greeted.
“Morning, Mr. Potter,” Umbridge said, adding a little sneer at the end, clearly hating the sight of him.
She turned around, trying to end the conversation then and there. Harry knew if he left this now, there was no chance he would get the Professor to like him, even if he hated her and cared not one bit about her feelings. Besides, this was the perfect opportunity for him to talk to her alone and apologize, no matter how much he didn't want to.
“Um… I was wondering if I could speak with you real quick before class starts,” Harry politely asked, trying to appear a bit nervous and shy.
“Hmmm…” Umbridge turned around, studying him, “I guess you may.”
Merlin, he hated this woman.
“Well, I just wanted to apologize for what I said to you in the trial,” he started.
Umbridge raised a questioning eyebrow at him, as if she wasn't believing the words he was saying. He continued on.
“I really didn’t mean to say any of that. If I am being honest with you, I was really, really scared of what might happen to me. I just wanted to be able to return to Hogwarts and continue my magical studies, so I said some things that weren’t very respectful to say to a woman of your caliber, especially since you're the British Ministry of Magic bureaucrat and Senior Undersecretary and all. I looked into some of your work after the trial, and I have to say, I was astounded by your brilliancy. I mean, you've made several great political moves, I can't even begin to understand your mind. Knowing what I know now made me feel even worse about what I did, and I’m actually thrilled you’re teaching here now since it gives me the opportunity to apologize in person. I hope we can put what happened behind us and realize it was the dumb mistake of a dumb teenage boy just trying to stay in school. I’m really, truly excited to learn under your mentorship and hope the past doesn’t affect what might happen in the classroom.”
Holy sugar quills was that the most sugar coated hippogriff crap Harry had ever spewed out of his mouth. Excited to learn under her mentorship? In what universe?
Harry studied the Professor's body language and tried to see what she thought of the apology. He purposefully appealed to her position and praised her work because she seemed like the type of narcissist who would fold after anyone gave her a compliment. From what Harry could read, he was totally right. He could see her struggling to maintain her ego, an ugly, prideful smile sprawled across her face. He could also see her trying to maintain a cool facade, which just wasn’t working and contorting her already ugly features into something that would get a scare out of the bravest soldier in a haunted house. How was she in Slytherin again?
“Well, Mr. Potter,” she drawled, trying to do a knock off impression of Snape, “that was quite the apology. I’m glad a boy like you can recognize your mistakes. I suppose we can start off on a fresh page, although I hope you don’t do anything that may make me regret my decision to do so.”
Harry internally rolled his eyes. Honestly, he may prefer facing Voldemort instead of this thing. Was it even human? At least Voldemort was more pleasing to the eyes, and that man looked like a snake-human hybrid.
“Oh, I’m so glad, Professor,” Harry fake sighed in relief, “I was scared you may hold what happened at the trial against me. I’m glad we are able to see eye to eye and reach some common ground.”
He felt like such a Slytherin. Maybe he should have listened to the sorting hat all those years ago.
“Likewise, Mr. Potter. Let’s hope it stays that way. Take your seat now, don’t want to be late to your first day of class, do you?” She dismissed him.
Bitch, nobody was even here yet. The fuck you mean ‘be late.’ The moment he turned away from her, he rolled his eyes so hard one would think he saw the back of his brain. Wondering where he should sit, Harry decided on the middle far left side. That way, he wasn’t in the front and had to always look like he was paying attention, but he wasn’t in the back which would give off the vibe he was trying to ignore the class. Here, he could look semi-attentive, fall under the radar, and hopefully never once pay attention since he already knew pretty much everything he had to know in this class.
As he was pulling out his chair, he heard someone walk into the classroom, and wondering who the first person other than him to come to class was, Harry turned his head to see a Slytherin, tall and brunette, walking through the doorway. Harry recognized the man to be Theodore Nott, a generally quiet, keep to himself kind of guy. He never really saw the man talking to anyone, always away in his own world. What was strange though was that Nott locked eyes with, staring into his soul, looking at him as if he was a puzzle that needed to be solved. It made Harry feel like his insides were being examined, so he looked away quickly, feeling uncomfortable.
What was this guy’s problem? Harry shook his head as if to expel the interaction from his head and ignored the man as he took a seat in the back of the classroom, still staring at him. The dude was probably just weird. Harry got out some parchment and began to doodle on the edges, waiting for class to start. His conversation only lasted about 5 minutes, so people should be coming in more frequently now.
8:25 was when most people started to enter the classroom. The originally quiet room became noisy and abundant with chatter, making Harry wonder if there was a spell that could block out annoying background noise. He would love to see if the library had a book that could answer his question, but well, he couldn’t access the library. Maybe the Room of Requirement would have what he needed. Wasn’t that literally in the definition of the room, like having what the person needed? Harry decided he would check it out later.
At 8:30, the time the bell rang, the students were all in their seats, pleasantly making conversation with one another. Harry had thought the seat next to him was going to remain empty, but was surprised when about a minute before the bell, Neville entered the class and took a seat next to him. They smiled and nodded to each other when Neville sat down, but quickly Neville busied himself with getting ready for the class and Harry wasn’t really in a mood to talk, so they ended up just sitting in comfortable silence.
At the strike of the bell, not surprisingly Ron and but more surprisingly Hermione rushed into the classroom, hurrying to the only free seats which were located in the front. Harry guessed that Ron, no longer having Harry to dilly dally to class with, pulled Hermione into his shenanigans.
“Hem Hem,” Umbridge fake politely coughed, “that will be 5 points each from Griffyndor for being late, Mr. and Miss. …” she trailed off, clearly inquiring for their names.
“Weasley,” Ron answered, avoiding eye contact with the professor.
“Granger, Professor,” Hermione answered, “I’m terribly sorry, Professor. Ron couldn’t find his quills and asked me to help him look. Eventually we found them in his dorm, but not realizing the time, we had to sprint down here. We tried to be on time, but… well… You understand,” she tried to explain herself.
“I do not, in fact, understand, Mrs. Granger. It is the boys fault for not being prepared. Another 5 points from Gryffindor for wasting my time on flimsy excuses,” Umbridge declared.
“We were barely a second late!” Ron exclaimed, clearly enraged that he had a part in losing 15 points already for Gryffindor, “the bell rang as we ran in!”
“Another 5 points from Gryffindor, for back talk. You were still late. Now I can do this all day or are you going to let me begin class?” Umbridge asked, raising her eyebrow pointedly.
Ron, face bright red making him look like a fire hydrant with the red hair, shut his mouth in response and glared back at the professor. Hermione looked like she had swallowed a lemon, probably planning how she was going to go off on Ron for making her not only lose points on the first day, but for even making her late. Harry wanted to laugh at their faces, but he kept a poker face on and waited for the lesson to start.
“Good morning, children,” the toad started, “Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations. O-W-Ls. More commonly known as OWLs. Study hard and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so, and the consequences may be severe. Your previous instruction in this subject has been disturbingly uneven. But you'll be pleased to know, from now on... you will be following a carefully structured, Ministry-approved... course of defensive magic.”
Harry wanted to roll his eyes as he saw Hermione raise her hand. Of course she already had a question.
“Yes, Miss. Granger?” Umbridge asked in a falsely polite tone, clearly annoyed.
“It’s just, there's nothing in here about using defensive spells?” Hermione pointed out, referencing her book, causing several students to pull out their books and examine the text as well.
Harry already knew about this, but was curious to see what the professor's response would be.
“Using spells? Well, I can't imagine why you would need to use spells in my classroom,” Umbridge responded, as if the question was the epitome of dumb questions.
“We’re not gonna use magic?” Ron asked, flabbergasted.
Duh, the book doesn’t say literally anything about using magic. Ron, you would know if you had read the book. Sure, Harry thought this was stupid, but it was stupider to question a professor like Umbridge, who was literally so far up the ministers ass Harry was surprised she hadn't come out the man's mouth yet.
“You'll be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way,” Umbridge explained, a smile that looked more like a squiggly line drawn by a toddler on her face.
She seemed to be taking great joy in the class's confusion.
“What use is that? If we're attacked, it won't be risk-free!” Hermione exclaimed.
Harry agreed, but like bitch, fucking read a room. You can’t question this professor. Harry now understood what Slytherins meant when they said Gryffindors can’t take a hint. Though he was definitely the pot calling the kettle black as he was sure he was guilty of the same thing.
“It is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be sufficient to get you through your examinations... which, after all, is what school is all about.”
She acted like she was speaking to a toddler which rubbed Harry the wrong way. If he was last-year-Harry, he would definitely be shouting by now, but he liked to think he had grown as a person and instead maintained his composure.
“And how's theory supposed to prepare us for what's out there?” Hermione scream-asked, throwing a little glance at him like she wanted him to help support her.
Ah hell naw. He was not getting involved with this.
“There is nothing out there, dear. Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourself?” Umbridge countered.
“He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? He’s back, if you haven't noticed. Harry, you tell her,” Ron called him out.
“Mr. Potter, what do you have to say on this matter?” Umbridge inquired, now turning to him with a mean look in her eyes.
It was clear she was waiting for a moment like this. Why did Ron have to put him on the spot? The entire class was now staring at him, waiting for his response.
“All I’m going to say is that what Dumbledore said about Voldemort returning is what Dumbledore said. I never gave a statement to the Prophet or any other news source for that matter,” Harry decided to say.
Sure, Voldemort most definitely is back. He had the scar on his arm and the weight of Cedric’s death on his chest to prove it, but right now, since there was no proof the public would believe, it was probably better to not give a statement. It would create enemies on both sides if he either confirmed or denied, so it was smarter to stay neutral. Staying neutral would just make his life easier, if he was being completely honest.
“Harry!” Hermione shouted, very much angered by his response, now standing up from her seat, “You know the truth. Tell her!”
“Hermione, calm down. We haven't spoken in months. Who are you to tell me what I should say?” Harry boredly stated, head resting on his crossed arms still sitting at the table, looking up at her with no emotion on his face other than faint annoyance.
Maybe he would take a nap after this class.
“How could you lie like this! Look at how far you’ve fallen. You need to tell everyone what happened, for their own safety at the very least!” she insisted.
Bruh. This was so annoying.
“What lie did I tell, Hermione?” Harry tiredly asked, “I never gave a statement to any news outlet. Professor, I don’t know about you, but I would really like to learn right now, so if we could get class started and stop with whatever this is, that would be great.”
“Detention, Miss. Granger. You as well, Mr. Weasley. For disrupting my class and spreading propaganda. Mr. Potter is right. We have wasted as much time as we have already. Turn your books to pages…”
The professor's voice faded out as Harry started to ignore her, opening his book to the page she requested and then doodling on his parchment for the rest of class, hoping it looked like he was paying attention. He performed the spell wandlessley once, just to double check he could do it, but after that, he saw no point in learning the half-way correct theory. Besides, he had already read the entire book. It wasn’t like any of the information was new.
When the bell which signaled class was over rang, Harry was quick to pack his things. He nodded his head to Umbridge, trying to stay on her good side even if he cringed inside doing it, and rushed out the door.
However, imagine his surprise when he was grabbed by the wrist and pulled the complete opposite direction of where he was trying to go by none other than Theodore Nott.