Disclaimer: Nope, I still do not own Harry Potter

A/N: Hello! I'm ba-ack with the next chapter.

Come on, guys. No reviews last chapter? How am I supposed to add your OCs, your plot points, without suggestions? Don't forget, the first OCs sent in will get a place on the Quidditch teams. Please review this time! Plus, it helps me reflect on the quality of my writing, so as to improve the story for you.

*Deep breath* Right, sorry. Rant over. Anyway, enjoy the next chapter!

Chapter 7: Meeting the Lions

As expected, the Slytherins reached the hall in a timely fashion, calmly settling down to begin the day. Today would be the day they would receive their timetables, and the first opportunity to mingle amongst the other houses. But first, they would fill themselves with a nice breakfast.

Treating himself to some deep-filled pancakes, Harry sat himself between Draco and Pansy, with Daphne, Tracey and Theodore Nott opposite him.

After satisfying his hunger, he turned to his friends. 'So,' he said. 'What are you most hopeful for today?'

'Potions, of course,' Theo replied quickly. 'Snape is notorious for favouring the Slytherins.'

'I'd say defence,' Draco said. 'That's where you learn the offensive spells, so it's sure to be fun.'

'Charms sounds fun,' Tracey added.

'Transfiguration will be cool,' said Pansy.

'I just want something easy,' Daphne moaned. 'Like Herbology, or History of Magic.'

'Don't look now,' Theo said suddenly. 'Old Dumbledore's heading this way.'

Indeed he was, and he was heading straight for Harry. 'Harry, my boy,' he said in his grandfatherly voice, eyes twinkling. For a second, he frowned, before resuming his smile, eyes no longer shining. 'I hope you are settling well into Hogwarts. It was a shock for us all when you landed in Slytherin of all places.'

'Me too,' Harry lied. 'Imagine me being in the house of Dark Wizards!' Draco frowned at this, before realising the intention of the seemingly insulting statement. 'Do you do this for everyone, sir? Because I'm nobody special.'

Dumbledore blinked. 'No, no, of course you are, Harry. Uh, as in, everybody is special. But that is not the reason I am here. I am here to talk about your particular choice of clothing.'

Harry looked down at his trench coat, picking at it. 'Oh, this? I quite like it, and think it's quite fashionable, unlike the heavy old school cloak.'

'As nice as it is,' Dumbledore said. 'I must ask you to remove it. It is not the school robe.

'Bad luck,' Draco mumbled under his breath.

But Harry wasn't done yet. 'Actually, I don't think I will. You see, under the Dress Code, one is only required to wear the school shirt, trousers and an overshirt, with the robe only mandatory at special feasts. As such, my coat is perfectly suitable.'

Dumbledore blinked. 'I see… Well, I suppose you can keep it on. Goodbye.' He wandered off, clearly stunned.

'Blimey Harry,' Draco moaned. 'Why couldn't you have told me about that? I have plenty of lovely cloaks and robes at home.'

'I tried,' Harry replied. 'But you were always busy. I suppose you can always get Father to owl you some, and make do with the robe for now.' Draco scowled, but accepted the point.

Snape soon came round with the timetable. Harry quickly scanned it, memorising it, and realised something shocking. 'We're not with Ravenclaw!' His friends, not having yet read it, stopped and stared at him.

'But Harry,' Daphne said. 'We're always with Ravenclaw.'

'Not this year,' Harry replied. 'We're with Gryffindor. Oh, I hope our house can keep their cool.'

'Oh yes,' Theo muttered darkly. 'You made sure of that.'

Tracey squealed. 'We've got Charms today! And Transfiguration and Potions.' The group quickly agreed that Tuesday was a good day, timetable wise, and made their way off to Transfiguration, the first lesson of the day.

When they got there, there were only two students and a cat present, the students were Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, from the train. The cat, Harry noted, had round markings round its eyes, in much the same style as the Professor, typical of an artificial Animagus.

Harry walked up to the cat. 'Hello, Professor,' he said. 'An Animagus, I see.' He got a peculiar look from those present, and he went back to his desk. The cat simply gave him a soft mew.

The Gryffindor's began piling in noisily, the first to arrive being Dean and Seamus, whom he met on the train. Afterwards, those he did not know began to enter. There was Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, as well as a boy simply known as 'Bem' and a girl named Fay Dunbar. The lesson was due to start, and Ronald had not yet appeared.

He did not arrive for another five minutes, gasping and being thankful that the professor was not present either. As Harry expected, the cat immediately leapt off the desk, returning to the human form of Professor McGonagall. 'Blimey,' was all the redhead had to say.

'Good Morning class, and ten points to Slytherin, as well as my congratulations, for Harry's perceptiveness in identifying my cat form.' the elderly woman said. 'I shall be teaching you Transfiguration till seventh year, and wish to see dedication from all of you.'

The lesson was fairly dull, a revision of theory Harry already knew. Any questions asked were quickly answered by the over enthusiastic Hermione Granger, practically leaping about in desperation. What was really tiresome, however, were the constant snide remarks passed from the Gryffindors, especially the boys, though it did show the Slytherins feared Harry more than they despised the Gryffindors.

At the end of the lesson, however, Professor McGonagall vanished the writing upon the chalkboard, quickly replaced with a short message: 'Only those possessing Gifts can see this. When you leave, return in two minutes'.

Interesting, Harry thought. This would turn out to be quite advantageous, an opportunity to gage the power of his peers. Harry and his friends packed up their supplies, though Harry deliberately left his Potions book behind. As such, after having vacated the room, Harry made the perfectly valid excuse of having to retrieve it, with Draco coming so he had someone to talk to.

Harry and Draco were the first to arrive, and soon the others joined them. As he expected, Hermione joined them, looking quite confused. Following her came Neville, and then Theodore. A member from each of the other houses joined too, with a boy named Anthony Goldstein from Ravenclaw and a girl named Susan Bones from Hufflepuff. As expected, it was a rather small group, as Gifts were fairly rare.

McGonagall re-entered, and looked a little shocked at the presence of Hermione. 'Hermione, dear. What is it you wish to speak to me about?'

Hermione frowned. 'I thought you wanted me here. The board said to come.'

'Oh,' the Professor said, looking dumbstruck. 'I will have to expand on the usual talk. You see, Hermione, in Pure- and Half-Blood families, with a long history of Magical Blood, one's magic can sometimes be a bit special, with powers beyond the normal. I am uncertain as to how you have Gifts, but you must. For the rest of you, I assume you already know the Gifts you possess? I will need a practical example to confirm, so I know you are not lying to hide an, ah, more powerful Gift. I will talk to you in a moment, Miss Granger. After finding them out, I will assign you to a teacher or two to work on controlling and advancing in your Gift.'

Longbottom was called up first, nervously pronouncing himself an Earthbender, causing a little mole-hill to form on the floor. He seemed slightly embarrassed about that being his current limits. He was assigned to Professor Flitwick, an Airbender, and Professor Sprout, due to her work with the earth in Herbology.

Goldstein was a Lingomagus, and as such was not assigned a teacher. Bones was a Phaser, demonstrating passing her hand through a table and consequently getting stuck, and was assigned to Sprout, merely due to her being Bones' Head of House. There was no-one really fit.

Theodore's presentation was interesting, being an Umbrakinetic, and summoned up tangible strands of Darkness to hold him slightly above the ground. He too had no particular match, and was assigned to Snape.

Harry and Draco had decided together to only demonstrate one gift, and so Draco set ablaze his hands, assigned to Flitwick. On Harry's turn, he refused to announce his gift, and simply slid effortlessly into his Viper Form, much to the appreciation of McGonagall. He would be assigned to her for a short period, but since he had demonstrated his control, he doubted he would need many sessions.

Afterwards, the class, apart from Harry and Hermione departed, for the Professor was now turning her attention to Hermione's mysterious Gifts. She frowned when she saw Harry staying, though.

'Harry,' the Professor said. 'My sessions don't start just yet.'

'I know, Professor,' he replied calmly. 'I just think I know what Hermione's Gift is. I think she is a Hypermagus.'

The Professor blinked. 'Are you sure?' Turning to Granger, she asked 'Have you ever noticed that you hear things more than others, see things others can't?'

Hermione thought for a moment. 'I suppose. I used to get in dreadful trouble for eavesdropping through walls with a cup, though I had done no such thing! People are just loud.'

Professor McGonagall turned to Harry. 'I think you are right.' She turned back to Hermione. 'I have no experience with this Gift, though, and neither do any others in the school. It is rather rare. I'm afraid you will have to study yourself'

Seizing the opportunity, Harry butted in. 'Professor, I would be willing to help. I have two Gifts you see, and Hypermagism is the second.' There was little harm in revealing that.

McGonagall blinked again. 'Ten points to Slytherin for inter-house good-will and the willingness to tutor. Thank you. I will leave the two of you to agree on a time table. And,' she added. 'I won't force you into the Animagus lessons. I am only an artificial Animagus, and you are secure in your skill.'

The Professor left soon after, and Harry was left with Hermione, open mouthed.

When she finally regained her composure, she said to him, 'Thank you, Harry. And I'm sorry for being so rude on the train about your fame and everything.' She smiled sheepishly.

'Ah, don't worry about it,' Harry replied cheerfully. 'Though I would like to know if you have anything else particularly 'odd', even by magical standards. It could interfere with the training.'

Hermione frowned at the phrasing, but didn't comment on it. 'I mean, I can know things randomly. Like, a sudden burst of History, of knowledge, and I don't know how.'

Harry's eyes widened in shock. How could this Squibbial Reclaimant, a mudblood with squib ancestry, have such a powerful Gift? 'Wow. Just, wow.' He composed himself. 'Sorry, it's just it is such a rare and potentially useful Gift, that is thought to be a myth by many. It is called Psychometry.'

'Psychometry?' Hermione said, shocked.

'Yeah,' Harry said. 'The ability to gain knowledge associated with a non-living object simply by touching it. Though don't tell anyone else, not even mine or your friends. It traditionally has dark connotations, with many practitioners using it to fish out dirty secrets. You don't want that reputation, now do you.'

'No, no,' Hermione said quickly, clearly panicking a little. Nothing wrong in a little lie to keep this opportunity a secret. Especially if he could find her link to the Ravenclaw family.

'So, would Tuesday evenings, four o'clock do? Starting tonight, in the library' Harry said. 'I can have a go at helping with Psychometry, too. I am familiar enough with the theory.'

'Yes, yes please,' Hermione said, quickly leaving.

Brilliant, Harry thought. Hermione could turn out to be quite the useful pawn.

After that, Harry had a break, and he took the time to train. He wandered through the corridors, disillusioned, while extending his magical sense, looking for an empty classroom to practice, unobserved.

He was passing a portrait depicting trolls learning ballet, on the seventh floor, when he sensed something that intrigued him. He felt a hotspot of magic surrounded by solid rock, that felt like it should have a door, but simply didn't.

He paced up and down a couple of times, hoping to find a way to reveal it, when a door suddenly appeared. Intrigued, he pushed the door open, hoping it would vanish behind him. And it did.

Inside was a vast hall, at least as large as the great hall, covered in mirrors. It was enormous, with plenty of room to practice. He felt a slight intrusion into the edges of his brain, as if asking him what he would like.

'Hello, Room,' he began, awkwardly. 'I would like to speak to an avatar of the room, please.'

At first, nothing seemed to happen. Then, a form began to rise out of the floor. It was an elderly man, made of a dulled metal. He leaned upon a staff, and strode forwards, making no noise.

'Uh, hi,' Harry muttered. 'So, who or what are you?'

The metal man raised his hand. 'I am the Room of Requirement,' it said in a booming, yet quiet voice. 'I am the greatest creation of Merlin Emrys Ambrosius, whose form I now mimic.'

Interesting. 'What can you do.'

'Anything,' it said simply. 'I can conjure anything you so desire including food, drinks and gold. Nothing created here can be removed. There is also a storage room, cluttered with relics from over the years.'

That was fascinating. 'Can you tell others of what I do inside of here?'

'Yes, but only if they ask and you haven't explicitly forbidden it. You are the first after the founders, however, to think of trying to communicate with the room. I do not initiate contact, and so many work out some of my secrets through trial and error.'

'Huh. I forbid you from reporting my actions, then. So how do I summon the room.'

'Walk past the entrance three times, thinking of the Room with the specifications you want, and it shall appear. The entrance shall always vanish behind you. I sense that is all you need, so I shall take my leave. If you want something, just think it into existence.' With that, the avatar faded back into the floor.

Harry stood there, thinking, planning. I need a live map of the castle, he thought. Immediately, an intricate map formed ahead of him, with footprints showing the inhabitants of the school. On the top, it said in cursive script 'MARAUDER'S MAP', and had the original clearly marked. He would have to steal it off of the Weasley Twins, it seemed. Unless he could persuade them to gift it to him, of course.

He left the map for now - that was to keep the Room secret. Instead, he focussed upon a stone wall, and created three walls, of increasing thickness.

He stepped up to the first one, as thick as a dining table. He breathed in, and closed his eyes. He focussed upon the very atoms of his being, willing them to speed up, to vibrate. First his arms, then his legs. After that, he focussed upon his head, and then the rest of his body.

He opened his eyes, focussing upon the fuzzy feeling he now felt. He stepped towards the wall, breaking into a sprint, still focussing on the feeling. He passed straight through.

He started again, focussing even stronger. He turned to the slightly thicker wall, as thick as the Great Hall doors. He sprinted once again, focussing stronger than ever.

His body passed through just fine, but at the last moment, his control lapsed, and his foot solidified within the wall. Sighing, he focussed again, until his foot fell loose. He repeated the exercise half a dozen times, only moving on once he had mastered it.

He turned to the final wall. The ultimate challenge, it was as thick as the walls at Hogwarts. He focussed once again, trying to make his being vibrate even faster. Taking a deep gulp of breath, he charged at the wall.

He did not, unfortunately, just slam headfirst into the wall. Instead, he solidified inside the wall, encased in this prison of stone. He could not breath, for no oxygen was present. He began to panic. Was this how he would die, foiled by a block of granite.

No, he decided. He focussed once again, slowly slipping forward, as if wading through treacle. Just as his eyesight was dimming, he burst through, collapsing onto the cold metal floor. He lay there, panting, gasping for breath.

When he had recovered, he tried again. And again. And again. For numerous attempts, the result was the same. For countless tries following that, he at least managed to get his head out with the one run. After that, he had a few dozen when he was simply stuck by his foot. And after that, he had run after run, floorless. He had mastered the art of lateral phasing.

He collapsed, panting for breath. Vertical phasing could wait.

He went over to the map, and surveyed the surrounding area. No one. Disillusioning himself, he snuck out, steadily making his way to his charms lesson. He took a moment to compose himself, before reappearing, and striding into class. This was going to be great.

A/N: Hermione Granger, a descendant of Ravenclaw? It certainly matches her need for knowledge :D

So, we have our first lesson, and a venture into the realm of Gifts. Plus, we have Harry discovering the ROR.

BTW, the term Squibbial Reclaimant is entirely my own, even if the idea is not.

As I ranted earlier, please review and/or send some OCs and minor plot points. Also, my PM is open.

See you all next Monday, unless you wish to check out my PJO/HP crossover, Tournament of the Gods, which updates Fridays. ;D

By-ye!