The Great Hall was bursting for the first breakfast of the year. Tables were stacked with mountains of crepes and waffles and pancakes, drenched in flowing rivers of syrup, there were enough eggs and sausages to feed an army, and the bitter scent of coffee wafted about, waking even the sleepiest of students.
Today was the day they received their schedules for the term.
"Double Defence, tomorrow!" Ron complained from his right, after McGonagall had passed him his schedule. "How are we always stuck with double periods with Snape."
Professor McGonagall approached Harry, picking through the stack in her arms and handing him his copy. "Mr. Potter, Professor Slughorn had expressed great disappointment you wouldn't be joining him in his NEWT Potion's class," she said, eyeing him closely.
"I thought I needed and Outstanding on my OWL? I'd gladly take Potions if I could," Harry said.
"Excellent, NEWT Potions will be held tomorrow morning. Your schedule is clear then, I already checked on your behalf," she said, tapping her wand against his schedule. Thin, squiggly lines appeared on the parchment, marking the slot for him. "I had told Professor Slughorn, it was simply an administrative error."
Across from him, Hermione was glowing with approval. "Good for you, Harry. I'm glad someone is taking their schooling seriously," she said loudly.
"No chance, Hermione," Ron replied.
"I wouldn't worry Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley has been signed up as well. I'm afraid he wouldn't quite know what to do with himself, without the both of you."
There was a curl to McGonagall's lip as she moved down the table.
Ron looked at the schedule in his hands and cursed at the sight of the new class that had appeared. He pushed away his plate and slumped in his seat. "I've lost my appetite," he said.
"Hey! Harry—you too Ron! Do you want to take a whirl around the Quidditch pitch? I heard Hooch telling Katie the pitch is open for whoever wants to play today," Seamus called from further down the table.
"Sure!" Harry answered with excitement.
Back at the Burrow, they played a sort of hybrid Quidditch, but were always forced to be careful, flying low and out of the sight of Muggles. It had been some time since he'd felt the full freedom of the air.
Picking up his Firebolt from the dorm, Harry quickly changed and made his way to the front courtyard. Not stepping a dozen feet from the school, and unable to help himself, he hopped on his broom and shot off like a rocket into the sky.
The wind cut like a knife against his face, but Harry didn't care. He let out whoop of joy as he looped around the castle and steered off in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. He was lost in the moment; his hair whipping every which way and the broom bucking beneath his hands, threatening to throw him off with each turn.
Nothing in the world compared to flying.
Climbing higher and higher into the sky, nearly to the clouds, Harry stopped and angled his broom to the ground far below. He fell into a dive that pulled his stomach up into his throat. His eyes were watering, blurring the sight of grass and trees, which were fast approaching. Moments before crashing, he pulled up on the handle with all his strength and levelled off.
"Are you sure you haven't been practicing all summer?" a cheerful voice pulled up beside him.
"Just shaking off the rust," Harry said and spun around to face Megan.
"Calling that rust." Megan shook her head in disbelief. "I liked you better when you didn't know what you were doing and caught snitches with your mouth."
Harry shrugged. "I thought I'd give them a fair shot of winning by not using my hands."
"Hey, Megan! The boys have been running their mouths again and need to be put in their place, do you want to take my place?" Ginny Weasley glided towards the pair of them. "I've already flown rings around them."
"It would be my pleasure," Megan grinned, a competitive haze filling her eyes. "You don't mind if I rough up Dean a bit, do you?"
"Not at all," Ginny said with a devious smile.
Before Megan flew off, she turned to Harry and asked, "Are we still good for the end of the month?"
Harry nodded.
"What's happening at the end of the month?" Ginny asked, pulling strands of loose hair from her face.
"Megan wants to go to Hogsmeade," Harry said. Noticing Ginny looking at him strangely, he added, "—to meet her sister or something."
"Oh," Ginny said, looking out over the green expanse that was the Forbidden Forest.
"There's going to be a D.A. meeting," she said suddenly, catching his attention. "We know you aren't planning on running it this year, but I—we were hoping you'd still stop by."
Harry considered it as they landed and walked the path to the broom shed. He needed to look over the books Dumbledore had passed on, but other than that he had nothing else to do with classes not having started.
"Okay," he finally said, much to Ginny's delight, "I'll come."
It had only been late into the afternoon where Harry found an opportunity to slip away on his own. Hermione and Ron were busy with a prefects meeting, and the remainder of his friends had gone outside to enjoy the remainder of the day by the lake.
Harry sat alone in the library, tucked between towering bookcases and far away from any prying eyes. Sunlight filtered through a window overhead, lighting the cloud of dust that floated around his head.
Dumbledore's books lay in front of him.
He'd chosen to read the journal first. Dumbledore had not misspoken when he said it would be difficult to understand.
Harry was forced to read it in small spurts—its complicated diagrams and theoretical terminology were enough to make his head spin. Some sections he understood, others would require stacks of reference texts to decipher; but one part he kept returning to, was an introduction tucked away between the front page and the cover.
In the basic study of magic, and in classes taught for the base wand arts: Transfiguration, Charms, and Defensive Dueling, schoolchildren are given a quick, concise summarization of magic. We are frequently told that magic is the product of three main steps: Incantation, Wand Motion, and Intent. Though comprehensive and useful as a general teaching point, these steps we are given to use are a crutch and inherently flawed. This is seen in everyday life where wizards with increasingly familiarity of a spell might reduce the wand movement to nothing but a simple flick of the wrist. Others might have an increasingly stable mind and are able to perform a spell without speaking at all. Sometimes a particularly stubborn child will force a spell through intent alone, despite mispronouncing the incantation and waving their wand in nonsensical patterns. The truth of the matter is that all three aspects described are all interchangeable and are all equally useless.
Magic is a free flowing. It is found everywhere in the world. It is sentient, and depending on the conditions, it is known to develop its own personality. Ignorant witches and wizards, or those who highly overestimate themselves, believe that magic is a tool. To them magic is a means to an end, and something they control. Magic is not beneath us; magic is above us. We are the tools of magic. We shape the magic within us and around us, just as magic shapes our lives in turn. Only with this understanding, can feats beyond imagination be performed by a worthy wizard.
A name was scribbled in the bottom corner of the page, but the ink had smudged beyond legibility and was long faded.
Putting down the old tome, Harry picked up Secrets of the Darkest Arts and started to flip through the text, immediately regretting his decision.
The descriptions of some of the curses were horribly graphic, and the intent needed by the caster to inflict such pain was unspeakable. Pages were dedicated to the creation of Inferi, and the steps required to prepare corpses for necromantic possession.
He stopped after reading about something called a Horcrux. He couldn't begin to fathom what the nature of an object could be, if this book refused to even mention its purpose. The dull thumping that came from his scar at the mention of the word didn't make him feel any better either.
Harry checked the time and was shocked to see he'd read right through dinner.
He jumped to his feet, remembering his promise to Ginny from earlier in the day. Walking past an endless array shelves and empty study tables, Harry made it to the front of the library, where he saw the familiar figure of Daphne Greengrass speaking to Madam Pince.
She must have noticed his approach, because Daphne broke away from the librarian and joined him. "Not like you to get early studying done, Potter," she said, matching her step to his as they exited the library.
"And what was it you were doing then, Daphne?" Harry countered.
"I was returning a Healer textbook for Tracey," she answered. "She's working with Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing this year and needed to borrow one to study over the summer."
Harry considered her for a moment.
"I was trying to get away from Ron and Hermione," he said eventually, not quite lying.
"While they're in a prefect meeting?" Daphne arched an eyebrow at him. "It must have been terribly hard to do so."
"They weren't in a meeting all afternoon," Harry pointed out.
"Lover's quarrel?" she asked.
"Something like that," he said simply, which seemed to be enough for Daphne.
"Anyway, I'm happy I ran into you up here," she continued. There was a dangerous glint to her eye. "I wanted to ask why you lied to me on the train yesterday?"
"I lied?" Harry turned to her in confusion. They were standing on the 4th floor landing, waiting for one of the moving staircases.
"Did you, or did you not tell me you're leaving your defense club this year?"
"I did…" Harry said slowly not quite understanding what she was getting at.
"Then why is it that a cluster of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws slipped off to the 7th floor after dinner?" She demanded, following him on to the staircase when it arrived. "They were definitely excited for something."
"I won't deny they're having a meeting today, but I didn't lie when I said wasn't running it this year. You know, you can check it out yourself if you want."
Daphne scoffed and looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "You think they wouldn't have a problem with me being there."
"You know what," Harry said after a moment, considering it, "never mind, I think you're right—best for you to keep away."
Daphne laughed as they kept walking, their conversation shifting to the first day of classes tomorrow
It was only a short time later where they broke off near the entrance to Gryffindor Tower; Daphne needing to return to the dungeons and Harry wanting to drop off his books before heading to the Room of Requirement.
By the time he'd made it to the 7th floor and the blank stretch of wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his trolls, the soft, orange glow of torches had settled over the Hogwarts corridors.
Harry paced back and forth three times, thinking of the D.A.
Slowly, as if drawn by hand, the outline of door traced itself along the wall. He pulled on a handle, which grew from the stone and walked in.
"—there's no point being here, if he's not!"
The air was tense. Harry could hear the echoes of an argument bouncing across the walls of the cavernous room, as a large collection of students surrounded a familiar pair of Gryffindors.
Ron and Hermione stood against the crowd, his best mate's face a dangerous puce, while glowering at a dark-haired Hufflepuff.
"What's going on here?" Harry asked.
The attention of the room turned to him. Most eyes watching on nervously, flipping between him and where the altercation had taken place.
"Smith is holding up the meeting," Ron said stiffly and jabbed his thumb in the direction of his antagonist.
The boy glared back at Ron, before facing Harry and straightening his shoulders.
"I joined to learn magic from you," he said with a stop, as though expecting a heated response.
Harry remained silent, watching him closely.
The Hufflepuff seemed to lose some of his steam, looking around the crowd unsure. "That is—I don't see the point continuing if you're not teaching."
"It's true, you joined to learn magic," said Harry, seeing Smith perk up at his words, "but not from me."
Ron's face lit up victoriously.
"Of course, I did!" Smith threw up his hands and shouted in protest. "Do you think I would have joined had Weasley be teaching?"
"Most of you joined to practice for your OWLs, it just so happened I was elected to teach. You can still do that—learn from each other."
Harry saw Zacharias clench his jaw.
"So that's how it is? You talk about defence and teaching us to protect ourselves, but as soon as…as he's back, you abandon us."
"Zach—stop, please…" Susan Bones hissed from the side, her face anxious.
That hit a nerve. Harry felt a rush of heat come over him. There was nothing Harry wanted more in that moment than to take out his wand and curse Smith and his stupid mouth until he couldn't open it anymore.
"Do you think this is some sort of game?" Harry asked, perilously quiet. His heart beat furiously against his chest. "Do you think I choose to do this because I think it's good fun?"
Zacharias froze, wide-eyed, before slowly backing away from Harry.
"Do you want to know what happened last year?" Harry continued. Nobody said a word. "Last year, I went to the Ministry, because Voldemort was going to kill the last bit of family I had left." He ignored the way the crowd jumped. "I went to save him, despite knowing what I was coming up against, and he died anyways. I don't abandon people."
Amidst the ringing silence that followed, Ron stepped up to his side and called out, "Does anyone else want to question Harry? If so—bugger off and don't come back."
When nobody came forward, Harry let out a tense breath and said, "Good, now why don't we do what we came here for."
Soon enough the tension faded, and new and familiar faces were paired up and began trading spells, with sparks of red and purple and blue shooting from wherever they crashed. Wands went flying, bodies came falling, and laughs sounded from every corner of the room.
Harry spotted Zacharias working quietly with Justin Finch-Fletchley off to the side, a determined scowl painted on his face. He hoped the animosity between them would finally come to an end.
Ron and Hermione were duelling with a Ravenclaw girl Harry recognized as Lisa Turpin, and beside them, Ginny and Luna had Seamus and Dean cornered, as Neville stood his ground defending bravely. Hannah Abbot watched him covertly from the side, color flooding her cheeks.
Completing a lap around the room, Harry came across Ritchie Coote and Jimmie Peakes, who'd played for the Gryffindor Quidditch team last year, bound and struggling within a thick rope.
Something tickled at the back of Harry's neck, and he ducked just as something whizzed overhead. Turning around sharply, Harry could see a Ravenclaw girl with bright blue eyes spinning her wand in his direction. Two red stunning spells flew at him in quick succession, which Harry managed to dodge with ease.
Harry laughed at her boldness and drew his own wand, keeping it lightly by his side and inviting her to try again.
Accepting his challenge with a determined scowl, she cast a binding curse and followed it with a banishing hex. Harry deflected her first spell and silently raised a shield with a flick of his wrist to block the second.
Without breaking stride, Harry unravelled Ritchie and Jimmie from the rope behind him, and sent it flying forward with a swipe of his wand.
Distracted by her own spell flying towards her, the girl didn't notice Harry's disarming charm that followed.
"That was pretty good," Harry said, spinning her wand between his fingers. "Better than a lot of the others here, and they were practicing most of last year."
The girl snatched back her wand, and right as Harry was about to walk away, she burst out and said, "I'm Astoria Greengrass by the way."
With his attention piqued, Harry doubled back to the younger Greengrass sibling.
"I told Daphne earlier if she really wants to know what goes on here, she can come herself," said Harry.
The girl flushed. "I-I'm not just here because Daphne, you know," she said brazenly, and tilted her chin up to look at him defiantly. Her eyes were very similar to Daphne's, Harry noticed—dark blue like sapphires. "I'm here to fight," she finished.
Harry studied the girl. She was young and couldn't have been more than a 4th year.
"You don't want to fight," Harry finally said.
"I do! Just like you did against Umbridge last year," she said stubbornly. There was a second where she paused, her eyes shifting hesitantly, before she said something very quickly, "Daphne told me she tortured you."
Harry looked down sharply.
"I'm sorry—uh, I shouldn't' have said that…"
How did she know that? Harry wondered. Very few people did.
"Your sister is right," he admitted, seeing no point in lying about it. "She made me use a blood quill."
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed many of the duels around the room had finished and students were grabbing their things.
"I think you should pack up," Harry said, uncomfortable from the compassionate look Astoria was giving him. "I don't want Filch to catch you out after hours."
The girl ran off, leaving Harry standing alone in the middle of the Room of Requirement, his friends waiting for him by the door.
Harry watched the rest of the D.A. leave the room, chatting brightly about the meeting and their excitement for the next one.
His heart sunk. They had no idea what was waiting for them beyond the safe walls of Hogwarts.