"Did you hear, Cresswell? What the Prophet reported today? Can you believe that Fenwick's house elf…? You know, the Auror's—"

Avery grimaced at the words of the first year student — Davey Gudgeon, if Harry remembered correctly.

He could only remember the Ravenclaw in passing. He was barely noticeable, with close-set eyes and heavy eyebrows that were his only really noticeable features. His voice was loud and slightly grating, filling the hallway Harry was walking through with his dorm mates excessively. Announcing his every word to all nearby students — by no means a small amount, considering it was the hallway most convenient to reach the classroom in which the Defence Club would take place.

The pale brown-haired boy walking besides the loud boy, another Ravenclaw, sighed. "I know perfectly well, Gudgeon. I read it this morning, and you already pointed it out," he said, sounding tired. His posture was tense, showing discomfort.

The tone of the pale boy did nothing to deter the first Ravenclaw. "I know, but still—. How many times does something like that happen? To think that days after what happened to that Auror his house elf would confess to having been the one to…"

"It was reported in the Daily Prophet, there's no need to repeat it more," the boy, Cresswell, said with a huff.

Gudgeon frowned, seeming to look insulted. "No, that's not the point, Dirk. You know what I mean! Apparently the investigation team found that it also stole things from the house. For something like that to happen, and a house elf to be responsible…"

Harry sighed, and turned to look at his dorm mates. Severus was gazing at the two Ravenclaws with somewhat of a blank expression, contrasting with the deceptively stoic way Avery was looking at them. Stebbins, seemed somewhat distracted, just like he had when the news of the death of the Auror. Mulciber looked as visibly annoyed as Severus, though perhaps more overtly.

In front of them the pale Ravenclaw, Cresswell, picked up his pace and started walking quicker. Gudgeon followed behind.

"He barely seems like a Ravenclaw at all," Mulciber muttered. His voice sounded sharp. "He's been shouting about the Daily Prophet report from the Great Hall to here, and we're almost at the classroom professor Riddle said."

Avery nodded, seemingly in agreement, and Severus turned his eyes away from the rapidly distancing Ravenclaws and towards the dark haired Slytherin.

"Don't get me wrong, it's shocking," Mulciber continued, as he turned to look at Stebbins, "particularly since news on your father wasn't reported, Stebbins, and all of this has followed, but they act like Gryffindors. He's been nearly shouting about it all the way from the Great Hall to here."

"It's pathetic, really," Mulciber finished saying, and Avery nodded again. Their postures relaxed once the two Ravenclaws turned around a corner and out of sight.

They continued through the hallway, walking amongst the other students as they made their way to the classroom professor Riddle had announced in their previous class. Harry felt himself somewhat relax once they eventually reached it, some five minutes later. He was excited, he had to admit, and couldn't wait to see how the Defense Club would be like.

They entered the classroom, and Harry fell behind Avery and Mulciber, taking to instead walk besides Severus. A group of older students Harry couldn't recognize, Gryffindors, followed in behind them.

Harry's eyes widened once he saw the students already inside, and he turned to look at Avery. "It's really as filled as you said older students mentioned," he said, almost admiringly .

He hadn't expected this many students to consider attending the Defense Club, not if the first meeting was to take place on a Saturday. No matter what the older students who regularly attended said about it.

Avery, walking in front of him, turned to look at him with a smile. "I told you," he said. "Apparently numbers drop down after the first few weeks, but apparently after the third they get regular."

Harry nodded, it was easy to imagine. Though the numbers of the older years seemed regular, there was a noticeably high amount of first year students, mostly crowded around the door.

The older years seemed to be mostly standing closer to the edges of the room, further away from the large groups of first years. Harry could barely recognize any familiar faces, save from that of the Slytherin Head Boy — Lucius Malfoy — alongside his friends. Close to them was Rosier and two of his friends, who didn't seem to have noticed the group of first year Slytherins at all.

An energetic type of atmosphere filled the classroom chosen by professor Riddle, excited chatter filling the room as students kept arriving. The resulting crowd — a mixture of blues, yellows, greens, and reds — featured students from nearly all houses and years, even though Slytherins seemed slightly more prevalent. It had been nothing short of surprising — Harry had never seen such a large variety of students intermixed in a single room, save for the Great Hall. The fact that it was Saturday made it even more surprising.

It was relatively early — almost ten in the morning — and bright light shone into the room from the windows. No tables or chairs were in sight within the large classroom, which seemed to have been cleared out in purpose instead. Only a large blackboard featured prominently on one of the sides of the room as the only classroom-like thing within it. In front of it, though at a slight distance, were several rows of mats of mats on the floor, all along one side of the room. Along the opposite wall there were a number of what appeared to be practice dummies of some sort. Mirrors lined most of the walls, seeming to visually enlarge the already wide room whilst making it seem slightly brighter.

They came to a stop once they were in front of one of the first mirrors lining the walls — a reflective surface considerably larger than any Harry had seen before. It was crowded, though slightly less so than at the entrance of the room, where most of the students were gathered. Harry glanced away from the opposite side of the room, and observed his friends again. They seemed as excited as he was, he knew they were, though they were likely doing a considerably better job at hiding it than he was.

Mulciber smiled as he glanced around quickly. "Good that we're in time, too. I've been told by some second years that professor Riddle gives most of the information in the first session," he said.

Avery nodded in agreement, though didn't say anything as a way of response, instead looking around the students around them. Harry remained silent, and instead turned to look at Severus, who seemed to be in a somewhat pensive mood. Stebbins was directly behind him, though he was oddly silent, at least when compared to how talkative he had been when school had started. It was odd, seeing the talkative boy Harry had met in September looking as broken as he often now did. He laughed and joined into conversations with Avery and the rest of them often, but…

Harry quickly glanced away from Stebbins, still not quite daring to look into his eyes. A familiar group of Gryffindors entered the room, and Harry immediately focused on them despite not recognizing any except for his brother and his group of friends. Behind them, was Remus Lupin, the scarred boy from the boats, along with Lily Evans.

He hadn't been talking to his twin as much as he had during the beginning of term, though he still saw him often enough. He had started growing slightly used to it, to spending so much time with his dorm mates — his friends —, though it still came as an odd feeling.

James was gesturing widely, with both Black and Pettigrew laughing besides him. Lily, close enough to overhear whatever his twin was saying, looked slightly scornful. Harry smiled at his twin as way of greeting, and though he wasn't noticed immediately, the gesture was returned by James. Harry noticed Severus eying the group of Gryffindors, eyes focused on the familiar red haired girl that was Lily.

"Do you think we will be divided into groups, Alden?" Mulciber went on to ask after some seconds of silence, oblivious to the group of Gryffindors. "With this many of us…"

Avery hummed, "I imagine so, at least if what the older students have said is true." Mulciber nodded, and Harry couldn't hope doing the same.

Severus turned towards them. "I'm not sure about the details, though apparently there's a high-level group for students particularly keen on Defense," he suddenly said. He sounded confident, and they all turned towards him. "Lucius Malfoy and Thorfinn Rowle, you know who, along with a few other older Slytherins are in it. Though virtually no one on second or first year even manages to get into the intermediate group."

Harry looked again at the familiar Slytherin, still at the other end of the room. He was curious, he had to admit. Professor Riddle was clearly a brilliant teaching Defense and widely renowned as an expert in the field, it was obvious from the way he taught alone. What sort of things were students in the highest-level group taught?

He was curious, he had to admit.

"I wonder what they learn," Harry said, observing Malfoy again. He was talking to Rowle about something, posture and expression carefully controlled. He had never interacted with him, not really, but the way practically all of the Slytherins respected him was clear.

Mulciber smiled, "I can't blame you for being curious, though I myself am more envious about it than anything else. The things professor Riddle must teach them…"

Harry couldn't help but notice the wishful tone of voice with which the dark haired Slytherin said that.

Avery glanced at his friend. "We will advance to that class in time, Marcus," he said, smiling knowingly. "If we are good enough, of course." He then paused for a few seconds, as if to think his words. "You must have heard stories about him from your father already"

Mulciber nodded just as Stebbins glanced up at them. He had an odd expression that Harry couldn't quite place. His brows were furrowed and his eyes wide, shining with something akin to determination in them that seemed to be in contrast to how the boy's lips were pressed into a thin line.

He hadn't said much since his return at all, not when compared to how much he had always talked before. He was silent, oddly so, and Harry hadn't really known how to react to it. Instead ending up avoiding the avoid the other boy as much as possible, even if just in maintaining eye contact.

"Imagine how useful that would be," he said. He sounded slightly cheerful — eager — though just barely so. He looked over the four of them slowly, his eyes eventually stopping on Harry's.

Harry shifted uncomfortably as he suddenly found himself being gazed at by his fellow Slytherin. He felt his stomach turn. He smiled back, nervously, and ignored the discomfort that the direct eye contact he had been avoiding ever since the other's return brought. Noticing, however, for the first time the cool dove-like grey of his dorm mate's eyes.

It was a few seconds before Stebbins turned away to look at Avery again, blinking rapidly in the process. He pursed his lips. "Defence… Imagine all we could learn if we managed to reach that group," he said. His smile suddenly dropped, "after the events of the last weeks…" Stebbins drifted off.

A slightly uncomfortable silence set in, and Harry didn't quite dare to break it with the way. Stebbins was looking. He didn't know what to say, and neither did he have any experience in how to handle a situation like this, a silence like this. It felt heavy and oppressing in a way Harry had never quite realised a silence could be. Absolute.

Mulciber was the one to speak again after an uncomfortable minute.

"I doubt anyone below third year would get accepted, but once we can, let's try to get accepted into it," Mulciber said, diffusing the tension. He smiled widely, "I know my father would be proud if I managed to."

Avery smiled, though Stebbins' expression didn't change. Harry looked away from the other boy, still feeling slightly uncomfortable. Seeing him so heartbroken and changed because of the loss of his father was difficult, and the few words he had overheard him say on his father's death still rang through Harry's mind.

'It's just so strange to think of, I… He went with me to the Kings Cross to see me off, you know? It was all so normal, but when I returned back from the funeral it was only my mother. I didn't appreciate it then, and now—'

Harry pursed his lips at the thought and looked further away from Stebbins and his dorm mates, instead deciding to focus on the other students in the room.

It was a few minutes until professor Riddle entered the room, robes fluttering behind him as he swept into the classroom. Chatter died down almost immediately as the rhythmic sound of the professor's footsteps filled the room, his posture showing nothing but a poise and confidence which was only ever consistently seen in him. By the time he stopped walking and had turned around, leaving the blackboard behind him, the crowd of students was completely silent, gazing intently at the Defence professor.

The Slytherin Head of House pointed his wand at the blackboard, wordlessly casting a spell. A piece of chalk lifted up into the air almost immediately and started writing on the black surface. Within seconds the name of the club — an all-capitalized 'Defence Club' — had been written at the very top. Professor Riddle turned to face the group again, and Harry smiled, feeling his excitement grow. It'd be a lie to say he wasn't curious about whether the practice-intensive club lived up to what people said. Whether it really could push forward what students learnt.

Professor Riddle's posture relaxed, and he smiled genially. "Welcome to the first meeting of the Defence Club." The chalk on the board started writing down list that resembled more a set of paragraphs beneath the capitalized name it had written. Harry glanced away from his Head of House and at the list quickly. It only covered rules and details, by the look of it.

"For those of you who are attending for the first time, and as those which have attended in previous years know, this club is focused on practicing and learning spells that are not covered in the standard curriculum of Defence Against the Dark Arts," professor Riddle started explaining. His voice has a smooth and silky undertone that seemed to instantly capture attention, this being reminiscent to how he always seemed to explain topics in Defence classes.

"As all of you know by now, the standard classes cover all of the basics you will need to know, as per the ministry-mandated curriculum states," he said. "This club is not intended to give extra practice for the topics covered in classes, but rather, aimed at those of you that want to seek knowledge beyond that which is covered in ordinary classes, that want to deepen your ability in Defence."

"A wide knowledge in Defence, both of offensive and defensive spells, is amongst the most important skills for a wizard to have in order to survive and resolve situations which could otherwise cause irreparable harm to one," he continued.

The list on the blackboard behind him suddenly stopped once it reached number seven, and the chalk went on to write details related to dates and other information. "Thus, as it was my intention when first starting this extra curricular activity, it is my intention to allow those who wish to learn more to be able to do so beyond what they would normally be able to, in a safe environment."

An air of anticipation filled the classroom, and the large group of students seemed almost eerily still as they focused on the Defence teacher. Professor Riddle paused to look at students, and gestured at the blackboard behind him just as the chalk stopped writing. The eyes of the students followed to the words written on the black surface, with none seeming distracted.

"As it is the intention to allow give this opportunity for as many students as possible, you will all be placed in one of three different groups according to your level. One for those of you at a beginner or basic level, another for those at an intermediate one, and a final one for those with advanced knowledge," he explained. "A fourth group will be available to students in the advanced group wishing to gain an expert knowledge of defence. Details of this, however, will be only given to those of you selected for the advanced group."

A few students around Harry nodded, and he briefly looked around the room to see how the reactions to what the professor was saying were. Most of the older years looked confident, seeming knowledgeable and used to what professor Riddle was saying. After quickly looking over the large group, Harry quickly diverted his eyes to Lucius Malfoy, who was still besides Thorfinn Rowle looking completely focused.

"As you can see on the blackboard, sessions will take place once per week. Whether they do during weekends or after classes on weekdays will depend on what group you are selected for," Professor Riddle continued, gesturing at the area of the blackboard where details on each of the groups had been written.

"Note, however, that attendance through the year is not mandatory — a number of you will likely stop doing so after the first few classes. The first two weeks will therefore serve as an introduction of sorts, so you can know what to expect."

Professor Riddle stopped talking and smiled. "All of the relevant details to this class are written on the blackboard. Divide into groups of two and try to practice the spells on the board — your group will be given to you based on your performance by the end of the class."

Words of assent were heard throughout the class, and groups of two were quickly formed. Harry turned towards his dorm mates as students scattered throughout the class, and quickly found himself in front of Severus. From the corner of his eye he saw Mulciber pair with Stebbins and go towards an emptier area of the classroom just as Avery turned towards a girl — Alecto Carrow, second year — whom Harry wasn't really familiar with. Having just seen her every now and again talking to Avery at the Great Hall or the Common Room.

Severus raised his eyebrows, questioningly, and Harry smiled back. He glanced at the other side of the room as they started walking towards the same area as Mulciber and Stebbins had, by now considerably more devoid of students. Rosier was with another fifth year, still close to where Malfoy stood. The latter, however, had moved further apart with Rowle and closer to where other seventh year Slytherins were. The only exception being the girl Harry recognised as Andromeda Black, who had paired with an older Gryffindor he didn't recognise instead.

Practice of the spells came easy to both him and Severus, something which was paralleled by Avery, though Harry quickly understood what professor Riddle had meant to achieve with the spells written on the blackboard. The first two were relatively easy to accomplish and quite similar to the those he had seen when reading through the first year textbook. The following ones, however, were considerably more complicated — more so than those he had seen in the books he had picked up at Flourish and Blotts before the start of the year.

By the end of the session it became clear why Avery had mentioned that the intermediate group typically had students over third or fourth year within it — a fact which was quickly confirmed by their Head of House placing him and his dorm mates in the beginner group. He didn't find himself feeling as dejected as he imagined he would, however, even as he listened to Avery and Mulciber talk about it on their way back to the common room. On the contrary, he was excited — and only Severus seemed to understand exactly why.

Being in the beginner group wasn't a failure, he was a first year student with little to no prior knowledge of Defence Against the Dark Arts after all, but an opportunity. Just how many things did he still have to learn and strive for? To prove himself worthy and capable of, besides the divination he had to become acquainted with?

Harry found himself grinning once he entered his dorm room, a fact his friends didn't comment on as they started talking about what to do the rest of the day.

He glanced at his trunk, feeling a strange excitement course within him, and quickly picked up a few of the books he had gotten at Flourish and Blotts. He'd go to the library and continue reading the book of ancient runes he had been recommended by professor Riddle. Start studying the divination book he had found himself interested in at the store — 'A Complete Chronicle of the Oracle of Delphi'.

It wasn't long before Avery and Mulciber decided to head outside into the Hogwarts grounds whilst daylight lasted, with Stebbins decided to remain at their dorm and Severus joining Harry at the library.

The library was as crowded as one could expect in a Saturday, with most of the tables seemed oddly empty. They sat close to the back, away from more crowded forefront. Harry opened his book on ancient runes as Severus took one of his own — on potions, as it turned out — and quickly found himself absorbed by the content.

OoO

The rows of bookshelves towered around the desk Harry and Severus were sitting at, imposing and strangely beautiful. They were sitting on one of the desks closer to the back of the massive room, with rows and rows of leather-bound books sat atop the nearly maze-like bookshelves around them. Surrounding their workspace in such a way that the entrance to the library was impossible to be seen.

Harry was sitting on the chair opposite Severus' — still was, after so many hours —, his hands holding the relatively unfamiliar copy of 'A Complete Chronicle of the Oracle of Delphi'. In front of him, Severus was reading a book on potions more advanced than the topics they were currently covering with Slughorn. Far ahead enough that Harry hadn't heard about the topics covered in the book, let alone understand them.

They had ended up spending much of the rest of the day at the library, going so far as to return after having lunch and dinner at the Great Hall. Ending up finishing all of the essays they had been set as homework and doing some reading of their own afterwards. Harry had managed to finish a potions paper he hadn't quite managed to start, doing so quicker than usual thanks to some help from Severus. Later advancing enough with the ancient runes book to make up for the sheer lack of progress he had had during the weeks before.

Over last hours, however, he had ended up being completely immersed in 'A Complete Chronicle of the Oracle of Delphi', much to the surprise of Severus. It was fascinating, far more interesting than what Harry had thought. Refreshingly different.

Harry could remember how the book looked and its topic despite months having already gone by since buying it at Flourish and Blotts, though the knowledge hadn't made the brown leather of its cover any more familiar. He hadn't opened it once. It had seemed interesting, back then — it still did. Its interest had paled in comparison to everything else, however. Other subjects seemed more important to get ahead of and learn — they were still covering theory that seemed of importance in Transfigurations and sometimes Charms — and Harry didn't want to fall behind.

Other areas of divination had seemed more important, too. They always had, at least whenever Harry's parents asked what he had learnt. He needed to study palmistry and reading cards more, and there were entire areas of divination he still didn't really know about. Tea leaves remained a mystery, and Harry just barely knew the basics about face reading. Never mind Chinese fortune sticks, which were as unknown to him as anything could be. Then had come research into scrying, more particularly water scrying — water scrying — and all the difficulties that had come with learning just how to practice it. How to build and ensure one had the correct surface to allow one to see in the water, much like one had to when reading fire-omens.

How could a book on an ancient oracle hope to even compare in importance against such things?

Despite it all, he now couldn't say why he had thought it wasn't important as the other divination topics he had read about.

The book was as clear as could be, and judging by the table of contents provided a full retelling of the history of the Oracle of Delphos and its methods of divination and structure. It held a full collection of all of the prophecies it had ever given, as well as information on the language used to both ask the high priestess — the pythia. Going further to even give an introduction to divination in ancient Greece, its importance even in the eyes of even muggles, muggle legends related to them, and accounts on how seers at the time were to behave.

The high priestess at the Oracle of Delphi, its main seer, had used a laurel to give oracles for the future, divination through the rustling of the leaves. Throughout the centuries it had operated it had held immense importance for even muggle rulers, who often consulted it, and played an immense important part in the response to events like invasions. Eventually giving rise to muggle legends about where sibyls and seers came from — with muggle writer Pausanias claiming that they were 'born between man and goddess, daughter of sea monsters and an immortal nymph'.

The fact that muggles had legends about seers spoke volumes about their importance. The stories about how great a things they had been able to see and help prevent, in some cases, seemed nearly impossible when comparing them to how divination and seers were seen nowadays. Harry had never heard of feats like that from seers before, or even of some of the divination techniques that the book described. The Oracle had been able to truly give counsel that could not fail, as well as give answers to those that came to ask it about problems.

It was awe-inspiring, and had been enough to set his heart racing in a way in which it never had since discovering his dream about Abraxas Malfoy had, in fact, been a vision.

Harry turned the page, smiling when he was saw a copy of a moving painting similar to the image Charlus and Dorea had sent him in their letter. A woman holding a branch of laurel was depicted in it, dressed in expensive-looking red robes and sitting on a tripod with vapor rising form a crack in the earth beneath her. The chapter was long, detailing the procedure that the Oracle of Pythia had followed to receive people who wanted to ask questions. Something far more complicated and detailed than what he had seen in more modern books on divination, or what he had been taught at the Potter manor.

The chapter eventually morphing into a debate on the language employed by the seers — the Pythia of the Oracle of Delphos — in order to communicate to people. It was something that Harry had never really thought about, besides the question of who tell about the things he saw.

How did one communicate things in a way that helped people overcome a future unknown problem?

It was enough to set his mind racing with possibilities and further questions, and reminded him of the Icarus story professor Riddle had told him about. It seemed important as well as slightly complicated. Worth studying, if he wanted to help people. It wasn't just the fact that Daedalus told Icarus about not flying too high or low, but also how he went about explaining it to him. The language a seer used, the way he described things, had an impact on what the person who had asked for advice did. It could both influence him to commit to a self-fulfilling prophecy or overcome his problem.

Things, however, got slightly more complicated when touching on the topic of whether saying something at all was good, as well as when touching on the topic of counsel given in addition to the prophecy. Definite methods in which to overcome the problem. Problems didn't end there, however, as this all was something debated in current divination books and in theory.

It was interesting. More than he could have imagined about a subject such as divination. To think that there was more about it than just looking into crystal-gazing and reading people's palms… The subject was full of a rich history that Harry had never known through the course-selected books he had found at Flourish and Blotts that day.

"Harry, Severus! I didn't know if I'd find you here today, after the Defence Club meeting."

Harry looked up and at the cheery voice from his left as he saw Severus do the same, instantly recognizing the girl that had gotten close to their table. Lily Evans, grinning as she held what looked like three herbology textbooks.

Severus smiled. "Lily," he said. His tone of voice sounded deceptively stoic and monotone, something which Harry had only learnt to see through over the last weeks. He could tell by the way his friend was looking at the red-haired girl and the way his face had lit up that he was happy to see her — immensely. "Are you coming to study?"

Lily shook her head, though her grin remained firmly in place. "Oh, no, I just came into the library a few minutes ago. I wanted to check out some books for a herbology essay we need to hand in," she explained. "I was about to head back to the Gryffindor common room, but since I saw both of you sitting here I thought I'd at least say hi, since I didn't get a chance to today."

Harry smiled at her comment. Lily looked relaxed and happy, much like she always seemed to be. Alive, cheery, and joyful in a way Harry wasn't sure he had ever been before to such an extent.

"What did you both think about the Defence Club?" she suddenly asked. "I kept hearing from older Gryffindor students that it is quite useful, so I was really interested in seeing how it really was…"

She suddenly stopped in the middle of her sentence as she looked at the open book in front of Harry, seemingly recognizing the moving photograph in front of the pages Harry had been reading.

Lily's eyes widened. "That book, is it about Delphi?" she suddenly asked, sounding curious. She leaned towards the desk and turned the book towards her.

Harry frowned, slightly surprised, but quickly nodded. "The Oracle of Delphi," he explained.

"So it is delphi!" she exclaimed, pausing only a moment later. "Sorry, I'm being rude," she said, taking a step back and smiling apologetically. "I was just really surprised to see a book on…" she muttered.

Harry looked at her, feeling surprised. "You know about the oracle?" he asked.

"You know about the oracle?"

Lily shook her head. "No, or well, not really. I know a bit about Greek mythology, since I used to be very interested in it, but nothing that's really…" she started saying. "Well, I didn't know there were, you know, magical books on it. I assumed it was all just mythology."

Severus replied before Harry had the chance to. "Muggle legends are a bit… off, I think. But you can find books on it."

Lily's eyes widened immediately. She grinned, "really? That's amazing!" She sounded excited, far more so when Harry had first heard about things like it. He had thought it interesting, but… "How come you're interested in it, Harry?" she asked, "it isn't anything that we'd have to study until later, is it?"

Harry shook his head. "No, it's just something I got an interest in recently. My great aunt and uncle are visiting Greece at the moment, and they sent me a picture of it. A copy of a painting," he explained.

It was true enough, he supposed. He wasn't used to people asking about why he read things like these, he had long since gotten used to his family knowing and accepting his gift. Though even if interest in divination was fairly commonplace, he didn't want to draw attention to himself. He knew the consequences well enough from all the times his parents had told him about them. He could still remember the words his mother had told him at King's Cross, as well as those she often repeated in her letters to him — 'you know you must be careful, Harry. If someone knew—'

"Did they actually see the future and help people?" she asked excitedly. "To think something like that could…"

She was beaming, and Harry couldn't help to imagine what Avery's reaction would have been to a sudden question like that. Nothing pretty, that was for sure. The brown-haired Slytherin had been enjoyable to be around and helpful to him after what had happened to Rosier, but when it came to…

"They did, though there is much more to the oracle than just that" he said matter-of-factly, not quite knowing what to say or start from. He hadn't finished the book quite yet, and he couldn't say he was an expert from just reading one book.

Lily kept her eyes fixated on him, following his words attentively.

It wasn't long, however, before the three of them seemed to realise the likely late hour, and quickly set to packing the books they had brought to the library as Lily waited for them besides the table.

"Sorry if I held you back," she said with a kind smile.

Snape immediately shook his head, "no, don't worry." He looked back down at the books he had been reading and some others he had decided to take out. "We didn't see each other rat all recently, perhaps we could study at the library together tomorrow?" he said.

Lily smiled, and Harry was suddenly reminded of how close the two had seemed to be when he had met them at the boats before the sorting took place. "Of course," she said.

The three of them walked out of the library together, with Harry walking slightly behind the other two as they got into a conversation he couldn't quite follow. They broke apart soon after leaving the library — the Slytherin and Gryffindor common rooms likely being on practically opposite ends of the castle — and Harry started making his way to the dungeons with Severus, comfortable silence settling around them.

It didn't take them very long to reach the bottom floor of the castle. It was nearly empty, most likely because of the late hour. It wasn't long before the bare-looking wall concealing the entrance to the Slytherin common room was in view. In contrast to the devoid look the area around the entrance presented, the common room within couldn't present a more different image.

All four of the fireplaces were lit, something which had quickly started becoming somewhat of a necessity as winter grew closer. The reds and yellows of the fires blended in with the toned silvers, greens, and blacks of the rest of the room, enveloping all of the students within the room in an atmosphere oddly full of comfort and warmth. The dark colours of the waters of the lake shone through the windows, and though no schools of fish could be seen swimming around them, allowing instead a fully clear view of the merpeople's village.

The common room was filled with students of every year, with most groups gathering close to the lit fireplaces. The sound and buzz of lighthearted conversation filled the air, giving an impression of a liveliness that wasn't all that common to see.

Harry had barely started to focus on the many different people sitting around the common room before Severus spotted two of their dorm mates — Avery and Mulciber — around one of the many small tables on the left side of the room. Both seemed to be quite concentrated on a polished-looking checkered board, placed on the table between them. The pieces looked distinctive, and Harry found himself recognizing the game immediately despite never having played it before. Wizarding chess — something he had only ever seen his great uncle Charlus play on a few occasions, most often against his father. Stebbins was nowhere to be seen, however.

Severus started making his way towards the two other boys, and Harry quickly decided to follow. It didn't take them long to reach the table around which the two boys were sitting at.

Mulciber was the first of the two to look up at them. "Harry, Severus," he greeted. "Finally back from the library?"

Severus nodded, and focused on the board between the two of them before sitting down on one of the vacant seats around the table. Harry followed suit, placing the book of bags he had carried to the library on the floor.

The game looked quite advanced — quite a number of pieces were scattered on the sides — though there seemed to be more black pieces on the board. Despite their numerical superiority, however, Avery seemed to be silently focusing on two white pieces which looked too close to his king.

Severus observed the board for a few seconds more. "It seems like the game is quite tense," he finally said.

Harry looked at the board, attempting to register what his dorm mates was talking, but not quite managing to with what little he knew about the game. He hadn't really had the chance to play the game before, and James had never been interested.

"You could say that," Mulciber said. He quickly looked back at the board, and focused on the right corner of Avery's side. "I think I'm doing better, though. I'll probably win in a few turns."

Avery smiled and glanced up at Mulciber. "You most likely will. Those two rooks are making things difficult. I should have placed my pieces more offensively before."

Harry smiled, and looked back at board. It seemed like an interesting game, quite different from the other things he had played before. A few seconds went by, and, just like Avery had said, Mulciber had soon checkmated his king.

"Would either of you care for a game afterwards? I've already played against Alden a few times, and I'll admit to being quite tired," Mulciber said. "I could play for hours, but since Monday will be coming soon, I probably should start with the Charms paper we need to hand in."

Severus hummed noncommittally, making it clear quickly that he wasn't interested in playing a game, and Mulciber's eyes immediately focused on Harry.

"Harry?" he asked.

Harry quickly shook his head. "I'm not sure if I should, I've never played wizarding chess before."

This seemed to grab the attention of the other three rather quickly, and Harry quickly found himself in Mulciber's place.

"Do you know how the pieces move?" Avery asked. Harry shook his head, and the boys was quickly prompted to explain the rules.

It didn't take Harry long to realise he was terrible at the game. His first game ended quickly — Avery took advantage of one of the first pawns Harry had moved, and used it to checkmate him with his queen after only a few turns. The second game went much in the same way, as did the third, and it was only once they were on their fourth game that Harry found himself playing a tenser and longer game. By the time he reached the fifth, he started to understand what the main basic ways of approaching the game were.

"I think I understand now," he started saying, once he was checkmated by Avery once again. It hadn't been a loss as quick as the first few, however, and he found himself feeling proud of how much he had managed to last. "I was keeping too many of my pieces behind the pawns, and barely took any central control. I should have moved more of them forwards to take control of the board and both defend myself and attack."

Mulciber very nearly grinned at Harry's words.

"That's exactly it," the Slytherin said. He seemed surprised, even somewhat proud. "You must remember, Harry, that a piece that isn't in use might as well be already dead, and if you don't take control of the board your opponent will be the one to do so."

It was after only one game more, and once the common room had started to empty of younger students, that Harry decided to return to the dorm room in order to continue reading the ancient runes book he had been studying earlier on. It was empty, with Stebbins nowhere in sight, and Harry quickly made his way to his bed, bag of books held tightly in his hands.

OoO

The strange and familiar white train station gave way to the more familiar grounds of Hogwarts quicker than Harry managed to fully grasp, and by the time he realised he was dreaming, there was only the familiar green of the fields surrounding Hogwarts.

Harry blinked as he surveyed the area around him in the dream. The day was bright — too bright — with barely a cloud in the sky. A buzz of something filled the air with an energy Harry still hadn't seen on the outside of Hogwarts, and lush green covered all he could see.

He had never dreamt of Hogwarts in one of his dreams before.

The thick smell of flowers filled the air, mixing with the somewhat heavy humidity of the black lake in a way that saturated the air and breeze all around with too many smells. The sun hung high in the sky, illuminating the area with more light than what Harry had quickly grown used to over the previous weeks.

A tall and thick tree, a willow, sat atop the hill in front of Harry. Its branches were twisted, curved at odd angles that were barely hidden by the thin leaves growing on the tree's branches. They looked odd against the tree's thick trunk. Strange. Too thin for the height of the tree, too bare to seem natural.

Harry immediately recognised it, though mostly from the stories he had heard from other students. It was the strange and violent tree which had been planted that very year, the rare plant that Dumbledore had barely made a mention to at the beginning of the year — the Whomping Willow. Rare plants, from what he remembered, and the only that hit humans back whenever they got too near.

Nothing grew around the tree or even got close to it with good, and despite the sunny day nothing seemed to be around him.

Harry stood still, wondering what he was meant to see or notice as only silence settled around him. Only distant laughs and chatter could be heard, carried over by the breeze, making the area seem unnatural in its stillness despite the plentiful green and life that was the Hogwarts grounds.

It was a few minutes until voices grew near, joyous and carefree, and Harry found himself immediately focusing on the approaching group of students. The voices grew louder as they approached the hill on which the Whomping Willow sat and came into sight. Harry's eyes widened. He could recognise them.

It was a group of five first year students, a mixture of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Though he could recognise them from classes, he didn't know most of their names. The names of the two girls, a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff, escaped him, and he couldn't remember neither the name or surname of another boy. Only two were familiar; Harry knew that the tall blond near the front was called Adrian, and the other he could distinctively remember from the first Defence Club session they had had that very day. Close-set eyes, dark hair, and heavy eyebrows — the boy was Davey Gudgeon, the boisterous boy Avery had quickly taken to disliking after that morning.

"I don't think you'll dare, Davey," the blond boy, Adrian, said. He grinned.

The boy Harry didn't recognise laughed, and one of the girls immediately jumped in, following the comment the blond boy had said. "You talk big, Gudgeon, but I know you wouldn't dare to touch the Whomping Willow. You're just jealous of that Gryffindor — Sirius Black."

Gudgeon immediately flustered at the comment, and protested loudly. "Of course I will! Why would I be the first to do so anyways, I'm not like those Gryffindors."

The girl that had just spoken smiled teasingly, as the other observed them with a smile.

"Admit it — you just wish you could have been the first to touch the Whomping Willow's trunk, like that Potter did," the boy Harry didn't recognize said. He smiled wryly, "quite cowardly too, considering you kept daring Cresswell to do it."

Adrian smirked, "cowardly of Cresswell, you mean." He turned towards Gudgeon. "You should have insisted and brought him with us, Davey. He…"

"You know how he is, obsessing over Goblins and their culture. He didn't want to come, and since he was at the library…"

The boy laughed, and the others quickly followed suit. They had almost reached the Whomping Willow, and with it the position Harry had found himself appearing at in the dream. By the time they reached the tree they were standing right besides Harry. The tree looked oddly imposing as its branches shifted with the wind and moved, thin leaves rustling quietly.

The girl that hadn't spoken yet, now standing to a side, smiled shyly."I think you'd be able to, Gudgeon," she said.

Gudgeon looked at her briefly and smiled. "I did say I could," he announced. He turned at the others and grinned. "I'll do it, you'll see! I'll touch the trunk!"

Adrian smiled daringly. "Will you?" he asked.

"Of course, Adrian! You'll regret your words, and then you'll have to touch it too," Gudgeon exclaimed.

Gudgeon suddenly turned to face the Whomping Willow and started walking towards it. The other first years remained silent, too curious to say anything.

Harry found himself watching with a similar type of fascination, not quite knowing what to expect. What was going to happen? He had never had a dream like this before, nothing seemingly as benign. What was this about?

Gudgeon stopped walking once he was barely a meter away from the tall tree. The wind picked up, and he gulped loudly just as the branches started moving again.

"Come on, Davey!"

Gudgeon glanced back at his friends briefly, before turning again towards the Whomping Willow. He clenched his fists and shut his eyes, before taking a deep breath in. A few seconds went by before he opened them again.

He grinned. "You'll see, Adrian!" he exclaimed, and with that the Ravenclaw boy lunged forwards.

The reaction from the tree was immediate. A loud creak filled the air as the the trunk twisted on itself, the branches following its path. Gudgeon kept running forwards, nearly reaching the tree's trunk when it suddenly came to a stop. Gudgeon pressed on.

The trunk twisted again, and an even louder creak, filled the air. The tree flung its branches violently, seemingly attempting to bludgeon the first year. Gudgeon grinned as he almost reached the tree's bark, and—

A loud crack filled the air as the branches smashed Gudgeon's torso. Shattered bone protruded from the boy's ribcage as he was hurled towards the ground. Another louder crack followed as a branch quickly smashed against his head, managing to hit the same area twice more before the body was hurled away from the tree. Landing with a loud thud away from both Harry and the group of first years.

Gudgeon's spine was bent at an odd angle. Blood seeped onto the grass, and something white was breaking through some areas of skin. The first years screamed. The Whomping Willow stopped moving.

"Quick! Get someone, anyone!" one of the girls shouted.

Adrian started running towards the castle. "Help! Someone, we need help!"

Harry fell onto his knees. Davey Gudgeon wasn't moving.

OoO

"Mr. Potter, if you could stay behind, please?" came the calm voice of the defense professor.

Harry's eyes shot up to the front of the class and to the familiar figure of professor Riddle. The Gryffindors and Slytherins around him were already packing their things. The Defence Against the Dark Arts class had clearly just ended, and students were already packing their things. Harry's eyes widened, he hadn't noticed it at all. Just how much had he missed?

The week had passed in a daze, with days seeming to blend in with each other as more distance was put between Harry and the dream. His stomach tying in knots every time he had thought about the game, the blood, and the tree. He had sent a letter to Dumbledore almost immediately afterwards, as well as to his parents and family, making sure to include within it as many of the dream's details as he could remember. He had received a response, even. An assurance by the headmaster that he'd do everything in his power to stop the events from happening.

It didn't take long for Harry to realise that it hadn't calmed him at all. The odd angle Gudgeon's body had been bent at was too imprinted and too recent in his mind, flashing through his mind every time he so much as glanced at the Ravenclaw or at the Whomping Willow. Made worse by memories of the burning rice fields and muggle cottages in other dreams, and in turn by the strange silence of Stebbins. That, though better than when he had first returned, was a complete change from how he had seemed at the beginning of the year. A certain sadness seemed to surround the Slytherin everywhere he went, burying within it the easygoing nature Harry remembered from the first weeks at Hogwarts.

That he hadn't managed to talk to James about it once since Saturday hadn't helped whatsoever.

His twin had been strangely distant, though most likely by accident. Too used to life in Gryffindor and his two — or three, considering how Remus Lupin had started eating and hanging out with them — friends for Harry to be able to catch him alone. Too joyous to notice the horrible feeling that had taken home in Harry's stomach. There wasn't a single moment James spent away from his friends, and how could Harry then tell him what was wrong? How could he talk to him like they had before September, before Hogwarts, if he wasn't paying attention?

How?

Harry's dorm mates had noticed immediately, however, and though none had pressed him about it after the first day Harry couldn't help but wonder what they thought about the strange dazed mood he had found himself in. About the way he had awakened with a scream after the dream, and his immediate change of behavior.

The only things Harry had been able to think of were the imprinted images he remembered from the dream, along with the conflicting advice he had read and been given. That he shouldn't say anything and that Dumbledore, or his parents, would take care of it and stop it. Conflicting, then, with the bad result that had come with only trusting the headmaster when he had seen the death of his dorm mate's father, what he had learnt about the Oracle of Pythia, and the story professor Riddle had told him.

He felt blocked. Weighed down by the knowledge that, at the end of the day, it was his responsibility. That alone had made Harry barely able to concentrate in any of his classwork.

It took Harry a few seconds to realise that the remaining students in the class had all turned towards Harry and his twin, still in the room despite his speed at packing. James, at the other side of the room, had turned to face professor Riddle, looking both surprised and strangely outraged.

What did he think about their defence professor?

"Mr. Harry Potter," professor Riddle specified once he saw both twins look at him. He seemed to be scrutinizing the room with hard eyes and some sort of nearly-concealed intensity. His expression was neutral, demeanour confident as he leaned against one of the walls at the front of the class. He had his arms crossed in a way that made him seem relaxed and oddly graceful.

Harry gulped, feeling himself worry. An uncomfortable feeling set into his stomach just as he felt his dorm mates turn to look at him with curiosity. James turned towards him with a look of worry, and offered a sympathetic smile.

Mulciber was frowning. "What could professor Riddle want?" he said with a carefully controlled voice.

Harry glanced at his dorm mates briefly. Snape was looking at Harry with a somewhat questioning gaze, though didn't seem worried, and Avery seemed as collected and calm as could be. Stebbins, meanwhile, was looking at him with a distinctive lack of expression.

"It's probably nothing to worry about, Harry," Severus said, after a few seconds.

Avery nodded, and offered a sympathetic, though controlled, smile. "I'd imagine it is something related to class. If it was serious you wouldn't be told about it in class."

Harry nodded before darting his eyes back to the lean figure of professor Riddle. "You're right," he muttered. He was surprised, he hadn't been told to stay behind by a teacher yet.

His dorm mates started packing their books, and Harry glanced at his own unassorted ones, still lying on the desk. "Go on without me, I'll see you at Transfiguration."

Severus, Avery, and Mulciber nodded, and quickly made way to leave the room, Stebbins following close behind. Harry packed his books and turned towards the front of the class, starting to walk towards his professor quickly afterwards.

"Sir?" Harry asked, feeling nervous. "Is something wrong?"

Professor Riddle stood up and away from the wall, uncrossing his arms and gazing at Harry with a somewhat softer expression. The man pursed his lips briefly before smiling in a way that seemed somewhat genial and reassuring. His overall posture didn't change at all, however, and instead seemed to only grow in confidence and gracefulness.

Harry glanced up and met the dark brown of the professor's eyes. It was the same colour he had seen at Flourish and Blotts, with no sign of the strange red glint he remembered noticing. A few seconds went by before Harry broke the eye contact, not quite feeling comfortable with its length.

"There is no need to worry, Mr. Potter. You've done nothing to merit any sort of disciplinary action," professor Riddle said, reassuring Harry. "No, it's quite a different matter altogether. I've noticed, as have some of your other professors, that you've been distracted throughout most of your classes this week."

Harry oh'd and nodded. Had he been distracted enough that his teachers had noticed? "I'm sorry, Sir. I hadn't noticed… Well…" he muttered. He didn't know what to say.

"Enough, at least, when considering the high standard of work you've maintained so far this year, Mr. Potter.," he continued. "Professors McGonnagal and Flitwick expressed concerns during a meeting of staff yesterday, saying that you seemed somewhat distracted and dejected."

Professor Riddle smiled reassuringly. "As you've seemed similarly distracted during today's class, Mr. Potter, I wanted to ask whether there has been anything affecting you," he said. "As it is my duty as your Head of House to help you with any such things affecting students in Slytherin."

Harry looked down, not quite knowing what to say. He knew he had been out of it throughout most of the week, though not enough to warrant attention from his teachers. He couldn't tell the Defence professor the real reason for his worries, and—

"It's been… nothing, sir," he muttered, not quite sure what to say. "Nothing serious, I mean."

Professor Riddle frowned, eyes narrowing. "Serious enough to change the productivity in your classes and the quality of your work, Mr. Potter," he said. He hadn't believed him.

Harry pressed his lips together, what should he say? He couldn't tell his Head of House the truth, or anything about the dream. His parents had made that perfectly clear, and he still didn't know enough about the professor to make a decision about him. He had helped him before, but…

A half-truth, then, like the one he had used after meeting professor Dumbledore at his office when asking him about his dream.

"It's nothing serious, Sir." Harry started saying, before pausing to think. He looked down. What would be the best thing to say in order to explain his problem, without saying anything about his dream?

Professor Riddle looked at him expectantly.

"I think I know that something bad is going to happen to my brother; but I'm not sure whether I should tell him about it, or whether telling him would do any good," Harry explained. "I don't know what to do, and it's been distracting me all week."

The Defence professor gazed at Harry in silence for a few seconds before his expression softened. "I imagine this is related to what you asked me a few weeks back near Headmaster Dumbledore's office?" he asked. "Whether one could be guilty by virtue of not warning another?"

Harry nodded, and looked at the eyes of his Head of House again. "I'm the only one that knows, Sir. I understand what you told me then — that I should help if I thought it would be of help, though that it ultimately didn't make me guilty if I chose to withheld it — though I still want to help."

Harry averted his gaze again quickly, and moved his hands into the pockets of his Hogwarts uniform before he had the chance to fidget. The question was good enough. He thought it was, at least, probably, though he didn't like having to ask about things in such a roundabout way.

Professor Riddle seemed to pause to think. "I take the problem lies in that telling your brother of the problem would have negative consequence in itself?" he asked.

Harry nodded again. "Yes, it would… Well, he would get angry at me, most likely."

"Well, Mr. Potter. If it's something really serious you should go to the faculty or your parents and warn them. Though if it's something that's between the both of you and you wish to help him, why not warn him after all?" he explained. His voice was calm, and Harry felt himself relax at the confidence with which the professor spoke.

"He could get angry at me for saying it and trying to help, for—" Harry muttered.

"Regardless, Mr. Potter. The advice we get from others, no matter how strange, is sometimes the only way for us to avoid something bad from happening."

"What if he didn't believe me, though, Sir? If my advice did nothing?" Harry asked. He could send Gudgeon a letter, or try to inadvertently warn him away from the Whomping Willow, but would that have any effect? He wanted to help, but he couldn't do so in a way that revealed what he was, and even then—

"I stand by what I said then, Mr. Potter. A warning could always be ineffective, but there is no way to tell how things might go. Sometimes it is best to give it regardless, lest not doing so does more evil."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. Perhaps…?

Professor Riddle stopped to gaze at Harry for a few seconds whilst he observed him. He smiled. "You remind me of a poem, Mr. Potter. One written by Michelangelo, the Italian sculptor, though it is not widely known."

Harry frowned. He had never heard about any Italian artists of any time, let alone read any poetry or literature.

"He was a muggle who lived during the Renaissance, perhaps amongst the most acclaimed muggle artists of all time," professor Riddle explained, admiration making its way to the man's voice and eyes. "It was written as accompaniment to a statue he had previously made. As criticism for Cosimo the first de Medici, the ruler that ruled the city of Florence at the time. Though more particularly of his governance. Do you know what it says?"

Harry shook his head, and professor Riddle smiled. He turned towards the teacher's desk and quickly looked through his papers, only stopping once he had grabbed hold of a particular black notebook, all covered in leather. He opened it and quickly looked through its pages, stopping once he had reached the notebook's middle.

"Like I said, it was written as accompaniment to a statue Michelangelo himself made, one at the tomb of one of the Duke's own ancestors," the Slytherin Head of House continued, approaching his principal topic. "The poem is worth thinking of in relation to the statue's stone."

Harry observed him with curiosity, not quite knowing what to expect, and professor focused on the text in front of him.

"My sleep is dear to me, and more dear this being of stone, as long as the agony and shame last," he read aloud, using the voice he often used to explain something in class.

The words sounded delicate and fascinating all at once with the man's charismatic voice, and Harry found himself clinging to each and every one of the words read.

It wasn't long before he continued. "Not to see, not to hear is for me the best fortune. So do not wake me! Speak softly."

Harry frowned as soon as the Defence professor finished talking, missing the enigmatic-sounding words.

Professor Riddle closed the black notebook and placed it atop his desk again. "Do you know what it means, Mr. Potter?" he asked.

Harry's frown deepened for a second, keeping his eyes focused on the floor as he thought about the poem the professor had read aloud. Could it… Ah!

Harry's eyes widened and dashed back up meet those of his professor. "The Duke was like stone," Harry said, half in awe. "He didn't see or listen to the problems of the city. That artist… Michelangelo, criticized him for ignoring the problems of the land and his people. For choosing to sleep."

Professor Riddle's smile broadened, and Harry couldn't avoid the feeling of pride that filled him.

"Exactly, Mr. Potter," he said, nodding, "and sometimes the worse one can do, when they know of problems around, is choosing to be like stone. Ignoring the agony and shame for the sake of restful sleep."

It wasn't until later on that day, after dinner, that he found his brother waiting for him outside of the Great Hall. A stream of students kept going in and out of the massive room, drowning the air with the sound of chatter and laughs that accompanied beautifully the smell of food in the air.

"Harry, it's just… Could I talk to you?" James asked. He was clenching his hands in a way that spoke of determination. Frowning, however, with a distinct look of barely-concealed worry. "What did professor Riddle want to tell you? Is something wrong?"

When Harry received a reply from Charlus the very next morning, he was surprised to see the mixture of worried advice and support within it.

'Do what you mean to do, Harry.'

Thank you all for all the support and encouragement! Receiving so many kind reviews and seeing so much interest in the story has been absolutely amazing.

The next chapter will reach the Christmas period and (likely) use a different POV to reveal more of what's going on behind the scenes, since there are a few things I wouldn't be able to show otherwise with just Harry right now. In around five more the end of part 1 of the story will finally come about, and there will be a jump forwards of a few years (since otherwise, getting to what I really want to write about, as well as the pairing, would take far too much time).

A/N: Chapter edited on the 5th August 2017