Harry Potter and the Year he Broke Free

Chapter Thirty: Secrets

It was nice not to have to clean up all the destruction he'd caused for once. Harry blew out a slow breath, and walked over to the door of the room, arm outstretched. He wanted to turn the handle, but... he didn't know if he was ready to go back out there. He'd said some awful things to Cho, horrible things. She must hate him. Part of him was sad to see what might have been a pleasant relationship wither and die, but if he was being honest, part of him was relieved he didn't have to pretend.

Draco was all he could think about. Across the dining hall, beside him in potions, even walking down the corridor a short distance apart. It was like he could sense his every move, hear every conversation he had. Harry had noticed that Draco actually didn't talk very much to his so-called friends, preferring to sit back and watch the discourse. Was he always like that? Had he always been so quiet? Last year he had seemed a lot more arrogant and loud. Harry wasn't exactly complaining - Draco didn't inuslt people half as much.

But that was no reason to believe he had changed, or that he was worth knowing. There were definitely moments that the slimy, stuck-up Slytherin came out again; when he shoved someone's stuff out of their hands, tripped over some third-year Hufflepuff girls, called people names. Malfoy seemed to specialise in name-calling and insults. He knew exactly where it hurt the most. Harry just counted himself lucky that he didn't pick on him so much anymore. Probably afraid of him.

He had been in quite a few scuffles (which he'd all won) but none since Saturday. Unless you counted today, when he reduced Cho to tears. Shame was coiled deep in his stomach, weighing him down when he thought of the terrible way he had treated her. It was a fair reaction to be pissed at your date (boyfriend?) when they just told you they had gotten themselves three months of detention, and "sorry, I can't go to the ball with you." And then, "I didn't like you anyway, and neither did your dead boyfriend!" Harry had to admit he had gone too far. Umbridge had just riled him up so much, and he was feeling so tired and confused. Cho begun yelling at him, and it was so easy to let the venom slide off his lips.

Was that who he was? Someone who took out their temper on someone else? He deserved to be screamed at, for his reckless attitude and stupid, stupid temper. It was like he was a bomb about to go off, the ticking growing louder and louder in his ears. It was best that everyone keep away from him; he was a complete freak, and when his patience finally blew, people were bound to get hurt. Like they always did.

Rather than feeling angry, now he just felt numb. The fury that bubbled inside him constantly had settled, making his insides feel cold. Broken pieces of furniture and other objects lay at his feet, smashed to pieces in a fit of fury. Hopefully nobody minded, considering half the stuff in here was already broken. This room was quite fascinating, actually, full to the brim with forgotten objects like crystal balls and spindly desks and old broomsticks. Like a rubbish tip for Hogwarts. Some of the books he found were so old and yellowed with age he wondered whether they had been here for hundreds of years. The Room of Requirement was such an odd place - he'd have to find out more about it. But where? This place wasn't exactly common knowledge. The house-elves seemed to be the only people who knew about this place.

Harry realised he had been pacing for quite some time, and after glancing at his watch discovered it was time for afternoon lessons. And guess what was first: potions, of course, where he had to be around Malfoy. Snape was quite git for putting them together. Harry brushed the dust off the front of his robes, and thrust open the door impatiently, striding down the corridor to the dungeons.


"Nice of you to show up, Potter," Malfoy murmured to him with a smirk.

Harry shoved his things onto the desk quickly, in his haste knocking off the chopping board, Draco's smirk growing even more.

"Do you think he noticed me turning up late?" Harry whispered discreetly. Or so he thought.

Snape whirled round at the front. "Yes, he did. 10 points from Gryffindor. Now, if we could move back onto the material for today..."

Harry grumbled to himself. It was only two minutes! This was unfair. If Malfoy turned up half an hour late he probably wouldn't be told off whatsoever. How can someone be so good-looking and Snape's favourite? Harry watched as Draco tucked a stray strand of icy-blonde hair behind his ear. Malfoy turned and caught him staring, going red when he saw that Harry's eyes were on him. He grinned slightly at the pinkish tinge creeping up his cheeks.

"...you have forty minutes - begin." finished Snape. He glared mutely at Harry for a second before taking his place behind his desk and beginning to mark.

He turned to Draco. "Who do you reckon glares the best?"

"You what?" he replied, focused on chopping up the beetroot currently pinned under his knife.

"No, but think about it. I would award the best glare to either McGonagall or Snape. I can't decide."

"You're so weird, Potter," said Mafloy, shaking his head.

Harry pointed his wand at the underneath of his cauldron. "Alright then."

A few seconds later, a discontented sigh came from the Slytherin. Harry smiled.

"I think you have to put Umbridge in the running."

"No, she's more creepy than anything."

Draco shuddered. "That little cough of hers is just awful."

Harry threw his chopped beetroot into his cauldron with a little more force than necessary. "At least she hasn't given you a million detentions."

He snorted. "Yeah, I heard about that. It was hard not to when you and Chang were yelling about it in the middle of lunch."

"God, don't even remind me," Harry said exasperatedly. He winced, turning to Draco. "Was it really that bad?"

"Merlin yes; I had a right good laugh afterwards."

Harry shook his head and went onto the next instruction. Beside him Draco hummed contentedly, stirring and adding in more ingredients. Again, he caught Harry staring at him.

"Am I bothering you? Sorry, I'll stop now," Draco said. He froze.

Harry began to laugh loudly, enjoying the sour expression on Malfoy's face that appeared as soon as he began chuckling. "Did you just apologise to me? Draco Malfoy, apologising to me, Harry Potter?"

He scowled. "Don't worry, Potter," he spat with extra vigour. "I won't make a habit of it."

Harry looked at Draco. "The humming didn't bother me, really," he remarked while re-adjusting the temperature of the fire roaring underneath his cauldron. Draco looked at him in surprise, and a few minutes later, he began to hum again.


Harry was feeling... pretty good. It had been nice, talking to someone without a harsh comment in sight. Him and Malfoy had gone past the civil conversations, and were ow having ones that were slightly enjoyable. Only slightly, though. God knows what everyone would say if they found out the two rivals were becoming... friends? No, too strong of a word, he though as he made his way to Gyrffindor to drop off his stuff. Everyone had gotten used to his reappearance in the dormitory and common room, so he stopped feeling so self-conscious all the time.

Acquaintance, maybe? Of course in Harry's dreams they were more than that, but that was a secret he would take to the grave. Some, (not all) of his dreams had a tall blonde mysterious stranger in it, with glinting grey eyes and an intoxicating peppermint scent. Often they would order a drink at the bar, and accidentally make eye contact with Harry across the bar. One thing led to another and they were suddenly enraptured in a heavy snogging session in the loos. Or whatever broom cupboard they could find. He would wake up with a shock and his heart pumping, but for an entirely different reason.

But the Draco in his dreams and the Draco that walked the halls of Hogwarts were two entirely different people. One was rather dishy, the other a cruel bastard that stood for everything Harry hated - Pureblood elitism, Voldemort, and being a complete snob. But that was all so easy to forget when you had conversations as wonderfully casual as that.

Footsteps came up behind him, clearly tailing him as he skirted around crowds of people floating around the corridors. Harry turned suddenly to find Ron Weasley behind him.

"Hi, Ron." he said cautiously, stopping completely. "Did you want something?"

"Yeah," he replied. Harry began to walk again, slowly at first but then with a quickening pace with a new companion beside him.

Ron didn't say anything. Harry frowned at him. "What is it?"

He hesitated for a second. "I think you should be careful," he said haltingly. Ron looked like he was regretting what he was saying before he had even said it.

"Careful of what?"

"Of Malfoy. I saw you two talking in Potions."

Harry sighed. "I know, I know. I haven't forgotten who he is, you know."

"Good, well, just... be careful." The conversation dried up at once, the one topic Ron had sought him out for having been depleted. Or so Harry thought.

"What do you see in him?" Ron said with a bewildered tone.

Harry almost froze in alarm. "What?" he said sharply. Did- did he suspect something? There was nothing really to suspect, just a harmless, short-lived infatuation that Harry was trying to forget. No, going to forget.

"I mean, why do you even talk to him? I can't stand to be around the git for more than two minutes." Ron wrinkled his nose is disgust, and Harry felt a sharp pang of annoyance in his chest.

"Well, he's not that bad," Harry protested. "No, he is that bad. But I can get on with him during Potions. Not many other people to talk to, really."

"Hm," Ron said. The air grew more stale between the two, Ron's eyes darting from the ceiling to the floor and back again. Basically looking anywhere but Harry, who began to get suspicious that there was another topic Ron wanted to address.

"Was there anything else you wanted to talk about, or can I go now?" Ron's eyes finally snapped to meet his own wary ones, the other boy paling a little.

"No- I mean, yes. Where are you going?" he said. Harry almost rolled his eyes at the trainwreck of an answer. Ron definitely wanted to talk to him about something else.

Harry frowned as they passed through the portrait hole. "Doesn't matter." Neither of them said anything, having stopped halfway across the common room.

Ron turned to him. "So... me and Hermione wanted to ask you something. And Neville. And Ginny. And- um, this girl Luna in Gin's year-"

"No." he said shortly. Harry spotted a small crowd gathered by the fire; Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Fred, George, Seamus and Dean. He didn't much fancy talking to them - what Harry really wanted to do was get down the Room of Requirement and brew some more headache draught. Since his free time was going to be cut in half, he needed to make use of the few hours he would have every day before the daily detentions with Umbridge after dinner.

"Can you at least hear us out? We have an idea, but we need some help." Ron pleaded with him. It looked like this was what he had been fearing the most.

"I don't want to be dragged into whatever bullshit you have going on here," Harry said. It was then that Hermione spotted them, and beckoned them over. Ron shot her a panicked look, and then indicated at Harry.

He sighed. "I'm going. Good luck with... whatever you're doing." Harry turned to the stairs, but felt a hand tug at his sleeve. He froze, heart pounding as he tried to move and tug his arm away. He turned to see Hermione was the one with a persistent hand curled around his robes, stern expression on her face.

"I know you don't like us right now, but we're desperate. Can you just listen to our idea?" she said.

He tried to pull himself away from her, but then her hand latched onto his wrist instead, making his eyes widen in panic.

"Let go of me," he hissed venemously, expecting her to recoil from the no-doubt murderous look in his eye. Instead, Hermione held firm, glaring at him steadily.

"Not until you hear us out," she replied. Harry twisted his hand round, and clamped onto her wrist tightly, waiting. The sizzling and smoking from the skin-on-skin contact was almost instantaneous, making Hermione yelp and jump back, cradling her wrist. You could see a red mark blistering on her forearm.

Harry could breath again, the knot in his throat loosening considerably. Ron looked at him in horror, moving to stand in front of Hermione, asking if she was okay and fussing over her injured arm. She brushed him aside impatiently, eyes boring into Harry's uncomfortably.

"I-I'm sorry," said Harry, beginning to shake. He felt sick to his stomach when he looked at what he had done to one of his oldest friends.

"Nonsense, I'm fine. But will you listen to us, or not?" He nodded at once, the numb feeling in the pit of his stomach returning. He didn't have much of a choice but to be led over to the others.

"Hi, Harry," said Fred. George echoed in his greeting, as did Ginny and Neville. Seamus, however, did a double-take when he saw him approaching.

"Him?!" he exploded. "Why're you asking him?"

Ron shushed him. "Shut up, Seamus, people'll hear!"

"I don't care! No way I'm being taught by a lunatic like him!"

Harry blanched. "Taught? What is this?"

George frowned at Seamus before turning his gaze on him. "Well, Harry, the general idea is that we are starting a defence group. Sort of like a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, but with a better teacher than Umbridge."

Hermione nodded. "We first had the idea a few weeks ago, but haven't found a good teacher."

"Yeah, and finding an actual place to practise is difficult."

Harry tapped his foot against the floor. Oh, he really shouldn't... but it was the least he could do after he burnt Hermione with his bloody magic. And maybe it would get them off his backs about being their teacher. No way he was doing that.

"I- I might know a place," he admitted, eyes flickering around the rest of the group. Dean looked surprised, as did many of the others. Ron and Seamus were still glaring at him, and Harry didn't have the nerve to look at Hermione.

Ginny peered at him. "Where?"

"I can show you." He made to leave, and when no-one else followed, said "Are you coming or not?" The rest of the Gryffindors began trooping behind him.

Walking around the corridors at this time of day was a dangerous business, namely because of how packed they were. Everyone was leaving lessons and making their way to the common room, the library, or just milling about in the hallways. Harry was glared at by almost everyone he walked past, and someone even threw a hex at him. Quick as a flash, Harry snapped out his wand and put up a shield charm, watching as the jelly-legs curse hit an invisible wall and melted into the floor. He scanned the corridor frantically, but there was nothing. Just the faint laughter of a plotter getting away.

Harry let out a breath of relief, forgetting he wasn't alone for a second. It was only when Neville said "Harry?" that he got moving again, never stowing his wand away in his pocket and instead sliding it part-way up his sleeve.

Finally, they got to the tapestry on the seventh-floor. Harry turned to the rest of the group.

"Okay, any requests?" he offered to their confused expressions.

"Maybe he has gone mad," muttered Ron to Hermione. Harry coughed loudly, frowning at him.

"No, I have not gone mad. This," he said, gesturing to the empty wall, "is the Room of Requirement. It's contents depend on what you need. So, any requests?" he repeated, more firmly this time.

"Just a place with enough room to practise in is enough, really. And nowhere the teachers can find," said Hermione. Harry nodded curtly at her, visualising in his head and saying the words as he paced back and forth three times beside the empty wall. On the third go, a door appeared. Harry smiled, and turned the handle.

It was quite magnificent. The room was wide and spacious, easily filling the space of two classrooms put side-by-side. There was a pile of cushions in one corner, a large bookshelf in another. On a nearby shelf lay some sneakoscopes and foeglasses, the contents foggy. It was perfect, really. The room had a warm glow to it, mostly thanks to the glimmering candelabras on the walls and bright chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Harry didn't feel like this was a wise choice considering spells would soon be bouncing around off the walls and probably igniting them all on fire.

He turned around to find everyone else gawking at the room, openly admiring the beautiful space. Yes, he did just call a room beautiful, because it was. Harry couldn't resist smirking as he said: "How's this?"

Fred had his arms folded across his chest, nodding and smiling along with George who was talking animatedly with everyone else. "Pretty good. Is this the same place you showed us before?"

"Yeah. With some slight changes, of course."

Hermione had her eyes wide with joy as her fingers traced the titles on the shelf, her sleeve falling to reveal the angry red bruise left by him burning her. Yet another reason why he should not teach: his magic was completely out of control, as was he. Harry didn't even know what he was thinking when he grabbed her arm, just that he needed her to get off now. God, why was he so weird?

"So, Harry, what are we gonna learn about first?" said Neville.

He spluttered. "What? No, I can't teach you. I'm not qualified, for one."

"I'm not sure Umbridge is either," said Ron.

"I haven't even done my OWLs yet! This is stupid. At least get some seventh-year to do it."

Hermione sighed. "There wasn't anyone experienced enough. We've all given it a go, and honestly..."

"Everyone was shit," Ron finished. Hermione nodded glumly.

"And what makes you think I'm any better?" Harry protested.

"In the hallway there," said Hermione. "You deflected that hex like it was nothing."

He brushed her off. "Anyone can stick up a shield charm, it's really not-"

"I can't," she said quietly. Harry looked at her in shock, then shook his head. "Don't you know the spell? It's just protego. Protego maxima for a stronger or larger shield."

"But how do you cast it? I've tried but can't seem to get the stance right."

Harry shrugged. "It's simple enough, just, you know, wave your wand. Envision what you're trying to block - that can sometimes help." She waved it around wildly, and Harry rushed over at once.

"No, no, more like this," he said, his wand making a slow, gentle curve in the air. "Of course when you've got that one down you can do more of a slicing motion. It just takes practise. Try."

Hermione cleared her throat, and repositioned herself, copying Harry's movements. A translucent net shot out of her wand and hovered around her, lazily distorting some of the nearby air. After a few seconds it flickered out, but Harry felt a small sense of pride.

"There you go, you've done it."

Hermione was looking pleasantly surprised. "Thanks to you. Look, you just proved you're a good teacher."

"That was just you, though. Don't reckon I could handle everyone at once." he said.

"Have you tried?" asked Ginny sceptically. "You never know. And your only competition is Umbridge."

Harry snorted. "Oh, yes, another excellent reason for me to join your club. If Umbridge finds out, I'm out of here. She's already given me three months of detention, so Azkaban is the next step."

Fred smirked. "Screw Umbridge. Do it anyway."

"I don't think she'd actually do that. Just give you more threats. I think people would protest if she tried to stick you in Azkaban." replied his twin. Harry frowned.

"Well, I don't know if I'm willing to take that chance. But also, I don't think it would be good for me to practise a lot of magic right now. Especially on other people."

"Why?" asked George.

"It's a bit- uh, out of control. Like I keep exploding stuff by accident."

"And turning soup into sunflowers," added Hermione.

Ron grumbled. "Don't forget you nearly killed me."

Dean nodded. "That thing with the points, too."

"Nah, this place gave me a proper spell for that. Wasn't me." said Harry. He paused, thinking for a second. "Anyway, it is a terrible idea for me to teach, because I don't really want to blow people up accidentally."

"You could always get other people to do demonstrations," Hermione pointed out. "And I don't think you'd cause anyone harm by putting up a simple shield charm."

He scowled at her. "Just leave it alone, alright?" he snapped. "Look at what I did to your arm! You're completely mad, the lot of you."

"My arm is fine, Harry," said Hermione, pulling back her sleeve. Sure enough the burn mark left earlier was already paler, shimmery surface dimming a little. Ginny gasped, and shot Harry a dirty look.

"Isn't there anything you can do about it?" said Ginny. Just then, a thought struck Harry. Why hadn't he thought of this earlier?

"Actually, can I try something?" asked Harry. "I've read up on a certain spell that treats burns fairly well, but I don't know how much you'll like it..."

"Well hurry up and do it, because it actually stings quite a bit." Hermione replied. Harry held out his palm, and she handed him her arm with a wary look. He gripped it loosely, in the other hand positioning his wand above the wound. Summoning up his magic, he let hisses spill from his lips, a strange glow settling over her forearm and leaving unblemished skin behind.

"What... what was that?" said Hermione, examining her arm gingerly. "I've never seen a spell like that before."

"Parselmagic," said Harry grimly. His predictions had been true - everyone looked completely terrified at the mention of parseltongue. He stowed his wand back in his pocket. "Don't worry, nothing evil. Parseltongue's just got a bad reputation since people keep using it for evil. It's actually pretty useful, not to mention more powerful than an ordinary healing charm."

Hermione nodded. "I suppose."

"Are you alright? How is it?" said Ron. Hermione extended an arm, and even Harry was surprised by how well it had worked. You couldn't tell anything had been there. Shame it didn't work half as well with the cuts on his arm.

Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Well, if we're done here, I might go... you know how to get into the room - you don't need me anymore."

Hermione frowned at him. "But if you go, who's going to teach us?"

"You should let go of that stupid idea already," said Harry, regarding her fiercely. "Find someone else."

Ron shook his head. "I told you, we've tried everyone else. And we need to learn how to defend ourselves because... well, You-Know-Who's back."

"And the Ministry clearly doesn't want us to learn how to fight judging by the abysmal Defence teacher they sent us." said Hermione.

"I- I didn't think of that," said Harry slowly. And it was true. How were they supposed to fight against Voldemort in the future if they couldn't put up a bloody shield charm?

"At least consider it, Harry. Who knows, it could be fun." said Hermione.

Oh, dammit. Part of him actually was considering this. It wasn't like he had anything else to do, really apart from detentions and homework. "What about quidditch?" he said.

"We'll coordinate around that. Some other people were asking about gobstones practise-"

"There are more people? said Harry, wide-eyed. How many people were in this thing?

"Yes," admitted Hermione. "People from different years, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws. I think around twenty-ish altogether."

"You don't sound too organised," he huffed in response.

"Yes, well it's hard when you don't even have a space to practise sorted out yet." she snapped. After a short silence, she sighed and added: "Will you do it, or not?"

Fuck it. He was going to do it. It sounded completely mad... but some part of him didn't want hundreds of students to go without basic training because of some Ministy fuck-up.

"Yes." he replied. Hermione's jaw fell open, and Ron gaped at him.

"So... so you'll teach us?" he said, staring at Harry with wide blue eyes.

"What the hell. I may as well live a little," said Harry brusquely. "When do we start? What time?"

It took Hermione a few moments before she found her tongue again. "Well- I, uh, didn't think you'd actually agree." She shook herself a little. "We don't have any kind of meeting organised at all. We were actually about to scrap the idea altogether, because there just wasn't a way to do it. This was more of a last chance, really."

"Bet you're glad you asked now, aren't you? I think we should try and make some sort of plan over the holiday, then have the first meeting when we get back. I'm only free until six every day for the next three months, though."

"Mornings?" said Ginny. "There are no clubs in the morning, so it wouldn't clash with anything."

"Who can be bothered to get up early though?" said Dean.

Ron nodded. "Nah. What about weekends? There's just the matches on Saturday morning."

"You're forgetting the other clubs," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"Dammit, this is difficult." said Harry grimly. "Let's just sort something out over Christmas. Can everyone owl?"

Neville, who up until this point had been almost silent, said "Yes. Can't promise about responding, though. My owl died."

"Sorry, Neville." Harry replied.

"Me, too. We don't have an owl at home and I'm going skiing with my family." said Hermione.

"We'll update you on any news when you get back. Now, I really need to get started on my Charms, so I'll see you later. You can all stay in here as long as you like."

Everyone said goodbye to him, and Harry began to make his way to the library, wondering what the hell he had just gotten himself into.


*I don't own any characters, all rights to J.K. Rowling.

**Hi all. I wanted to get the DA into this because that shit's cool. Hope you enjoyed, and stay safe folks. Thanks, Tea33.

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