Harry looked at the three of them. The three of them looked back. If Frisk had thought of the question herself, she would have asked it of him herself, and she was pretty sure that Asriel would have asked the same thing.

"You were attacked by them too," Harry said to himself. It wasn't a question, he'd heard Frisk and her mother testify to that effect at his trial at the beginning of the term. "It was on my list of things I wanted to cover for the army. I remember Dumbledore saying they were natural allies of..." and he lowered his voice even further, "Voldemort."

Chara went white and shuddered. "Please," she whispered, "Do not say the dark lord's name."

"It's not an easy spell. I needed special instruction from Professor Lupin in order to learn it. But I suppose that's what people really want. Okay," he decided. "Why don't we make that the subject of the next DA meetings, whenever it is. With that said, I'll bet people have difficulty with it, and get frustrated. If you want to have your lesson on that day as well, Frisk, I'll bet they'd go well together."

"Okay," Frisk said, giving a nervous smile. "I'll be ready for that."

"You sure you want to write a speech for that?" Asriel asked, the fur over his eyes bunching up. "I know how much you hate speaking in class."

"Well," Frisk said, suddenly wondering herself. "I'll work on it. It's not going to happen tomorrow, and if I don't, who will?"

"No one," Chara admitted. "Let me... okay, okay... us, I mean, know if we can help, Frisk." Chara rolled her eyes at Asriel before grinning at him. He'd given her a playful shove.

"Thanks," Frisk said, "and thanks again, Harry."

"You're quite welcome," Harry said, sounding exhausted. But he stood, walked over to the table that Ron and Hermione were sitting at, pulled out some books and parchment, and started to work on his own homework.

Frisk started work on her own project, but it wasn't long before she'd had enough, and went to bed. But before she did, and after checking to make sure nobody was watching, she went and retrieved her phone from its hiding spot in her school trunk. She sat on her bed as she opened up the messages.

The first was from Anne Robinson. Frisk had been carrying on a conversation with her for a while now. It was kind of like having an electronic pen pal. They'd talk about what they were doing in class. Frisk wasn't... truthful, of course. Frisk was getting advice about what she would be studying in mundane school from her mother. Anne's texts were never very long or detailed. Frisk tried to smile, but her heart ached with every lie.

The next message came from her mother. It was a rather long dissertation about what she'd discovered about the memory charm that had been afflicted to Anne. Frisk read through it, and while some of the things were of interest, there were really only two things that Frisk really wanted to know. If her mother had found a way to reverse the memory charm... and if she'd changed her mind about helping Anne.

"And in conclusion," Frisk read quietly to herself, aware that people might come into the room at any moment. "There is no one way of breaking through a memory charm. Extreme stimuli can do it, as you've told me, a memory potion can help with small details in small cases, or in our case, re-exposure. It supposedly is a real hazard in statute of secrecy, where if someone sees more magic, it can cause the sealed memories to come back."

"I do not know if it is a good idea to go and find her myself, at least by myself. I do not know what will happen if my presence breaks the memory charm, or worse, does not. I must consider, with Asgore, if this is a good idea, it is a direct assault on the statute of secrecy. I feel that it is for me, but I do not wish for the monster race as a whole to face judgment for my own decision."

Frisk felt disappointed, but there was nothing that she could say. Everything her mother had said made sense to her, and she couldn't think of anything to say to convince her. So her only reply was to express her understanding, and hope her mother came to a quick conclusion.

She was about to hide her phone away again, when she realized there was still an alert on the messaging application, it was a message from Tony, much to Frisk's surprise. But the bigger surprise was the text itself, reading simply, "Who are the Dreemurrs?". It was even spelled correctly.

Frisk was ready to forward it to her parents, when she heard other people coming up the stairs, and was forced to hide her phone away under her pillow. She would put it back in her trunk in the morning. Having done so, she pulled the sheets up, and quietly watched as her roommates changed and climbed into their own beds, and drifted off to sleep.

Frisk woke up late the next morning. and was forced to simply hide her phone without sending any text to her parents. Instead, she had to hurry down to breakfast.

As soon as she reached the great hall, she could see this week was going to be awful. It was Quidditch week, specifically, Slytherin vs Gryffindor week. Frisk remembered how bad it was two years ago, when there were hexes flying all over the castle. Maybe, because it was the first game of the round robin tournament, it wouldn't be so bad? There would be good sportsmanship?

It didn't take until lunch to figure how badly that hope was going to go. Frisk was most interested in just staying out of trouble. If she saw Slytherins coming, she kept her head down. It worked, perhaps because she did have friends in Slytherin, but more likely because it was well known that she was one of Professor Snape's favorites. His only favorite outside his own house.

Colin Creevey, on the other hand, did not have that kind of protection. She found him stuck to the floor on the third floor, unable to move his feet. "It could have been worse," Frisk told him. Harry had been teaching them jinxes in the DA club, so she knew it certainty could be worse. She stepped back towards the grand staircase, she looked around for any upperclassmen, prefect preferred in the hallway.

"At least I'm not throwing up slugs," Colin told her, to Frisk's consternation.

"Did someone do that?" Frisk asked, finally managing to catch a Hufflepuff prefect's attention.

"Ron did, my first year," Colin told her, "Tried to hex Malfoy and it backfired on him. I think his wand was breaking, or something.

The Hufflepuff rolled his eyes as he saw Colin. "Stickfast jinx? Who did you upset?" he asked. Then he shook his head, and performed the counter spell. "You know what? I'd rather not know. There's not really any point to it. Just tell me you don't have potions next."

"Transfiguration, actually," Colin responded.

"Lucky for you then. Better get going," The prefect told them. "Thanks for letting me know," he told Frisk.

"Yeah, thanks Frisk," Colin said. He paused, looking from Frisk to the Hufflepuff. "Is there anything you can suggest to not have this happen again?" he asked plaintively.

"Point out the portraits are watching," suggested Frisk, having had a similar experience with Cormac McLaggen in her first year. "They're always watching, and they'll point out to a professor if one of them asks."

The prefect nodded his agreement, but then was rushing back toward the grand staircase. Colin and Frisk said goodbye and went on their way to separate classes.

The Saturday of the game saw the entire Gryffindor table decked out in Red & Gold. Frisk was no exception. She still didn't particularly care for the sport of Quidditch, especially as played between Slytherin and her own house; but association with Opal had convinced her that sports weren't all bad. And, even if they weren't actually playing today, the fact her siblings were actually on the team now. Technically, anyway. It was good enough for them, so it was good enough for her.

The air was cool and the sky was cloudy. So, although they were once again bundled under a blanket, one really couldn't ask for better conditions.

"You're not going to like this, Frisk," Opal said as she climbed onto the bench next to her. "Ginny, you're not going to like this either."

"Not going to like what?" Frisk asked.

"Steven told me," Opal said. "The Slytherin team has noticed exactly how nervous your new keeper is. And... they, uh... prepared."

Exactly how they prepared was answered after the Slytherins scored the first goal. Frisk usually liked music, but she was sick of "Weasley is our King" after the second time through.

"Do the Slytherin," Opal asked, rolling her eyes, "Have a single sportsmanship bone in their team at all?

"No. I don't think they do," Ginny said. This was exacerbated even futher at the end of the game. One of the Slytherin beaters had slapped a bludger towards Harry, the Gryffindor chaser. This was several seconds after Madam Hooch had blown her whistle to stop play.

The speed at which Ginny went from jubilation to furious anger made Frisk's head spin. "It was Crabbe!" Ginny shouted in anger, pointing at the player as Madam Hooch, who seemed just as angry herself.

Then, before Frisk could fully comprehend exactly what was going on, Opal had grabbed her arm, pointing down to the pitch itself, where a full on brawl had broken out. Frisk watched as Harry laid Malfoy out onto the ground with one single punch to the stomach. Just... how angry was he? What had happened down there?

"I think... we better leave before anything else happens," Opal told them. They slipped out of the stands, heading back to the great hall, and engaged in a game of exploding snap. A minute or two later, Steven joined them, then after thirty minutes, by Asriel, Chara, and Luna. "Were you close enough to figure out what happened on the pitch?" Opal asked.

"Yes," Chara told them, and explained how Draco Malfoy had provoked nearly the entire Gryffindor team by insulting the family of the Weasleys, and how George and Harry had enough and clobbered Draco. "After that, Madam Hooch tossed a spell into the mix, and Asriel was smart enough to think it was time to get out of there before anyone thought we were part of the fight."

"Seems like good advice," acknowledged Steven. "There are days I hate my house. This is one of them. How Crabbe and Goyle got on the team in the first place is beyond me. I mean, Draco's a good enough seeker, and they are his friends, but even my fellow Slytherin think they're trolls. I'm surprised that either of them know which end of the broom is the front."

After a few hands, Frisk departed for the hospital wing, to give her weekly assistance to Madam Pomfrey. She wished she was more surprised to see Draco Malfoy coming out than she was. After assisting the healer with changing the sheets on one of the beds, thus allowing the Slytherin to get far away, she dared to ask, "Was there anything really wrong with Draco?"

"No," Madam Pomfrey said, snorting derisively. "Just had the wind knocked out of him, but you'd think he broke every bone in his body. Anyway, while you're here Frisk..."

It was another afternoon in the Transfiguration classroom. Professor McGonagall wasn't present yet, but there was still a good ten minutes before Soul Magic group. Both Mr. Filch and Mrs. Norris were there, however. They'd parked themselves in their now customary corner once more when Frisk arrived. He looked irritated to be there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, Mrs. Norris was laying down, paws folded under her body, head alert at Frisk closing the door behind her.

It was interesting to note, that of all the people with pets that Frisk knew in Hogwarts, there was literally no one closer than these two. It was generally accepted as fact that if Mrs. Norris spotted wrong-doing in the school, that she could bring Mr. Filch in three minutes flat. And while Mr. Filch may have respected the professors of the school, he loved his cat. As Frisk understood it, when the cat had been petrified the year before she came to Hogwarts, Mr. Filch was there every day to sit with her; and had also run special requests for Professor Sprout whenever she needed it so she could help make the cure. On a sudden whim, Frisk set up eight chairs in the circle, instead of seven.

After she was done, she approached the cantankerous janitor and his cat. "Mr. Filch," she began...

Mr. Filch made a harrumphing noise, but didn't actually say anything.

"Mr. Filch," she repeated, "You've watched us for a few weeks now. You would be welcome to join us, if you'd like. I've set a spot for you." She indicated the circle.

The custodian was so shocked at the invitation, that he worked his mouth for several seconds before managing to articulate a response. "I don't think so," he said. "I'm not interested in learning soul magic and joining your..."

Frisk was about to argue, something along the lines of not needing to hate every single student in Hogwarts, when Mrs. Norris looked up and meowed. It was such a surprising sound that both Frisk and Mr. Filch stopped in their tracks to stare at her. The cat flicked her tail out without moving another muscle and meowed at Mr. Filch again.

"What is it, my sweet?" He asked, reaching down to stroke her head. "You think I should?"

The cat didn't respond, but she closed her eyes, pushing her head into the palm of Mr. Filch's hand, rubbing against it. After a few cuddly seconds, she looked up at him again, then over at Frisk.

"Okay, my sweet. I will. For you."

He stood, and followed Frisk to sit in the circle, selecting a seat where he could see his cat. Mrs. Filch tucked her tail back in, turning her yellow eyes on Frisk for a moment, then began grooming herself.

The door opened, and Ginny and Opal came in, followed by Professor McGonagall. They looked shocked to see Mr. Filch would be sitting with them, but after exchanging glances, they joined the circle. The professor raised both her eyebrows at Frisk, but said nothing. She sat behind her desk with a sheaf of student essays, and began to read.

The others filed in one at a time. Luna was next, and the first to take a seat next to Mr. Filch. Neville was the other, though that was probably because he was the last to arrive. Asriel and Chara had arrived lugging in a large dummy, stuffed with straw borrowed from the recently returned Hagrid. This was noticed by both adults in the room, but neither said anything. Frisk sighed. This was something that both her siblings wanted to practice... and it really was the next thing suggested by Animus.

"I'd like to start," Frisk said, "By asking our new member to introduce himself. Maybe, sir, you can add something we don't already know, like, how long you've been working here, for example.

Mr. Filch shrank somewhat as Frisk spoke, he looked up at his cat, then properly, and politely introduced himself. "I've been the caretaker here for about twenty years, now. Headmaster Dumbledore hired me when the previous caretaker, Mr. Pringle, retired."

"How did you get the job?" Asriel asked.

"I'm told Apollyn recommended me," Mr. Filch said, shrugging. "He was a friend of the family. And I've worked here ever since."

"Thank you, Mr. Filch." From there, they went into their customary practice of one of them sharing something the others probably didn't know. Ginny had volunteered this week. She told the story of her getting possessed by Tom Riddle's diary, and how she did everything from kill Hagrid's chickens (and waking up with feathers all over her), to winding up in the Chamber of Secrets with the basilisk. A few of them, including Frisk, had heard a good deal of the story before, but not all of it. She even directly accused Mr. Malfoy, Draco's father, of planting the diary to begin with.

After that, it was on to the usual practice of the Soul Call, and they practiced longer than most of them needed to. Over the past several weeks, they'd become very good at the call, even Neville. But as much as they practiced, Mr. Filch could not seem to do it on his own. His soul was still the mostly empty container as before, though it was now close enough for Frisk to see purple markings upon it.

Frisk had three guesses about this. It might be that he was an adult, and set in his ways. That was what she was going to go with for the moment. "I'll be happy to help you practice," Frisk told him, "even outside of this group." The other two were a bit more...personal, and Frisk was not about to postulate those in front of the rest of the students. One could be overcome, the other could not be.

"So what's that for?" Neville asked, pointing at the 'dummy'.

Frisk sighed a second time. She pulled out "Powers of the Soul" and read aloud, "The next step in soul magic training, should be the training of the monster in soul bullets." This got a strong reaction from three people sitting in the circle. "Bullets?" asked Steven and Opal simultaneously.

"Like from a gun?" asked Mr. Filch. "Absolutely not."

Ginny, Luna, and Neville exchanged blank looks.

"They're... only sort of like from a gun," Frisk said.

"They're concentrated pieces of soul magic," Asriel explained. "They're part of a monster's nature. Monsters are mostly immune, since our bodies are mostly made up of magic." He looked at Frisk, "I'm going to guess humans aren't?"

"No, not really," Frisk said, having taken more than her share of bullets in the Underground. "With that said, Mr. Filch, if we want to progress to other forms of soul magic, this... this is probably something we'll need to practice."

"May I offer a suggestion?" the Professor asked, looking up from where she was grading papers.

"Please, Minerva," said Mr. Filch, looking up at her. "What would you suggest?"

"Take the matter to the headmaster, Argus. It was his agreement with Fudge that allowed the group to start, if he thinks this beyond them, we stop it here."

Mr. Filch nodded. "Yes. That's what I will do, thank you Minerva."

"Well, I guess we'll practice the soul shield some more instead," Frisk said, quietly relieved.

They broke up as it became close to dinner, with the students helping to put the classroom back in order. They said their goodbyes, but Frisk held back, as did Mr. Filch. Once they were alone, Mr. Filch closed the door.

"Frisk..." Mr. Filch said slowly. "Do you really think I will be able to use soul magic?"

Frisk took a deep breath. "I... I don't know. I know I shocked a lot of monsters when I proved I could learn it. When Luna picked it up, even faster than I did, I thought everyone could learn it. I do know it requires a certain openness. But, Mr. Filch? I want you to know, I don't give up. If you want to learn, I'm with you, for as long as it takes, for as long as you're willing to try. Is that fair?"

"Yes," he said, and he turned toward the door. As he opened it, Mrs. Norris stood up, stretched, and sauntered out ahead of him. Frisk watched him go. What he really wanted to know was if he could use it without other magical talent.

And Frisk did not know the answer.