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In the dimly lit confines of Professor Snape's study, Harry Potter stood hesitantly, his heart racing within his chest like a caged bird. Anticipation hung heavily in the air, each breath mingling with the impending weight of Occlumency. Shadows danced along the damp stone walls, conjuring eerie shapes that whispered secrets known only to the darkness. Harry was half-convinced that Snape had erected some kind of ward to breed unease and dread in outsiders. He shuddered at the thought of the cursed item that could cause such a reaction, but decided Snape was creepy enough of not need any sort of extra help.
Professor Snape stood at the centre of the room like an authoritative spectre. His long, black robes swirled, exuding a sinister mystique. "Potter," he sneered, his voice a venomous serpent slipping through the stillness. "Today marks the beginning of your Occlumency lessons. The Dark Lord reveled in infiltrating minds, mastering the art with ease. With a mere glance, he could strip away layers of your subconscious and ensnare you in endless illusions until your thoughts drove you to madness. In these lessons, I will delve into your mind, and you will attempt to resist me. I have no desire to plunge into the toxic quagmire of a hormone-fueled teenager's mind, and I trust you share that sentiment. So, expend some effort, if you please." Kindness wasn't woven into the command, nor was it a request, as Snape couldn't possibly believe Harry could stand against his intrusion.
Harry swallowed the nervous lump lodged in his throat. A plan simmered in his mind. He surreptitiously glanced around, trying to pinpoint Daphne's location. He felt his wand tingle within its holster on his forearm, ready to summon.
"Yes, Professor," Harry replied, his voice a blend of apprehension and hidden determination. He met Snape's steely gaze with a flicker of vulnerability.
Snape gestured toward a rickety chair at the room's heart, mirroring the discomfort Harry was about to experience. As he settled into the seat, the wood groaned under his weight. Snape circled like a predator, eyes drilling into Harry's soul.
"Legilimens!" Snape hissed, wand thrusting forward, unleashing malevolence that surged like a tempest toward Harry's mind.
As Snape probed, Harry strategically inserted glimpses of mundane memories, guiding him through seemingly trivial moments that shaped his life. Images of brewing potions under Snape's scrutiny, hours of careful measurements and meticulous notes, painted a backdrop of monotony and frustration. Snape's scathing remarks echoed, emphasising the daily challenges Harry faced to meet his standards.
Suddenly, an intense energy hit them, throwing Harry backwards as Snape snapped out of his trance. Staring bewildered at the ceiling, dizziness overtook him. His head throbbed from impacting the unyielding stone floor.
"Wha—?" Confusion clouded his panic as he struggled to grasp what had happened. Snape lay unconscious on the floor.
"Harry!"
Daphne, who had silently followed Harry under the invisibility cloak, breathed a sigh of relief as Snape realised only Harry had entered the office. She had feared Snape's keen awareness would catch her - all Slytherin's knew that Snape's wards would alert him to anyone approaching his office, unlike other houses who believed he had uncanny awareness.
She thought back to the plan they had come up with, and marvelled once more at the cloak she had seen many times before, but had just learned of its significance.
"Daphne, you remember the tale of the three brothers, right?" Harry's voice broke through her thoughts, remembering back to their conversation half an hour earlier. She nodded hesitantly, unsure why he suddenly invoked a story from children's books.
"This cloak belonged to Ignotus, the last brother. The story claims it could even hide one from Death. It's called an invisibility cloak not just because it's unseen by human eyes, but truly invisible." His explanation rekindled her confidence in the idea of sneaking into Snape's office.
With her wand tight in her grip, Daphne waited for the opportune moment to strike Snape. She mentally reassured herself their plan was foolproof. His cloak was her ace, granting her invisibility beyond mere sight.
She stood back as the professor raised his wand at Harry, and began his attack on his mind, and began to walk slowly closer. Finally she shot Snape with the Stunning Spell, then rushed to Harry's side as he collapsed. Relief washed over her when he regained consciousness. With concern etched on her features, she helped him onto a chair.
"Harry! Are you okay?" Her voice carried genuine worry.
Harry massaged his temple, his head still spinning. "Damn! I never expected the backlash from interrupting the legilimency process would give me such a headache."
"Harry!" She couldn't help but scold him, "I should have been more careful. You're hurt."
He grinned, "Remember, you'll have to stun me again later."
"Damn it! I know!" She looked over him and the concern lifted off of her shoulders. "You're fine, just a bump on the head. Madam Pomfrey can fix it," she reassured him while casting a diagnostic spell.
He chuckled, "You still have to stun me again, though."
"Don't remind me..." Their conversation was interrupted by Snape's groaning as he regained partial consciousness. Both of them immediately rushed to him, and Daphne couldn't help but smirk at their success.
Drawing a vial from her pocket, she explained, "Now we give him the potion. Can you open his mouth, Harry?" She watched as Harry complied, her confidence unwavering.
"Ah, so we are going to drug him while he is unconscious?" Harry's glee was palpable.
"Absolutely. If we did it while he's conscious, he'd likely kill us," she quipped, a playful glint in her eyes.
Harry's sheepish grin appeared, "Well, let's do it."
As the potion flowed into Snape's mouth, she couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.
"Professor Snape? Can you hear me?" she called out, her voice tinged with faux concern.
Seeing him nod weakly, she couldn't hide her triumphant grin. Their potion had worked flawlessly.
"Alright, Professor, listen closely... you won't remember anything that happened after Harry entered your office besides being thrown out of his mind by him," she commanded, satisfaction evident in her voice. She observed the response they needed, then stunned Snape once more, leaving him unconscious.
Harry gave her an appreciative smile, and Daphne sensed a weight lifting from their shoulders. Their audacious plan was proceeding as intended.
"What's the sign that the potion is working?" Harry's curiosity was evident.
"He'll be partially conscious and will follow our commands. It's like a combination of the Confundus Charm and the Imperius Curse. It's more of a hypnosis than anything. It's supposed to be used to help loosen people's tongues in interrogations, since Veritaserum is not court-admissible. This brew is supposed to make someone more open to suggestions, and therefore more likely to give us information. But if you use more ashwinders egg yolk, the protein thickens the mixture and increases the potency so it can be used to boss people around. "she explained. Daphne's eyes softened as she watched Harry grin.
"Damn, that is scary, Daph. And you remembered that whole recipe?"
"It can only be brewed by people with blonde hair and dragon heartstring wands. I'm one of four people in Internal Affairs that can brew it, as a matter of fact," She beamed with pride at herself. "They paid me extra to brew it on my days off, actually."
"Are we going to have to dose him more than once? Does this stuff wear off?"
Daphne smiled with a small chuckle. "Nope. He won't remember a thing from the next hour."
With a chuckle, Harry leaned against the wall, "Well, I think our plans are finally coming together."
"So... What do you want to do now?"
Harry chuckled at Daphne's question. "Well, considering we're in Snape's office, I suppose we could take advantage of the opportunity and explore his book collection a bit. Who knows, maybe we'll stumble upon something interesting?"
Daphne's eyes sparkled mischievously. "I'm all for that. Let's see what secrets these shelves hold." They began perusing the assortment of books, each spine whispering secrets of spells, potions, and magical knowledge.
As they browsed, Daphne plucked a particularly worn-looking book from the shelf. "'The Art of Subtle Charms and Enchantments,'" she read aloud. "Sounds intriguing."
Harry leaned in to take a look. "Oh, I remember that one. Snape used to reference it during our Potions classes during 4th year. He always did have a thing for subtlety."
Daphne opened the book and flipped through its pages. "It seems like the kind of book that might hold some hidden gems. Let's take a closer look." They settled into a couple of chairs nearby, their heads bent over the pages as they dove into the world of charms and enchantments.
As they read, Harry found himself getting drawn into the complexities of magical theory. He could see why Snape had favoured this book – it delved into the nuances of magic, exploring how even the smallest adjustments could lead to vastly different results. Daphne seemed equally engrossed, her eyes scanning the text with rapt attention.
"Hey, Harry, listen to this," Daphne said, her finger tracing a passage. "It says here that certain charms can be layered to create unique effects. It's all about understanding the underlying principles and finding the connections."
Harry nodded, intrigued. "That makes sense. Magic isn't just about memorising spells; it's about understanding the underlying concepts and how they interact. It's like a puzzle."
"Exactly," Daphne agreed. "And it's also about creativity. Finding new ways to combine spells and create something entirely different. I think that's what Snape always tried to instil in his students – the importance of innovation."
Harry thought back to his time in Snape's class. While the professor's methods had been harsh, there was no denying the depth of knowledge he possessed. "You know, Daph, as much as Snape was a pain to deal with, he was an incredibly skilled wizard."
Daphne nodded in agreement. "I can't deny that. And being in his office right now, surrounded by his books, it's like getting a glimpse into his mind. There's a lot we can learn from studying his collection."
Harry leaned back in his chair, contemplating the shelves of books that surrounded them. "You're right. It's like he left a piece of himself behind in these pages."
Daphne closed the book gently and set it aside. "Well, I think we've had our fill of magical theory for now. What else should we do while we wait for Snape to wake up?"
Harry grinned. "How about we take a look around his desk? Who knows what secrets might be hidden there?"
Daphne's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Now that sounds like a plan."
Slowly, Snape's eyes fluttered open, the world spinning around him and pain coursing through his body. What had compelled him to lay sprawled upon the frigid stone floor in this manner eluded him. Gradually, he eased himself into a dazed sitting position before mustering the strength to rise, his weight leaning heavily against the nearest table. Amidst the haze, his surroundings remained distorted, and he blinked repeatedly until clarity was restored. While the throbbing in his head persisted, it seemed less intense than mere moments ago. "What happened?" Snape questioned, piecing together the fragments of memory. All he could recall was Harry Potter's arrival at his office, seeking Occlumency instruction on Dumbledore's behest. Harry Potter? Suddenly alert, he cast his gaze about, discovering the unconscious form of the young wizard on the ground, blood trickling from his nose.
"Potter! Wake up!" Snape implored, delivering a few ineffectual slaps to the boy's cheeks. Yet, Potter remained unresponsive, lost in unconsciousness. Cursing under his breath, Snape swiftly retrieved his wand and invoked a levitating charm to lift Potter's limp body, bearing him through the air towards the Infirmary.
"Poppy!" Snape's voice echoed with a tone of near-panic as he crossed the Infirmary's threshold, a departure from the stoic demeanour usually associated with Severus Snape.
"Severus! Must you shout? This is the Infirmary, not the Quidditch pitch!" Madam Pomfrey scolded, though her reprimand softened upon recognizing the agitation in Snape's countenance. Drawing nearer, she observed Snape tenderly placing Harry Potter onto one of the beds, his wand still at the ready.
Astonishment etched itself across Madam Pomfrey's features upon seeing the unconscious figure before her. "By Merlin! What happened, Severus? I'd this because of those lessons you are giving him?" she inquired as her wand danced in intricate patterns, gauging the extent of Harry's vitality.
Having settled into a chair, Snape watched as Madam Pomfrey went about her healing rituals, his temples massaged in an attempt to quell the throbbing ache in his head. His skull seemed intent on asserting itself as a relentless anvil, pounding away. "How did you know?" he inquired, his features contorted in a manner that betrayed the pain lingering in his head.
Madam Pomfrey spared him a quick glance before responding. "Albus informed me, just in case such an eventuality arose." Relief coated her words as she ascertained no grievous injuries aside from a lump on Harry's head and a scattering of minor abrasions. The nosebleed, it seemed, stemmed from a concussion-induced trauma, a manageable concern promptly remedied by spells and potions.
"Severus—" she began, her voice laced with concern upon noticing Snape's pallor and the rivulets of blood descending from his forehead. Unaware of his own condition, Snape displayed a flicker of surprise upon glimpsing the crimson stain marring his attire. Swiftly lifting his head, he endeavoured to stem the flow, blood coursing through his fingers as he applied pressure.
"Merlin's beard! What in the world happened?" Madam Pomfrey muttered, wielding her wand to staunch Snape's bleeding before resuming her care for Harry.
"I am well, Poppy! The boy has a mere headache. Could you provide a potion for it? I'm confident it will abate shortly," Snape evaded.
"I suspect this is no ordinary headache, Severus. Now if you are not going to tell me what caused Mr. Potter's affliction, then lay down and let me to examine you," she implored with a motherly tinge of apprehension.
"I am fine, Poppy, focus on Potter. The headache potion, if you please," Snape persisted, his face clenched in poorly concealed pain.
"Not until you get a proper checkup, Severus, your face is covered in blood!" she asserted firmly, her gaze unrelenting. The continued argument only exacerbated the pain pounding within Snape's skull. Relenting with a resigned sigh, he acceded, allowing the practised matron to attend to him.
Madam Pomfrey's wand whisked through the air, directed at Snape, who obstinately remained seated, his aversion to reclining upon one of the Infirmary beds palpable. A former student, turned colleague, Snape's stubbornness was a familiar note to her. "By Merlin's grace! No wonder you are bleeding, you've cracked your skull open!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, causing Snape to flinch at her diagnosis. Silent surrender saw him reclining upon a distant bed, separate from Harry's prone form.
"What was Dumbledore thinking, allowing him to practise on students," she muttered disapprovingly, as she initiated a communication through the Floo Network.
Meanwhile, in his reclined position, Snape wrestled with the foggy recollections of events unfolding within his office. Potter's entrance, the intended Occlumency lesson—beyond those fragments, the canvas of his memory remained blank. Even his Occlumency, revealed no unsettling disturbances. The supposed lesson hovered like a phantom, eluding his grasp.
Daphne observed from beneath the protective shroud of her invisibility cloak as Snape gradually stirred from his unconscious state. Her worry deepened as he tried to rouse Harry, his attempts proved fruitless. Concern gnawed at her when she witnessed the trickle of blood stemming from Harry's nose, a consequence of the stunning spell she had cast. Had her spell been overly forceful?
Within the confines of Snape's office, the duo endeavoured to erase his memories, focusing particularly on Harry's arrival. Subsequently, they indulged in a fruitless hour-long search for intriguing artefacts, their exploration uncovering naught but the Potion Master's forthcoming creations. The hands of time moved sluggishly as they pored over dusty tomes, their conversations weaving between topics both whimsical and profound. In a gesture of caution, Daphne periodically administered a stunning spell to Snape, allaying potential risks. Finally, the hour grew too late and they had to part ways, as Harry took position on the ground and gave her a dumb smile as she hit him with a stunner as well.
Amid her frantic musings, Daphne lost track of reality momentarily until her senses sharpened at the abrupt creak of the door being pushed open. A swift glance revealed Snape hovering Harry's motionless form, exiting with purpose. Without hesitation, she trailed after Snape, her steps as stealthy as a whisper.
A sidelong glance at the Infirmary's entrance offered Daphne a view of Harry's supine form, provoking a desperate internal debate. How could she remain by Harry's side in the Infirmary without compromising her invisibility? Remaining concealed beneath the cloak held risks of its own, inviting inadvertent discovery. Daphne was resolute in her determination to avoid such a fate.
Moments later, Madam Pomfrey attended to Harry, employing her expertise with an air of finesse. Daphne strained her ears, eager to glean any insight into the conversation between the matron and Professor Snape, yet their words remained beyond her reach, stoking her frustration. An owl's arrival and its cheerful hoot seized Daphne's attention, a fleeting notion flickering within her mind.
"Of course, Daphne, you idiot," she murmured self-critically. Her actions sprung to life, propelling her towards the nearest classroom. She hastily bundled the invisibility cloak into her bag before reducing the bag's size with a shrinking charm. A deep breath steadied her nerves as her body seamlessly transformed into her animagus form. The familiarity of the metamorphosis brought gratitude - discovering her animagus form survived her trip into the past made her smile, as she was now free from having to repeat the gruelling process of relearning the skill. She shuddered at the memory of that ordeal, fervently hoping never to endure it again.
An Egyptian Mau burst into the Infirmary and hopped onto Harry Potter's bed, causing Madam Pomfrey to startle from her concentration on treating Harry's injuries.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake! Whose cat is this? Shoo!" Madam Pomfrey tried to shoo the cat away, but Daphne, in her cat form, let out a loud and annoyed meow while gripping Harry's clothes with her claws.
Madam Pomfrey's eyebrows furrowed as she attempted to get the cat to leave Harry's side, but it just hissed angrily at her each time she attempted to remove it. She let out an exasperated sigh and gave up.
"Are you Mr. Potter's pet? I can't remember him having a cat," she said, her head shaking in disbelief. "You're quite the loyal companion, aren't you?" She shook her head slightly and then turned her attention back to healing Harry.
Daphne, as a cat, responded with another meow, her bright blue eyes watching Madam Pomfrey's hands intently as she cast spells to heal Harry.
Purring softly, Daphne moved even closer to Harry, her presence seemingly bringing some sort of comfort as she listened to his heartbeat.
Madam Pomfrey's gaze shifted from Harry to Snape, but her expression suddenly changed when she noticed the blood on his nose. She quickly moved over to Snape with concern etched on her face.
Just then, Albus Dumbledore entered the Infirmary, looking rather concerned. Daphne-cat's gaze flicked towards the door, her eyes widening in surprise. Why was Dumbledore appearing in the Infirmary? The matter of the Occlumency lesson had escalated beyond her initial estimations.
"Severus, I heard from Poppy that both you and Harry are injured. What on earth happened?" Dumbledore's voice held a mix of worry and curiosity.
Snape's expression remained impassive. "I don't remember exactly. Perhaps you should ask Potter over there when he wakes up."
Daphne-cat couldn't help but feel a little smug at Snape's response. Her potion had worked like a charm.
Dumbledore's gaze shifted between Snape and Madam Pomfrey, clearly sensing the tension. "Severus, could you give me some insight into what occurred?"
Snape's annoyance was palpable. "As I just said, Headmaster, I don't recall. Feel free to interrogate the brat once he regains consciousness."
Dumbledore let out a sigh, his expression showing a mix of frustration and understanding. "Very well, Severus. We can wait for Harry to wake up."
Meanwhile, Harry groaned softly, drawing everyone's attention. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey immediately turned their focus to him, their concern evident.
"Mr. Potter, how are you feeling?" Madam Pomfrey inquired with concern. Daphne-cat remained faithfully by Harry's side, keeping watch.
"My head feels as though I've been trampled by a herd of hippogriffs," Harry groaned. His confession prompted Madam Pomfrey to cast a series of healing spells, alleviating the weight in his head.
"Drink this. It should help you feel better. I really shouldn't have let him bother you, but he insisted it was important," Madam Pomfrey said, rolling her eyes in exasperation. She sighed, conceding, "The Headmaster wishes to speak with you." With a tight grip, she placed a vial into his hand. Harry obediently swallowed the potion in one gulp.
Daphne emitted a soft meow, capturing Harry's attention. He turned toward the feline voice, astonishment evident in his widened eyes. "Daphne! Why are you here? And how?" he whispered, ensuring only Daphne could hear. Another meow from Daphne and a gentle head nuzzle against Harry's hand conveyed her presence. "We'll discuss this later," he murmured, gathering her into his arms and tenderly stroking her velvety fur.
"Remember, don't overexert him, Albus! He's still in recovery, he's only been awake for five minutes," Madam Pomfrey reminded sternly before departing, leaving the two alone.
"Hello, Harry. How are you feeling?" Dumbledore's voice greeted as he approached Harry's bedside.
"Headmaster," Harry acknowledged, "I'm feeling better, thanks to the potion from Madam Pomfrey," he replied, his tone respectful.
"Do you recall the events leading to your loss of consciousness?" Dumbledore inquired succinctly, getting to the heart of the matter.
Harry's brow furrowed as if he struggled to remember.
"What comes to mind after you entered Professor Snape's office?" Dumbledore altered his question, hoping to spark his memory.
"After entering the office, Professor Snape had me sit down and proceeded to give me instructions on Occlumency. Following that, he aimed his wand at me and incanted a spell—Legil...something, I can't quite recall. From that point, I found myself in the infirmary, my head throbbing with pain. Do you have any insight into what occurred, Headmaster?" Harry asked, feigning a touch of panic.
Dumbledore pondered, stroking his long beard thoughtfully. Before he could offer reassurances, Harry's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Oh, Professor! I remember something! When Snape cast the spell, it felt as though something invaded my mind. My brain was like... when my fingers got caught in the car door, but my entire head... I remember seeing flashes of memories and then I went all... Like I was pushing a large block across ice? Like, it was heavy at first then it just... Slipped away?" Harry proclaimed, a note of confusion in his voice as he recalled the details of a standard Occlumency defence.
Dumbledore's surprise was fleeting, replaced by a proud smile directed at Harry.
"I understand now. The initial encounter was rather substantial. Rest assured, I won't require you to repeat the lesson," he affirmed kindly.
"Does that mean I won't need to undergo the lessons again?" Harry's spirits lifted at the prospect.
"Ah, regretfully, you will still need to continue your training. Perhaps two or three more sessions to ensure mastery of the technique," Dumbledore informed, delivering a grandfatherly smile that softened the blow.
"Professor Snape will arrange the schedule. Ah, it seems I can already hear Poppy's footsteps approaching, and I'm afraid he has quite the substantial concussion," he chuckled. "Good night, Harry."
Harry sighed, offering a small smile in return. "Very well, Good night, Headmaster."
As Albus left Harry and Severus in the capable hands of Poppy, he caught the sound of Harry's protests about returning to his dormitory as soon as possible. A chuckle escaped him.
What Harry and Severus had encountered was beyond his expectations. Never had he imagined that Harry held such potential in the realm of mind arts. He had thought he might have some skill in the area, but this... This was unusual. His eyebrows creased at his thoughts as he stroked his long beard in contemplation, as he walked towards his office. He opened the door to his office and walked over to Fawkes, stroking his bright red and orange plumage.
"Let us observe his progress in the upcoming lessons," Dumbledore mused to himself, intrigued by what the future held.
Under the sombre expanse of an early October sky, Harry's forehead creased as the grey heavens continued to release a chilly drizzle. His gaze shifted towards the weathered façade of the shabby pub—the focal point of their secretive gathering. Hermione and Ron had slipped inside, undoubtedly preparing the place for their meeting.
Harry found himself once again puzzled by Hermione's choice of venue. The Three Broomsticks would have made more sense, he thought. It had that cosy private room where they could discuss things without being overheard, shielded by the bustling activity of the main area. He almost regretted agreeing to meet here at Hermione's suggestion, despite her rather unconvincing explanation. It was her dedication that swayed him, though he couldn't help but shake his head at her novice approach to secrecy. A small chuckle escaped him as he contemplated the intricacies of Hermione's persuasive powers.
Leaning against the entrance of the Hog's Head, Harry skimmed through the proposal once more. Hermione had gone to great lengths, even enchanting the parchment to guard their plans from prying eyes. The idea was interesting, but he found himself doubting its effectiveness. She hadn't specified the consequences of breaching the enchantment, leaving room for it to be exploited. The potential for blackmail crossed his mind, and he sighed as he closed the proposal, memories of their conversation lingering.
As students trickled past him, Harry remained a steadfast observer. Some shot him curious glances, while others offered fleeting smiles. He stood there, a sentinel feigning to wait for someone, mentally counting the number of students entering the pub.
When he was certain that those interested in the study group had arrived, Harry finally stepped inside. Before proceeding, he discreetly cast a spell on the pub's door, leaving a subtle safeguard. Seated at the bar, he ordered three bottles of butterbeer and cast a sidelong glance at a figure cloaked in a witch's attire—Mundungus Fletcher, no doubt. Nearby, he also spotted a bandaged figure holding a glass of a smoking liquid, who he vaguely recalled as the one responsible for ratting out the original meeting to Umbridge. Well there was a threat he would have to deal with before the day was up. Silently, he smiled as he sent his focus out to the wards he had placed on the front door earlier that day - anyone in a Hogwarts robe who had left the building and had not signed the agreement for the DA would find themselves not remembering exactly what they were in the pub for in the first place.
The room, however, offered no signs of Hermione, Ron, or the earlier arrivals. Furrowing his brow in mild confusion, Harry surveyed the scene. The barkeep's deep voice directed his attention upwards, indicating the private room. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. Perhaps Hermione had learned from their past experiences, or she simply wished to evade his admonishment.
Drawing closer to the stairs, Harry subtly flicked his hand in the direction of the bandaged wizard, casting a discreet Confundus Charm. He couldn't help but relish the sight of the man rising with a dazed expression, stumbling away in bewilderment. With a satisfied nod, Harry continued on his path toward the staircase leading to the upper floor.
Upstairs, his eyes alighted upon Hermione, who stood by the entrance of a rather shabby-looking room. She rubbed her temples in clear frustration. A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as an idea formed. Why not play along a bit?
"Trouble finding them too?" Harry asked, his tone laced with feigned concern.
"There you are! Don't you start that with me, Harry! It's like trying to herd kneazles in there! Half of them just want to know when you were showing up!" Hermione's voice carried a mixture of anger, panic, and relief as she spotted Harry ascending the staircase. He extended a bottle of butterbeer to her, a gesture to quell her emotions.
"Don't worry, Hermione. Everything's fine. I hope I'm not keeping everyone waiting," Harry reassured her casually, making his way toward the room she had secured. He paused, a playful innocence taking over, "By the way, which room are we renting?" His innocent query lingered in the air, underscored by a hidden amusement.
"This one, Harry!" she said, grinding her teeth in frustration, pointing at the slightly open room. Harry just grinned and nodded before stepping inside.
The room, once buzzing with chatter, fell silent as all eyes turned to Harry and Hermione. Harry followed Hermione towards the front, Ron shooting him an awkward smile.
Taking in the scene, Harry found a seat next to Ron. The room was packed with students, some simply curious about what had happened the previous June, others there perhaps for an easy way to excel in Defence Against the Dark Arts. With a smile, he remembered that a handful were simply drawn by curiosity, hoping to witness his prowess with spells like the Patronus charm.
Hermione took centre stage, her nerves barely concealed behind her grin. "Um, hi! Thanks for being here. I'm sure you're all aware of what went down last year, and I thought, you know, studying Defense Against the Dark Arts together might be a good idea—"
While Hermione poured herself into her speech, Harry let his attention drift. He took a casual sip of his butterbeer, exchanging smiles with those who met his gaze. Hermione's words felt like déjà vu, a reminder of his first time through. 'Oh, Hermione,' he thought, amused, taking a deep breath to stifle a chuckle.
Another sip of butterbeer followed as Harry leaned back, watching the animated discussion unfold about Voldemort's return and the scepticism surrounding it. He found it oddly entertaining. Then, as expected, the conversation took a familiar turn, led by none other than Zacharias Smith, his tone as aggressive as ever.
"—And I think we deserve to know what makes him so sure You-Know-Who is back."
Hermione jumped in, trying to steer the ship. "This wasn't really the main point of our meeting—"
Harry's calm voice cut through the tension. "It's okay, Hermione." Internally, he sighed. The moment he'd anticipated had arrived. He set his butterbeer down, eyes fixed on Smith. He couldn't avoid this conversation forever, even though he'd rather not relive the tragedy of Cedric Diggory's death once more.
"Why do I say Voldemort's back?" he questioned, his gaze unyielding on Smith's face. "I saw him. Dumbledore already explained everything last year. If you don't believe him, why would you believe me? I'm not here to convince anyone."
The room held its breath as Harry's words hung in the air. Smith, undeterred, pressed on. "All Dumbledore said was that You-Know-Who killed Cedric. He didn't give details. We want to know—"
Harry's patience waned. He cut Smith off, his tone firm. "If you're here to hear a vivid description of Voldemort murdering one of my friends, you're in the wrong place." His eyes bore into Smith's with unyielding intensity.
Stepping forward, Harry captured the room's attention, a ripple of silence spreading like wildfire. "Why this morbid curiosity?" he mused, his voice laced with controlled restraint. "There's nothing glamorous about how he operates. This isn't some comic book where the bad guy plays by the rules and goes to jail when caught by the hero. Voldemort has no rules besides to kill anyone who stands in his way." A quiet, chilling certainty entered his tone, sending shivers down spines.
"If you're so eager to taint your innocence," Harry continued, leaning in slightly, "then, by all means, seek out the details. Ask your parents what it was like during the war. But remember, once you cross that threshold, there's no turning back." His gaze swept the room, a challenge laid bare.
Settling back into his seat, Harry's expression softened. "But that's not why we're here. Hermione called this meeting to study, to learn to defend ourselves." His voice took on a gentler, yet persuasive note. "We're not Aurors. We're not investigators. We're students, seeking knowledge that might save our lives someday. So, let's focus on that. Believe in the value of preparation, even if the truth feels daunting."
Amidst the subdued lighting of the room, Harry's voice cut through the palpable tension. "I reckon some of you, especially the Hufflepuffs and those who had a personal connection with Cedric Diggory, might understand what he meant to people. He wasn't just a memory; he was a role model, someone to admire, perhaps even a friend or something more. Though my time with him was short, I can vouch for the fact that he was a great person. The best of us." He paused, allowing his words to hang in the air like ripples on a pond. "So, if you're looking to do right by him, instead of incessantly picking fights with me, which, honestly, I couldn't care less about, let's channel our efforts into something more productive. Let's learn to protect ourselves together in this study group, or you can try your luck going solo against the forces of darkness." He swept his gaze across the room, watching as expressions shifted from defiance to contemplation. "But let's be clear: I'm not twisting anyone's arm here. If your agenda doesn't align with Hermione's, Ron's, and mine, feel free to march right out that door." Silence reigned for a moment, broken only by hushed conversations and thoughtful glances his way.
His attention veered to the background chatter, as one voice rose above the rest, interrupting the collective contemplation. "Is it true?" a girl with the lengthy braid interjected, her gaze locked onto Harry. "Can you really conjure a Patronus?"
Harry smiled at the question that had momentarily broken the tide of conversation. He could feel a whisper of interest ripple through the group, curiosity tugging at their thoughts. "Yeah," he replied, turning toward her. "A corporeal Patronus, to be precise."
A ripple of whispers swept through the room as curious glances shifted toward him. He decided to go all in, meeting the girl's eyes with a confident nod before casting the Patronus charm. A majestic stag emerged, its presence filling the room with a silvery radiance before fading away. The onlookers were left in awe, their astonishment tangible.
With a satisfied grin, he turned to Hermione, giving her shoulder a gentle pat before extending his hand to her.
As the room buzzed with chatter, Harry's attention was diverted once more. Cho Chang's voice rang out, inquiring about his previous year's exploits. A hint of irritation crept into his voice as he answered her, a touch of impatience in his tone. "I don't want to talk about that damn tournament. Nothing good came from it, and I don't consider myself the winner of anything."
Steering the conversation back to the task at hand, he presented the parchment before them, outlining the commitment they were undertaking. "Look, everyone, this parchment represents our agreement. Signing your name on it signifies your commitment. But here's the deal—this isn't a casual promise. If you betray our trust and let our secrets slip, you'll be marked as a traitor. We'll know exactly who's responsible. Umbridge isn't going to be too happy with this, so we must keep it secret no matter the cost. This is your chance to leave, but remember, we know who is walking out of this room. If you leave, leave us in peace." The room buzzed with astonishment and whispers, caught between fascination and apprehension. A firm rap of his knuckles on the table refocused their attention. "So, who's in?"
Outside the Hog's Head Inn, the trio's conversation continued, this time in the cool afternoon air. As Harry took a bite of his chocolate frog, Hermione's frustration was evident in her words. "Why did you have to reveal the parchment, Harry? It was meant to be a surprise!"
Ron chimed in with a grin, his approval clear. "Nah, it was clever! The look on their faces was brilliant. Nice move, mate."
Harry's grin widened, and he gestured to Ron. "See? Even Ron's on board."
Hermione's cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation. "I thought—I thought it would—"
Harry's expression softened as he reassured her. "Don't worry too much about it. If someone is going to snitch, they are going to think twice about it now that they know there is a risk."
Their conversation shifted, turning to practicalities. "So, I know of the perfect place to hold the club. What about scoping it out tomorrow?" Harry suggested, gauging their reactions.
Hermione's objections rose. "But tomorrow's Friday, Harry. We have classes."
He countered, his tone persuasive. "True, but we only have one morning class. The sooner we start, the better. We can't keep those who've signed up waiting. It's already October." He paused, considering their schedules. "I've finished my homework already. If tomorrow doesn't work for you, I'll manage on my own."
Her eyes widened. "You what, Harry?!" but her voice tinged with pride.
"Do I need to repeat?" he said with a smirk.
Ron stared at him, utterly incredulous. "Harry, you're still my best mate, right? What's happened to you?"
Harry's expression softened, but his determination remained unwavering. "I'm just giving it my all. It's our O.W.L year, remember? I don't want to waste any more time. You should finish your homework soon too, Ron!" His encouragement was evident, his gaze fixed on his friend. "Don't you still want to become an Auror?"
Hermione's smile grew wider, and she playfully nudged Ron's arm, trying to bring him out of his shock.
"Harry's got a point, Ron! You need to buckle down. I'll help you study!" Hermione's enthusiasm was palpable, and without further ado, she seized Ron's arms and began tugging him towards Gryffindor tower.
Ron was left speechless, his face redder than a boiled crab. He merely nodded in response as Hermione pulled him along.
With a grin at Hermione's spirited intervention, Harry followed them, the trio retracing their steps towards the tower.
Just as Harry, Hermione, and Ron were about to head toward Gryffindor tower, a hurried figure approached Harry. The student handed him a piece of paper, speaking in haste before quickly departing. Harry took the paper and scanned its contents, recognizing the handwriting. Without further delay, he slipped it into his pocket.
"What's that, Harry?" Hermione inquired as she noticed the interaction with the first-year student.
Harry offered a nonchalant shrug and casually let the lie slip off his tongue. "Dumbledore's requesting a meeting," he explained.
"Right now?" Hermione's curiosity was piqued.
Harry nodded, his expression carefully composed. "Yeah, seems like it."
Hermione gave him an apologetic smile as she grabbed Ron's arm, pulling him along. The two of them hurried off, leaving Harry alone in the quiet corridor.
'ROR at 4,' the message read.
Fortunately, he was already on the seventh floor, which meant he was just a short distance away from the Room of Requirement. Without wasting any time, he picked up the pace and swiftly made his way towards the hidden room.
In mere minutes, he reached the room's entrance and was greeted by the sight of Daphne Greengrass, chalk in hand, writing on a blackboard. The blackboard itself was unusual, reminiscent of those used by Aurors.
"Harry!" Daphne's voice held a mix of surprise and delight as she turned toward him.
He greeted her with a charming smile, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Hey."
He looked at the blackboard in awe, his curiosity piqued. "What's all this?"
Daphne beamed proudly, her arms crossed as she looked at her handiwork. "I'm jotting down everything we've uncovered so far. It's a way to keep track of our progress and what needs to be done in this timeline. What do you think?"
Harry stepped closer to examine the writing, a mix of admiration and intrigue in his eyes. "Impressive. Did you do this all by yourself?"
Daphne nodded, her satisfaction evident. "Yes, I thought it would help us stay organised and focused on our mission. It's been quite the journey, and I wanted a visual representation of how far we've come."
As he glanced at the blackboard, he noticed Daphne had documented their progress from the first bombing case onward, detailing their investigation, the dead ends, their pursuit of Wibly, and a side section filled with crucial information about their plans to defeat Voldemort.
"How did your meeting go? And did Ron and Hermione buy your story?"
Harry nodded, his demeanour relaxed. "Yeah, it went good, around eighteen students joined this time. It's a smaller group compared to last time, and I think it will be a tighter-knit group - everyone seems really committed. And they were not suspicious at all. Told them Dumbledore wanted a meeting."
Daphne's brow furrowed inquisitively. "Eighteen? That's unusual. Did something happen during the meeting?"
Harry nodded, his expression serious. "I informed them about the jinx Hermione put on the parchment, and I made sure not to let it out of my sight this time."
Daphne raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And Hermione wasn't angry about that?"
Harry chuckled, a wry smile on his lips. "Oh, she was angry, all right. But she also realised the importance of precautions. Besides, she actually came up with the idea herself. I just took charge to make sure things went smoothly."
Daphne grinned, her amusement evident. "So, you're saying she's the mastermind behind this whole circus?"
Harry shrugged playfully. "Well, she had the idea the first time around. But let's face it, without me, I doubt so many students would've been interested."
Daphne nodded in agreement. "No doubt about that." Before the conversation could continue, Daphne shifted gears. "Oh! Did Astoria show up?"
Harry's face lit up as he replied, "She did! And I must say, I'm pleasantly surprised that she actually came. She's quite cute, isn't she?"
Daphne nodded, triumphantly. "I told you! She's got a lot of potential."
Curiosity piqued, Daphne turned the conversation. "Did you happen to notice if anyone else from my house applied?"
Harry pondered for a moment before responding, "I think it was just Astoria and... her friend?" He hesitated, uncertain about the identity of the other Slytherin. "I'll have to ask her name later." Harry's gaze shifted back to the blackboard. "You've really been thorough with this. How did you manage to gather so much information about the investigation?"
Daphne's eyes sparkled with pride. "I've been following your leads and any new developments. Plus, I've had access to the Auror's information, thanks to a certain someone." She grinned, giving him a playful nudge.
Harry's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "Wait, you've been consulting with the Aurors?"
Daphne winked at him. "Just one! Of course, with the right incentives, he's willing to share some useful details."
"Miss Greengrass! Bribing an Auror for information! How sneaky of you!"
She smiled and swatted her boyfriend's arm playfully. "Oh, come off it, you prat."
"Speaking of…" He rummaged through his book-bag and handed her a box of her favourite Honeydukes chocolate. Her eyes lit up with excitement and happily accepted it.
"Why, Mr. Potter, are you bribing me now?" Daphne teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she looked at the box of chocolates he had bought for her. Her smile was wide, and it was clear that the gesture had caught her off guard. Harry chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement.
"Anything for you, darling," Harry replied with a wink, earning him a deep blush from Daphne.
"Damn it, Harry! How do you manage to make it so I can't stay mad at you for long?" she exclaimed, her mock frustration tinged with a mix of affection.
"Because I'm charming?" Harry quipped, a confident smirk playing on his lips. Daphne rolled her eyes, a playful smile tugging at her own lips.
"Oh, please," she said in faked exasperation.
Daphne hummed thoughtfully, munching on a piece of chocolate. Her expression grew thoughtful as she considered Harry's words.
As they sat in silence, Harry's gaze shifted to the blackboard before him. A sudden realisation about Wibly struck him, a knot of worry forming in his stomach. Swallowing hard, he voiced his concern.
"Daphne..." he began, his voice tense. She looked up at him, a frown forming on her face in response to his tone. "Is it possible that Wibly might have already started acting upon future knowledge and initiated his plans earlier than we expected?"
Daphne's brow furrowed, her concern mirroring his own. She paused, the chocolate she had been eating suddenly losing its taste. She placed the box of chocolates in her bag, her focus fully on their conversation. "I don't know, Harry. We don't know if he even came back either" she admitted with a sigh. "But you're right, that's a valid concern."
He rubbed his face, his anxiety growing. "It's another problem if he's come back as well. We already have enough on our plate with the Voldemort."
Daphne offered a suggestion, her voice thoughtful. "Perhaps we should try to locate him? There aren't that many squibs in Britain, after all."
Harry turned his tired gaze towards her, frustration evident. "How? We've already discussed this. It's not like he'll be openly advertising his presence."
Daphne's frustration simmered beneath the surface. "I know," she snapped, her irritation palpable. "I know that the Ministry and the Muggle government wouldn't have any records of him as a squib, but there's still a chance his birth certificate is filed away somewhere in the Ministry. Most families keep them after their child turns eleven and receives their Hogwarts letter. If the child is deemed a squib, they're often discarded or abandoned in the Muggle world. In the worst cases, they're even killed by their own families, and our Ministry doesn't bat an eye." She took a deep breath, letting out a heavy sigh.
"I'm sorry our civilization is so messed up," Harry said guiltily.
Daphne's response was a tired sigh. "Me too."
Their gazes remained fixed on the blackboard, each lost in their own thoughts. After a moment, Harry broached the conversation again.
"So... what exactly do you mean by the birth certificate?"
Daphne explained, her voice calm and knowledgeable. "Well, the Ministry has a records department, apparition licences, building plans and permits, business licence, and in our case personal informations,. And it's not just about birth certificates - apart from birth certificates, there's a person's biological data, address records, health records, school records, criminal records, job records, achievements, assets, marriage certificate if applicable, family tree, and finally, a death certificate. It's the last record before they're moved to the un-updated shelves. But because it is all updated via magic, the records update only for magical individuals; squibs remain static."
"Who exactly can access these records?"
Daphne's response held a wealth of information. "In essence, nearly everyone. You're not allowed to get other people's information, but you can obtain copies of your own information, The department isn't heavily guarded, and the records update on their own. There are a few individuals who genuinely care about them, like Internal Affairs agents, Aurors, Prosecutors, lawyers, and Unspeakables. It's a bit surprising that you weren't aware of this."
Harry contemplated his own situation, his thoughts clouded by worry. "So, that means my personal information is in there as well?" He couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine at the idea that Voldemort might have gained access to such personal details back during the war. Daphne confirmed his suspicion with a nod. He continued, "I've never been assigned to check that department for background scans. It's always been someone else's job. The records just appear on my desk the following day."
Daphne's teasing nature resurfaced, a playful grin tugging at her lips. "Sounds like the Auror department was coddling you, protecting their 'Golden Boy' from getting his hands dirty with the more mundane tasks."
Harry chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "You've got it all wrong, giving me menial tasks was my boss' fetish."
As their conversation segued back into the realm of their investigation, Daphne broached a potential plan. "Should we try to retrieve those records, then?"
Harry's frown deepened as he considered the logistics. "We'd have to go to the Ministry for that… but I think it's a good idea. How would we go about it?"
Daphne's determination shone through as she proposed a solution. "I have an idea… I'm thinking about winter break, maybe when Mr. Weasley is attacked. We can split up, me for the records, and you to take care of the snake you told me about. First we need to get to Hogsmeade. From there, we could Floo to the Leaky Cauldron or even attempt long-distance Apparition to London. We can sneak in at night under the cloak and be back in the castle in just a few hours."
"Sounds like a plan," Harry agreed, his mind now focused on the task at hand. He couldn't believe he had overlooked such a straightforward solution. "We can get two birds in one stone then. Take out a Horcrux and find a lead on our bomber. Excellent idea, Daph!"
"Before we get ahead of ourselves, though, we need to figure out how to get out of the castle discreetly," Daphne reminded him.
Harry grinned, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "No worries. I know a secret tunnel that leads to Hogsmeade. Getting out won't be an issue."
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Thanks for Read!
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