Wednesday began with Ginny whispering to Frisk that "Harry's figured out a place to hold the new defense class." And she had just sat down to breakfast.

"Oh? Where?" Frisk asked.

"There's a hidden room around a few corners from Gryffindor the tower. You know the Ballerina-Troll tapestry?" Ginny said, "Apparently, if you walk by it a few times, it turns into something you need... if you really need it. Anyway, Harry's going to open it up for us about seven. We're supposed to wait for the signal, since that's past our curfew."

"Hm. Okay. Got it," Frisk told Ginny. She remembered that room, it was where the Dreemurrs had spent time right after bringing back Asriel and Chara. "I'll tell Asriel and Chara, and Opal, if I get the chance."

"Cheers Frisk, and if you see either of the Creeveys, pass the message to them, as well. Just remind them it needs to be kept quiet." From there, they parted ways to their respective classes.

That afternoon was their soul magic club. The only person in the Transfiguration classroom when Frisk arrived was Professor McGonagall, sitting in the back, working on papers. "Just so you know, Frisk," she said as Frisk gathered enough chairs to make a circle, "I am not your advisor anymore."

Frisk turned to her and blinked. "I'm going to be in the room when I can, definitely for today, but I am not your advisor."

As if on cue, the door to the classroom opened and Mr. Filch walked in, Ms. Norris beside him. The cat looked at Frisk, then at McGonagall, and parked herself in a corner, observing the room. "I'm your advisor," Mr. Filch said gruffly. "Soul magic. Pah."

"Okay," Frisk said, after the shock wore off. "It's good to see you, Mr. Filch."

He narrowed his eyes at her, and went to sit in the corner near Ms. Norris.

Slowly, the others made their way into the room: Her siblings, Neville, Opal, Luna, and Steven. When they were all there, she introduced Mr. Filch as their new advisor. This caused the other students to look at each other, but with Mr. Filch right there, nobody said anything.

Frisk cleared her throat. "So, one thing I learned," she began, holding up 'The Power of Soul', "is that soul magic works better the more souls are in sync with each other. The more comfortable you are with yourself, and each other, the better results you will have with it. So, the first thing I would like us to do is to tell the group something about yourself that people, in general, don't know I can start." And she did, talking about Tony Macintosh, and how she went to visit Opal's family in order to see him.

They went around the circle, Opal talking about her muggle martial arts training. Asriel told everyone about their encounter with a dementor outside their home. Chara spoke about how she met Asriel the first time. Steven told them about what it was like to have a parent in the Wizengamot. Neville talked about his third year, when he wrote down the password, letting Sirius Black into Gryffindor tower.

Luna, however, blew them all away, talking about what it was like to grow up with only her father, after her mother died when not long she was born, and how her father produced The Quibbler to provide for both of them. "I remember her, kind of," Luna said. "I still remember her singing to me."

No wonder soul magic came so easily to her, Frisk realized. Luna was completely at peace with herself. Something that Frisk envied, just a little bit. There were secrets she was keeping that she wasn't quite comfortable with.

Then they practiced the soul call. It was easier, too, partially because they'd practiced, but possibly also because they really did understand each other better. While they were practicing, Frisk couldn't help looking at the two adults in the classroom. Professor McGonagall was working behind her desk, ostensibly oblivious to the group's efforts... and not revealing a single thing about herself.

But... in the other direction, Mr. Filch clearly knew nothing about soul magic. He was watching them, somewhat fascinated, as their souls coalesced into their visible form. What he absolutely didn't realize was that his soul was doing the same, and Frisk had to avoid staring at it. It was empty, even emptier than Professor Snape's was when she saw it the first time. It was like there was nothing driving him. Having a soul, but being almost soulless. But not quite soulless... was there black there? What had Alphys said? Hatred? Was he really being driven by a hatred for this place?

That would be something to think about later.

Frisk forced herself to let the soul call drop. "Now, why don't we try something new?" she suggested, as the various souls blinked back out of obvious existence.

"A way to protect yourself with soul magic?" Steven asked. "It'll be good to have some way to protect ourselves with magic." He started to say something more, then caught Frisks's eye and stopped. If Mr. Filch caught anything with that, though, he didn't react. His attention was somewhere else at that moment.

"What Animus suggests should be the first skill practiced, after the soul call, is what he calls the soul shield. Now, monsters are – mostly – immune to soul magic attacks, as they are not based on physical force, but on the intent of the user, and monsters almost never really want to hurt one another."

She had wrestled with the next bit, but before she could continue, Asriel ended her debate for her. "This carries over to physical attacks, as well. Blows done in anger, with intent to do damage, hurt monsters a lot more than something done by accident," he told the group. He looked at Frisk, "You've used more soul magic than any human I know... is that something everyone should be worried about?"

"Maybe," Frisk admitted, thinking back to how much it hurt when she took Cormac's blow against her leg. "Or maybe it always hurts like that," she guessed, "and we'll notice more because we are more aware of our souls."

"Soul shields," prompted Ginny.

"Right," Frisk said, "Soul Shields, a barrier against other forms of soul magic. I have no idea if it works against any sort of wand magic or physical blow, so keep that in mind. And, uh, I haven't actually ever gotten it to work, either."

She opened the book and read over the instructions, putting in her own comments where she could. It involved tensing one's soul, just like they did with the soul call, but taking a bit of that energy and forcing it outside one's body. This would create a magical barrier that one could use to defend against incoming soul attacks.

It was hard to tell if anyone was making progress. Souls blinked in and out of existence in a haphazard sequence. Frisk read through the instructions in the book, then passed it around for others to read. Part of the problem was that it was alien. Every monster that Frisk had encountered in the underground had been proficient at the soul call, but the only time Frisk had anything like the soul shield in the underground was in the fight with Undyne, and this wasn't really the same thing.

"I wonder if it'd be easier to perform the shield charm if we have something to defend against. Fred & George said that the fake Moody did something like that when teaching them the shield charm last year," Ginny said.

"What?" Frisk asked, startled. "Did he really?"

"They said that he did," Ginny confirmed. "It sounds like something that the fake Moody would have done."

"Maybe," said Frisk, "But no. We're not doing that. Even if the intent isn't there, I'm not going to try to attack another person."

It was towards the end of their time, just when Frisk was thinking she should tell them not to be late to dinner, then a rainbow glow appeared from right beside her. Everyone turned to stare at Asriel, who had projected this rainbow colored light in front of him. He was breathing hard, staring just as transfixed as everyone else.

Chara stood quickly, and pressed her hand into the shield. She managed to get her fingertips to sink in, giving the shield a slightly squishy appearance. It may not have been rigid, like a proper knight's shield (or like the shield that Undyne had given Frisk), but it was, undoubtedly, a shield. "Wow!" Frisk exclaimed. "Well done, Asriel. How did you do that?"

Asriel closed his eyes, and the shield vanished. A few seconds later, he opened his eyes and the shield reappeared. "It was honestly not that different from what we've been doing. It's," he made a circling motion with his paws, trying to get the sensation into words. "After you tense, focus yourself on a point just beyond yourself, where you want the center of the shield to be," he said, and went on describing the sensation.

So they worked, each trying to be the next to call up a shield. And... it was just about a tie, with Frisk and Luna calling up shields just about simultaneously. Neither shields, when Chara tested them, were quite as resistant as Asriel's... but they were shields.

Luna looked at her shield with mild interest. "So shields are the same color as your soul?" she said. "I wonder if that means any one color is stronger than another."

"I have no idea," Frisk said. "But it really is almost time to eat. We better be getting on."

So everyone pitched in to put Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration classroom back in order, and then it was time to head down to the great hall.

"Hey, Steven?" Frisk called, as he exited the classroom just ahead of her. "Wait up a second." He paused, on his way towards the Grand Staircase. "Did you mean what you said just now? That you wanted a way to protect yourself?"

"I did," he told her, puzzled. "It's no secret that the ministry thinks Dumbledore mad for saying you-know-who has returned, and is upset about the last two Defense teachers. So he appointed Umbridge at her own request. Umbridge... a politician, who has absolutely no teaching experience, no practical experience, and no intention ofon giving us any actual training. It's 'Defense Against the Dark Arts', not 'Talk hopefully at a Dark Wizard'," he said.

Frisk looked up and down the hallway, but they were alone, as far as she could tell. "Harry Potter is going to be teaching us actual defense spells. You know he's gone up against the Big V..."

Steven turned toward her, his eyes narrowing, clearly working through some thoughts in his head. "That explains... huh. Not very secretive, were they?" He tapped his forehead with a pair of fingers. "But that doesn't matter. He's going to go through with it, despite her ban?"

"That's what I was told," Frisk said.

"That's.. that's excellent. That's the best I..." his words petered out. "Hang on. Is this a good idea? He's not going to want a Slytherin in the group. You know what he thinks..."

"Steven!" Frisk interrupted sharply. "Steven," she repeated. "I am not going through this again. He's not going to think that way. I get that he thinks that of Draco, but you aren't him. For one thing, Draco would crack in half trying to keep up with Opal. And you know what? I don't want to be part of any club that wouldn't have you as a member. At least as long as you're willing to sign the sheet promising not to tell Ms. Umbridge."

Steven shook his head, snorting, but he was smiling."Cheers, Frisk. Of course I won't tell her. When and where?" he asked.

Frisk repeated what Ginny had told her.

"That's after hours for us..." he paused. "I'll think of something. No one from Slytheirn's going to report me if I come into the common room late, I just have to make sure I'm not caught. There's enough secret passages, though... I think I know an uncommon, if slow route. Or... do you think Opal would mind if I tag along with her?"

"Ask her. I think she's coming with a Hufflepuff prefect. At least, that's what I was told the plan was. Seems reasonable to me."

"Alright. If I don't want to lug my school things to dinner, I better get up to the common room," Frisk said. "See you tonight."

It was more than a little nerve wracking, sneaking out of the Gryffindor common room after curfew. That said, it wasn't actually that far from the Fat Lady's portrait to the tapestry of the ballet-trolls. Dean Thomas waved to her from the next hallway, signaling the coast was clear. She moved down, prepared to do the same for Asriel, who was the next person on the list.

To her surprise, when she passed through the doorway, it looked nothing like the sitting room that the Dreemurr family had reconnected in during her first year. Between the bookcases on the wall and the cushions on the floor, it actually reminded her of a library, crossed with the Taekwondo practice area that she'd trained in with Opal over the previous summer. There was also a range of strange devices on the wall that Frisk didn't realize.

"I remember that mirror," said Chara as she came into the room. She pointed at what looked like a large, oval mirror, with a large crack running jagged through the center. There were shadowy shapes in it, but they looked really distant, and Frisk couldn't make out anything about them. "The fake Moody had that mirror in his office. How did it get here?"

That question went unanswered as the next entrants came in, Opal, with a blond haired Hufflepuff prefect, and Steven Marsh. Everyone went silent, with most eyes going to Harry and Hermione.

"Hermione?" Frisk asked, her voice seeming to echo in the silence. "Where's the sign up sheet?"

Hermione blinked at her, startled, then pulled a book out of her bag, and the folded parchment from in it. She stood, walked over to Steven, and offered him a quill.

With the parchment resting on the book, Steven took the quill, and, without hesitation signed his name towards the bottom. And that was apparently good enough for Hermione, and following that, the rest of the room.

At eight o'clock, when every cushion was occupied, Harry walked over to the door and locked it. It was such a loud, unexpected sound that Frisk broke off her chat with her siblings and looked over to him.

The first order of business, apparently, was to elect a leader. Frisk thought it was kind of odd, as she thought the whole thing was Harry's idea to begin with, Then it was on to naming the group.

When Dumbledore's Army was suggested, Frisk felt uncomfortable. Even more so with the rest of the group laughing. "Is that really that what we want to be?" she asked, "Wait, that's not what I meant. I mean, if the ministry is afraid that Dumbledore's going against it, should we really make that fear a reality? That's not our goal, is it?"

"No," Hermione confirmed, "It's not our goal to try to overthrow the ministry. But we are going against their statements that you-know-who has returned, and taking the threat seriously." She tapped her palms together, getting her thoughts in order. "We're not Dumbledore's Army against the ministry, we're Dumbledore's Army against the Death-Eaters."

Well, okay. That made Frisk feel significantly better.

The first thing that their newly appointed leader did was divide them into pairs and practice the Expelliarmus charm. This was immediately remarked on by a member of Hufflepuff house, with Harry retorting that he'd used the spell against the Big V himself.

"What's more," Chara said into the silence, "Do you remember the Imperious curse? You might be against someone who isn't willingly fighting for the dark lord." That was also a good point, and the mention of the unforgivable curse caused the others to exchange nervous glances.

So they scattered in pairs, Frisk facing off against Opal, while her siblings naturally partnered with each other. Steven was initially partnerless until Ginny came to work with him. The only person who was left solo was... Neville. Frisk was about to invite him to take turns with her, but Harry noticed first and went to practice instead.

Frisk had first learned the charm from the fake Moody in her first Defense class last year... and had barely used it since. It took her three or four casts for her to get familiar with the spell's motion again, and in that time, Opal had already disarmed her twice.

After about fifteen minutes, they were interrupted by Harry. "Opal, can you partner with," he looked back the way he came, "Marietta for a moment? I'd like to see Frisk's form."

Opal nodded, and Frisk was all of a sudden standing in front of their instructor. After casting the spell three times at Harry, and only able to make his wand fly once, he walked over to her. "Okay. Let's start with your aim. As you end your motion, try to make sure your arm is straight, that'll give you a better aim at your target. Try again for me, just the motion, so you don't disarm anyone you don't mean to."

Frisk did so, and Harry pointed out another few places where Frisk wasn't quite getting the motion right. He then instructed Frisk to try again. With his modifications, it did feel more natural and efficient, and she once again made his wand fly, clattering to the ground in front of her. She scooped it up with her left hand, and offered it back to Harry.

"Thanks," Harry said, grinning. He looked around. "Can you swap with Opal, so I can take a turn with her?"

"Sure," Frisk said, and went over to tap Opal on the shoulder between casts.

Marietta was an older Ravenclaw with long strawberry blondish hair and dark brown eyes. She had a kind of dour look in those eyes, and a scowl to her face, that gave Frisk a distinct uncomfortable feeling. Despite that, Frisk gave a hopeful smile, taking her place a few feet from her new training partner, and introduced herself.

The other girl looked startled. "I'm Marietta," she said succinctly. "Edgecombe," she added belatedly. "Let's just get this over with."

Compared with Opal, Marietta was a bit more proficient, far more settled, and nowhere near as enthusiastic. Frisk could compare it to herself, trying to 'throw' Opal back during the mundane martial-art lessons.. but before Frisk could investigate further, a whistle sounded sharply from nearby.

"That wasn't bad," Harry told them. "But there are some things that everyone could do better," he began, listing some of them. "Okay, break back into pairs, and I'll come around again." They did so, back into their original pairs.

Opal's aim, with the adjustments, had gotten even more locked on, and she finally managed the achievement of catching Frisk's wand when she sent it flying. She was interrupted by the sudden sound of flames and scent of smoke. Opal pointed, "That's Cho Chang... she was snogging Cedric before..." then cut herself off.

Frisk looked where Opal was pointing. Nearby, Cho had, somehow, set Marietta's sleeve on fire. Marietta's expression went even grumpier and turned away from Cho and Harry. Frisk held a finger up to her lips for Opal to see, and overheard Cho explaining to Harry that Marietta really didn't want to be here. But she was proud to be training against You-Know-Who. And Luna... well, she was on one of her more interesting conspiracy theories.

After a few more casts, Harry blew his whistle, saying it was time for them to go. They were sent back to their common rooms in small groups – students below 5th year paired with an upperclassman – a prefect where one was available, with Harry referring to some sort of magical map to determine when it would be clear for them to leave.

"Thank you for letting me join," Steven said, as it became his turn. "I know a few others in my house would jump at the chance to practice real defense against the dark arts, and absolutely wouldn't turn you in. Tracey Davis, for example, has been convinced she's going to fail her OWL with Umbridge's lack of teaching."

Hermione stepped back to talk quietly to Harry. He sounded skeptical, but Frisk thought she sounded supportive. They finally nodded in agreement. "Let me interview them," Hermione told Steven. "One at a time, somewhere private, and tell me who's coming first. Tracey I think I know, she's in our year," she nodded at Harry, "I'll interview them before putting the whole group at risk."

"Excellent," Steven said. "Thanks, Hermione."

"Anyway, you're up, you and those Hufflepuffs can head down. Start with that secret stair next to the portrait of the cross-eyed witch..."

Frisk's group was the next to leave, escorted by Angelina Johnson, and soon was safely back in their common room. At that point, the Dreemurrs tried to make a dent on that day's homework, but between everything else it was slow going. But even after going to her dorm, Frisk had one thing left to do: take her magic tolerant phone from where she hid it in her trunk, and send a text message.

"Anne Roberts..." she typed, slowly. She would have to remember to ask for a mailing address. It'd much easier to write to her, rather than using text messages.