Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling. The members of the Secret Sealing Club are the creations of ZUN.
Assume that everything not mentioned goes roughly the same as in canon. But only roughly.
Chapter 03 – Tomorrow Will Be Special, Yesterday Was Not
"Mr Potter, could I have a short word?"
Harry, who was almost to the door, stumbled slightly, while Ron looked at him weirdly.
"Go on, Ron, I'll catch up." He nodded at Ron, who was looking from Harry to the Professor uncertainly. After a he moments, he left.
This better not be another case of Trelawney predicting my death, Harry thought to himself cynically. Outwardly, though, he responded calmly.
"Yes, Professor Hearn?"
The professor in question put a hand to her forehead. "Hearing that makes me feel too old…anyway, sorry. You'll be heading to Professor Umbridge's class next, right?"
At Harry's hesitant nod, Merry continued, staring into space. "I can see it as it is written. Professor Umbridge will anger you. She will pick at you like a relentless cat, tear into the wounds of your past, and make light of Cedric Diggory's death. She will be deliberately blind to the tides of darkness rising, and she will attempt to spread this blindness, out of her own fear and malice. It will not just be you that will be enraged, but so will others as well."
Harry's eyes grew wider and wider. This…this isn't another prediction, is it?
"But throughout all of this, Harry Potter, you need to remember: emotions can be controlled." Merry turned, and fixed her gaze on Harry. "You can always choose how to react. Will you charge right forward, with a head full of fury, or will you wait and see, to strike better later? I look forward to finding out.
Now, I am afraid I need to send you on your way." She turned to Renko, who handed her a slip of paper, which was then handed to Harry after a brief gaze. "A pass to excuse your lateness. Go on, now."
Harry, still gobsmacked, numbly took the paper and left.
After a confused Harry had departed, Merry turned to Renko. "So, how did I do?"
"80 out of 100, I think. You were getting a bit too direct in the last part."
They held each other's serious expressions for a moment, before both of them burst out laughing.
"It really reminds me of those days where we were overly dramatic about everything," smiled Renko.
"What do you mean 'those days"? Aren't we still like that?" Merry smiled back. "Anyway, I think it was okay. Everyone's already used to the idea of a batty Divination Professor, anyway."
"Don't lump me in with you." Renko grumbled, but good-naturedly. "Do you think he'll realise that everything you said could have been a logical deduction, given what we know about the situation?"
"If he hasn't realised after a month in our class, I'll tell him."
Harry was about to mull over the Divination Professor's words when he realized he was probably going to be late.
Run there first, think later!
Out of breath, he arrived at the Defence classroom, where a lady dressed in a distinctly pink cardigan was waiting for him.
"Late on your first day, Mr Potter? 20 points from-"
"I have a note from the Divination Professor." Harry interrupted before he could lose house points, and passed over the folded note.
"Hmm, hmm." Umbridge read over the note, and then examined him, like a toad eying a juicy fly. "Well then, get to your seat, and let's make that five points for tardiness instead."
There was a flash of anger within Harry, but, having no good retort in mind, he proceeded to his seat. Already, he could hear some whispers starting.
When the class started, and they were told to put their wands away, Harry resigned himself to the worst. As in turns out, Defensive Magical Theory was horribly boring, and written in the kind of overly pompous and self-important language that made his attention slide off the page entirely. Giving it up as a bad job, Harry instead decided, simply, to just think.
It was clear that he needed to get better – to get good enough to defeat Voldemort, or at least well enough to survive. Strong enough, at least, so I don't need to suffer these bloody nightmares every night! he mused. Unfortunately, with how Defence was going, it seemed that the need to find an alternative method had shot up. Drastically.
Also, he continued to muse, Professor Hearn's prediction had already somewhat began to come true. Umbridge had immediately and unfairly started docking points the moment he entered. I guess if she's as bad as Snape, then I'll have saw it coming, he thought grimly to himself. But what was that she mentioned about charging forward and waiting and seeing?
Harry was snapped out of his reverie by Professor Umbridge's voice. "Did you want to ask about something in the chapter, dear?"
He looked up and around. Apparently, half the class had been staring at Hermione raising her hand silently for a few minutes now.
"No, but-"
"Well, we're reading now," Umbridge cut across Hermione, baring her small, pointed teeth. "If you have any other queries, we can deal with them at the end of class."
"It's about your course aims, Professor," Hermione responded. "There's nothing up there about actually using defensive spells."
A short silence ensued as the majority of the class looked again at the blackboard. Harry, however, sighed internally.
I don't think you'll be able to reason with her, Hermione.
"And your name is, young lady?"
"Hermione Granger," stated Hermione flatly.
"Well, Miss Granger," Umbridge gave a tittering laugh, "I can't imagine any situation arising during lessons that will require to defend yourself. Unless you're expecting to be attacked?"
"We're not using magic at all?" Ron exclaimed loudly.
Turning to Ron, Umbridge spoke. "Students should raise their hands if they wish to be given a chance to speak, Mr-?"
"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air. Umbridge's smile continued to widen as she turned her back on him.
Yeah, Ron, I don't think that'll work, too.
Harry watched quietly as more hands began to raise in outrage, as more and more of his classmates voiced their concerns about not actually being able to practice and perform actual magic in class. He felt himself becoming more angry, but this time, it felt as if he was watching, tiredly, from far away.
Somehow, the Divination Professor's words were echoing, again, in his mind. Charge forward, or wait and see.
And Harry had enough of charging forward – into gauntlets of traps, into a secret chamber with giant basilisks, and into swarms of Dementors.
So, when Umbridge asked "Who do you imagine wants to attack schoolchildren like yourselves?", Harry, from a slouched position on his desk…
…snapped out a scathing reply.
"Hmm, maybe LORD VOLDEMORT, the recently resurrected dark wizard?"
Apparently, Harry still couldn't resist.
At the sudden loud mention of the dark lord's name, there were a handful of gasps, and a few hastily muffled screams. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Neville jump up, as if he was given an electric shock. Umbridge, on the other hand, was wearing an expression of odd satisfaction.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter."
The class had gone silent and still, every single eye now resting on either Harry or Umbridge.
"Now, let me make it clear. You have been told that a certain dark wizard has returned from the dead. This is a lie."
"Of course it's a lie," Harry shot out, to a sea of mixed expressions. "After all," he continued, in a slightly louder voice, "you can't come back from the dead if you've never died, after all."
This time, Harry head a few chuckles, which were also quickly muffled. He was angry, yes, but it no longer ran hot; it was cold and biting and bitter, a dark, corrosive force that ate at his soul. Somehow, though, everything seemed to be becoming clearer.
"Detention, Mr Potter!" Umbridge shouted, almost triumphantly. "Five o'clock tomorrow evening, at my office! The Ministry of Magic–"
"The Ministry of Magic probably won't admit that Cedric Diggory was murdered, and probably tried to play it off as an accident." Harry spoke over Umbridge, but did not shout. "You can go ahead and say what you want, but I saw what I saw."
All this was said while Harry remained in his seat, almost calmly. He noticed that some of his classmates were visibly eagerly listening, but it didn't matter: he had already said his piece, and he wasn't about to continue speaking to those who would doubt him anyway.
Tuning out the rest of Umbridge's simpering, he returned his eyes to Defensive Magical Theory, whereupon he had one more flash of inspiration.
It was not until the bell rang for lunch, and Harry was at the door, did he say one last line.
"Oh, and if anyone has a Penseive and wants to know, I can even show you the memory itself!"
With an almost triumphant air, he ran off towards the Great Hall before Umbridge could give him another detention.
It was at lunch where Harry bumped into Angelina Johnson, whereupon he again prepared for his mood to go sour.
"Hi, Angelina."
"Hello. Had a good summer?" Without stopping, she continued. "Listen, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain."
"Nice one," Harry grinned at her, but his smile quickly dropped. "Sorry to ruin the mood, but I have something serious I need to tell you."
"What's up? This better not be a confession or something." Angelina joked.
"I'm resigning from the team."
"Pull the other one, it's got bells on," Angelina said, but trailed off when she saw Harry's somber expression. "Wait, you're serious."
"Yeah, I am." For a moment, Harry considered giving a reason, but he found none that he thought Angelina would accept.
After a moment of silence, Angelina said "well?"
"Well, what?"
"You're not even going to say why?"
The words I don't have to bloody justify myself to you fought its way to the tip of Harry's tongue, along with I don't think I can cope, with all the other bullshit that's been going on. Both were silenced, in favour of a plausible half-lie that Harry hoped would just get Angelina to go away.
"Well…" he trailed off. "You've heard about the new Defence Professor?"
"No, I haven't taken any of her classes yet," Angelina frowned. "Why?"
"She has it out for me," Harry ground out. The pieces came together in his mind as he spoke. "Sooner or later, she'll come up with something other than points or detentions, and she'll probably target the team if I'm on it. And she's from the Ministry, which probably means going to another teacher won't help."
"Besides," he continued, "do you really want to be around me after hearing what the Prophet's been saying all summer?"
He did not miss the momentary flash of…guilt that appeared on Angelina's face.
"Did I hear that right? Harry's leaving?" Alicia Spinnet, Angelina's year-mate and fellow Chaser, spoke up from where had just came.
"Yeah, I'm resigning." Harry said, matter-of-factly.
Alicia looked from her friend to Harry, and back again. "Is this about…you know…" she lowered her voice to a whisper, "you know?"
"Somewhat, yes." Harry said again. You don't know how close you've gotten, he thought.
"Well, if you put it that way…" Angelina looked conflicted. "I'll look for a replacement Seeker. But you're still on as the reserve, you hear? Even if you don't come for practice. And I'm going to call you in if I think we need it." She put her head in her hands. "This is going to be tough."
"Yeah, I got it. Thanks, Angelina. Oh, and if you could do me a favour, don't…don't put my name in it. Just say you're looking for a Seeker."
"Yeah, yeah. Wouldn't want your best mate to go ballistic, after all." She got up. "See you around, Potter." With her back turned, she gave a short, dismissive wave.
She probably means Ron. Huh, you're right. He's probably going to flip.
This left Alicia, who surreptitiously looked around before she spoke. "Harry…"
"What?" Harry bit out, a bit more harshly than he intended. "Sorry. What?"
Alicia looked around a bit more. "We've been teammates for four years, now. If you ever need anyone to talk to, well…all of us care, alright?" She looked again at her watch. "Oh no, I'm going to be late! See you around!"
With her meal half-finished, she dashed to the doors, hurrying after Angelina.
Thanks, Alicia. That actually means a lot. More than you know.
With that out of the way, Harry finished his meal and headed towards the library, taking care to avoid other people as much as possible.
Maybe I should start wearing the Cloak around everywhere.
In any case, his plan was relatively simple: do his homework, read ahead, and start researching Secrecy Charms. And maybe Notice-Me-Not Charms as well. If he was going to be practicing magic in an unused classroom after hours, he wasn't going to be bloody disturbed.
A wave of nostalgia hit him, and he thought back to the previous year, where he somehow mastered the Summoning Charm in the three days before the First Task.
Except this time, there was no Hermione there to guide him. He did not think that Hermione would be there to guide him, ever again. He was going to have to guide himself, from here on out. Ron and Hermione…the people he thought would always have his back…had let him down, at the time when he had needed them the most.
They had left him to suffer, to deal with his nightmares alone, in ignorance and silence. And the Order…thought he was too young, and had almost not told him anything at all.
What was it that Lupin had said? Of having dangers involved of which they had no idea?
Stone. Basilisk. Dementors. A dragon. Merpeople.
A graveyard. Voldemort himself.
Harry took a great, shuddering breath, and panic rose to his throat. They have no idea. They had no idea.
With a great mental effort, he reached out a steadying hand to the wall, he forced himself to go through the one thing he thought might help: the meditation exercise they had learnt only that morning. With quick, hitching breaths, he reached within, reached out to his magic, and drew his wand with a shaking hand.
"T-tempus," he murmured, and the magic came, a calming song and a small rush of power. In blazing, bright blue numerals, the time popped up, and he winced slightly at the sudden brightness. Almost one o'clock, he noted.
It was only the first day back, and yet the morning felt so long ago.
With a fresh note of determination in his step, he continued his journey to the library.
Today would be the first day, he thought, of practicing to fight something much, much more dangerous than an overgrown, fire-breathing lizard.
Sorry for the wait. Harry isn't exactly in a good mental space right now, is he?
Review please!