Author's Note: Sorry for the long break everyone, hope you enjoy! Comments and constructive criticisms always welcome.

Chapter 10: The Calm Before…

"When darkness descends upon the soul, the depths of magic will warp….Wild is the wizard without a wand."

The White Duchess, Magical Philosopher.

"So, what do you think?" Harry asked his friends, as they lounged in front of the fireplace after dinner. He'd tried researching as best as he could over the past week since Slugclub but found nothing on the notebook. So he turned to his friends, who were currently passing it round.

"Just an old book, ain't it?" Ron offered glancing up from his attempted potions homework. What Harry couldn't tell them was that after having arrived back from Slugclub and retrieving the book out of his trunk, he'd felt a faint magical wave radiate when he touched the Hogwarts Crest on the front cover. It was unlike anything he'd felt before. It wasn't raw like the magic that welled up inside when he concentrated on a wandless spell, but dormant, like a dwindling fire waiting to draw a fresh breath. The trouble was he couldn't mention this to his friends without letting on about his wandless explorations, or worrying them that the book spelt trouble.

"No, I don't think so," he replied. "There's something special about it, I just can't put my finger on."

"Speaking from some experience," Ginny countered while handling the book like it was poison ivy, "when it comes to empty magical books, best not to use them if they start absorbing the text and writing back."

"Good point… but I cast as many revealing spells as I know and they all came up blank," Harry said. Ginny looked worriedly at Harry here, but he smiled back in reassurance.

"Where did you find it, Harry?" Hermione asked. He'd purchased it months ago in Diagon Alley and totally forgotten about it, so caught up was he in all his other books and his surreptitious outing at the time. Seeing what appeared to be an old version of the Hogwarts crest in Slughorn's office had jogged his memory and led him on a search ever since.

He relayed this to Hermione and added, "What I don't get, is why that seal is different to the one currently used by Hogwarts, and why that old seal can still be found dotted throughout the school."

No one seemed to have an answer for that.

"I'd have to agree with Ron on this one, mate. Maybe it's just a book," Neville said, finally handing the book to Hermione who seemed to accept it with equal parts trepidation and intrigue. For her part, she looked over every inch of the worn book: scanning the silver seal on the front which was older and far more ornate than the Hogwarts crest they knew. From here she poked and prodded all over, as if by pressing down on it a secret compartment would pop open, even going so far as to shake the pages. After a few minutes, in which Ron's yawns became contagious to everyone but Harry, she offered her verdict.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I agree with Ron."

"That's a first," Ron mumbled, head drooping lower into his homework.

"-However," she continued, "the old crest is intriguing. I'm certain there's nothing on it in Hogwarts: A history."

"First place I checked," Harry confirmed. "Couldn't find it in any of the other Hogwarts reference books either, and when I asked Madam Pince, she'd never seen it and suggested it might be some artist's own imitation."

"Well, there you have it then," Ginny said and made to go up to bed.

"Right, but then why would it be around the school? It was in the Room of Requirement and in Slughorn's office. Clearly, it's got something to do with Hogwarts, I just don't know what…" Nobody seemed to have an answer to that.

"This part is intriguing though." Hermione continued, looking at the last page of the book. Showing it to everyone and reading the tiny imprinted text aloud,"'If lost, the book will return to the owner'."

"Right," Harry replied, "like if lost, please return to the owner."

"No, I don't think so. For one, no owner is given… I think it means, the book will return itself to the owner." Hermione replied.

"What?" Harry had never heard of a self-returning book before. "You mean it will disappear when lost and reappear back with the owner?" He asked.

"Maybe," Hermione suggested, equally puzzled.

"Then, how did it end up discarded for sale in a shop? -surely it would have returned itself to whoever owns it."

"I don't know." She said, seeming reluctant to pursue her hunch with little more information, then Harry recognised a familiar steely look take over her, and knew she would be researching this in the library with the little spare time she was afforded after homework.

"Why don't you ask Dumbledore?" Ginny suggested, before shrugging and finally waving good night. Harry's eyes couldn't help but follow her as she crossed in front of him, her long silky hair trailing behind as she went upstairs. He realised his lips were a little dry when he mentally shook himself and came back to the group, hoping nobody had noticed.

"You'll have another meeting with him soon, won't you?" Neville seemed to be asking. Ron's homework now serving as a pillow, Harry noticed.

"Yeah, I could give it a try." But thinking back to his first meeting with the Headmaster, he didn't think it would be overly likely. Their initial meeting,- hadn't exactly gone as expected.

"Good evening, Sir," Harry said when he'd arrived, dusk painting a vibrant picture across the waning sky.

"Good evening, Harry." The Headmaster politely replied from behind his desk. Harry hadn't been in the headmaster office since the incident at the Ministry last year, but thankfully he noticed nothing seemed to have been damaged from his outburst. Harry wondered where Fawkes was, Dumbledore's phoenix being absent from his familiar perch. The ex-headmaster's portraits that adorned the walls watched on nosily as usual."Thank you for coming, I do hope I didn't take you away from your studies, or indeed your teaching." Harry caught an unmistakable twinkle in the headmaster's eye.

"No, sir. Our first meeting was a few nights ago, and I'd hardly say I was teaching, especially not on your level."

"Oh? From what I've managed to glean, your lessons are very informative. I've no doubt most of your attendees owe their passing grades in Defence from last year's exams to you."

"Err…" Harry was taken aback by the praise. "- well, I'd say that specific teaching year there wasn't exactly competent competition in the Defence field, professor." Thinking back to Umbridge, he involuntarily covered the scar left on his hand. "-And that I guess, I see myself as a friend, offering them a little help so they can defend themselves when necessary."

The aged wizard beamed from behind his desk. "An admirable cause, Harry, and as the Headmaster during these times, one I greatly thank you for." The silence that followed was the most comfortable he'd ever felt in the presence of the headmaster, whose smile illuminated the room more than the candles. At that moment, he wished he could spill his secrets and tell Dumbledore how he was feeling, why he had kept everything to himself and most importantly his plans going forward. Looking into the headmaster's sparkling eyes tempted him so much his lips even parted. But in the next second, Harry blinked and let go of the thought. I'll risk it when I have to, for now, let's just continue building bridges.

"As for tonight, Harry," Dumbledore resumed, seemingly none the wiser to Harry's internal debate. "I'd like to begin-."

Harry couldn't help a smile jumping to his face as his insides came alight with anticipation. Despite their differences, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to learning from Dumbledore. Just watching him duel Voldemort had been enough to kickstart his interest in learning new spells like never before but to now be learning from the man himself, was something else entirely.

"-our first lesson," he continued, "by taking a trip down memory lane."

Well, that was….unexpected.

"Sir?"

"In these lessons, Harry, I would like to equip you with the tools to help you fulfil the prophecy." Harry nodded, expecting as much. "I believe it to be a good idea to start at the beginning. Therefore, we shall be journeying into the past, to attempt to learn more about our enemy." That…had been less expected.

"I see." Harry replied searching for words and shelving all previous expectations. "And what do you expect to learn about Voldemort that will help us now by going into his past, Professor?"

"Good question, Harry. I believe the key to defeating Voldemort, is indeed in understanding his past." Dumbledore paused for a short second with eyes on Harry, as if to see how he would react. Confusion, Harry was sure, was as good as painted on his face. But he was eager to see where the Headmaster would take him. "Once we unravel the mystery," Dumbledore continued," of why and how Lord Voldemort came to be, I believe we can discern how to defeat him."

While the truth of the headmaster's words couldn't be denied, Harry was sure there was more to it than he was letting on. "Professor, are you saying there might be answers, or a secret hidden in the past which will help us defeat him? …a weakness perhaps?"

"Yes, Harry," the headmaster replied. "Although from the memories we will be diving into in our lessons, I believe we will only be able to guess at their application to our goal of defeating Lord Voldemort. Nevertheless, I consider these of the utmost importance. We shall start," Dumbledore went on as he hopped up from his chair, heading towards a cabinet where Harry knew a certain object was contained, "by delving into the Pensive, into a one Bob Ogden's memories."

Tentatively, Harry rose and walked towards the Pensieve Dumbledore was pulling out. The magical object, looked just as it had the last time Harry had used it, and with that memory in mind, he eyed the shallow stone basin with a certain amount of trepidation.

"Don't worry, Harry," Dumbledore began as if reading Harry's mind. "This time we shall be exploring together."

Dumbledore removed his wand and with a minute flick the cork from one of the tiny bottles lining the wall of the cabinet popped off. Harry noticed Dumbledore's charred hand remained covered the entire time and chose not to inquire about it yet. Dumbledore poured the silvery liquid into the basin and the substance glistened as it mixed with the invisible water.

"And who is Bob Ogden, Sir?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore smiled genially at Harry, "let's find out shall we…"

Sometime later, the two emerged from the Pensieve back into Dumbledore's office. Harry was glad to be out and although he wasn't out of breath, he savoured the next few as if a great tension had been lifted from his lungs. Once they'd gathered themselves, they sat on opposite sides of the desk and went over the events they'd witnessed. The lady he'd seen, the small and feeble dominion of the Gaunts, was in fact Voldemort's mother. She had, for lack of a better word, ensnared the young and handsome village squire Tom Riddle a little while after the subsequent arrest of Morfin and Marvolo. Dumbledore suspected a love potion and Harry had to agree, although he found it revolting that such a thing could work for so long, his mind shivered, momentarily drifting to Romilda Vane remembering what Ginny told him recently.

"She must have been very lonely…and desperate," Harry said without thinking.

Dumbledore cast his eyes downwards contemplatively. "Indeed, Harry. I believe she was."

A brief silence hung in the air. Harry, for his part, couldn't imagine committing the actions Merope had, but equally found it hard to blame her. Carried along with that was the knowledge that she had died not so long after these scenes, her life lighting up for a brief, if orchestrated love, before giving birth and dwindling upon its desertion. Turning his head Harry noticed the sky outside was now an inky black, a lone star he could see through the window in the headmaster's office.

"I think that will be all for tonight, Harry," Dumbledore said, standing from behind his desk. As the headmaster rose, Harry once again caught sight of his warped and charred hand which stuck out from beneath his robes like a dark cloud in an otherwise bright sky.

"Sir," Harry began, standing up himself. "Are you in pain?"

"Only my pride, Harry," Dumbledore replied, apparently not wanting to give any more details. Resigning to the professor and his secretive ways, Harry simply nodded and headed for the exit. As he was doing so he noticed on a stand underneath the window intermixed with a few old trinkets was the ring he'd just seen in Bob Ogden's memory. Only now it was cracked and broken. Harry glanced behind him, only to see the headmaster still watching him.

Was this all a test, Harry wondered. After all, why tell him only pieces of the story? Why not tell him about the hand or the misadventure with the ring and how he came to have it?

Instead, all Harry could think to say was, "Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, Harry." He heard from behind as the door closed on an unexpected if not interesting lesson. I guess I'd better continue my magical studying by myself for now, Harry thought wistfully and began the long walk back through the castle.

—HP—

Several days later, Harry had risen early as usual and after his morning run, had decided to find a secluded spot by the lake in which to practice his wandless magic. The morning sun was just rising over the hills in the distance and casting an earthy glow over the black lake and Hogwarts behind. Feeling the warmth, Harry closed his eyes and remembering his earlier attempts, focused on calming his mind before channelling his magic to his Occlumency training.

The mind arts, as they were known, had not come naturally to Harry when Snape had bombarded him with them nearly a year ago. But he'd like to think he'd come a long way since then. He began as always by going through the calming exercises his Occlumency book outlined. After several minutes and many more deep breathes, he would summon his magic and begin to reinforce his shields.

Harry had to admit that Occlumency was a strange form of magic, even for him. Ever since he had learnt to find his magic within and trace its flow through his body, he'd felt like he could understand it so much better, like it had a more simple cause and effect now that he knew how each spell and source felt as it welled up inside.

Coupling this with the fact that he'd increased his theory of magic knowledge drastically over the summer, and Harry was starting to understand why Hermione was always first to master spells in class; she'd read her books and taken pains to get to know the theory behind them before. Harry hadn't always understood the written theory, but he felt like over the last few months he'd been able to grasp magic by the tail. It was as if he now knew how to listen to the vibrations his magic was making as it coursed its way animatedly around his body. This had unintentionally, yet happily helped him with his spell work.

Occlumency, however, was different. The magic he wished to harness wasn't so easily tamed within the mind. Harry understood better what it meant to clear the mind - he now believed he could interpret if someone was attempting to attack him - but from here on out it was only guesswork. For no matter how well he thought he was able to construct mental barriers, it was only if attacked by Legillimens that he would know if it worked. This reveal, by his book, had done little to reassure him, so he'd spent extra time practising over the summer, just in case.

In fact, it was because of this that Harry now felt he was calmer overall: his thoughts more collected, his temper less prone to the explosions he was ashamed to remember from last year. Simply sitting next to the peaceful lake as the giant squid made, what Harry had come to know, as his morning dances and enjoying the harmony of Hogwarts in the morning before the onset of its daily chaos, gave Harry a distinct and sweet clarity. One he had decided to use to his advantage.

Checking nobody was around, Harry began to concentrate on his second morning wandless routine: his Animagus form. He'd made large steps since learning he was a hawk a few months ago. In fact, despite obtaining his new wand, practising with it all summer and the thought of greater freedom his wandless abilities brought, strangely it was his Animagus transformation that excited him the most.

In their Marauders book, Sirius and his dad had spoken about their unrestrained glee at being able to finally transform - Sirius had apparently done circles around the lake as Padfoot in celebration -, and Harry was beginning to understand why. The ability to shift into an animal at will and enjoy all the perks that animal offered was cool beyond description, and being a Hawk, Harry had one specific ability in mind as he glanced up at the birds currently gliding gracefully over the forbidden forest in the distance. He knew he could fly on his broom whenever he wanted, and that was great, but compared to the thought of sailing through the sky without one, feeling nothing but air on your outstretched wings and relying on your own body to carry you with the wind, filled Harry's heart with butterflies enough that he felt he could lift off right now.

And even though he wasn't quite there yet, he was damn close. Over the summer, he'd practised every evening before bed and dreamed about it once asleep. Transforming his arms had been the first step. That had been the trickiest. It had been four weeks of almost constant effort before even the slightest change had occurred; no wonder so few wizards and witches chose to do this, Harry thought. He was sitting out in the back garden at the Dursleys, their fussing over Dudley had culminated in a snap holiday to Spain, so he had the house to himself - something he could hardly complain about- when he had pushed and willed and implored his arms to change into just a few feathers only for...nothing to happen.

He was so frustrated he got up and started pacing, mind racing, his body being scorched by the summer sun. No! I have to do this, I must! Please! Harry stopped and immediately channelled all of his energy, everything he thought he wanted he pictured as he scrunched his eyes in exertion and just as the image of a hawk sprang to mind, a strange buzzing sensation singed his arms. Opening his eyes he saw his fingers were gone, replaced with smooth light brown feathers.

"YES!" Harry leapt up in the air and span around in circles. He stopped abruptly when he noticed the Dursley's neighbour, staring down from her second-floor bedroom window, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow and looking confused. Quickly, Harry hid his half feathered hand, smiled lamely and dashed indoors.

Since then, he had read several transfiguration books and practiced constantly, the thought of flying and what it would feel like to be free invigorating his attempts. That and the fact he could now transform most of his body were, wholly encouraging. The next step, however, was easily the hardest in the transformation. It was the second to last step and involved changing your mind so as to keep who you were while transforming into the animal's body. Each passage he read here outlined the dangers of trying this without executing the proper steps, some even going as far as painting a vivid picture of people who had tried and failed.

Proceeding uneasily, Harry channelled his magic picturing the hawk he wanted to become and remembering the feeling of his limbs as they morphed bit by bit. First, his arms transformed into brilliant brown feathered wings, then his legs shrunk to razor-sharp talons and finally, his body changed into a majestic white chest. He stretched out his wings and embraced his hawk body, all too aware that clearly and laughably his head was still Harry Potter's.

Now the tricky part.

Harry concentrated on moving the magic that was already coursing through him towards his head. For the next half an hour, Harry tried every which way his books and father's notes had instructed but produced no change. Sweat was pouring off him by this point and he was starting to feel the strain on his magic so thought he'd give it one last try when abruptly Harry heard something break the surface of the lake nearby…

Quickly reverting to himself and shaking himself to make sure, he peered out from behind the alcove and saw none other than Daphne Greengrass standing on the shore a short distance away. She was already in her school robes and was letting the wind and sunstroke her face. Without knowing why Harry's heart began to beat faster. She had a piece of paper in one hand and in the other a small rock. In an instant, she broke her statue-like stillness and launched the rock as hard as she could out into the lake. When she returned to her normal stance, Harry could see her hand clenched tighter than a fist. She then bent to pick up another unsuspecting rock and hurled it so hard he thought her goal was revenge against the giant squid.

Seeing the need to give her some privacy, particularly as she didn't exactly appear to be in a chatty mood, Harry slipped behind the trees where he could go around and make his way back to the castle. He sandwiched his way behind the rocks and was about to hop over to the tree-line when CRACK, his foot caught on a particularly loud twig.

Shit! Harry shot back behind the rock, but not before he glanced Daphne spinning around, wand appearing instantly in her hand aiming right in his direction.

"Who's there?" She demanded, her voice heavily on alert.

What should he do? Reveal himself now and creep her out or take his chances and hide, hoping she couldn't find him.

"Show yourself, or else I'll turn your perving arse into custard." She stated with force.

"Okay," Harry said, stepping out with his hands up."Although to be fair, I definitely wasn't perving, I-."

"-Potter?" She said cutting him off and appearing both confused and agitated. She may have lowered her wand, but Harry noticed it was still gripped as firmly as the rock had been moments before. "Merlin, what were you doing back there?-Were you… were you spying on me?" the look of distaste in her face was enough to make Harry recoil.

"No, of course not! Blimey,-"

"-Then what were you doing?"

"- I was…er-," learning Occlumency…transforming into an animagus… channelling my inner magic, oh god! say something, "-just stretching after my run when you came down and started… attacking the lake." He replied lamely, gesturing to his sweaty running clothes which now served as evidence.

She raised her eyebrow but put away her wand, visibly relaxing. Though Harry could tell she was still put out at being discovered. "Still, don't scare someone like that. I could have turned you into-."

"-Custard." Harry continued. "Yeah, I have no doubt you could but I'm glad you didn't, Greengrass. That would have been a tricky one to explain to Madam Pomfrey." Harry caught a hint of a smile, but in the next second, she'd turned back to gaze out at the lake, her shiny brown hair flowing in the wind, embracing the morning sun. At this moment he noticed what was not in fact a small piece of paper, but a letter clutched in her other hand. However, seeming to interpret the direction of his eyes without turning her head, she stuffed the letter into her robes and out of sight.

"Sorry, for catching you off guard." He tried and took a few tentative steps forward. "When I saw you wanted to be alone, I thought I'd try and go round…but you caught me red-handed."

"Clearly you need to work on your stealth skills, Potter." Her voice had lost most of its edge, something Harry was thankful for, not wanting the to live out the image of his arse as mushy dessert.

"Any luck with the book?" He ventured, standing a few paces behind her now.

"No. Unfortunately, whatever book you learnt from there doesn't seem to be more in any of the shops I checked. Well-, the one's my mother looked for me anyway." She hastily finished off. "It's a shame, I could have done with learning some of your tricks, especially if they're able to show Snape up in class like you've been doing."

"You noticed?" He asked smiling.

"We are in the same class, Potter." Daphne continued, "-and even if I wasn't, the whole school was talking about it by lunch. It's no wonder Snape's had it in for you ever since." Harry could hardly refute that. Snape's imagination, Harry discovered, knew no bounds, as he'd found a way to be even more vindictive than normal this year, bombarding Harry with increasingly difficult and obscure Defence questions and on most occasions when Harry could answer those, proceeded to triple his homework for insolence. He just counted himself lucky Snape hadn't found an excuse to give him detention...yet.

A short silence lapsed, in which a random idea popped into Harry's head. "I guess I could try using the Doubling spell," he offered. She turned with her eyebrow raised. "On the book," he confirmed.

"Obviously on the book, Potter. I doubt it would be as effective on your charm." She eyed him inquisitively. So much so, Harry found himself shuffling uncomfortably under her disarming gaze, if not her rapier wit. "But, what's in it for you?"

"Does there always have to be something in it?" Harry replied innocently.

"There usually is."

"Not always."

"But this time there is, isn't there?" she stated as much as asked.

"Well…" Harry started, unsure of how to broach the topic. He glanced over his shoulder to confirm no one was in sight and when he turned back she was fully facing him, arms folded expectantly over her chest, steely dark blue eyes meeting his gaze. Harry couldn't help but think about how Seamus and the boys always referred to her as one of the most attractive girls in school. At that moment though, Harry thought that was a gross understatement, as standing a few feet from him in her Hogwarts uniform and with the morning sun stroking her face, Harry was sure there was no-one more beautiful. So much so, he nearly caught his breath. It was also at this point that he realised he was only wearing a sweaty old hoody and some old running shorts from Dudley and shuffled uncomfortably. Focus Harry!

"-Look, obviously I don't know why you were there that day in Diagon Alley or why you chose to stay and risk your life, but clearly you wanted to help the people in danger. And I don't think that was just a one time impulse… When I asked you about Draco at the start of term you refused to tell me anything," she went to cut him off but he beat her to it, "Which I get, -you don't want to betray your house. But I don't care where the information comes from, I'm not looking to point fingers… The only thing I care about is stopping another attack like that and preventing people from being hurt. So, what I'd like is if you hear about any attacks that might happen or plans Malfoy might have, will tell me?"

She almost took a step back as she absorbed his words. This time the silence hung in the air as if a dense fog had suddenly come between them. So much so Harry wished he hadn't asked it, fearing she would reject it once again and that would be the end of their contact. For her part, though she seemed to truly consider the answer.

"And if I don't do this," she concluded, "you won't give me the book." Harry wanted her help but didn't think coercion wasn't really his style.

"No, I'll give you the book regardless."

Daphne rolled her eyes, but did so with a smirk."You're not a very good negotiator, Potter." Harry smiled back.

"Perhaps, there's some blind honour in Gryffindor after all." He said, referring to their conversation at the start of term. "Listen, you don't have to answer now, just please tell me you'll think about it." She nodded, but kept her eyes on him, keenly observing his every move. An awkward pause lapsed between them.

"I guess I'll leave you in peace then." He said finally as he began to walk away before adding, "Oh and try not to throw stones into the lake too hard, Greengrass. Wouldn't want you being eaten by the giant squid, would we." Harry really hoped that last line didn't sound as lame as it did in his head. She'd seen him in his shabby running clothes, so it couldn't get much worse than that, he thought. He turned around just as he was about to get out of her view, only to catch her still watching him; his step has an unmistakable spring to it as he made his way back towards Gryffindor Tower.

—-HP—

For the rest of the week, Harry and his friends suffered through homework and lessons, like never before. Ron, in particular, couldn't figure out how, with fewer classes than last year, he somehow had a mountain more homework. Hermione's hair was at frizz level 4.

"Thank god it's nowhere near 10 and meltdown level," Ron whispered to Harry at breakfast, only to earn himself a clip round the head from their keen-eared friend.

Likewise, Neville was spending more and more time in the greenhouses, determined to keep up his outstanding record at Herbology; something Harry thought was already a given. Although, he secretly guessed Neville had another reason for spending so much time there, as whenever Hermione suggested heading down to practice with the Hufflepuff's they shared the lesson with, he shot up from the table to follow. Ginny was equally bogged down with preparation for her O.W.L. exams this year, so Harry saw much less of her than the others. A fact he found himself mourning and every time he'd sought her out, he discovered her cuddled up with Dean, so thought better of it.

Harry, on the other hand, and much to Ron's incredulity was finding his schoolwork much more manageable than in previous years. Despite Snape's best efforts, Defence was still Harry's best and easiest class; his wandless and non-verbal practice over the summer proving a major help. Not only that, but Harry noticed his performance in his other classes had improved as well, something that had earned him praise from McGonagall and Flitwick. The only subject he was still barely getting by in was Potions. Much to Slughorn's dismay, Harry's performance in their first lesson had not been repeated, though the rotund professor seemed eager to compliment Harry whenever he got the chance, always finding a way to slip his next Slugclub meeting into the conversation with a wink.

To add to their constant barrage of work, Harry had quidditch trials and the D.A. to manage. Happily, Harry had agreed with Ron, who had retained his position from last year, to pass over most of the captaincy duties to him.

"Favouritism, that is!" Mclaggen all but yelled at their trials when he caught wind of the decision.

"Ron, was our keeper last year." Harry tried to say calmly. "He earned it then, so he keeps it now."

"Rubbish! The position should go to the best player." Mclaggen snapped.

"Well, where were you last year when we had open try-outs then?" Harry shot back.

"Hospital wing. Ate something I shouldn't have on a dare." The seventh-year replied as if he was clever.

"That's your fault, Ron's keeper and my decision is final. You can try out for beater if you're that desperate to play on the team." Mclaggen huffed and stormed off to wait with the other Beater hopefuls. Much to Harry and Ron's chagrin, Mclaggen must have channelled some of his inner rage at not making keeper as he swung viciously enough to literally beat out the competition and earn the top spot along with Jimmy Peakes.

"He might come in handy against Slytherin." Demelza offered hopefully as they walked back to the changing rooms afterwards.

"Only if he sacrifices himself," Ginny replied, eyeing Mclaggen who was swaggering towards his seventh-year friends on the sidelines.

"I doubt he knows what that means," Katie said, which they all laughed at. "Good to see your fan club making an appearance, ay Harry." She continued, giving him a wink. Harry rolled his eyes, thinking about the herds who had turned up, largely from other houses looking to try out and catch his attention. He'd sent them packing, but not before it had added a good hour or two to the trials. As a result, they were now finishing so close to the end of lunch they might miss it entirely.

"Sorry about that," he went on. "They didn't seem so interested in years before."

"Yeah, but you've grown a lot into your looks this year, Harry." Ginny said matter-of-factly. Harry had no idea how to respond to that. Fortunately, she turned her head away at that moment rescuing him from her catching his blush.

"Er, thanks." He responded, trying not to sound timid. Katie, who had been his teammate for years now, nudged him playfully when the others weren't looking. They laughed this over and changed quickly for lunch.

That afternoon, Harry was on his way to the Room of Requirement to continue his weekend duelling training against the dummies, when he noticed the door was already there. Walking over to it tentatively, he listened but couldn't hear anything coming from inside. Malfoy, Harry suspected, his eyes narrowing. Ever since he'd seen Malfoy enter the room, he'd checked his Marauders Map every chance he had, but so far hadn't found the blonde Slytherin anywhere near the seventh floor. However, this might be Harry's chance to discover what he was up to.

So sure was he, that he stretched out his hand to grab the doorknob. This time, his new wand, which he kept always concealed up his sleeve, didn't buzz. Taking this as a sign, Harry yanked the door open, only to catch Slughorn of all people, as well as a violent odour assaulting the air on the other side. The corpulent professor nearly stumbled over at being caught, a few empty bottles that had been scattered on the floor managing to be knocked over in the process.

"Ah, Harry, m'boy." He said, eyes lighting up as though he'd just found a golden egg. "You gave me quite a start."

"-Professor? What are you doing in here?" He asked, trying to sound friendly. The room, more of a tiny closet than anything else, appeared to house hundreds of old and festering glass vials, which between the piles of stacked empty ones, contained even dirtier darkened substances.

"Oh, I used to store things in here for emergencies, you know… a few precious potions ingredients and whatnot. Yes, left them in here years ago and only just remembered. It seems as though a few have gone sour in the meantime." Slughorn said, gesturing to several of the tubes which looked as though they would cover the tiny closet in a poisonous mist should they be uncorked.

"Yes, sir," Harry said covering his nose while eyeing a particularly filthy looking jar that appeared to be actively leaking its contents. "I didn't know you knew about the Room of Requirement, Professor."

"Ah, that's what you call it these days, is it?" Slughorn chuckled, his belly wobbling in the same wavy motion as his moustache was styled. "Well, in my day it was called something else entirely, but it seems it's a lot more popular now than it used to be."

"Sir?" Harry inquired.

"Yes, there was someone exiting the room when I arrived." This time it was Harry's eyes who lit up.

"Who was it, Professor?" One person on his mind.

"I've no idea, they were just walking out of view when I got here…made a heck of a noise as they stalked off though, kicked the poor suit of armour." Slughorn said shaking his head and tutting, "Senseless, senseless."

Harry was sure it had been Malfoy, but why would he have been angry enough to have kicked the armour and drawn attention to himself? In the past few weeks, he'd noticed Malfoy's behaviour had slowly declined from his high after receiving the Felix Felicis and returning to the sullen swagger Harry and Neville had witnessed on the train. Something that both relieved and scared him, because if Malfoy was no longer getting his way, what would he do in order to reclaim it?

"Never mind anyway, Harry," Slughorn said interrupting Harry's thoughts. "What say you about another Slugclub, next Friday evening? Gwenog Jones has promised to drop by this time."

"Oh," Of course. Harry shouldn't have been surprised but found himself being quite annoyed with the professor for not being able to confirm it was Malfoy. "Actually, Professor, it looks like my meetings with Dumbledore might continue next Friday…"

"Ah, private lessons still, I see. I knew you were special, Harry m'boy. Albus doesn't give those out to just anyone, you know." Causing Harry to shift uncomfortably and wonder whether the potions master would like to place him in one of his glass vials for his mantle, forever remaining as a pristine party collectable. "No matter, perhaps I can entice you with a little bit of insider knowledge instead."

"Sir?" Harry didn't want to hear what the professor had to say, but seeing no other way out of the conversation…

"Well, I happen to know that this year there will be a Slugclub party before we break for the holidays. Everybody who is anybody will be there. In fact, I have even enticed the Hobgoblins to play, the singer is a friend, of course."

"Oh… er wow, professor," Harry said, feigning interest. Slughorn though, ever the spinner of conversation, batted the 'praise' away as if that wasn't really what he was interested in.

"That's settled then," he said. "I shall look forward to seeing you there, m'boy." And before Harry could even think of a rebuttal, the portly professor was trudging off down the stairs and humming a tune all the way out of sight…. Harry shook his head, at least now he had a lot of pent up energy to burn training against the dummies.

—-HP—

"Oh, they're not that bad, Harry," Hermione said trying to defend Slugclub a few days later. They were on their way to their next class of the day, Transfiguration; Neville was doing his best to ignore the current topic and Ron his best to undercut it. "-Besides his party might actually be fun."

"Fun?" Ron said flabbergasted. "Yeah, about as much fun as his lessons are."

"Actually, Ron, his lessons are quite good, and a lot better than Snape's were." Harry was so surprised to hear Hermione openly bad mouthing Snape, that his own mouth shot open. He also knew she had cornered Ron there. His red-haired friend resigned to mumble something about Slugclub and his left shoe. "Perhaps," she continued, ignoring his comments, "-if you tried doing your homework at any time other than the last minute you'd enjoy them more too."

"Well I would, but I'm too busy doing all the other homework we've got, aren't I-," It was at this point that Harry tuned them out and dropped back to walk with Neville instead.

"Still don't fancy Slugclub Nev?" Harry asked. "He seems impressed enough with you in Potions to want to keep inviting you."

"Nah, doesn't really interest me all that much, Harry. I'm concentrating on spending my spare time in the Greenhouses." He said and Harry thought he saw him eye some of the Hufflepuffs they shared the class with as they arrived. Meanwhile, Hermione and Ron cut in front, having apparently finished bickering.

"You know," Harry began, arriving at their desk, "Slughorn let slip that he's hosting a party before we break for Christmas this year…." Neville looked up but was clearly confused. "…-And I'm sure members of the Slugclub can bring dates with them…" Harry let the unspoken implication lie between them. Neville just raised an eyebrow apparently none the wiser. So Harry indicated his head towards the Hufflepuff girls, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, sitting a table over.

Neville's eyes widened. "Blimey, Harry." He said in a panicked whisper and glancing worriedly in their direction.

"…just a suggestion," Harry replied playfully, nudging his friend. As if they had overheard, both girls turned and caught the direction of the boys' gaze, omniscient smirks on their faces. Neville for his part turned the colour of Ron's hair and fixed his eyes firmly on the front of the class, while Harry had a hard time not laughing; he settled for hiding his smirk behind his hand and, glancing in their direction once more, caught Susan's eye and winked, which earned him a smile in return.

Neville was Harry's usual partner in these classes, which Harry was grateful for, as it gave him a break from Hermione's not-so-subtle inquisitive - for lack of a better word - checks during their lessons. She'd been no less nosy at his performance over the last few weeks and in some cases outright annoyed. Harry was getting worried she would stage an actual inquisition soon, not letting him up until he divulged his secret method of spell learning. The trouble was, Harry didn't feel he needed to explain himself. Sure, his performance was better around the board, but he had already explained to her and all of their friends that he'd studied a lot over the summer. He hadn't yet mentioned that his wandless interests and obscure knowledge chasing in that area had led him to take a different approach to magic than otherwise, but the more Hermione badgered him the more he felt he didn't want to tell her.

Thankfully, she was sitting in front of him this lesson, and Harry became especially thankful for his current partner, who had returned to a normal colour just as McGonagall began.

"Settle down, class." The wizened witch said, walking around the front of her desk. "Now, today I will be introducing you to a unique branch of Transfiguration…However, that's not quite correct, as this particular branch I've already introduced you to. In fact, it was the very first piece of transfiguration I showed to you, all those years ago. Does anybody remember what that was?"

Everybody mentally scratched their heads as they tried to cast their minds back. Harry could only remember attempting to turn something into a goblet but doubted that was the type of magic they'd be learning now. Looking around, he could tell most others were thinking the same as him. He was sure he could hear the cogs grinding together in Hermione's head in a desperate attempt to find the true answer.

"Nobody?" McGonagall prompted, only to be met with several vacant sets of eyes. Then, she focused on Ron, "Mr Weasley, I'm sure you will remember. I seem to recall that upon seeing it demonstrated you thought it was, 'bloody brilliant'."

Then the penny dropped and Ron said, "you turned yourself into a cat, professor."

"Indeed, Mr Weasley. Today, we will begin by learning human to animal transfiguration and how that differs from Animagus transformations." Harry's heart began to beat in excitement. He'd not made any progress in his own Animagus transformation recently, and was beginning to get desperate when an idea formed in his mind…

McGonagall lectured them for a few minutes on the theory then gave them a quick demonstration, transfiguring her hand into her catspaw, before instructing them to, "carefully read through chapter 18 of your books and when you are ready, you may begin attempting to transfigure your non-wand wielding hand. I shall move between you and offer aid or indeed corrections as we go along." she said immediately eyeing Seamus who eagerly began waving his wand along his arm. "-Remember you are only supposed to be slowly transfiguring your hand into that of an animal, Mr Finnigan." She finished sternly.

Harry had already tried and succeeded in this over the summer, thinking it would be the first step before attempting the real thing, so he was able to quickly repeat his performance.

"Well done, Mr Potter. Five points for your skill." She said with an appraising nod. Harry felt himself lightly blushing at the praise, he just hoped it was less than Neville's earlier. He then caught Hermione, staring frustratedly at him and decided to ignore her, helping Neville instead. For the rest of the lesson, only two others had managed to successfully transfigure their whole hands, Hermione and Neville. Everyone else were only just been able to transfigure their hand hairs into a few tiny feathers: somehow in Seamus' case, he'd managed to singe the few feathers he had transfigured.

"Considering this is your first time, class, I'm very impressed with the progress." She said calling an end to the lesson. "Now, if there's nothing else…"

"-Professor," Harry said, tentatively raising his hand and hoping his idea would produce fruit, "can I ask, what was the most difficult part of becoming an Animagus for you?"

This appeared to take her back. "An interesting question, Potter." Harry gulped, not wanting to draw more attention than was necessary, "but indeed one that will become relevant as we progress this term." She continued, unintentionally saving him. "The most difficult part, and one of the most difficult pieces of transfiguration in general, is changing the mind from one being into another."

"-And how did you overcome that, professor?" Harry said, all too aware that Hermione would no doubt eye him suspiciously.

"Well," she began, seeming happy to be asked such a specific question, "as you will learn when you come to apparate this year, the key is Deliberation, Determination and Destination. When you picture making the final transformation or even simply from your hand to feathers, always keep in mind where or what you wish to be as you conjure your magic….And that I think will be all for today."

Interesting indeed, Harry thought as he and his friends packed up and headed for lunch; he would have to try applying this to his morning routine. Thankfully, Hermione was too busy either trying to surpass him or researching the strange Hogwarts crest to inquire about the direction of his questions. The rest of the week passed without any more fanfare, with Harry finally managing to make the doubling charm work on the book Daphne wanted. In their next potions class, he found a small opportunity when nobody was looking, to levitate the book into her open bag. She sent him a simple word of Thanks later by their enchanted note, with no mention of her end of the bargain.

With that fulfilled, he found himself busy preparing for their weekly D.A. lesson and then their first quidditch game of the season, which was scheduled for the following weekend. Ron was already beginning to get nervous and had tried to arrange more practices, which Harry had immediately shot down, not wanting to overburden himself or his team with more than was necessary: Ginny and Katie, who were concerned enough with exams this year, were especially relieved not to take on more.

Harry and Ron's deal over the Captaincy had been that Ron was free to host the practices and create the game strategy, but Harry would call the final shots. This allowed him to focus on the D.A. which was rapidly taking up more of his time, and alleviated the game-day pressure on Ron…. And watching Ron's appetite decline in the last few days building up to the game, Harry was thankful he could at least take that burden away from him. Despite this, his friend continued to unravel and the day before their match, his hand trembled so much during their evening D.A. class, that his spell ricocheted so off-target it hit Demelza right on the bum.

"Ouch!" She yelled drawing all attention to them. "Ron, what the hell? We're on the same team!" Prompting laughs from everyone close by. Ron's eyes widened momentarily before he apologised and dropped his wand dejectedly, leaving the practice space to slump on the couch over by the door. Harry was too busy walking around, ensuring that they were performing the binding spell accurately, as well as dodging out of Romilda Vanes eye line, that he wasn't able to console Ron until the end.

"It's no use," he said as the six of them gathered around after everyone else had left. "-I'm a mess, you may as well replace me with Mclaggen." Nothing revolted Harry more than that thought. Ever since Mclaggen had struck his way onto the team as a beater, Harry had regretted ever letting him try-out. Not one practice, or even one day, had gone by without the seventh year hunting Harry down to criticise his game plan and even his leadership skills. Something he also spent a large part of practice doing, often missing the bludger, to instead fire accusations and comments at Ginny and the chasers. They had responded in kind by 'accidentally' launching the quaffle at this head, which he'd frustratingly avoided.

"Ron, I think I can speak on Harry's behalf here," Ginny began, "-and say, Mclaggen is a pain enough as beater without having him be keeper. I swear if he launches one more miss-hit bludger my way I'll return the favour with a bat bogey hex." Everybody had to laugh at that thought, but Ron didn't move his head from its current facedown position on the couch.

Harry was about to offer words of encouragement when all of a sudden he felt a light prickling sensation in his pocket. He'd kept Daphne's original enchanted piece of paper on him ever since he'd last seen her, but until now he'd not heard a word. Turning to make sure that his friends weren't looking, he pulled out the paper from his pocket and read.

Same room, come quickly.

"What you got there, Harry?" Hermione asked not missing a beat.

"Hm, oh nothing," Harry replied hurriedly, mind racing trying to think of a believable way to excuse himself. He ended up going with the only thing he could think of. "Listen, we should get going before we break curfew."

"We still have half an hour don't we?" Neville asked.

"Yeah, well…better sooner than later," he said and ushered them all out and back towards Gryffindor Tower. He tried to lead them at a fast pace, but Ron's feet seemed half glued to the floor, so it took them longer than Harry would have liked to reach the portrait of the fat lady. As soon as they entered, Harry bade everyone goodnight, saying he needed extra rest for tomorrow and sped upstairs. Before Neville or Ron came behind him, he managed to throw on his cloak, grab his map and close the curtains around his bed, as if he'd already gone to sleep. A moment later, Ron trudged in and flopped on his bed, groaning. Harry managed to slip out of the open door and down into the common room. He then waited until no one was looking and opened the portrait hole.

It was over half an hour since she'd written the note, by the time he arrived at the fourth floor abandoned classroom. Many different guesses as to what Daphne could want had played in his mind, accompanied by equally as many fears. Harry just hoped it wasn't as urgent as she made out.

The door was already ajar. Pushing it open, he saw Daphne in the middle of the room with her back turned. Edging in cautiously, Harry drew his wand.

"I almost thought you weren't coming, Potter." She said, barely glancing over her shoulder.

"Eyes in the back of your head, Greengrass," Harry said, attempting to relax but when Daphne turned to face him, a steady look in her eyes, Harry knew she was serious. "What is it?"

With hands on her hips, she shuffled her feet and looked around the room, anywhere but at Harry, appearing to be wrestling with herself. Then in the next moment, she locked eyes with him once more, this time with a new determination."You were right, Potter… what you said the other day. I mean, don't let it go to your head or anything, but it's true, I don't want anybody to get hurt…" she said, all the while holding his gaze. So much so that despite her constant guarded nature since their first interaction, Harry had no doubt she was telling the truth.

"There will be an attack tonight," Daphne started.

"-What? -Where? When -How many?"

"-I don't know when exactly but I think-, well, I know Death Eaters will attack Hogsmeade, sometime later tonight."

"You think? Or you know?" Harry asked urgently, his mind rapidly firing up, every second could count if what she was saying was true.

"I know." She replied with a brief momentary sadness.

"Where did you get the information from?"

"Look, Potter, you said no questions."

"But how do I know it's reliable when you won't tell me."

"It's reliable,- I have it from a….source," she said, her voice having found a harder edge. "I also happened to know they won't be expecting the size of the attack."

"What? How could you possibly know-?"

"-No questions, Potter," she stated firmly and finally.

Harry stared at her for a long second, trying to work out if this was a trick and if it wasn't, how accurate her information even was. He realised when he'd asked her, that in the best scenario, she might give him a little information here and there on Malfoy and other Slytherin's who were bragging about having connections to Death Eaters; not be told about an immediate attack and have to make a decision based on how much he trusted her word or not. In the end, he figured it was better to be prepared and wrong than unprepared and risk people's lives.

"Shit…Okay, I'll warn Dumbledore." He said, turning to go, already thinking he would have to think of an excuse about how he even knew such information on the way.

"Please do. Just remember, leave my name out of it," Daphne prompted.

"Thanks," he said with a nod, before running in the direction of Dumbledore's office. Harry's heart was hammering on his way through the castle, but that was nothing compared to his head, which was trying to answer one simple question: how the hell could he get to Hogsmeade and join the fight?