Harry Potter, along with the utter mess that is the class schedule at Hogwarts, is owned by JK Rowling. The members of the Secret Sealing Club are the creations of ZUN.

If Rowling didn't have any consistency with her dates, I'm free to do the same too. Right? Right?

Chapter 05 – Boys and Girls in the Age of Magic

"That was a rather exciting visit, don't you think?" Maribel said cheerfully, before toppling into the nearby sofa. Sweat was noticeable on her brow. "Oh dear…"

"You cursed Umbridge, and made a magical oath with a student," Renko said, somewhat dully. "Not that I mind, but I'd like to enjoy my trip to the UK a while longer."

"Don't be like that, Renko." Maribel spoke weakly from the sofa. "Help me up?"

"I should let you sleep here tonight," Renko grumbled, before extending a hand. Hauling Merry up from the sofa, Renko draped her friend's arm around her shoulder, before letting Merry's weight rest against her side. "I still can't believe you're so light even with the amount of sweets you've been eating."

"Unlike the Hakurei, I just have good metabolism." Maribel gave a tinkling laugh, then sagged further.

"Pity that didn't come with better constitution." With a wave of Renko's wand, the lamps dimmed, and the pair began to make their way back to their quarters slowly.

"Do you think…we did…the right thing?" From her position near Renko's shoulder, Maribel began to slur her words.

"In principle yes, but in execution, not really, seeing as to how you're utterly drained from using that." Renko glanced around. "Also, if you fall asleep on me, I swear I will dump you right here in this corridor."

Glaring at the few curiously watching portraits who were still awake, Renko extracted her wand (with some difficulty, as she was still supporting a near-comatose Maribel), and muttered a quick Repello Muggletum.

"Repello Muggletum. Repello Muggletum." With a growl, the spell succeeded on the third try, and the watching portraits returned went back to sleep in disinterest.

Merry's the one who's better at this, Renko grumbled to herself. Not that I blame her for getting angry…

"Yeah, but… you love me too much…to…to…" Maribel muttered sleepily, from near Renko's elbow.

"Shut up, you idiot."

~~~[q]~~~

The only downside to seeing Professor Merry curse Umbridge was that he couldn't tell anyone else.

That was what Harry thought to himself, as he made his way to Wednesday's first lesson of the day. In his bag were two copies of his dream diary, one of which contained innocuous fiction, and another, longer scroll, which contained the unvarnished truth of his nightmares ever since his return to Hogwarts. With the removal of Trelawney, the magics of Divination had suddenly seemed much more plausible, and much less an exercise in conjuring wool.

It had still been a pain to stay up late after that little incident to finish writing everything, though. Not to mention that casual bombshell that the Professor had dropped about both Dumbledore and Snape being literal mind readers.

Were Harry not already exhausted from the night's events, he would have probably set something on fire out of sheer anger. As it stood, dealing with that particular revelation just became one more thing on his growing agenda.

In contrast to Monday's lesson, the classroom now contained tables and chairs, with a small space at the front. Sunlight still streamed in from the windows.

Catching Neville's eye, he moved quickly to sit next to him, receiving a nod in greeting.

"Avoiding Ron, huh?"

"You're the one that told me to mix around more," Harry said, in lieu of a distinct yes or no.

"So that's a yes?" Neville jabbed back.

"Yeah, yeah," sighed Harry. "But after that argument, can you blame me?"

"Technically, you were the one that started it."

Harry winced. "Despite what the rest of the school might think, I still have emotions. Better for us to avoid each other until I can look at him without wanting to curse him to oblivion."

"Fair point". Neville did not continue, for the redhead in question had entered in the classroom. Seeing Harry and Neville together, Ron's expression turned sour, and he plopped down on the nearest seat, putting significant distance between them.

Refraining from commenting further, Harry instead ran through the meditation exercise again, muttering a quick Tempus. Despite how recently it had been taught, it was almost becoming something of a tic to him, as natural as running a hand through his naturally messy hair.

"You're becoming real fond of that spell, aren't you?"

"Well…" How am I even going to explain this?

Harry was saved from answering by the entrance of the two professors, who appeared to be carrying a stack of booklets and…a pair of earmuffs?

Did Professor Merry just wink at me?

"Good morning, class. Homework to the front, please, and make sure to get a copy of Dream Interpretation for Magicals from the front desk."

"Now, I am aware that some of you," Professor Merry's eyes rested on Parvati and Lavender for a brief moment, "have been wondering why we did nothing but meditate all last lesson. Others," she glanced at Ron, "seemed to have taken it as an opportunity to take a nap."

There were a few uncomfortable looks.

"I did say that it was an exercise to train one to be more in tune with one's own magic. Were I your predecessor, I perhaps would have said that it would help you get more in touch with your Inner Eye, but the existence of such a thing is still a matter of debate. Instead, I shall provide you with a practical demonstration. Renko?"

The assistant professor passed over what seemed to be a black blindfold and the pair of aforementioned earmuffs, causing a susurration of mutters to rise over the class.

"I would like to invite any volunteer to come to the front and cast a spell at Professor Merry. Anyone?" Professor Usami looked around the class. "Mr Finnigan?"

Seamus Finnigan rose from his desk, and walked over to the front.

"Cast when ready, Mr Finnigan."

Seamus raised his wand hesitantly. "Rictumsempra!"

A whitish spell streaked towards the blindfolded Divination professor, who deftly stepped aside and let it impact harmlessly again the wall.

"A few more times for the nonbelievers, if you would."

The Irish boy nodded. Seemingly gaining confidence, he yelled "Expelliarmus! Tarantellegra!"

Again, the purple-dressed professor dodged nimbly.

Almost unconsciously, Harry began to clap, and the rest of the class followed suit.

Professor Usami raised her hand, and the polite applause stopped. "Thank you. And take five points to Gryffindor for some solid spellcasting, Mr Finnigan."

Seamus nodded with some surprise, and returned to his seat.

"Just to lay any doubts to rest, I would like to invite anyone who can cast non-verbally up to the front." When nobody looked to volunteer, Professor Usami sighed. "I understand that within Hogwarts, you are not expected to cast silently until after OWLs, but really, it is something that is less difficult to learn than it seems. With no volunteers, however…"

Quick as a flash, the assistant professor flicked her hand, and what Harry recognised to be an Impedimenta sailed over to the still-blindfolded Merry.

A translucent Protego appeared before Merry, now with wand in hand, and the blue light of the Impediment Jinx rebounded to fly out through an open window. The Divination Professor pulled off the blindfold and earmuffs to another round of applause.

"Silent and wandless casting?Why aren't they teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Neville whispered intently to Harry.

"Ministry of Magic interference, probably," Harry whispered back. "Or maybe she was smart enough to avoid the curse on the DADA position."

Imagine how much faster I could be if I didn't need to say all those pesky words.

"Now that we've had our fun for today, please turn openyour copy of Dream Interpretation for Magicals to page three." Professor Merry continued. "As you might know, dream interpretation is something practiced by both magicals and nonmagicals alike, though it is usually only efficacious for magical beings. Interestingly, the most notable contribution to modern dream interpretation was made by a nonmagical human, who published his seminal book about a hundred years ago. What we will cover, then, stems from both pre-existing magical theories as well as these new principles…"

In the very end, Harry didn't end up sharing his nightmares with Neville, though he felt that they were quickly becoming friends.

~~~[q]~~~

Thursday evening found Harry in an unused classroom, alone, staring dully at a blank, clean blackboard.

Secrecy, notice-me-not, and silencing charms were on the doorway.

That'll teach me think only one step ahead.

Feeling somewhat stupid, Harry fired off a Stunning Spell at nothing in particular, and swore as it rebounded off a wall and nearly hit his shoulder.

There was nobody else to stun, and no living creature around to cast Impedimenta on, either. That left only a small number of things he could think of…

Readying himself into somewhat of a fighting stance, Harry raised his wand and confidently intoned "Accio!", before collapsing to the ground in pain, having been ambushed by flying chairs.

Sure, it wasn't anywhere as bad as a Crucio, but knowing that it was due to his own sheer stupidity made it painful in other ways.

And at least the pain of the Cruciatus Curse immediately wears off if the caster stops.

Harry gave himself the luxury of laying on the ground for a few moments more, after which he got to his feet. He gave a wince at his ribs, which was sure to be bruised the next morning, and looked around again for something he could use.

I suppose…what was that spell that Tonks used? I could practice moving things around. Better than nothing, right?

"Locomotor," Harry intoned, gesturing at a fallen chair. It rose slightly off the ground, and Harry idly moved it in the air, watching it dance while waving his wand like a conductor's baton.

I wonder…

With a muster of focus, Harry shouted "Depulso!"

The chair impacted the back of the classroom with a loud crash, and broke into two.

Harry winced at the noise. Thankfully, he could still feel a connection to his Silencing Ward, which meant that it was still up and working.

Now, on to the harder stuff.

A hasty Reparo mended the chair, and Harry strode back to his bag, retrieving the notes that were the product of two hours' work in the Library.

Magic, Harry had surmised, was about intent. Young children could achieve magical effects through the sheer force of their emotions alone, because their magic was not yet stable and focused. As a person gets older, their magic stabilizes, and their emotions become more controlled and less vivid.

This was why wandless magic could still be achieved when a person was under a sufficiently stressful situation, but most of the time, an incantation (corresponding to the spell's effect) and a wand movement (usually derived from a rune that also corresponds to the spell's effect) was needed. The wand itself, having a core of magical material, also assisted greatly in channelling magic.

Older books had taught about the importance of intent and focus. Newer books had snarked about forcing the universe to bend to your command. Very little had been said about exactly how to do those things.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Come, listen to the call of your magic.

He recalled his life before he came to Hogwarts. He recalled the incidents where weird things happened to save him from unpleasant situations. When he had regrown his hair after his aunt had shaved it off. When he had ended up on the school's roof while running away from bullies.

Harry listened to himself, and silently spoke his will into the world.

Locomotor, Harry thought, and the chair rose a foot off the ground. Wingardium Leviosa, Harry thought further, and with a swish and a flick the chair rose a bit higher, now trembling slightly, as if the magical hand that held it was fast running out of strength.

With a final thought of Depulso!, the much-abused piece of furniture…

…toppled over vaguely in the forward direction, and hit the ground.

Harry weakly pulled over another chair and collapsed in it. Somehow, even as poor as the attempt went, he had performed his first, no, his first three silent spells. And he knew that a material barrier could stop the Killing Curse, which could pass through all magical shields.

But was this enough to defeat Voldemort?

Images of him powerless, running in terror from gravestone to gravestone, again surfaced in his mind.

"No," he heard himself speak to the empty classroom. "It's bloody well not."

He stood, and raised his wand again.

Turn your focus outward; magic is all around us. Turn your focus inward; magic is within all of you.

What did he want? He wanted the Dark Lord to be dead. He wanted to be free, to live without a shadow over his future.

He wanted Voldemort to pay, for taking his parents away from him, to consigning him to ten long years of suffering at the Dursleys.

Locomotor. Wingardium Leviosa.

Harry pictured the chair flying forward, pictured it smashing into Voldemort, pictured the pale, snakelike man lying in a broken heap on the ground.

Depulso. Harry thought harder than he had ever thought in his life; he could feel his magic, his will, surging through his wand, connecting with the chair, no the instrument of death that held the shape of a chair-

-which now lay in several small pieces, below a crater on the wall.

There was ringing in his ears, and he was vaguely aware that his last spell had somehow broken the charms he had placed on the classroom door.

For a very short eternity, or a very long moment, he simply stood and stared at the wall, too drained to move or even think.

Only when the sound of light footsteps approaching reached his ears did he think about reaching for the Cloak inside his bag. Noting that his limbs seemed to be like lead, he simply sat down again and awaited his inevitable detention.

From a distance away, he heard a small, curious voice.

"Harry Potter."

"Luna Lovegood." Harry tiredly replied, mimicking the usage of the full name, not even bothering to look up. "Where are your shoes?"

"They're on a mysterious journey of their own, I'd expect."

"Interesting," Harry said. He did not particularly want to speak at the moment, but there seemed to be a ticking on the edge of his awareness. Somewhat forcing the words out, he said, "Do you need help looking for them?"

Great, and now I sound unnecessarily harsh to someone who probably doesn't deserve it. Way to go, Harry.

"Not really. They always turn up again in the end."

Having a sudden pang of sympathy for the girl, Harry stood. "Hey, come here for a second."

"Hmm?"

Recalling an incantation from a stormy Quidditch pitch two years ago, Harry aimed his wand at Luna's feet. "Impervius. There, now you should be able to walk around a bit more safely even without your shoes."

"That's awfully nice of you, Harry." Luna said. She had a wry expression on her face, which Harry found difficult to read.

"I'll be a bit nicer," Harry spoke further. With a quick Tempus (and how easy that felt now!) he checked the time, which was now several minutes past nine. "It's already curfew. I'll escort you back to…Ravenclaw Tower?" he said, slightly uncertain. He had a vague inkling that the Hufflepuff common room was near the kitchens from last year, and was familiar with the Slytherins from his previous experience with Polyjuice Potion, but he realized he had never thought about where the Ravenclaws stayed.

"Yes, that is where the Ravenclaws are," Luna confirmed. "But how do you plan on getting us there– oooh!"

As they made their way to Ravenclaw Tower under the Invisibility Cloak (with directions provided by Luna), the blonde girl suddenly spoke up. "Harry, have you ever heard…about The Tale of the Three Brothers?"

"What's that?" Harry replied quietly. Also, I don't remember it being this stuffy under the Cloak.

"It's a fairy tale," Luna said matter-of-factly.

"You mean like Cinderella? " Harry asked back curiously. As much as his Uncle and Aunt had disliked anything out of the ordinary, Harry had read widely enough at his old primary school's library. This was immensely helped by the fact that the librarians always chased out Dudley and his gang if they got too rowdy – which was nearly almost always.

"So you were raised by Muggles, huh?" Luna remarked. "The Three Brothers is a wizarding fairy tale, silly. One of the oldest stories, one of the few not twisted by Beedle the Bard."

"You've already lost me there, Luna."

"I'll lend you my copy, if it hasn't already been taken," Luna continued patiently. "This Cloak might turn out to be a legendary artefact, you know."

"This isn't another–" Harry was about to say another one of your wacky conspiracy theories, isn't it, when he stepped back and considered the implications of his statement. Choosing another tack altogether, he said "Wait, wizards have a separate set of fairy tales? Then how do you know about Cinderella?"

"All fairy tales are magical. That's what Daddy always told me when I was younger," Luna said serenely. "He also said that Alice in Wonderland was written by a Muggle Arithmancer, which I thought was quite funny."

She stopped abruptly in front of a spiral staircase, and Harry bumped into her.

"Well, this is where we part, Harry. It was nice of you to walk me back – it felt like an adventure." Luna extracted herself from under the Cloak. "Alas, all adventures must end."

"If you want another adventure, you can always tell me," Harry found himself saying, only half-jokingly. "Goodnight, Luna."

"Goodnight, Harry. I'll look forward to it." With a last smile, the whimsical girl disappeared up the flight of spiral stairs.

"I'll lend you my copy, if it hasn't already been taken." No book. No shoes.

A very ugly picture was beginning to build, and Harry did not like what it was turning out to be.

Will you charge right forward, or will you wait and see?

Nevertheless, there was nothing he could do at the moment, so he turned and left.

~~~[q]~~~

By Friday evening, the demonstrations of the Divination Professors had become the main topic of rumour around the school, supplanting the aspersions on Harry's character. Harry, who had been considering using Notice-Me-Not Charms on his own person, was of course glad for the change.

Currently, he was at the Hogwarts Library attempting to find a table of his own, but it seemed that everywhere was full, even if there were less red-trimmed robes around than usual.

Right, Quidditch tryouts.

Sighing to himself, but not wanting to return to his Common Room, he hesitantly approached a group of Hufflepuffs, one of which had expressed their support to him earlier.

"Hey, Macmillan, do you mind if I join you all?"

A somewhat surprised Ernie Macmillan looked up, along with the two girls he was with.

"Sure, Potter, go ahead." He waved a hand at the last free seat on the table. "And call me Ernie. Macmillan's a mouthful and I'm not my father, if you know what I mean."

'Thanks, Ernie. Call me Harry." Harry sat down gratefully, and began to pull out his homework. "And you girls are…Bones and Abbott, right?"

"You can call me Sue, if you want," the girl with the plaited hair shrugged. "Same goes for Hannah. Right, Hannah?" She grinned at the other girl, who was attempting to be as insignificant as possible.

"R-right." The long-haired, heart-shaped-face girl smiled shyly back.

If I have to deal with another Ginny Weasley, I'm out of here.

Thankfully, that was not actually the case. In between questions about various pieces of homework, and dancing around more sensitive topics such as the end of last year, Harry found out a bit more about the Hufflepuffs, like how Ernie's family ran an import/export business for various goods, and how Hannah had ambitions to become a Healer.

Hmm, this "talking to other people" thing seems to be easier than I thought.

Eventually, the topic turned to the question on every student's mind.

"Hey, Harry. Did the Divination Professors do anything special for your second lesson?"

"What, like demonstrating silent and wandless magic?" Harry replied. "Yeah, that happened."

"Told you it probably wasn't just us," Susan remarked to Ernie.

"I wonder what's going on with the Ministry, then," Ernie spoke back up. "Appointing such a useless teacher at this critical period, when a better candidate is in plain sight? Even if they're in denial of You-Know-Who's return, to give us a teacher which seems to be actively preventing us from using defensive spells seems to be more than simple incompetence." He looked over at Susan. "Your aunt's in the Ministry, right? Shouldn't she know things?"

"She's too busy dealing with shrinking budgets and low recruit numbers," Susan sighed. "There's enough on her plate such that she barely has time to look at other Departments." She shook her head. "I really think the only way is for us to practice by ourselves."

"We could start a Duelling Club, just like in Second Year," Hannah piped up. "Maybe Flitwick could supervise? Or even Professor Hearn?"

"Somehow, I highly doubt Umbridge would let that pass," Harry said bitterly. "And besides, after what actually happened back then, I'm not exactly fond of that idea."

The group took a moment to mull over past memories.

"…hey, Harry," Susan spoke up again. "What exactly happened back then? We know you won a Special Award for Services to the School, but Dumbledore never actually told us."

Harry sighed to himself. He should have known that eventually, people would start asking questions about his misadventures. "If I tell you," he said slowly, "you have to promise to believe–no, you have to promise me that you'll at least not call me a liar straight away."

"Harry," Ernie replied gravely. "I've already publicly voiced my support for you, if you recall. In fact, with the school as it is right now, I would say you're looking at the few people who actually have faith in you."

Much as it pains me to admit, he kind of has a point. Harry looked at the three Hufflepuffs, and began his tale. "It all started when me and Ron saw the message on the wall…"

At the end of the retelling, Hannah's eyes had become as wide as saucers, while Ernie and Susan's faces held identical looks of horror and awe. All three let out an audible gasp (and were quickly shushed by Madam Pince) when Harry rolled up his sleeve to reveal the scar from the Basilisk's bite.

"I guess with that, producing a corporeal Patronus would be no big deal," said Susan, who recovered first.

"Corporeal…Patronus?" asked Harry. "Is your aunt…" he mimed having a monocle over his left eye.

"She's Amelia Bones, Head of Magical Law Enforcement," confirmed Susan. "And yes, she does wear a monocle. Says its enchanted to help detect Dark Magic, or something. I've never asked the details."

"And I don't suppose you've been around to Neville's house for tea?" inquired Harry, recalling a conversation from the start of term.

"He and I and Hannah have known each other since we were kids," said Susan simply. "He's always put in a good word for you, you know. Says you're a good guy, even if you don't talk much to others."

"Ah, well," Harry awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "I guess I should start doing that more often."

Thanks, Neville.

"I've got it," Hannah piped up, breaking the tension. "Harry should teach us Defense."

"What?" Ernie voiced. "Actually, on second thought…"

"I mean, he's clearly good enough at it. And he's fought You-Know-Who first-hand, and came back when C-Cedric–"

At the mention of the name, Susan and Ernie shared identical looks of alarm.

"No, it's fine," Hannah gave a small sniff. "We need to get stronger, right? It's not just for OWLs, but also to fight You-Know-Who and his–"

"–and his Death Eaters, yeah." Harry finished for the girl, who still look slightly teary-faced. He stared down the three Hufflepuffs. "I'll think about it. Really think about it, like find a place to meet, and think about what spells to practice."

After all, it's already something similar to what I've been thinking of doing.

"But before I do that, I don't want any of you to tell anyone else. Not even your fellow Hufflepuffs. Nothing. I don't want to teach people I don't trust." A ghost of a plan was beginning to form in Harry's mind.

Ernie looked to be about to protest, when Susan quietly held up a hand. "If he's the one teaching, it's fair for him to set some conditions."

"Extremely fair." The more Harry spoke, the more things seemed to put themselves together. "You can always teach your friends, after all. Well, now that that's out of the way," he turned to Hannah, "Hannah, you mind helping me with Snape's moonstones essay?"

~~~[q]~~~

It was a tired but satisfied Harry that returned to a deserted Common Room late that night, with his homework finally caught up on for the first time in what felt like ages. Heading straight to the comfy chair by the fireplace, he brushed aside a flyer for something called "The Grand Guignol Orchestra" and what appeared to be a discarded Arithmancy essay, only to find something that looked like a…woolly bladder?

He was about to chuck that aside too when he realised that he was, in fact, not actually alone.

"Dobby? What are you doing here?"

The elf jumped as if caught in an act of wrongdoing.

"Cleaning up the hats, Master Harry Potter sir!"

"Hats? You mean these?" He held up the woolly object.

"Yes, Master Harry Potter sir! Mistress Grangy be leaving clothes all around Gryffindor Tower, and the other house-elves are being offended. None of them will clean this place anymore."

Damn it, Hermione.

"But Dobby does it all himself, and does not mind, for he has hoped to met Harry Potter again." The elf sank into a bow. "Harry Potter looks happy, and that is good. Dobby has also been much happier since Harry Potter set him free. If Harry Potter ever needs any help, Dobby would be happy to oblige."

"Well…" Harry trailed off. "If you happen to know a good place to practice magic without being discovered by anyone, that would be nice."

And that was how Harry learnt of the Room of Requirement.

A few fun facts for you this time:

The Japanese use the term "sweets" to refer to not just candy, but also cake, cookies, and other confectionery.

The word "Muggle" has its roots in the word "mug", which refers to a gullible or weak-minded person in British slang.

Sigmund Freud wrote The Interpretation of Dreams, which was published in 1889. It probably doesn't work for us because we don't have magic, or so I would like to believe.

Review please!