Disclaimer: I live in the United States and am not a published writer. I am only an aspiring student hoping to publish later on, and so happen to be a fan of Harry Potter.
Chapter Four: Lessons
The first day of classes was easy. He had his hand up to answer virtually every question, to everyone's surprise. And he answered correctly. He earned Gryffindor 40 points for answering questions correctly, and Hermione was torn between being cross with him for stopping her being in the limelight in classes, and being proud of him. Harry just smiled and enjoyed the teachers' praise, though he bristled a little at the shocked expressions on the other students' faces. He had particularly astonished everyone in Transfiguration and Potions.
Later that night, he finished his homework easily and laughed silently at Ron's disgruntled expression as he moved to sit in front of the fireplace and read the Prince's book. He had disguised it to look like a copy of a Quidditch book, though, when he wasn't in Potions class, so no one would think it odd that he was now reading up about his most formerly hated subject, although he knew they would think it was odd how he performed in class.
Well, he would show them all, and he would show Voldemort. His lips pressed together and curled into a grim smile.
He heard whispers around him in the common room, as he had in the halls and in the Great Hall, and he seethed. They were wondering what was up with him, was he studying to defeat Voldemort, was he studying to become the next Dark Lord, or was someone impersonating him? He got up and strode out of the common room, into the hall outside of the Fat Lady's portrait, and clenched his teeth.
He was always being watched, always. And people easily questioned him and wondered about him, his character. Second year, with the Chamber of Secrets, his Parseltongue, and 4th year, thinking he had intended to be a Champion, and last year, thinking he was mad or dangerous.
Something inside of him coiled up and hardened further. He went to the Room of Requirement and in it was a dueling chamber and training room. The duelling chamber had mirrors, mats, dummies for physical fighting, and dummies for magical fighting which could actually use magic against him. The training room was complete with mirrors, obstacles, gymnastics equipment, and a bathroom. He explored further and found a library that was the size of Dudley's two rooms combined (one of which Harry now occupied in the summers) so not very large, but not small either. He ran his hands over the spines of the books, noting several titles: 'An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms,' 'Auror Training,' 'Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed,' 'Compendium of Common Curses and Counter-Curses,' 'Dark Arts Outsmarted,' 'The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection,' 'Defensive Magical Theory,' 'The Healer's Helpmate,' 'Higher Defensive Magics,' ' 'Magick Most Evile,' 'Most Potente Potions,' and 'Winning your Duels: Spells and Techniques.'
He pulled out all of those books, even 'Defensive Magical Theory,' which he had so hated last year. It could be useful. He scanned further and pulled out 'Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charms.' He also saw 'Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts,' a copy of which Sirius and Lupin had given him last year. His throat started to ache before he remembered Sirius was still alive, and he blinked in mild surprise and relief. He had forgotten, for a second.
He opened 'Auror Training' but found it to be less helpful than he had expected. He frowned, and then remembered some of the Aurors' incompetence. He set it aside and picked up 'Higher Defensive Magics,' where he found some shielding spells that were stronger that 'Protego.' He conjured up a journal and wrote down the shielding spells, and jotting down everything else he saw in the book, as well as in 'Winning your Duels: Spells and Techniques.'
He worked for hours, and he had written down five pages of spells, with a few ideas and techniques from the two books he had chosen, and 'Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charms.' He waved his wand to check the time, and his eyes widened. It was after curfew! He would return tomorrow and copy down more spells and information.
He ran to Gryffindor after putting Silencing charms on his feet and lungs, uttered the password and apologized to the Fat Lady, and stopped when he saw Hermione.
"Harry... Where were you?" She asked him, worry evident in her tone.
Harry shrugged. "Sorry. I was reading."
"But you can read here- oh. People were talking again?"
Harry nodded, suddenly feeling empty.
"Oh, just ignore them. Try to-"
"I did, Hermione. I tried all day! Then I just had enough." He burst out, but the flare of anger didn't last and he was back to feeling empty.
"I'm sorry. If you want to talk, I'll listen."
"Thanks, 'Mione. Good night." He turned and went up the stairs to his dormitory, not seeing the concerned look on Hermione's face.
The next morning, he woke, still feeling empty. He scrubbed at his skin roughly in the shower, in frustration, though he didn't actively feel it. It was weird, it was hard to describe, and he didn't understand why he felt like this. He sighed and finished his shower after a few more minutes, and put on his school robes. He didn't particularly feel like going down for breakfast and hearing whispers all over again, but he had to. Ron and Hermione would worry if he didn't show up.
There were a few less whispers this morning, but he had a suspicion they would start up again after classes. He ate mechanically and didn't really pay attention to his friends, so when Ron waved his hand in his face and said loudly, "Harry!" Harry flinched and glared at Ron.
"What?" He asked heatedly. But again, like last night, the anger didn't last long. He sighed. "Sorry. What did I miss?"
"Well..." Ron glanced at Hermione.
Hermione looked slightly exasperated with Ron, but explained that they were worried about him.
"Why?" Harry asked dully.
"Do you hear yourself? First, last night, you up and left without a word. You didn't come back until after curfew, and your voice sounded... dead, when you said good night. And just now, when you asked why. Is something going on?"
"No."
"Harry."
"I don't know what's going on. I just stopped feeling last night. I can still feel anger but it only lasts for a little bit."
"That doesn't sound good. So... You're not really feeling anything?"
"Yeah, I guess. Except for emptiness, and sometimes like, gloom." Harry instantly regretted saying it, he knew it would just worry them, and he didn't want to be watched even more. He saw Ron looked scared and Hermione even more concerned. "Look, I'll be fine. Really. I think it's just from the stress." He forced a smile.
Hermione looked suspicious but nodded and didn't say anything further. Ron didn't say anything either, and Harry resumed eating without really noticing what he put in his mouth, his mind drifting.
Then it was almost time for class, and he sat near the front, ignoring the looks that most of the Slytherins shot at him. Hermione sat next to him, and Ron did as well, but reluctantly.
"Hey, Chosen One! Are you doing this because of the prophecy?"
The class instantly paid attention to Harry and Malfoy when Malfoy said that, but Harry ignored them and said coldly, "No. I don't live my life by the prophecy. I just want to make sure more Death Eaters go to prison, like your father, Malfoy."
Malfoy flushed, and Harry knew he had been stupid. Now he had made the Slytherins and whatever other children of Death Eaters angrier. "You-" He started, but Slughorn walked into the room.
"Now, now! No fighting, boys! Settle down, and we'll start class."
Malfoy turned to face Slughorn and the board, but he still looked slightly angry. Harry looked away from him and to the board. Hermione got up to gather ingredients, and Ron whispered, "That was good, mate."
Harry ignored Ron and opened the book to the indicated page. He had told Hermione and Ron about the book on the train, but Hermione still tutted. Harry gazed at her, "I'm not cheating. I know what to do, I'm reading the instructions. And I've memorized all the helpful potions tips."
"Why not turn in the book, then?" Hermione suggested, slightly reproachingly.
Ron interrupted before Harry could answer. "Or give it to me!"
Harry shook his head at both of them. "Because there's more in there than just potion tips, and I need to learn them."
"But you had this book before," Hermione whispered.
"Yes, but I wasn't able to read the whole thing, all of the spells. Because I was busy. Alright?"
Hermione pursed her lips and Ron looked disappointed, but then brightened. "Hey, why don't you just give me the book during class?"
"No. It'd be too suspicious. Now stop talking about it," Harry said, his voice like steel. He just wanted to be left in peace, so he could work and think.
They backed off, and he was able to concentrate, successfully earning Gryffindor 10 points for doing a good job, as did Hermione, while Ron looked sullen again.
They went to Defense, and Harry did even more wonderfully, earning grudging nods. After class when everyone was gone save for the trio, Snape said he would give Gryffindor 20 points for exceptional skill and knowledge, but not to go spreading it around, and not to expect this kind of thing all of the time, or even often. Harry nodded, and the rest of his classes went well, and he found that he really did like doing well in class, learning and earning points.
That evening he did research on the phoenix and wrote, "The phoenix is the rarest of all Animagi, and it signifies power, healing, compassion, and it is believed that phoenix Animagi undergo great challenges or changes, hence the rebirthing. Phoenixes eat magical plants and berries."
After lights out, Harry rose from his bed and donned his invisibility cloak, sneaking out of the dormitory, out the common room, and down to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
After making sure she wasn't in the bathroom, he strode over to the sinks.
"Open," he hissed at the serpent adorning the faucet. The sink moved and the entrance revealed itself. Harry looked into the deep darkness. He would not get his clothes dirty, and he levitated himself down the entrance.
Quickly he made his way to the basilisk corpse and collected its skin and venom, putting the skin in a case and the venom in a vial after charming the vial Unbreakable and fortified it so the venom wouldn't dissolve it or otherwise damage it.
He stowed them in a hidden interior pocket of his robes and walked up to Slytherin's chiseled face. "Open and grant me access."
The mouth opened, much like it had years ago to allow the basilisk out. Cautiously he started forward, casting a supersensory charm on his person, as well as a spell to make his movements silent.
A bit later he was in a great room with several doorways. The one in front was the largest doorway and he suspected it contained a library. To his right were two more doorways, as there were at his left.
He went to the left side of the room and entered the first door. Looking around he found that it was a study. Upon further examination he concluded it must have been Slytherin himself who used this study. Of course it would be. Eagerly but with caution he opened a drawer. It held a journal. At first he couldn't decipher the writing, but only for the merest instant, for he could recognize it as Parseltongue. He pocketed the journal for reading at another time. In the next drawer was a dagger with an engraved serpent coiled around the hilt, emerald eyes staring, mouth wide open, fangs deadly sharp. He admired it for a few moments then caught himself and returned it to its sheath, and took it, depositing it in another hidden pocket.
He left the study and went into the other room, but it wasn't much, only a sparse repository of various items. Nevertheless, he scanned them and took a few that interested him.
Proceeding to the right side of the great room he found a laboratory. At the desk he discovered a great deal of notes and smiled. Snape would be pleased with this find, and he himself could learn them. Taking out from his pants pocket a shrunken bag identical to the one Hermione had carried around on their hunt for Horcruxes, he unShrunk it and put the notes in.
Walking around the lab, he took various vials and foreign ingredients, protecting all of the vials with an Unbreakable charm and storing the ingredients in a case with multiple compartments.
The last room except for the library was a repository of weapons and armor. Dragon-hide protective wear, swords, daggers, odd little orbs, things that resembled firecrackers, darts... He collected everything and headed for the library, quite happy with his findings.
Upon walking in his eyes widened. It was huge, even bigger than the school library. He walked down aisles, reading a multitude of titles. He would have to come back and read them and decide what to take, but for now he selected a few on Dark Arts, defensive magic, potions, and unorthodox charms and transfigurations. They totaled to ten books, and Harry was ready to leave the Chamber, smiling. He levitated himself out of the Chamber and sealed it with a hiss.
He did not return to Gryffindor, instead opting to go to the Room of Requirement and read. He devoured the texts and delighted in learning. He didn't leave until four in the morning, until he had read a great deal and stored the bag and its contains in an immensely secure chest. He made it so that the keywords to this particular room were in Parseltongue and said 'Harry Potter's room.'
A/N: I think it's likely enough, because of all his anger and stress and everything, and people whispering about him just sorta set it off. So he becomes numb, though not as a result of a conscious decision. And this might be part of the coiled hardness that formed in Harry.
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