Chapter 18 – The Defense Club

By the time the weekend rolled around, Harry was ready to leave the castle for a day in Hogsmeade. His studies had been going well, plans for their Defense club were proceeding—with the obvious exception of where they were going to hold it—and all in all, regardless of the presence of Umbridge, Harry found himself more content in the school than he had ever felt before. But as much as he was enjoying school this year—aside from Defense and potions, of course—it had not exactly been a relaxing year. The opportunity to escape from the castle for a few hours was welcome.

The Gryffindor upper years had decided to go to the village as a group, though they would likely go their separate ways once they actually got there. A funny thing had happened in that the fifth years were largely friendly with the seventh years—unsurprising as Fleur, the twins, Angelina and Alicia were seventh years—but the sixth years, with the exception of Katie Bell, were not part of their clique. For Harry this was not a great loss as the sixth year group was very small, and other than Katie Bell—who of course he had known as part of the Quidditch team since arriving at Hogwarts—the only other sixth year with whom he was at all familiar was Cormac McLaggen. And since Harry was not especially enamored with arrogance as a character trait, he was quite willing to ignore the ponce's very existence.

After breakfast, Harry returned to his room to gather his winter clothing, before making his way back down to the common room where he waited for the others to return. A few moments later he was greeted by the sight of his fiancée descending the stairs. Fleur had dressed herself in a light blue jacket which was befitting of chill in the air, and though her jeans were fit snugly, they did not appear to be painted on like some he had seen in the Muggle world. She had on a pair of soft leather boots and to complete the ensemble, her hair was pulled up in a French braid, covered by a white, woolen hat in the beret style.

Harry was mesmerized—she was absolutely stunning. He walked over to her and bowed slightly, taking her hand and tenderly bestowing a kiss upon it. "Hello Fleur—you are looking absolutely beautiful this morning."
Fleur giggled lightly at his gallantry. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek affectionately. "Thank you, Harry. You are not looking so bad yourself."

"Smooth, Loverboy," said a grinning Hermione as she descended the stairs behind Fleur. "Looks like there may be some hope for him after all," she commented to Fleur.

"Oh, I think with the right guidance Harry will work out just fine," Fleur responded as she stepped to Harry's side and took his arm in her hand.

"Perhaps I am hopeless," was Harry's pleasant reply. "But it doesn't take a genius to recognize beauty when it stares you in the face."

This time Fleur actually did blush lightly, though it was evident in her fond smile that she was more than pleased with Harry's comments.

Harry kept hold of Fleur's hand on his arm, and when the entire group had gathered, he switched to take her hand as they made their way down toward the entrance hall laughing and joking with one another along the way. There, they met Luna, before they finally made their way out of the entrance and down toward the village.

It was a fine October morning and the air was clear and crisp without being cold as it would become in later months. All in all, Harry felt it was a good day, with his closest friends at his side, and his beautiful fiancée walking next to him, hand ensconced in his, talking animatedly with his closest female friend.

The sight of Hermione and Fleur getting along so well brought a smile to his face, and considering Hermione's apathetic attitude toward Fleur the previous year, it was a marvel that they were now such close friends. They shared everything: confidences, gossip—inasmuch as Hermione gossiped—and they were fiercely protective of one another, and of him. It was very satisfying, he decided, to have two such wonderful girls so concerned about him. He liked it very much, he decided.

They had walked for several moments, the group fluidly shifting places and talking amongst themselves, though Harry kept his grip on Fleur's hand, and Hermione kept her place by Fleur's side. They had just left Hogwarts grounds when Harry found Ginny walking by his side.

"Hey, Harry," Ginny said, with just a trace of a blush. "How's it going?"

Harry smiled, indicating to her that all was well, and they walked for a few moments exchanging pleasantries of the sort which friends sometimes do.

"Have you found a place for the Defense Club yet?" she asked, suddenly changing the topic.

"Not yet," Harry admitted. "We've thought of a bunch of different possibilities, but nothing that will keep us safe from Umbridge."

"Have you tried asking someone else?" said Ginny after a moment's consideration.

"Like professors or such?" Harry asked. When she nodded Harry replied, "We'd prefer not to involve the professors; they can truthfully say that they knew nothing of the club if it is ever discovered."

"Keep at it, Harry," she said. "I'm sure you'll figure something out. You can do anything you put your mind to."

She then hurried forward to walk next to Luna, while Harry watched her with a bemused smile. Ginny appeared to be much more at ease around him lately, and though he was grateful for her newfound confidence, her tendency to shower him with praise, state her confidence in his abilities, or stare longingly at him at times prompted him to wish for a little less of her attention. She was obviously not truly over her crush of him, even though he was grateful for her attempts to act normally in his presence. She was a very nice girl, he had decided, and had the situation with Fleur been different, and his relationship with Hermione not been quite so close, he admitted, he might have been interested in Ginny.

Putting the subject of Ginny from his mind for a moment, Harry glanced back at his two companions, only to find that Fleur was eying Ginny with a look which contained a small measure of animosity. He exchanged a look with Hermione on Fleur's other side, but Hermione merely smiled at him and shrugged. It only lasted a moment before Fleur glanced in his direction, smiled, and returned to her conversation with Hermione.

Puzzled, Harry returned to his own thoughts. Though the older witch was not openly antagonistic, there were times where Harry got the distinctive impression that Fleur did not truly like Ginny. No, perhaps it was not that she did not like Ginny; it was more that Fleur had a tendency to watch Ginny, like she was watching a predator, wary of when it would finally make its move. Fleur must know of Ginny's crush—it was not precisely a secret, after all, and at times it was blatantly obvious. It was almost as though she felt it necessary to warn the younger girl away from her territory, and made no bones about the fact that Ginny was not allowed to show Harry any affection which was anything more than friendly. Her behavior was understandable, considering they were all but engaged, but strangely, it was only Ginny who was subjected to this scrutiny from Fleur. Not even Hermione…

Harry had to turn his head to hide a sudden burst of embarrassment, and what he assumed was his flaming cheeks. He had thought over and over again about what had happened during the previous week, and he could still not make it out. Fleur kissing him on the cheek was no big deal—she had done it on occasion since they had become betrothed and Harry had gotten used to her displays of affection. Hermione had also done it once or twice, he reflected, so that was not exactly out of the ordinary either. But both of them at the same time? And without Fleur getting all territorial and protective? That was what confused Harry. Whereas Ginny definitely received the cold shoulder from Fleur at times—though Harry had to allow that if Ginny was trying to flirt with him, her attempts were painfully awkward, even by Harry's standards!—Hermione, whose shows of affection were transparent and obvious, was not subjected to the same treatment.

It did not make sense. From all Harry knew of girls—and he was willing to admit he was somewhat clueless when it came to the fairer sex—he would have thought that Hermione's action would have had Fleur's wand out in an instant. Moreover, Harry was convinced that if Ginny had done the same, a drawn wand and some harsh words would have been on the mild end of Fleur's reaction. But instead of any such reaction, Fleur had merely looked amused at Hermione's behavior. Amused! It was almost as though Fleur had expected it, and was happy it had finally occurred. Why were the rules different for two different girls? Again, Harry would have thought the roles would have been reversed. He had spent every free moment the past four years with Hermione, while Ginny had merely been Ron's younger sister. If anything, Hermione would seem to be the greater threat.

Whatever was happening, Harry was determined to figure it out. It was no use asking them, he knew—they would only laugh and spout something about girls needing their secrets, if he did not somehow manage to offend them with his questions. No, he would have to simply keep a close eye on them and figure it out for himself.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being, Harry considered his fiancée, whose animated conversation with Hermione was continuing unabated. He was a lucky man, he decided, as he watched her. The morning sunlight streamed down through the Scottish morning, illuminating the pale gold of her hair, causing it to glow and sparkle. The chill in the air had pinked her cheeks and nose, heightening her already ethereal beauty, stopping the breath in his throat. Not even this morning as she had come down the stairs or her appearance at the ball had been as completely enchanting as the image she now presented.

And it was not just her appearance, he decided. She was kind and considerate to all she knew, she was intelligent and competent, and she was highly personable and approachable, once you were able to penetrate the veneer of haughtiness she erected to protect herself. There was much to like; in fact, if he had known her this well last year, he could not imagine not becoming highly infatuated with her then. As a betrothed, well he was not quite certain yet. Infatuation with a young woman he was coming to know was one thing, but in a marriage relationship, he did not think that infatuation was enough—it would wear off sooner or later. They had made significant strides in becoming friends, and for the time being that was enough for Harry—he figured the more romantic feelings would come naturally, the more time he spent with her. She was a wonderful person, and to a certain extent, he considered himself lucky that he had become her betrothed.

"Umm, Harry," a voice from slightly behind him broke him out of his reverie.

Filing his thoughts away for later, Harry turned and noticed Ron regarding him somewhat nervously.

"Hey Ron," Harry said cheerfully. "What's up?"

"Can I talk to you alone for a few seconds?"

Curious, Harry agreed and, suspecting by Ron's nervousness and demeanor that the conversation was to be private, he dropped back, creating some space between themselves and the rest of their friends. He was not so insensible, however, that he did not recognize the knowing glances exchanged by Ginny and Hermione. Clearly they had known something was up.

The redhead walked by his side for several moments, apparently trying to work up his courage to say whatever he had in mind. Harry was content to allow him the space he needed; this was Ron's show.

"Harry, I just wanted to talk to you for a moment," Ron finally began. "I think I owe you an apology for the way I've acted."

"There's no need, Ron," Harry interrupted. "I thought we were past all that."

"But we're not," Ron insisted. "Harry, I know you are generally quick to forgive people, and you're a good person for it. But sometimes apologies need to be made, not only to put the matter in the past, but also to allow the person apologizing to make amends."

"Wow, Ron," said Harry with some amusement, "that's pretty deep for you."

"Oi, there's no need to be insulting," cried Ron. The good-natured smile on his face, however, belied his protestation.

"Okay then, Ron. Say what you need to say."

"Thanks, Harry," Ron replied, before he became serious again. "I know I acted wrongly during the tournament last year, and I guess my only excuse is my jealousy. I've truly enjoyed being your friend, not to mention the adventures we've had, and I want you to know that I was never in it to get close to the Boy-Who-Lived."

"And I've never thought you were," Harry said.

"That's just because you are a good person, Harry. I know I've not always given you reason to believe that. Thanks for your faith in me.

"A few things have happened, though, and they've opened my eyes."

Harry regarded him curiously. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, I was… talking with Hermione, and she mentioned some things and got me thinking. Then, there is the fact that you are… different now."

"Different?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"Yeah. You are a lot more confident and at ease with others. I guess I have to put it all down to the fact that you have a loving a supportive family now."

Ron was quiet for several moments, thinking about what he wanted to say, and his silence allowed Harry to consider the matter himself. Was he all that changed since the Delacours had come into his life? The answer was obvious, and he knew immediately that Ron definitely had a point. He did feel more confident now that he had a family's support, and that confidence extended not only to his schoolwork and his determination to do better, but also to his interactions with others. He liked it, he decided instantly, and he liked the direction his life was now going, with the exception, of course, of the continual thorn in his side that was Voldemort.

"I know that the Delacours support you far more than your relatives ever did, and I can see the good this has done you. I finally realized that though I was somewhat jealous of what you have, you have at times been equally jealous of what I have. It kind of put things in perspective, you know?"

"I do, Ron," replied Harry.

"I don't really have anything to be jealous over, so I've decided to try to see others the way they see themselves. Like walking in their shoes, I guess.

"That's why I wanted to apologize for my behavior last year and even to a certain extent this year."

"And what about Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Well, I'm not happy that she wouldn't go out with me—I won't lie about that," Ron said after taking in a shuddering breath. "But she has the right to choose, just the same as anyone else.

"I can still hope that she will change her mind, though," Ron said with a sudden grin.
Harry laughed. "I guess you can at that. She's only sixteen, after all."

"Exactly!" Ron then got a sly look on his face, and he adopted a pose of manly nonchalance, while brushing his fingernails on his coat. "I figure I just have to give her some time to realize what she's been missing out on," he said pompously. "After all, a strapping, handsome lad like me—I'm betting she can't resist!"

Harry laughed at has friend's antics, joined a moment later by Ron. "Seriously, though, Hermione's a big girl and like I said, she has the right to choose. I'm not going to pine for her—I'd prefer to continue to be her friend."

"Good," said Harry. "I accept your apology, Ron, and I thank you for it. To be honest, I've always felt your biggest problem is your tendency to react without thinking."

"I know, and I've been working on that."

"Brilliant! Then, as far as I'm concerned, there is nothing else to say. Why don't we catch up with everyone?"

Ron responded with a grin and he quickened his pace until they had once again caught up with the group. Harry noticed a number of curious looks among those of their group who did not seem to be in the know about what had just happened, but when asked, Harry just told them, rather blandly, that it was guy talk and nothing serious.

Stepping into Hogsmeade for the first time was almost like stepping back into the eighteenth century. It was a quaint little village of steep thatched roofs, and sharply canted eaves, with colorful signs of the different shops all the way up and down High Street, which was the main avenue running through the heart of the village. It was not large, perhaps housing less than one thousand souls altogether. However, as Fleur understood it, Hogsmeade was somewhat of an alternative to the busier—and likely pricier—Diagon Alley, and as such, High Street was usually bustling during the day at any time of the year. Of course, the biggest days of the year were reserved for Hogsmeade weekends, in which the students of the nearby school would descend upon the village in droves, eager to spend their parents' hard-earned money.

Fleur was enchanted immediately. The main shopping thoroughfare in Paris was similar to Diagon Alley, with a definite French flavor, of course, and though there were others scattered throughout France, none that Fleur had seen looked like they had appeared straight off the illustration on a Christmas card. The village was homey and welcoming, and Fleur immediately determined that she could spend several hours quite contentedly perusing the shops.

Of course, wandering through the village would have to wait as, once they arrived, Hermione immediately dragged Fleur off to Tomes and Scrolls, the local bookstore. Fleur's amused glance back at Harry showed that he was not in the least surprised at his best friend's antics, and after he exchanged a few words with the rest of the group, he followed along behind them. Fleur was certainly not unwilling; though she was not the same level of bibliophile as Hermione, she was happy to expand her personal library, and was more than willing to put up with the eccentricity of the other girl.

They spent some time in the bookstore—not that an outing with Hermione could have any other result—but that was not all. Harry and Hermione, with some help from their other friends, with whom they crossed paths several times—Ron and Neville in particular spent most of their time with the trio—showed her the highlights of the village. Their visits included Gladrag's Wizardwear—where Fleur was treated to the unlikely sight of several very smelly, screaming socks in the front window—Scrivenshafts, where Hermione purchased some extra quills, and Honeydukes, where they indulged in an assortment of the establishment's sweet and tasty treats. They even strolled down to the end of the street to gaze at the Shrieking Shack, Harry and Ron relating the events of their third year, and the confrontation with Sirius Black.

The return journey toward the Three Broomsticks—which was where Harry had agreed they would all meet—led them past Zonko's, where they found Lee Jordan and the twins, perhaps somewhat unsurprisingly, given what Fleur knew of their general proclivities. The group stopped in the shop and exchanged a few laughing remarks with the twins before Fleur, who did not intend to buy anything, stepped from the shop to escape the press of eager students. Finding a bench across the street from the shop, she sat and watched as her friends laughed and talked.

She had not been sitting long, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun, when she was joined by a smiling Roger Davies.

"Hello Fleur," he greeted her as he sat down on the bench. "How are you enjoying your first visit to Hogsmeade?"

"Very interesting," said Fleur with a smile. "We don't really have anything like this in France. I feel like I've stepped through time to come here."

"It's pretty different, all right," Roger said as he sat down beside her. "But then again I suppose Hogwarts is a lot different from Beauxbatons."

"In some ways," Fleur confirmed. "But essentially it's still just a school, and an old one with many traditions much as Hogwarts."

"So the transition has been easy for you?"

"I don't know about easy," was Fleur's response. "The language and the different culture have been a bit of a problem at times, but it has been a new experience for me and for the most part an enjoyable one. I told you that things weren't always easy for me at Beauxbatons. The best part of being at Hogwarts is finding acceptance with a group of friends."

Roger paused a moment and shot a glance in the direction of the joke shop. Following his gaze, Fleur could see Harry and Hermione laughing with Ron through the shop window, looking like they had not a care in the world. A large part of that acceptance of which she had just spoken, she knew, was due to her connection with Harry and the fact that his friends had accepted her on his recommendation. However, she felt as though she was also liked for who she was, and this extended not only to Harry and his friends, but others as well—especially Angelina, Alicia and Katie, all of whom treated her as though they had known her for years. It was a wonderful feeling to be part of the group.

She returned her gaze to her companion, only to see him staring back at her with a look of intense concentration. "I'm glad you have found some acceptance here."

"Thank you," she replied.

"And how is it being on the arm of a celebrity?" Roger suddenly asked.

Surprised, Fleur paused for a moment. Roger had always avoided the topic of Harry in their past conversations, so his sudden desire to discuss the state of her relationship with him was a complete departure from his earlier behavior.

"It's not really like that," she finally said. "Harry is so unpretentious that he doesn't pay any attention to those things. He's happy just being Harry."

"So you're happy with him."

Though Fleur was not certain she wanted to discuss the exact state of her relationship with Harry—Roger was no more than a casual acquaintance, after all—it was not something she felt she needed ignore either.

"I suppose I am," she replied, deciding to be honest, yet vague. "He's a good person—any girl would be lucky, I think."

"Well, I wish you the best," Roger said with what Fleur felt was a little forced jocularity. He stood and smiled. "Hopefully you can train him—he often appears at sea with you." Roger then laughed. "Most of the time he doesn't even look like he understands that he's engaged to you. He only holds your hand, and even then he looks like he doesn't know what to do with it. In fact, he seems to be much more comfortable with that Granger girl than anyone else."

Roger smiled at her a final time and started walking up the street, Fleur looking on with some asperity. Why was he making those comments? It was not as if he actually knew Fleur—or Harry and Hermione for that matter—nor did he know of their relationship. Fleur was happy with where they were and the direction in which they were going, and trying to force a deeper bond before it developed naturally would not be healthy in her opinion.

In particular, she found his comments about Hermione to be offensive. Their relationship predated Fleur's with Harry by years, and regardless of the state of their affection for one another or the exact state of their feelings, Fleur would never have dreamed of interfering with his friendship with her. If Roger thought he was upsetting her with comments about Harry and Hermione, he was in for a rude awakening if he ever learned that Fleur was pushing toward a closer relationship. Of course Fleur wished she could have him all to herself, but she had thought of this at some length and determined it was for the best…

"Fleur," Harry's voice interrupted her thoughts. He held out his hand and helped to her feet, and she smiled at him. Harry seemed to be paying much more attention to her today. She knew that he was being influenced by her looks to a certain extent, but Fleur was convinced the deeper feelings would follow in time. She just had to be patient.

"Was that Roger?" he asked.

"It was," said Fleur. "He talks to be me every so often."

Harry smiled at her before leading her down the street toward the Three Broomsticks where they were supposed to meet the rest of the group. As they walked, Fleur chewed over Roger's words, wondering if he should mention them to Harry.

At length she decided not to—Roger had not really said anything out of order, and telling Harry would serve no purpose. Roger might not mean anything by his comments, and Fleur preferred to simply wait and be wary of the other seventh year. Whatever his comments were directed toward, it really did not matter much—she and Harry were fine with their friendship and their feelings progressing the way they were.

The pub was filled with Hogwarts students when they arrived, but they were immediately waved over to a few tables which had been moved together. The rest of their friends appeared to have been waiting for them only a short time. An order of Butterbeers later and the group of friends were happily engaged in conversation, jokes, and friendly, bantering conversation.

At one point, Ron leaned over and gestured across the pub. "Looks like Malfoy isn't having fun."

Sure enough, across the way sat Malfoy with several other Slytherins. They appeared to be much quieter than the Gryffindor group, and Fleur could see Malfoy glancing from time to time over at their table, generally accompanied by his ever-present sneer. On his other side, Pansy Parkinson was speaking, presumably trying to gain his attention, but it was evident that she was not having much success the way Malfoy ignored her.

"He's probably just mad that Snape won't let him say anything he wants in Potions any more."

"And how long do you think that will last?"

Harry shrugged. "Probably not as long as it should. But any respite is welcome."

The conversation turned from that point, and soon they were speaking in low voices about the proposed Defense Club. And while Fleur felt that the particulars of the club had been decided upon, the troublesome prospect of where to hold the meetings was still a roadblock.

Some of the group thought Harry to be overly cautious and somewhat bull-headed about his insistence on finding a location where Umbridge could not discover them, but he was adamant. Jean-Sebastian and Dumbledore had impressed upon them the necessity of keeping their heads down and not giving her any reason to attempt to exert more control on the school than she already was, and Harry was determined to do exactly that. Fleur was happy that he was showing some forethought and caution, but on another level the further delay chafed. Something told her that this club and the training they would provide would be needed, and she felt it would be needed sooner rather than later.

"Harry, have you thought of asking Sirius if he knows a good place for us to meet?" Hermione asked.

"He's seen every location on the map, I would think," Harry replied with a frown.

"I still think it's worth asking him," said Hermione. "He may have some ideas that we haven't considered before."

"I suppose I could always call him on the mirror."

"Well look at what we have here," a grating, cultured drawl interrupted their discussion. "It's Potty's band of Mudbloods, misfits, and creatures—I really must speak with Madam Rosmerta about letting the riffraff in."

Lazily, Harry put his bottle of butterbeer down on the table, and stared up at Malfoy, while leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Ferret," he said in response, "those tired insults which always spew from that hole you call a mouth never change, do they? I guess all the inbreeding doesn't allow for any original thought."

Malfoy's nostrils flared, and he glared contemptuously back at Harry. "You'd better watch yourself, Potty. Or perhaps no one has ever taught you how to behave in the presence your betters."

"If I was in the presence of my betters, maybe I would behave," snapped Harry. "Look, Ferret, I'm supposed to be relaxing on my day off, and I'd prefer not to have to take out the trash right now. Can we do this some other time?"

Growling, Malfoy reflexively reached for his wand when a voice stopped him.
"Mr. Malfoy, there will be no fighting in my establishment."

Madam Rosmerta glided into view. "If you cannot leave my other customers alone, I will have to ask you to leave."

With a sneer and a glare, Malfoy stomped from the room, followed by his cronies. Harry looked at the pub owner and raised his bottle in salute, a gesture which she returned with a smile, before she returned to the bar and a group of Hufflepuffs who had just entered.

"Some of you Englishmen just never seem to learn," Fleur observed. It was amazing to her that Malfoy had been placed in the house of the cunning—the boy had not the tiniest iota of subtlety in his entire body. "You would think that he would eventually get the idea that Harry always gets the better of him."

"Hey, don't blame Malfoy on us!" one of the twins protested.

"Malfoy's family originally came from France, you know," the other chimed in.

"Well, why do you think they are no longer in France?" Fleur replied with a saucy grin. "We couldn't stand them there, so we shipped them here."

General laughter met Fleur's statement, and the twins regarded her with some admiration.

"I think we've been had, Gred."

"Indeed, I believe you're right, Forge. She's good."

"And don't you forget it," Fleur added with a wink.

That evening after returning from Hogsmeade, Harry retrieved his mirror and went to find an unused classroom with Hermione and Fleur—the common room was not precisely private enough for the conversation Harry wanted have with his godfather, though most of the Gryffindors already knew about the proposed club. Harry almost felt himself becoming paranoid, he mused, as all this cloak and dagger stuff regarding the club was beginning to become somewhat of a habit. Better that than the alternative, he decided—he really did not want Umbridge to find out what they were doing.

Sitting down, he unwrapped the mirror carefully, once again gingerly grasping the precious item with reverence—he was holding an artifact which his father had not only owned, but had a hand in creating. It was a relatively plain hand mirror, devoid of much in the way of decoration, yet containing a marvelous ability to contact someone over great distances.

"Sirius Black," Harry intoned.

They waited for several moments until the mirror suddenly lit up and Sirius appeared.

"Hey, Pup, I'm glad you finally remembered you can contact me on these."

Harry smiled at the words of his happy-go-lucky godfather. He fancied that the man he knew was coming to resemble more closely the boy his father had once known. The treatment he was receiving was working wonders.

"Hi Padfoot. What's up?"

"I think I should be asking you that," replied Sirius with a smirk. "You're the one who called me.

"Ah, I see you have Hermione and Fleur with you. Well done! You're getting to be almost as smooth with the ladies as your old dogfather!"

The predictable rolling of eyes ensued—which, of course, fazed Sirius not in the slightest—and once greetings and the obligatory banter were exchanged, they got down to business.

"We're looking for a place to hold secret meetings, and we were wondering if you knew of anywhere in the castle where we won't be discovered."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, while Hermione and Fleur giggled. "A secret place, is it? I knew you were a fast worker, Harry, but this is amazing."

Blushing, Harry glared into the mirror, prompting his godfather to burst out laughing. "Don't get mad at me—you walked into that one!"

The girls' continued snickers told Harry that he had no support from that end, so he chose the path of least resistance—he ignored their childishness.

"If you could all be serious for a moment—don't say it!" he barked when an even larger smirk appeared on Sirius's face. "We have a problem that we'd like your help with. If you're just going to joke about it, maybe we should call Moony."

"That's fine, Pup," Sirius said with a snicker. "You've got my full attention. You say you need a secure location to hold some meeting. What do you need it for?"

When the three explained what was happening in the school, Sirius sat back for a few moments, apparently in deep thought.

"Umbridge is making a nuisance of herself, is she?" he asked mused out loud. "I can see where you would be worried about your exams. Are you sure she'll last long?"

Though Harry thought the question was somewhat odd, Hermione answered almost immediately. "Dumbledore says that we can't move against her until she gives us a good reason to do so. We just have to assume that she'll be here for the long haul."

"Maybe… I think you won't have to worry about her too much longer—she's the kind of person who cannot help but jam her foot into her mouth repeatedly. But I agree that your idea of a Defense Club is good, for more than just getting around your resident toad.

"Luckily for you I, of the padded foot, do happen to know of a place which will suit your needs," Sirius continued with aplomb. "In our seventh year, James and I discovered a room on the seventh floor which will give you anything you need. We wished we had discovered it earlier, or we would have had far fewer detentions, I can tell you!"

"What do you mean, 'it will give you whatever you need?'" asked Fleur.

"You have to walk in front of the entrance three times, thinking about what you need. The door then appears in the wall and you can go inside. To top it off, whatever you wished for, you will find in the room. So, say you needed a replica of the Gryffindor common room. Walk past the door three times, and presto!—you get a replica of the common room."

The three all shared looks with a common thought—this room that Sirius was telling them about sounded almost exactly like what they needed.

"And where on the seventh floor is this room?"

"It's across from the painting of Barnabas the Barmy. You know—the one with the bloke trying to teach trolls to dance?"

At the blank looks from the teens, Sirius laughed. "Don't worry—you can't miss it. Just go up the grand staircase and down the corridor and you will find it. The painting is… interesting, to say the least. It sticks out like a sore thumb."

"That's great—thanks Sirius," Harry said, echoed by the girls in a chorus.

"No problem, Harry," replied Sirius. "Now don't be using that room tonight for anything I wouldn't do." Sirius then stopped for a moment and contemplated, before a wicked grin once again appeared on his face. "For that matter, don't do some of the things I would do, either."

Rolling his eyes, and wondering if Sirius would ever grow up, Harry thanked Sirius—conveniently ignoring his godfather's admonition—before bidding him farewell and deactivating the mirror.
"Shall we go have a look?" he inquired of his companions, noting the almost identical looks of eagerness on their faces. Their response was for each of them to grab one of his hands and to drag him from the room.

They made their way out into the halls of the school and toward the grand staircase. At one point they saw Umbridge at a distance. The woman did nothing more than to stare at them with a haughty glare before she turned up her nose and stalked off in the opposite direction. Other than that, they made their way toward the seventh floor while meeting relatively few others.

Proceeding down the corridor, they checked the paintings as they walked. When they finally found the right one, Harry reflected that Sirius had been right—it truly was almost impossible to miss.

"Looks like this is the place," Harry said unnecessarily.

"Do you want to do the honors?" Hermione asked.

Shrugging, Harry began pacing in front of the opposite wall, thinking that he needed a place to hold a Defense Club. After his third pass, a tall and ornate door appeared. Exchanging a glance with his companions, Harry approached the door and pulled it open.

Inside was a wide, vaulted space, complete with a dueling platform on the far side of the room, a row of training dummies along the right wall, several bookcases filled neatly with all manner of books, and a podium and several rows of neat chairs along the wall to their left.

They hurried inside while taking care to note that there was no one else in the hallway when they did so. As the door closed behind them, Hermione turned to Harry and Fleur.

"I'd like to test what Sirius told us about the door disappearing."

At Harry's questing glance, she continued, "I'll go back outside and see if the door stays or disappears. Give me about a minute, as I'd like to try to get the door to show up if it does vanish. Then open the door again and let me in."

Harry nodded his acceptance, and Hermione immediately stepped from the room. He waited for a few moments, before the door once again opened and Hermione stepped back into the room.

"Sirius was right!" she exclaimed, though her enthusiasm was blunted slightly. "When I left, the door disappeared, but when I tried to make it appear, it did and I was able to enter."

"Well, what would happen if you tried to make a different room appear?" asked Fleur.

With a contemplative look, Hermione once again stepped from the room. This time Fleur and Harry waited for over a minute before the door once again opened and Hermione entered.

"I can't make another room appear," she informed them. "I tried to get the room to appear as a copy of the Three Broomsticks, but it wouldn't, so I imagined this room again and the door showed up."

"Hmm, that's a bit of a limitation, isn't it?" Harry said with a frown. "I mean, if someone knows we're in here and knows in general what we're doing, they can get in."

The three thought about the problem for a few moments, before Hermione spoke up. "Well, the room gives you whatever you want, right?"

Harry and Fleur nodded.

"Well then, what if you tell it not to allow anyone else? Or maybe you could tell it to not allow specific people, or people with specific intentions?"

Harry grinned and caught Hermione in a one-armed hug—she truly was brilliant.

"I'll do the honors this time," he said. "You guys tell the room that you don't want me to find you, give me about a minute, and then open the door for me again if I don't come in first."

After they readily agreed, Harry stepped out into the corridor again, watching as the door once again vanished behind him. He gave it a few seconds, then began pacing in front of the door, asking for the room that Hermione and Fleur currently occupied. When that did not work, he tried to get the room to appear as a place to hold the Defense Club, but the door stubbornly refused to show itself. He continued to try, right up until the time the door opened.

"It didn't work?" asked Hermione excitedly.

"No. I couldn't get the door to open no matter what I did."

The three looked at each other with wide grins. "Then whoever has the room controls it, and no one can get in unless that person allows it."

"That's perfect!" Harry said.
"I wonder if you can change the room once you're already inside," mused Fleur.

"Well, why don't we try?" asked Hermione. "Harry, you were the one who made the room appear—try getting a fireplace or something to appear as well."

At her words, a fireplace appeared in one of the walls, crackling merrily with what appeared to be a fire already roaring in its grate. The teens approached and quickly verified that it was indeed a real fire, and that the wood appeared to have just started burning. A quick request from Harry and several large pieces of wood were neatly stacked in a pile next to the fireplace. They even tried to determine where the smoke from the fire went, but were unable to get close enough—due to the heat—to figure it out. Hermione postulated that the room transfigured the smoke, or simply vanished it.

However it happened, the trio were quickly able to determine that the room was able to give them just about anything they needed, and that once someone was actually in the room, they could request something—in other words, the person who originally requested the room did not have to be the one to do so.

"I'm guessing, though, we can't get food from the room?" Harry asked.

"Assuming Gamp's law holds, that would seem to make sense," said Fleur.

Hermione nodded her agreement. "Guess there is nothing left to do but to make our final preparations." Harry smiled and directed the two girls from the room. Now that they had a location, there was planning to be done.

The journey back to the common room was uneventful, but Hermione was strangely silent, though Fleur was talkative enough for both girls. They were nearing the access to the common room when Hermione suddenly stopped and peered at Harry.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Umm… Harry…" she stammered, flushing bright red.

Harry regarded her with some amusement—Hermione was generally self-assured, and rarely did she have trouble speaking her mind, especially with him.

"Yes, Hermione?" he asked with an exaggerated "get on with it" motion. As he had intended, Hermione swatted him playfully in response to his teasing.

"I was just wondering," she began, her smile fading away from her face, "you don't think Fleur and I were… pushy about this Defense Club, do you?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at her question. "It's a little bit late to be worrying about that, isn't it?"

Hermione colored once again, and Harry, seeing she was serious, immediately sobered. "Hermione, what brought this on now?"

"It's just that you were so adamant. And then you suddenly gave in…" Hermione trailed off, her voice and demeanor uncertain.

"Hermione's right," Fleur spoke up for the first time. "We've talked about it and agreed that we did not handle the situation very well, especially when you told us repeatedly that you did not want to do it. Instead of pestering you about it, we should have sat down from the beginning and discussed it."

"We just don't want you to think we didn't care about your concerns or that we think we know better than you," Hermione added in a rush.

Deciding it was better to honest, Harry gazed frankly at Hermione and responded, "I was annoyed with you, Hermione. With you both, actually," he continued, looking at Fleur, who was watching him carefully. "I'm sure that comes as no great shock to either of you.

"But you know me," he continued, once again focusing on his best friend. "I can be just as stubborn as you are. If I really hadn't wanted to do this, I wouldn't have agreed to it, no matter what you said."

Hermione looked relieved. "Thanks, Harry. I just didn't want you to agree just to shut us up."

Chuckling, Harry wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "I know what I said, Hermione, but it was just a joke. I agreed to do it, because you were right, not because I didn't want to hear about it any more."

"Then we should take it as a lesson," Fleur spoke up, reaching out to grasp Harry's free hand. "We must make sure to talk everything out and come to an agreement, rather than allowing our disagreements to turn into arguments."

Harry smiled and squeezed her hand, doing the same with Hermione. The issue now settled, they made their way back to the common room, and their friends.

In the days leading up to the first Defense Club meeting, the trio took all of their friends to the room, showing them its amazing ability to give them anything they needed. Everyone agreed that the room was the perfect place to hold their meetings, and they went into action, making certain that everyone on the list was extended an invitation

It was Neville who figured out another rather important capability of the room which resolved another issue. The entrance to the room on the seventh floor was in the middle of a wide-open, if generally unused, hallway. With the number of potential entrants into the Defense Club, there was a real chance of someone noticing students disappearing on the seventh floor and not reappearing for some time later, especially since some of those students—specifically Harry and those close to him—were under such close scrutiny, particularly from the resident toad. The best plan they had been able to devise was to have the students head up to the room in staggered groups, so as to minimize the image of a large gathering.

Neville's idea resolved this problem rather neatly. Upon seeing the room and the amazing things it was able to provide, Neville suggested that perhaps it may also be able to provide an alternative access to the room. With some experimentation, they discovered that the room could be made to create a passageway to anywhere within the castle. Thus, they were able to make a passage appear in an unused—and more importantly, much less conspicuous—classroom, where the club members would first gather, then use the passageway to arrive in the room in time for the meeting. In fact, with Hermione's suggestion that it would be much better to spread the groups out and have them arrive from close to their own common rooms, they commanded the room to provide three separate entrances from rooms near to the three common rooms of the students involved—Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff—allowing each group to arrive without having to walk through the whole school to do so.

The first club meeting was scheduled for Wednesday night, and each member of the trio was full of anticipation—their planning had spanned some time, and they were glad to finally get under way. Harry was, it was true, feeling a little anxiety due to his continued concern about how he would fare when tasked to lead the club. However, all of the friends were excited as they saw the club as an opportunity to not only put the knowledge that Moody had taught them to the test, but they also considered it a chance to strike a blow against Voldemort and his minions. They would not be in any sort of a combat situation against them, but the club's very existence and purpose was almost akin to spitting in his eye.

All their machinations finally came to fruition that Wednesday evening, and at promptly seven in the evening Harry stood in the front of the group, considering those who had shown up for the meeting. In addition to the Gryffindor fifth and seventh years—and Katie, who it was sometimes difficult to remember was not a seventh year, considering how much time she spent with Angelina and Alicia—Ginny was of course there, as well as the Creevey brothers, and a few others. From Ravenclaw, Luna of course attended, as well as Cho Chang, Marietta Edgecombe, Padma Patil, Anthony Goldstein, Roger Davies, and a few others. Hufflepuff's members included Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, Justin Finch-Fletchley, with their entire seventh year's students attending as well. All in all, it was a good turnout.

Eschewing the lectern, which was far more formal than he wanted the club to be, Harry stood in front of the group and began to speak.

"All right everyone, let's get started."

The chattering between the gathered members quieted and Harry soon found himself as the focus of the room. Glancing to Hermione, who stood at his side, he took courage from her smile and turned to address the group.

"Thank you all for coming. We all know what Defense is like this year, and those of us who have OWLs or NEWTs are concerned that we will not learn enough to take our tests properly at the end of the year. That is why we are meeting today."

"What about Umbridge?" Roger Davies asked. "With her continual talk about how the Ministry doesn't want us casting dangerous spells, we're taking a risk being here at all—won't she shut us down when she hears of your club?"

Smirking, Harry answered, "That's why we intend to keep the existence of this group from her."

"How?" asked Justin.

"Take a look around you," said Harry, gesturing to the room. "All of you were led here through a passageway from locations near your common rooms, but can any of you say where we are?"

A low murmur ran through the assembled, as many took a quick look around the room. It was obvious that the question of just where they were had been on the minds of many.

"This is a wondrous room which will give us anything we want or need, and Umbridge will not be able to find us here. She won't even be able to follow you through the passages."

Several quizzical looks appeared at Harry's declaration, but it was Padma Patil who voiced the obvious question. "What do you mean, Harry?"

"After you enter your passage and close the door behind you, the door simply will not open for anyone trying to follow you. In fact, if you all look at the wall you came in through, can you even see the door you came through?"

The surprise of the group was evident, as none of them had noticed that doors were indeed missing. Harry smiled at the group and decided that a further demonstration was required.

"Basically, this room will give you almost anything you want. For example, I need a long table in the middle of the room."

The murmuring reached much louder levels when the requested table suddenly appeared exactly where Harry had intended. What ensued was a basic information session on the room's capabilities, and why they felt that they were safe from Umbridge's interference, as long as they were careful. To say that the assembled students were impressed was an understatement.

However, Harry refused to tell anyone where the entrance to the room was for security reasons. For now, if the club could only enter through the passages they requested from the room, no one in the room could divulge—intentionally or accidentally—the location of the room.

Once the practical demonstration and explanation was complete, Harry began to speak of the club again. "Now, we've spoken of the room and the fact that Defense is well below required standards this year. However, the other—potentially more important—reason for this club is to teach us all how to protect ourselves against the Death Eaters."

The room was silent for a moment at Harry's pronouncement, and though Harry knew that no one in attendance was openly aligned with Voldemort, it did not take a genius to recognize that there was some skepticism over what had happened at the end of the previous year. However, the skeptics appeared as though they did not want to be the first one to comment about the alleged return of the dark wizard.

"Perhaps we should talk about what happened last year," said Harry, knowing it was best to get this subject out of the way first.

"I'm not sure you need to talk about that, Harry," said Hermione.

Harry shook his head. "It's a legitimate concern, Hermione. There's been so much said in the Prophet and by the Minister and others, and I understand that there is a lot of confusion over what happened the night of the third task."

At the general murmur of agreement, Harry whipped out his wand and said, "I, Harry Potter, hereby swear on my magic that everything I have said about the night of the third task and the return of Voldemort is true."

The flash of light sealing the oath mingled with the quick Lumos he immediately cast, proving the veracity of his statement. Harry gazed out over the group, trying to catch each set of eyes with his own.

"I have told the truth. Cedric was killed by a Death Eater, after which Voldemort was returned to a body through the use of a dark ritual."

An almost collective flinch at the name of the dark wizard caused Harry to scowl. "Oh for heaven's sake—don't be afraid of his name!" he barked. "It's a made up name because the git didn't like the fact that his father was a Muggle. If you can't stomach the name Voldemort," again there were a few gasps and winces at the name, "then at least call him Tom, as that is his real name."

The silence in the room was almost comical, and mostly induced by the knowledge that Harry actually claimed to know Voldemort's true identity, not to mention his open disdain for the man.

"You know who he was?" a shocked Roger Davies finally managed.

Holding his wand in front of him, Harry wrote out the name "Tom Marvolo Riddle" in the air, much the same as the apparition of the dark lord had done more than two years previous. He then flicked his wand and the words reformed themselves to spell "I am Lord Voldemort."

"The wanker that everyone is afraid of is actually a Half-blood," said Harry, watching the reactions of the audience. Needless to say, most were completely riveted by the story of the most feared wizard of the century. "He was born of a Pureblood witch and a Muggle who was ensnared by a love potion. His father left when his mother stopped giving him love potions, and his mother died soon after giving birth to him, leaving him in an orphanage. He was bullied in that orphanage and responded by becoming the bully. That is who the entire wizarding world has been afraid of all these years."

"How do you know?" Cho Chang asked.

Shrugging, Harry replied, "Dumbledore told me. He was the Transfiguration Professor when Riddle attended school. He thought I should know who I was dealing with, since Riddle seems to be focusing on me."

Harry watched as the assembled club members digested the information he had just imparted, smiling grimly. It was about time that the legend of Lord Voldemort be destroyed and replaced with nothing more than the simple truth, and these students would be the vanguard in spreading that truth. Harry just hoped that he was present when Malfoy first heard of it—he did not doubt that the arrogant git would cry and scream over the "lies" being told about his master. It would be rather amusing to watch.

"So, are you trying to say that this… Riddle guy is a charlatan?" demanded Anthony Goldstein. "Seems to me you are dismissing him rather lightly."

"I am not saying that at all," denied Harry. "Voldemort was and is a powerful wizard—there is no denying that. I just want you to remember that he's a man, and nothing more. Being afraid to say his made-up name is just silly."

"I agree with Harry," Neville spoke up in what Harry thought was a more confident voice than he had ever heard from the young man before. He watched Neville carefully and noted that he was almost visibly working up his courage. "Not being able to say Voldemort," he spoke the word very credibly with only a hint of a tremor, "only adds to his mystique. We need to take that weapon away from him and make him more human, rather than the demon that most consider him to be."

A soft rumble of agreement passed through the group, and this time Harry knew that he had scored a significant point.

"Now, about the club," Harry continued when the talking began to die down. "We've told you that we're planning this to help us in our upcoming tests, as it's obvious that Umbridge's class is less than useless. The Ministry is purposely holding us back, because Fudge won't admit that Voldemort is back. If we don't do something about it, we run the risk of doing poorly on our Defense OWLs and NEWTs."

A glare from one of the Ravenclaws caught his attention, and Harry gestured for her to speak.

"You think the Ministry is intentionally keeping us from learning?" she demanded. "What rubbish are you speaking?"

A quick glance around the room showed a wide range of expressions, ranging from disbelief to skepticism to absolute disgust. But though Harry's thoughts mirrored the disgust he saw on the faces of most of the Gryffindors, he forced his feelings down and regarded the girl placidly. He was saved, however, from responding by the voice of his newly betrothed.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe I know you…?"

"Marietta Edgecombe," the girl said.

"Marietta," replied Fleur, her voice hard, "you cannot possibly think Minister Fudge has our best interests at heart. He has slandered Harry and Headmaster Dumbledore any way he can, and has not even taken the trouble to investigate Harry's claims. Does that sound like a benevolent protector to you?"

Marietta flushed, but the majority of the room was nodding along with Fleur's statements, so she simply shook her head.

"The fact of the matter is that Umbridge is not going to teach us anything, and I suspect that is by design and on orders from the Minister. Whether anyone else at the Ministry is in on this we don't know. What we do know is that we have to fend for ourselves if we are to learn anything this term."

That seemed to mollify Marietta. She acknowledged her agreement—albeit in somewhat of a grudging manner—and the meeting continued with Harry once again taking up the narrative.

"Okay then, we all know what's happening and what we want to accomplish. Let's talk specifics of what we are planning."

Harry then proceeded to relate what the group had done over the summer and the instruction they had received from Moody. He went on to say that they had several books which truly taught sixth year Defense, and that they would be pulling spells from those books, trying to pay specific attention to the spells they knew would be on their OWL and NEWT exams.

"Right," he said at last, once the explanations were complete. "Now, we all know we need to keep this from Umbridge. Hermione will explain how the membership in the club works."

Hermione reached to a table by her side and showed the group a piece of parchment. "Everyone who wants to be a member of the club will be required to sign this parchment. By signing, you will agree that you will not betray our secrets to Umbridge, or to anyone who is not a member of the club."

"And what if someone breaks that promise?" asked Michael Corner.

"Let's just say the results would be… unpleasant, not to mention quite long lasting."

Wide eyes and shifting feet met Hermione's declaration, and Harry could see that there were several students who seemed to be a little nervous about signing the parchment.

"Look everyone, there is really nothing to it. We want to learn, but we need to keep it from Umbridge so that she won't have any ammunition to use against us. If anyone has any problem with me or what I've said of Voldemort's return, you are more than welcome to leave."

Though there were still several apprehensive and concerned faces, no one took him up on his offer. He glanced back at Fleur and Hermione and nodded.

"All right then, let's do this."

Updated 06/10/2013