See the end for Author's Notes.

Chapter Fourteen

Upon the conclusion of dinner, only about half of the students emptied out, the vast majority of those that left being upper years. Not a single Slytherin seventh or sixth year had remained for the farce of a club, Helena having heralded her goodbyes before disappearing with her classmates. Queenie said that she had promised to preserve the memory of Professor Snape showing Lockhart what's-what so it could be broadcasted on the glass walls of the dungeon by lunchtime tomorrow.

Draco thought this was a marvelous idea and promised to submit his own perspective for additional viewing. (Harry would later wish that he had been smart enough at that moment to accept the show second-hand and return to the common room to study.)

Gilderoy Lockhart pranced onto the stage with the usual flamboyant nature and pristine robes he was characteristic of. "Welcome, welcome all, to our first meeting of the Hogwarts Dueling club!" he called across the room, projecting his voice in a manner that, although effective, could have easily been replicated with a sonorous charm. "Can everyone hear me? Can everyone... see me?"

There was a flurry of giggles and squeals from a group of girls huddled on the opposite side of the table, closest to where Lockhart stood now. It was a moving mass that migrated up and down the hall to remain as close as possible to the ridiculous man. "By the gods, can we just get to the part where Professor Snape knocks him on his arse?" Nott grumbled a few feet away.

Harry agreed, but thought it was prudent not to say it aloud. He and the potions master still had a feud going and it wouldn't do for Harry to change the status quo thanks to one overheard comment of support. His presence at the farce of a club meeting could be excused, his verbal encouragement could not.

"I've been charged with teaching you to protect yourselves. Your professor Snape has graciously volunteered to assist me!"

The careful way their head of house stalked onto the raised platform showed great consideration for this theatrical display. Harry could imagine inwardly the man was as eager to start the duel as his students were. "Don't you worry!" Lockhart lorded over the gathered students. "You will still have your potions professor when I'm through with him."

Nott made faces through the theatrics Lockhart presented to the crowd doing the most dramatic and excessive of bows. Vincent was uncharacteristically vocal in his own distaste for the proceedings. "This is a farce," Vince scoffed, his eyes narrowed in irritation. "No self-respecting duelist would behave in such a way. He's not even wearing regulation robes."

"I doubt he owns a pair of regulation robes," Draco pointed out. "You can hardly get manticore fur to maintain such a cut."

Harry was glad he wasn't the only one to notice the quality of robes that Lockhart wore everyday but was unsurprised that it was Draco who had noted it. The group went silent when their head of house cast his first spell. "Expelliarmus."

The professor's form and pronunciation was flawless, if a little exaggerated. The amount of power he put into the spell, however, was a bit much and the disarming charm sent their defense professor hurtling back to fall in a messy heap right before the edge of the platform. Draco was laughing uproariously and he wasn't the only one. "Do you think he's okay?" asked Parkinson on their left.

"Who cares?" Nott grinned.

Harry himself was in a much better mood as well. Seeing Lockhart being flung around for an hour would probably be one of his happiest memories forever. When the fop jumped back up his affable grin was a tad more forced than Harry had ever remember seeing it. "Well done, well done, Professor Snape," he heralded ina boisterous voice, looking around and waving to show he was uninjured, "But if I do say so myself it was quite obvious as to what spell you were going to use. If I wanted to, I could have easily stopped you but simply wanted to give you the opportunity to showcase your own talents. Good show, old boy."

The Professor, for his part, looked absolutely bored to the careless onlooker but to his slytherins it was apparent that the man was in good humor. "It would seem more prudent to first teach them how to block, Gilderoy."

The wind clearly had been taken out of his sails but he twirled away with his stupid grin. "Good, good! How about we have a pair of volunteers to demonstrate just that. Potter! Malfoy! Front and center."

Harry and Draco passed conspiring smirks before they started pushing towards the end of the table where they could walk up like civilized folks. Despite both learning from Lady Narcissa during school breaks neither had ever turned their wand on one another. The experience would be novel, if nothing else, and both were eager to see how they stood against the other. "It would hardly be a showing if we picked two students from my own house, Gilderoy," Professor Snape spoke over the excited babble.

Harry bit the inside of his mouth to keep from scowling at the man. 'Is he serious? Now?! He wants to make a point of showing how much he detests me now?! In front of the entire student body!?'

"Oh?" Lockhart looked a tad wrong-footed by Snape's interruption.

Harry fully expected to be summarily dismissed by his head of house once again. That was not what happened. "Indeed. Let us choose an altering opponent for Mister Potter to duel."

Vince's serious expression told Harry all that he needed to know. He had to win the mock duel. Snape was doing hardly anything to hide his antagonism at this point and Harry was going to lose face amongst the Slytherins if he didn't fend off each and every dig at himself. It didn't matter that they were coming from their head of house. If anything, this made the barbs that more dangerous.

"Of course, Severus. Just what I was thinking. Another volunteer then. Let's see..."

"Weasley-- Percival that is," he interrupted yet again.

Harry could feel his teeth aching at the pressure he was clenching them. A sixth year. He was having him duel a sixth year?! "This is becoming ridiculous," Vince muttered under his breath.

Harry had a few more choice observations, but nothing that would be met with any approval by those who would hear them. Even Lockhart, the pretentious peacock, looked hesitant with the pairing. "Now, Severus. Isn't that a bit..."

"I'm sure the great Harry Potter can handle a mere sixth year, can't you Mister Potter?"

Harry matched him stare for stare. Like hell was he going to let that menace win! "It would be an honor to show the skills you have bestowed upon Slytherin house," Harry said with a baring of teeth that looked more like a snarl than a smile. "Sir."

The man's gaze narrowed at the blatant disrespect but he turned and stalked off the dueling table all the same. "You're really pushing him, you know," Draco whispered as Harry moved to pass by them and head to the stairs leading onto the elevated table.

"At this point there's nothing that could possibly make it worse," Vince rebuked the blond. "You and I both know that the professor needs no aid from Harry's churlish mood to lash out. He's having him duel a sixth year for Morgana's sake."

Harry left the two to their debate and tried to determine just how much he was able to reveal. While he had a respectable variation of spells in his arsenal, Harry doubted it would match up to a sixth year's repertoire. Especially one as knowledge hungry as Percival Weasley. "You will cast to disarm, only to disarm."

Lockhart's stupid voice brought relief to Harry's frantic thoughts. A disarming charm was third year wandwork, but was covered in passing this past month in charms. It wasn't advanced and it wasn't obscure which meant it was exactly what Harry needed. Percival nodded once at their defense professor but was obviously discontent to duel a second year even if he was pleased to be called upon to demonstrate. He had the fiery orange-red hair that Harry attributed to the Weasley family (and the Prewetts and the Fawleys but one line was dead and the other didn't have an heir at Hogwarts currently). But besides that he didn't particularly look like any of his siblings. While Ronald, Fred, and George all had moderately straight hair that was kept much too short for a pureblood house, Percival's hair was a riot of curls with the type of order characteristic of sleekeazy (Harry still had to use the potion everyday which meant he took longer than Zabini and afforded him the second private bathroom the mornings after astronomy practicals). By the look on his face he took great offense to being pitted against a second year to demonstrate a disarming charm. Helena had spoken often enough of Percival Weasley as her year's version of Hermione Granger. Always eager to offer a textbook quote or volunteer to demonstrate his superior knowledge in classes. Harry was sure he'd look more agreeable if it was a fifth year on the platform with him.

They bowed, as indicated by Lockhart's excessive commentary, and raised their wands. Percival brought his up in the customary large wave the charm began in but Harry was faster and (more to the point) could cast the third year charm both wandlessly and nonverbally. Before he was halfway through his casting Percival was being thrown back and landed on the end of the platform on his arse. A chorus of laughs and shouts echoed up from the crowd as a whole with the Slytherins noted louder due to their close proximity. Harry didn't allow himself to revel in his success and instead bowed once more to his fallen opponent before turning to face his head of house.

Professor Snape's face was twisted into a scowl. Harry scowled right back at him. He was a right arse to put Harry in this position to begin with and expect him to fail. "Wait!"

Harry turned back around to see Percival all but storming back down the platform. "The demonstration is not over. Professor Lockhart," he raised his voice. "Perhaps a mock duel is in order?"

Harry inwardly groaned. Wounded pride was a horribly motivating factor when it came to gryffindors. They reacted brashly and bulldozed ahead, even the most levelheaded of them. Harry turned to their so-called dueling instructor but knew instantly the man was going to be no help. He was smiling widely. "An excellent idea! Let's get another vol--"

"Nonsense," Professor Snape added his two knuts, "Mister Weasley and Mister Potter," he practically spat Harry's last name (a sentiment he understood all too well), "are more than capable of a crossing of wands."

"Indeed," Percival agreed.

Harry sighed but nodded his head once in acquiescence. This duel was happening whether he wanted it to or not. This time Percival sent a flinging hex to start out and Harry knew this match had become personal. Perhaps Harry had been a bit of a berk using a nonverbal disarming charm to expeditiously conclude the demonstration. Really he only had himself to blame for the three blasting charms that then came to bear down on his hastily raised shield. He dissolved it and instead cast a jelly-legs jinx then a binding charm. The jinx caught and made him fall out of the way of the binding charm but he did end up arse up face planted into the platform yet again. He quickly dispelled the charm and came to a rise once again his eyes narrowed. Percival's face had splotched red all across his cheeks and down his neck.

Now Harry could see the family resemblance to Ronald Weasley.

In a flash of purple light the sixth year's wand whipped forward and brought with it a strand of jet black magic that lashed through the air leaving the scent of burnt hair in its wake. Harry wasn't entirely sure that was necessary for a mock duel, but figured it was probably legal if no one was moving to stop the prefect. (Or at least he was pretty sure, but then again one teacher hated him and the other was an idiot, so who knows.)

Harry's own augamenti seemed infantile in comparison until he sent an ice spell to freeze it and Percival howled in pain. It wasn't anything too dangerous but it was a sharp and bitter pain that wasn't going to be shrugged off. Which is why when Harry sent three stinging hexes-- each one more potent than the one before it-- the disarming charm that followed brought the wand flying through the air and directly into his hand. Percival actually growled as he lurched towards Harry seemingly without conscious thought. His hands came up and clawed at the air, a motion Harry was intimately familiar with thanks to Uncle Vernon.

He froze up at the sight of the gesture. The memories of the few times his uncle had gotten his wish and had actually wrapped his hands around his neck were among some of the most terrifying in his rather short life. Worse than even killing Professor Quirrel. The neglect, the starving, the belittlement-- they were par for the course when living with the Dursleys. They didn't respect monsters nor did they fear them. The family had never dealt with a monster in truth-- a monster like Harry's father-- so Harry's own lackluster skills left one underwhelmed. He was nothing like monsters of old. He was small, scrawny, with knobbly knees. His hair grew all over the place when not tamed in excess by potions and his eyesight had been absolutely wretched before they had been corrected as well. He was too delicate looking for a monster-- not big and imposing like Marcus Flint nor conniving and sharp like Helena. They would have made great monsters. They wouldn't be panicking at mere memories of a Muggle family and standing like a berk as a livid sixth year stomped towards them.

His father would be sorely displeased with him.

That thought, more than any other, had Harry's hands whipping up and magic forming in both hands. "Impedimenta," he hissed as his fingers numbed and his heart beat rapidly. A bright turquoise light exploded from both wand tips and rocketed straight for Percival. It hit him straight in the chest and he practically flew back-- significantly worse than any reasonable reaction to the jinx should have been.

Lucky for Percival, Gilderoy Lockhart was in the way to break his fall.

Harry could feel his heartbeat pounding in his head and there was a distant roar in his ears, barely heard over his own breathing. He shook his head once sharply trying to clear it off the darkness that had narrowed his field of view. It was only then that he noticed that the roar in his ears wasn't blood rushing but the cheers and laughter of the students spread around the platform. Nott was guffawing in a most unbecoming fashion and Draco's smirk had widened to a verifiable grin. Harry's gaze moved to Vince. The older boy looked pleased with a smile of his own gracing his lips but it was dampened by another emotion that clouded his features. He gave an encouraging nod and Harry relaxed further, turning back to his opponent. At the very least Harry had won this round with Snape's ever increasing crusade. His position was secure for some time yet which meant he still had some use for his father.

Percival and Lockhart were only just beginning to untangle themselves from one another. Lockhart's robes, although of excellent quality and stitched with enough protective runes to avoid any minor hexes and ws cut exquisitely, was in the northern asian style which favored long and loose layers. Percival was just gangly with long limbs and had a growth spurt over the winter. He was yet used to his new height and it made for some awkward maneuvering now that he was entangled with their professor's robes. The laughter and chatter continued on as they separated, only quieting when Snape deigned to speak. "It seems that Mister Potter's casting skills are adequate, although unoriginal."

Harry ignored the man's stupidity. Nonverbal spell casting was OWL level coursework not to mention that the impediment jinx wasn't covered until sixth year in either defense or charms. His skills were far above adequacy for a second year and duelists were notorious for flashy spells that made for a better showing, not a basic aguamenti that any first year learned in Herbology. "Yes, well... Well done Mister Potter," Lockhart coughed after finally standing on his own two feet, a careful hand coifing his hair. "Good practice duel all around. Shake hands you two."

Percival looked like he'd rather lick bubotuber puss than shake Harry's hand when he held it out for the sixth year to take. He was still read high in his cheeks and his curly hair was in a state of disarray similar to how Harry's own hair would grow without the aid of the potions he religiously put in it. "Come now," their defense professor said when Percival did not immediately take the outstretched hand. "Let's not be poor sports."

Percival's frown was bordering dangerously into scowl territory, but Harry held his ground. After a few seconds the red head clasped his hand and offered a firm handshake. Harry's smile widened just a bit. Percival wasn't a bad sort at all. If the sixth year wasn't sure to hold a grudge Harry would inquire as to the identity of some of those spells he had used. He made a note in his mind palace to ask Helena after the girl saw the memory of the duel and see if he could get tutoring on how to cast them.

As soon as they had clasped hands for the bare minimum time allowed to not be considered insulting Percival released his hand and took a step back. He bowed once-- sharply-- and turned around, stalking off the platform. "Well done again," Gilderoy called once again focusing all attention on him. "Now we shall get into the group practice. Everyone form up in lines across the hall and let us try this disarming charm."

Harry quickly ducked off of the platform-- ignoring Professor Snape's piercing gaze as it followed him back to the gaggle of slytherins awaiting his return. "That was brilliant!" Ava Sappington said as she batted her eyelashes at him.

Harry took a hurried step away from the girl-- she hadn't spoken to him directly before and her weird behavior indicated some sort of attraction that he wanted no part in, thank you very much. He bumped into Vince who arched an eyebrow at his distress. "Nice wandwork," his ally said pointedly with a wry grin.

"Did you see the way he flung Weasley?" Draco bounced into the conversation with his normal energy. "It was like Yule all over again. Do you think it's too early for birthday gifts?"

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. Draco was actually pretty fun to hang out with when he wasn't heralding his father's (suspect) greatness. He and Vince were the closest things to friends he was going to get in his life and if the blond wasn't so loose with his tongue while angered Harry would probably trust him more. As it was that serpent tongue of his didn't always pick and choose who he attacked with his acerbic wit and Harry had to occasionally resist the urge to hex the older boy. "Now if only it was the younger Weasley," Nott grumbled as he too came towards their group.

Harry wasn't foreign to being flocked to by his yearmates. As the hierarchy stood, he was well above all of them in political standing and was the de facto leader of their year (and third year probably, after the memory of his duel with Percival Weasley was broadcasted in the dungeons). But that didn't mean he enjoyed having so many people who often spoke against him suddenly smiling graciously. "I think I've had enough of Lockhart's peacocking," Harry called over the beginning of Nott and Draco's constant squabbling. "There's still that transfiguration paper from today to do and I want to borrow some of Queenie's notes from arithmancy."

Vincent nodded and gestured Goyle over to them. "We'll come too. Prefect Dodderidge probably didn't go too far."

And in fact, she hadn't. Helena claimed to have expected quite a bit of their house would leave shortly into the dueling farce and had been standing by to take this first group so that they wouldn't get 'lost' on their way back to the dungeons and end up petrified. The brunette said all of this with her normal sharp smirk and goading comments but her hazel eyes didn't appear nearly as energetic. Perhaps she took her prefect duties a tad more seriously than she allowed others to believe. Her eyes didn't once stop roaming the corridor the entire trek to their common room.

Not for the first time Harry wondered about Helena's motives. The sixth year had the nickname 'Devil Dodderidge' amongst the Slytherins and those 'in-the-know' and it was doubtful the name had been unearned. Yet from Harry's first day at Hogwarts she had been nothing but friendly and helpful-- going as far as to make a talisman to help protect Harry's mind before he had learned occlumency. Helena was also the reason Queenie had made such an overt show of favor, he had later learned. Still the woman said nothing of the several debts Harry probably owed her and while it was in Harry's best interest to never mention them in turn he felt he owed it to Helena to allow her to claim them. It was her right, after all and there was no doubt in Harry's mind he would not be where he was politically if not for her earlier interference.

But Harry had not even pursued an acquaintance with her cousin, Theodore Nott, outside of basic classmate interactions. And still she had begun tutoring him in advanced spell casting. And then there was that odd display of emotion she had when warning him against Dumbledore at the start of this term. She had looked only a few seconds from a panic attack at the thought of Dumbledore looking into his mind. (Harry was still curious as to what secret the brunette thought she knew but had nothing to barter with presently.)

"Here we are: home sweet home," Helena announced at the patch of corridor that would garner them entrance to the common room. "You lot get inside and I will return to the Great Hall to get the rest of you. The professor wants to speak with third years when curfew is called so don't run off and go to sleep. He'll be cross if you're not in attendance."

Harry resolved to leave it be. Perhaps he would ask next year if she hadn't already told him at that point. (He wondered how likely it was that she might never reveal to him why she acted so oddly when it came to him.) "What do you think the Professor wants?" Nott asked as he plopped down. "Think it's a formal announcement of the new school procedures."

Harry waved his hand to the bulletin by the entrance. "They've already been posted and Snape detests repeating himself."

"So it is," Nott sniffed.

"It's second term," Zabini said from the chaise he lounged in opposite of Draco. "We're preparing for our third year course load and choose our electives."

Harry perked up almost immediately. "Electives?"

A few upper forms nearby groaned at hearing Harry Potter-- of all people-- was about to take electives. "Not like he dinnae already hog all of the good thomes," Melissa Buchanan, a fourth year, bemoaned from her small study group at a table nearby.

They didn't have to wait much longer. Within half a hour the last of the Slytherins had been escorted back to the dungeons and not even five minutes later Snape stood before them with his normal severe expression. "As I'm sure all of you know, you will be expected to begin consideration to your supplemental studies next year."

Harry blinked. He had actually forgotten. With all the extra studying he was doing he probably had a working knowledge in most studies taught up to the fourth year level at least. Now that he had to actually take a class in the subjects he had been researching (mostly to annoy higher forms of his house that had tried to bully him his first year) it was sure to be an interesting experience. Professor Snape's glower quieted down the idle chatter quickly. "You are required to pick a minimum of two courses but I expect all of you to pick three. Furthermore you will not be allowed to drop any of your core classes so I suggest you spend your free periods appropriately. That is all."

Their head of house made a beeline to the corridor that supposedly connected his private quarters with the common room. "That's not very useful," Nott grumbled. "And what's all this with us having to pick three courses. Why?"

"Any family of worth should have an heir achieve ten OWLS. While it hardly matters to anyone of proper lineage, it does reflect well on how one can manage an estate if they can manage three years of ten classes while going through the worst of our puberty years. It's akin to a trial effort," Tracy Davis said where she stood next to Pansy Parkinson.

Harry thought it a bit more nuanced than all that but figured she had the jist of it. What mandating his students to pick three electives really did was prevent someone from filling their slots with 'easy' courses and regretting it upon graduation. Most ministry positions only require five NEWTS-- and generally in one of the seven core subjects. But when it came down to two people of similar status politically (as only a few families were of such a level where they would instantly be offered a position) applicants were compared on merit. Harry personally felt that all jobs should be garnered by merit alone but recognized the futility in expecting common practices to change overnight. He made a mental note to discuss this with his father as well before retiring for the night.

The very next day saw that Harry had more to worry about than equal opportunity employment when he was ambushed in one of the rare moments he had alone. He had been on his way to the greenhouses for some supplemental time with Professor Sprout when a boy in hufflepuff robes waylaid him. "I saw your duel with Percy Weasley," the boy said.

Then again, he was a sight closer to a man than a boy. He wasn't yet an adult in the same way of Michael McGregor, Harry's quidditch team's beater and a seventh year. McGregor was built like a bodybuilder or something and could probably bench press a motorbike with all of his bulk. The Hufflepuff before him didn't look anywhere near as intimidating but no less impressive. He was tall and broad shouldered, something that no amount of robes could hide. His jawline was pronounced and his cheekbones looked like you could cut yourself on them. His striking beauty was only added to with the crooked smile that showed perfectly white teeth. Not a tea stain in sight. 'Pureblood,' Harry thought in consternation. Only they bothered with the upkeep of cosmetic charms. 'Or he's just this ridiculously good looking.'

"I'm Cedric Diggory," he said with another flash of that charming smile of his as he held out a hand.

'Both, then?' Harry thought before he decided to clasp arms with the other.

Diggory looked momentarily surprised-- it was a rather dated way of greeting to clasp one's forearm-- but returned the gesture reflexively as Harry would expect. Diggory house was designated Light but were traditionalists through and through. They were among one of the few Light families Lady Malfoy and Queenie agreed were acceptable to form alliances with publicly (Longbottom being the other). "Harry," introduced himself in turn.

If Diggory thought it was odd that Harry did not claim the Potter name he said nothing about it. Harry liked him already. "You were rather impressive in your duel with Percy. I'm part of his Charms study group and am well versed with his capabilities in a duel. Where have you studied?"

Harry returned the question with a blank expression. Cedric Diggory wasn't the first person to accuse him of having a private tutor that had taught him intermediate dueling and he wouldn't be the last. Truthfully the only person Harry had ever done anything close to dueling with was Vince and only a handful of times during last summer. But then again Helena was also adamant that Harry always knew more advanced spells and there were probably a few fifth year spells utilized in the duel that everyone was still nattering on about. The impediment jinx wasn't exactly common curriculum, after all. "I've picked up a few things from my studies. And the dungeons are riddled with empty classrooms to practice in."

"Pull the other one Harry. There's no way you've self studied to the point where you can beat a sixth year in a duel."

Harry shrugged. "There were other factors. For one, Weasley underestimated me for a good portion of our duel. He didn't believe a second year could be a worthy opponent and because of that he was negligent in his attacks. There was also that it was supposed to be a friendly introduction of kid-friendly dueling practices. He expected maybe the disarming charm, a stunning hex but nothing more severe than that. I, on the other hand, began the duel with the full expectation that I would have to start out with everything I had in order to win the duel-- and I had to win."

Of course there was more to it than that. Even not having formally dueled in the eyes of some, impressing his peers with his abilities would make them more likely to declare a formal alliance with him later on, even if they weren't in his year. (So Harry supposes thanks were due to Professor Snape for arranging the conditions of the duel that had brought him to Diggory's attention... but then again, he was being an arse so maybe not.)

"You're just naturally talented?" Diggory questioned with a skeptical expression.

"If you consider natural talent to be scouting upper forms' required texts, spending hours studying said texts and additional thomes to supplement any missing information, days of practicing in empty classrooms during my free time scrounged up outside of my normal study periods, then yes. I am naturally talented."

Diggory's skeptical expression morphed into a bewildered one the more Harry spoke. Slytherins were notoriously known for keeping to themselves to the point where almost all of their studying was done sequestered in the dungeons or the safety of their own common room. Their house was considered the breeding grounds for the untrustworthy and the corrupt. Very few slytherins were included in the inter-house study sessions outside of their NEWT years. It was probably the only secret kept within the halls of Hogwarts that wasn't public knowledge-- Slytherins could achieve such good marks because they followed a brutal training regimen outside of classes. So while Harry's own studying habits weren't exactly one of a kind, it was probably the first Diggory's ever been faced with. Which made it that much more impressive to the fifth year hufflepuff.

It wasn't so much as Harry revealing house secrets as Harry revealing his own study habits. Not too many slytherins studied the way he did because most focused on one subject or another outside of their actual classwork. Harry was much too curious to limit himself in such a way. It was a gray area to be sure, but one he was going to utilize as much as possible. "You mean to tell me you were able to defeat one of the top sixth years by simply cramming a bunch of upper year textbooks and practicing by yourself?"

Harry smirked. "I'm not saying that, you are. And I'm not not saying that either."

The golden haired hufflepuff blinked a few times before he narrowed his gaze. "Show me," he commanded, the beginnings of a grin on his lips.

If the older boy's smile wasn't so eager Harry would have reprimanded him for the presumptious command. As it was, he was a hufflepuff. Harry grabbed his bag and pulled it off. Helena had added an expansion charm on it in trade for access to his notes for Herbology and History of Magic during her OWLS and Harry hadn't been more pleased with a trade his entire life. He reached his arm in up to his shoulder-- much further than was physically possible considering the bag was only about as big as his head-- and pulled out his spell compendium. It was a work in progress that Harry had spent much of his free time during break organizing but would look a sight more impressive than the four separate bounded notes he had kept prior to its creation. He passed it to the wide-eyed fifth year with a smile. "These are my notes."

It only took a few seconds for Cedric to return his gaze back to Harry. "These are your notes? Harry, this could be published!"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know too many that would want an encyclopedia of spells and I don't even have all the spells I know listed. Those are just the ones covered by Hogwarts curriculum, or at least as much of it as I can manage. There are massive holes for NEWT level spells that I don't know yet and I'm sure there are some missing spells in fourth and fifth year too. There's only so much I can gather by myself, you know."

Cedric shook his head. "This is amazing. You're just a second year."

"So is Hermione Granger and I'll wager she's read twice as much as I have."

Cedric blinked in surprise. Harry, for his part, wasn't apologetic in the least. While he and Granger had butted heads last year they had been amicable this one. She was brilliant, there was no way about it and now that Ronald Weasley didn't seem obsessed with making fun of her, she might have even developed friends in her own house. Harry had been waffling around with extending a hand of alliance to the girl for some time and imagined he would before they graduated.

"I've heard about her," Cedric allowed. "She's a gryffindor, right? A bit of a walking encyclopedia..."

Harry smile sharpened a bit around the edges. "What a very diplomatic way of calling her a know-it-all."

Cedric coughed and handed his notes back. "Yes well... there's a difference between reading the library and understanding the magic of how it works. The charms on your so-called notebook alone is more impressive than anything I've seen in Flourish and Blotts."

"I can show you how the charms work if you want," Harry offered feeling this had gone over very well indeed. He had given an Heir Apparent of a Noble house the notion that he was someone to watch and it would pay dividends in the future.

"Actually, I was hoping you'd want a dueling partner."

It was Harry's turn to stare in awe at the older boy. "What?"

Cedric's smile returned as if it was his default expression. "I want to pursue professional dueling when I graduate and think we could learn a lot from dueling one another."

That was interesting to know-- Harry doubted even Zabini knew all of the upper classmen's post-hogwarts career goals-- but still brought into question the boy's sanity. "But I'm a second year."

"A second year that just bested a sixth year in a mock duel."

"But--"

"Harry. Do you want to duel or not?"

Harry looked at the fifth year like he'd grown a third head. "Of course I want to duel!"

As it turned out, Cedric's idea of dueling was like the mock duel with Percival ("Call him Percy, Harry. I don't know any of the Weasley's that go by their names besides Charlie and the twins") only twice as fast, and with a non-verbal spell every other cast. He never did anything too advanced, limiting himself to nothing higher than third year spells, but that meant very little when on their third sparring session he used a nonverbal tripping jinx to win their last round. "You're merciless," Harry gasped on the ground, his entire body tingly from the latent magic in the air.

"And you're thinking too hard," Cedric warned with a good natured laugh. "I can see you go through your lists in your head and it's slowing you down."

"I have to think," Harry whined. "I can't just use a disarming charm for everything, that's stupid."

"And effective."

"Yet predictable."

"So dodge."

Harry scowled up at the golden-haired boy. Cedric just beamed down at the second-year and held out a hand. "Come on. We'll come up with a seven spell list for you to use for next time. It'll have to be in two weeks because next week is Hogsmeade weekend and I have a date."

"The village? What's it like?"

Only third years and above were allowed to go to the wizarding village that the train pulled into from London. It was supposedly one of the few all-wizarding villages on the island and was a decent substitute of Diagon Alley during the school year. "Brilliant," Cedric said waving his hand in Harry's face. "I'll take you to Madame Rosmerta's pub next year when you go. Buy you your first butterbeer."

Harry grinned and allowed himself to be pulled up. "That sounds splendid."

"Now you best do something about that hair before Helena sees you. Word is she's practically adopted you as a little brother and I know she'll tease you relentlessly if she saw that nest on top of your head."

What Cedric said was true. They had found out early on that the residual magic in the air that came from their practicing so many spells in an enclosed space acted like static to Harry's already unruly hair and completely reversed the potions he used to style it. The hufflepuff had laughed uproariously the first time he saw the wind-swept appearance of his hair in its natural state. "Yeah, yeah. What are these seven spells?"

Harry found himself sorely missing the fifth year because talk of electives was all any of the third years wanted to discuss during the two weeks they weren't meeting, completely ignoring the fact that there had been a string of unsolved petrifications that year. Harry supposed it was very much like children to ignore something important when it had little to do with them. (It probably didn't hurt that Zacharias Smith, the petrification from their year, wasn't missed at all.)

"Which classes were you thinking of Harry?" Draco asked with an eager grin on their way back to the dungeon for their free period.

"Arithmancy and Ancient Runes are a must. Care of Magical Creatures will probably be useful for Alchemy. I've heard nothing but bad things about our Divination professor but one never knows."

"You should take Care of Magical Creatures," Draco insisted. "That way we will have all of our electives together."

Harry inwardly groaned. Draco was a horrible study partner for him. He tended to go over their homework and textbooks fastidiously hoping to understand as much of the theory as possible then created his own test questions to quiz those surrounding him. Harry (and Vincent) much preferred simply reading over their own notes. If it was incorrect on a homework assignment he had already made the correction in his notes making the latter completely moot. And he took notes straight from the textbook anyway! Queenie had known this handy spell that would combine loose parchment into a bound book and he had carried his notes around since for each module. Draco, however, absolutely loved studying with others. (Something about productivity being contagious or some such rot.)

"Vince and I are going to take Divination," Greg offered.

Harry hummed aloud. It would be nice to have another class with Vincent and perhaps Harry could pursue an alliance with Goyle. He was Vince's ally and some sort of vassal to the Malfoy house (probably due to his father's debt to Lucius Malfoy). The boy was always around so it only stood to reason that Harry should be on good terms with him as well.

(It was probably worth noting that Harry was becoming so busy in his everyday life he hardly noticed Professor Snape's attempts at demeaning him now... 'I wonder what that means?')

"Divination could be interesting," Harry allowed. "I was also considering Muggle Studies, actually."

Draco scoffed. "You want to take Muggle Studies? Why? Muggles are nothing important."

There were many things that Draco said that Harry let slide. This was not to be one of them. Harry whipped around with fury in his eyes and a snarl on his lips. "Despite how some might view our magicless neighbors they are neither weak nor inconsequential. If any of our magical kind bothered to learn the history of the planet beyond their own meager contributions perhaps we wouldn't be hiding in plain sight from Muggles everywhere like a cowed dog!"

This problem right here was the first thing he would discuss with his father. By the earliest reports the Dark Lord understood well the potential dangers of underestimating Muggles. Somehow the latter generations had morphed his father's machinations to those of Gellert Grindelwald who had foolishly wished to reign supreme above Muggles rather than separate their worlds entirely. Witches and wizards used it as an excuse to attack anyone of non-pure blood status and treat Muggles like nothing more than cattle. But the Muggles were growing by leaps and bounds-- Muggleborns right with them-- and it would really take one slip up to have the entire planet out for magical blood.

History had shown that they have no problem tearing the planet apart to root out an entrenched enemy.

Why everyone forgot the burnings of old that led to the Statute of Secrecy in the first place was beyond Harry. Witches and wizards lived too long to casually forget their own past.

"'If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.'"

Harry glanced up to see Blaise had once again put himself in the middle of someone else's business. This time, the Italian was a sight for sore eyes. Draco, who had gone pink in the cheeks at Harry's rebuke turned to him as well with a scowl. "What are you on about?"

"He's trying to teach you," Harry summarized, having grown tired of Draco's obstinacy for now.

He turned to continue to the common room, Vince and Greg on his heels. "And what exactly is he trying to teach me?" Draco all but whined.

"Know thy enemy," Harry called back, not bothering to stop. "Know thyself."

Honestly, it was like the blond wanted to be stuck in his ways. Harry found it hard to believe that Lady Narcissa had seriously raised him to be this way (it was probably Lucius' fault). It wasn't going to be doing his ally any favors if Harry simply ignored his more repugnant characteristics. Draco was going to get in over his head in the future if no one did something about his behavior now. He seemed like the type that would have to go through a near-death experience before changing and Harry didn't wish that on anyone (well... maybe Lockhart...). "Are you seriously considering a full schedule?" Vince asked in an attempt to waylay Harry's inner musings.

"Moonstone," Harry said to the corridor wall and watched as the bricks began pulling back in the same way they did at the street entrance to Diagon Alley.

'I wonder if it's the same charm and if so, which came first? How old was Diagon Alley anyway?'

"Harry?"

He glanced up and shook his head. 'Wandering thoughts,' he sighed. "I don't see why not. I spend most of my time studying one subject or another. Now I'll be getting credit for it."

"Yes, but how will you manage to do that and study with Prefect Dodderidge and Heir Greengrass?" Vince pointed out.

It was much more than even that. He was also dueling with Cedric, looking for his father, researching the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, avoiding Dumbledore's ever inspecting gaze, and combating the attacks of other Slytherins that took Snape's general animosity of his person as an excuse to usurp his authority. He was also continuing his correspondence with Lady Narcissa and afternoon tea with Hagrid. Harry's schedule was jam-packed already and was going to be stretched to its limits with the required three courses, not to mention any additional work. But he knows there must be some way to do it. They wouldn't give students free reign to choose whichever classes they wished if it was impossible to complete a heavier workload. He would ask his head of house if the man wasn't being a prat or his headmaster if he didn't trust the man as far as he could see him (without his glasses). "I will make do," Harry said as he claimed the table nearest the fire. "Now have you finished this History of Magic paper? I think I've gotten goblin wars three and four mixed up again."

"They happened so close they might as well be the same one," Vincent grumbled but pulled out his homework.

"Actually the third goblin rebellion was joint initiative led by Urg the Unclean and Vargot on the goblin side and was the most successful one to date. The goblins had even formed an alliance with the werewolves," Goyle interjected with a gusto unsuited to the topic of discussion. "We went through three ministers in just as many months trying to get control of the situation."

Harry smiled at the taller boy. Goyle had shown early on to enjoy History of Magic and Astronomy, much to the amusement of the rest of their little group. Only Draco had an intrinsic knowledge about Astronomy and neither Vince nor Harry much enjoyed either subject, merely memorizing the information until it became of use for another class. Astronomy would be useful during NEWT level Potions, Herbology, and Alchemy, but until then Harry didn't put much effort into the class beyond what was needed to maintain a minimum Exceeds Expectations on all homework assignments. "Since you're so knowledgeable then you can help me figure out what was so special about the second one then."

Goyle grinned and pulled several books out of his bag in quick order. Vincent groaned.

A/N: I know it's been a long time coming by here are the rewritten chapters I promised last year. I'm posting a bunch of chapters all at once-- many of which have been rewritten and the last of which is an update. Because of this it might be helpful to reread at least from chapter 8 onwards where a lot of the additional scenes begin cropping up. That also means the author note will be identical for half of the chapters so every reader that's already started the story knows what's going on. I thank everyone for their patience.

Aerialas