AN: So it's been a while for this one. Part of the reason behind this, was that I lost interest in HP for a while. Another reason however, was the dissatisfaction I had with the story. Rereading it, it felt a bit clunky and awkward. There were also some cringe moments which I want to iron out. That said, it is not unsalvageable. When I have some more time I will start going back and do a few minor edits, and polish up the grammar and remove any typos. That should go a long way to improving the story.

Still, after reading it, and after reading a couple of other HP stories of late, it's got me back in the mood.

So here we are.

For those that remember, or are still bothered to read, please enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

( - )

(Last Time)

It wouldn't be too hard to come up with a way to grievously injure or kill her. But then if he did, he would be in uncharted territory and would have to deal with her replacement.

Killing Draco if he got in the way was one thing. It would permanently get rid of a thorn in his side but at the expense of bringing suspicion down on himself and alienating some useful assets in Slytherin House.

But Umbridge could and would be replaced if he got rid of her, and considering Fudge's enmity and overall competence, her replacement could be even more vicious than her.

He needed to make a choice soon, but first, he needed to get rid of his hangers-on, or at least for an hour or so, and make a quick visit to the room of requirement. He needed to get a rough idea of his future resources, and actually make sure the room existed, after all, ever-growing power bases needed a command centre.

( - )

Chapter 11

( - )

(With Harry)

Looking around fondly, Harry smiled.

The room of requirement was exactly as he remembered.

In that, it could turn into anything he wanted it to be, within reason.

Stepping into the cavernous chamber he had summoned. Harry took a moment to look around at its current configuration warmly.

The room was gigantic, almost the size of a warehouse and was filled with giant mounds of what could charitably be called junk, all of which spread out in every direction creating a seemingly endless labyrinth of pure trash.

Closing the door quietly behind him, his lips quirked up into a smile.

The 'Room of Forgotten Things'.

That was what he liked to think of this configuration.

Everything within the room had been left behind or lost by the different students and teachers throughout Hogwart's long and storied history. It was a one-thousand-year-old lost property bin. And was full of both trash and treasure alike.

It was a place where the dutiful House Elves of the castle stored anything a student or teacher lost or left behind. It was also a place where more than a few unscrupulous individuals who either knew of the room or who had just happened to find it, had stashed their ill-gotten goods.

Some of the stuff in the room was broken or old furniture. Already could see stacks of both desks and old rickety chairs, and a small mountain of old four-poster beds and damaged wardrobes.

That stuff didn't interest him.

Roughly ninety per cent of the things in the room were probably tat.

It was worthless crap that had been thrown out or put in storage either as it was no longer fit for purpose, or because it was surplus to requirements.

Fortunately, the remaining ten per cent was somewhat more useful.

The unclaimed belongings of long-dead students and teachers, and hidden treasures of ne'er-do-wells. Anything that wasn't claimed by the end of the school year ended up in this room, left to gather dust.

Similarly, anything that got lost or misplaced, ended up in this room too. Essentially, anything the House Elves found within the castle and its ground at the end of the year that didn't belong, was dumped in the room of requirements. Regardless of its individual value. After all, House Elves didn't really understand the concept of monetary value or sentimental worth, and as such treated a pile of gold with the same level of concern as they would a broken chair. Unless otherwise instructed by their master or mistress.

Whipping out his wand, Harry waved it through the air and silently cast a summoning charm.

All around him, he could hear the shifting of junk as thousands of small objects began to shoot out of the surrounding labyrinth of lost and leftover junk.

When it came to extracting all of the valuables in such a large, and poorly organised room of junk, a methodological approach was needed.

With a small clink, the first coin landed at his feet.

It was a slightly grimy, gold galleon.

A few moments later the galleon quickly began to gain some friends as more and more money found its way to him. Money of every denomination, both magical and muggle, soon started to pile up in front of him. He had probably not been the first to take advantage of all the clutter in this way but going off the age of some of the coins, he was the first in a long while to do so in such a meticulous manner.

Taking a step back as the mound of cold hard cash in front of him continued to grow, Harry flicked his wand again.

Only this time he focussed on summoning all the summonable jewellery in the room.

In response one of the piles of junk in the distance collapsed to the ground with a loud crash.

Ignoring the disturbance, Harry watched as rings, brooches, necklaces, and loose jewels shot towards him from every direction.

Directing them into a new pile just to the side of his money pile, he then moved on to summoning precious metals next.

Magic truly was a useful tool.

What would have taken him months to do the mundane way, was accomplished in a matter of minutes using magic.

With another flick of his wand, he summoned all the leftover potion ingredients in the room toward him. Those that had not been properly stored using stasis charms would be useless. But at least some of it would be salvageable. And as he knew from experience when it came to crafting rituals, rare ingredients could be terrifyingly expensive.

The same could be said for the weapons both magical and mundane. Some of the cheaper items had lost their enchantments and rusted. They were nothing but worthless scrap. But other pieces looked almost brand-new. The Goblin-made items especially. They might be foul, greasy little gremlins, but the Goblins were still masters of their craft when it came to forging and enchanting.

The only problem though, he mused as he continued to wield his wand like an orchestra conductor might wield their baton was that some of the enchanted items were cursed. With enough time and effort, he could probably remedy the issue. The only problem though, was that it was time-consuming as he would have to go through every piece individually.

Still, that was a matter for future Harry to sort out, for now, he needed to continue taking stock of his resources. The more he gathered, the more comfortable his situation would become.

Weaving his wand through the air once more, he this time summoned all the wands in the room to him.

Although not as valuable as the other things he had gathered, the long-forgotten wands were not worthless. Some of them could be broken open for their valuable cores. Especially the rare ones with Phoenix feathers in them.

Others, meanwhile, those with cheaper cores from farmed animals like Unicorns or Dragons, could be sold as backup wands, or untraceable burner wands. They would never be as powerful as a perfectly paired wand, but with their original owners likely long dead and buried, they could still be used quite adequately in a pinch.

Summoning a bag from a nearby mound of old school supplies, he absentmindedly started to cast a flurry of spells on it, temporarily expanding its interior, and reinforcing its structure. It would be a bit of a bodge job. But it would still last for a few weeks at least. Which was more than enough time for him to transport all the valuables he had gathered from the room of the requirements to his dormitory, where he could then sort and store them all in his permanently expanded trunk.

Humming to himself as he worked, summoning spell books and tomes next, he couldn't help but grin as he started tallying up the accumulated worth of his freshly pilfered resources.

The Potters were not a rich family.

Or at least, not anymore.

Once upon a time, they had been. Unfortunately, however, the vast wealth the Noble House of Potter had once wielded had long since been squandered by lazy, workshy lordlings, incompetent wastrels and spoiled socialites.

For all that the House Potter was a Noble Family, by the time he came to inherit the estate after the passing of his parents, the coffers had all but run dry. Even the centuries-old family manor had been gambled away by his grandfather back in the 1940s.

By the time his father had inherited the estate in the 1970s, there was literally nothing left. Only a small cottage in Godrik's Hollow – which ironically had once been a part of the servant's quarters for the old Potter Family estate - and his father's gambling debts.

Thankfully, his mother and father had been thrifty and highly capable and had managed to pay off a good chunk of the family debt before they died. And what debt remained had been paid off when the cottage was sold. With what little money remained after that being put into an account for him. It was nowhere near enough to live on but was at least enough to cover his schooling.

Presumably, the same had happened in this world, considering his parents were likewise long since dead and buried.

The Black Family, meanwhile, were substantially wealthier than the Potter's had ever been.

Almost ludicrously so.

Unfortunately, with Sirius still being alive he couldn't access any of that wealth. Or at least not without going through his godfather, which in turn would likely lead to some awkward questioning.

Harry shook his head at that thought and returned his attention to the matter at hand.

He couldn't rely on the Black Family resources, and the Potter Family resources were pretty much non-existent.

Thankfully, however, the accumulated value of all the things he had managed to salvage from the room of requirement would be more than enough to set him up for life. Or at least it would once he had sorted through it, dispelled any untoward curses, and sold it all off.

But again, that was a problem for future Harry to sort out.

For now, he needed to finish his work, and then get back to the others before his absence was noticed.

He'd managed to ditch his hangers off for a while with an excuse about needing to 'go to the library quickly', but with his lessons rapidly approaching, he would have to meet up with them again soon.

He grimaced a little at that thought.

Lessons.

Why couldn't he have been reborn - or whatever it was that had happened – in an adult body?

It would have been so much simpler and more fun if he had been born into the body of a similarly aged version of himself. Preferably a very wealthy version of himself, in a world in which Voldemort never existed. A version of himself who had a harem of Veela…?

His lips twitched up into a smile at the thought of such a scenario.

He had barely been able to properly manage a normal, monogamous relationship.

The idea of somehow trying to make a harem work was as tiring as it was completely unrealistic.

He shook his head and chuckled.

Thankfully, such a scenario was as unlikely as Voldemort taking up ballet.

( - )

In the end, Harry had finished up in the room of requirements with just enough time to slip in with the Gryffindors and Slytherin fifth years as they filed into the DADA classroom.

Flashing his year mates a grin, he easily slipped into the line alongside Seamus and Dean, both of whom made room as they trouped into the room and started taking their seats. Behind him, he could feel Hermione's curious gaze on his back.

"Where have you been, Harry?" Dean asked as he settled into his chosen seat.

"Had to catch up on some stuff in the library," Harry shrugged easily, taking a seat of his own and looking around at the nauseatingly familiar classroom.

"Urgh, you sound like Hermione," Ron added with a roll of his eyes.

Hermione, who was nearby, sent the redhead an affronted look, even as Lavender let out a little giggle.

"It's the start of the year mate, how are you already falling behind?" Seamus laughed.

"Because I was lazy and didn't do my homework over the summer," Harry said with an easy smile as he slipped into his seat and told yet another bald-faced lie. This world's version of him had had so little to do over his summer at the Dursleys that he'd been able to do all his schoolwork.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed with a scandalised expression.

Holding back a frown at her tone, he was saved from having to come up with a reasonable response to what would now doubt be an irritating lecture on his irresponsibility by Umbridge entering the room with a bright, sugary sweet smile on her face. As per usual, she was dressed in a woolly pink cardigan and had her trademark pink bow in her mousy brown hair.

Sitting up a bit straight, Harry, perhaps for the first time, was almost happy to see her pug-ugly face. After all, he had still not fully worked out how he would be dealing with his 'unknowingly former enemies' turned 'close friends and allies'. Especially Ron and Hermione, who didn't hate him in this world, but instead thought of themselves as his best friends, and treated him as such.

"Good morning class!" Umbridge called out happily as she shuffled to the front of the class.

In response, several of those present gave some half-hearted "good mornings".

Even Draco, who had been studiously avoiding Harry's gaze since he entered the room didn't give more than a perfunctory nod.

Sitting back in his chair, Harry prepared himself for what he knew was coming.

The same thing had happened in his first class with the irritatingly condescending woman.

"Tut, tut," Umbridge replied, her smile widening. "That won't do, now, will it? I would like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her dutifully.

Even he joined in, his lips twitching up in amusement as he looked around at all the barely hidden looks of disgust and irritation on his classmates' faces. They were all in their mid-teens and yet she was treating them like toddlers.

"There, now," Umbridge said sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Now, wands away and quills out, please."

A collective groan swept through the class, one that Umbridge happily ignored as she opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once...

DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS: A RETURN TO BASIC PRINCIPLES

"Right," she giggled, her lips curling up into a smile as she looked around to make sure that they had all complied with her 'request'. "Now this class has been one that's been a bit fragmented over the years."

Around the room, several students began exchanging looks.

"The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year." She paused. "You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year."

With another flick of her wand, more words appeared on the blackboard behind her.

Course aims:

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

Once again, Harry was not surprised.

From what he could see, things were pretty much on course to be exactly as he remembered them. Or at least they were as far as this class was concerned. Which, considering she was verbatim regurgitating pre-planned lessons designed by 'education specialists' at the Ministry, probably wasn't too surprising.

"Now, I trust you have all purchased a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Silkhard," Umbridge continued. Some of the class murmured in response, which prompted her to shake her head again. "Now that won't do at all, no it won't. A simple 'Yes, Professor Umbridge' or 'No, Professor Umbridge' is all you need to do to answer my question. Now once again, did you purchase a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Silkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," droned the class.

"Very good," Umbridge continued with false cheer. "Now, you may start reading Chapter One of Defensive Magical theory, there will be no need to talk. Once you have finished reading, we will discuss what you have learnt."

With a sigh, Harry pulled the book out of his bag and put it on his desk under the pretext that he was reading it. Not that he was going to bother. Not when he could still remember most of the main points from the book as he had forced himself to read it the first time around. The main point to take away from Slinkhart's dross was that if shit happened, then run away and get help at the first sign of danger.

His smile became a little fixed as he started remembering more about the contents of the book. Essential, the book was bland and useless and was pretty much all theory-based, with no emphasis whatsoever on the practical. On top of this, the author had a very closed-minded view of magic, there was no nuance, just a very black-and-white view of magic and human psychology. Plus, he was a hopeless optimist, with a very aspirational view of society.

It burnt well though.

Making brief eye contact with Umbridge, he gave her a friendly smile and then started staring at the first page.

He had much better things to be doing right now.

Staring with glazed eyes at the pages, he allowed his mind to wander and started daydreaming about his future.

He would treat this class like he had History of Magic, only with more subtlety when it came to avoiding doing any work.

Around him, he could hear the shuffle of pages, and the disgruntled sighs of his classmates as they settled down to read.

Gazing blankly at the book, he allowed his mind to wander.

Once he had built up some capital, would it be possible to transfer to Durmstrang and Beauxbaton?

Both sounded good. Durmstrang didn't give a shit about using dark magic, and Beauxbaton was the home to hot French girls. Best of all, both of them were outside of Britain and Dumbledore's influence, and far enough away from the brewing war that he could feign ignorance of what was happening and instead get on with enjoying his second chance at living the good life.

The only problem, unfortunately, was Voldemort.

Having met the maniac and having witnessed just how far he was willing to go to kill Neville Longbottom, he was pretty sure Voldemort wouldn't allow a simple thing like borders and distance to stop him from coming after the supposed 'Boy-Who-Lived'.

His brow furrowed.

So long as Voldemort was alive and/or free, he would never be able to live his life.

It was annoying.

Grumbling to himself as the reality of his situation spoiled his daydreams, he was soon distracted from his thoughts when something interesting happened.

Several seats over from where he was say, he could see Hermione had raised her hand into the air.

At the front of the class, Umbridge, who had just taken a seat, frowned at the disruption, her eyes narrowing a fraction as she lasered in on Hermione.

"Yes dear," Umbridge asked curiously.

"I've got a query about your course aims," Granger replied.

Umbridge raised her eyebrows.

She didn't look happy at being questioned.

Fighting a smile, Harry lowered his book and eagerly looked between the two witches.

This was new.

The last time he had taken this class he had been in with the Hufflepuffs, and absolutely nothing of note had happened. All they had done was read the book, and then regurgitated everything they had learned when Umbridge joyfully asked them questions about the first chapter. To stereotype based on House traits, Hufflepuff by nature avoided confrontation unless absolutely necessary, and Ravenclaws were generally introverted and socially inept.

"And your name is —?" Umbridge said slowly.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione said promptly.

"Well then, Miss Granger. Do you have a question about the assigned chapter that needs addressing?" Umbridge asked, her tone turning a bit colder. For some reason, Hermione's name had evoked a negative response.

"Not about the chapter, no," Hermione said.

"Well, we're reading just now," Umbridge replied, showing her small, pointed teeth. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims," Hermione pressed.

Umbridge raised her eyebrows.

"And what are these questions, Miss Granger? I would have thought they were perfectly clear to understand if you read them through carefully, even for the most simple-minded of students," Umbridge said sweetly.

"Well, I don't. There is nothing written up there about actually using defensive magic," Hermione replied slowly, apparently letting the sly dig at her intellect slide for the moment.

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.

"Using defensive magic?" Umbridge repeated with a little laugh, "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. Surely you aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"But, isn't there a practical portion on the O.W.L. examination?" Hermione replied, her tone hardening.

By this point, the entire class was paying attention to the back and forth.

Some of them were enjoying the spectacle, and Harry was one of them.

Umbridge was an odious and unpleasant woman, and Granger was a pain in the arse.

At this point, he didn't care who won the brewing argument. He just wanted to see the fireworks.

"Yes…" Umbridge said slowly, as if talking to an idiot, "But as long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions."

"Without practising them first!" Ron shouted suddenly, making several nearby students jump. Around him, several other members of their House started grumbling too.

At the side-lines the Slytherin's remained quiet, even some of the friendlier ones. None of them said anything or interfered. Instead, they just watched on with interest. No doubt they were waiting to see just what kind of a teacher Umbridge would turn out to be, and just how much trouble the Gryffindors would get themselves in.

"You are not to talk without raising your hand, Mr…" Umbridge cut in swiftly, her eyes narrowing as she turned her attention to Ron.

She was playing games, considering his red hair and the freckles, and her likely familiarity with the Weasley Family patriarch, she almost certainly knew who he was.

"Weasley," Ron said as he angrily threw his hand up and glared at Umbridge who coolly stared him down.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, what is it?" Umbridge repeated, once again using her fake, sugary voice.

"Well, it's just like I said, plus we need some practice for what's out there," Ron replied gruffly, his gaze flicking to Harry expectantly.

In response, Harry deliberately looked back at his book and pretended to read.

He had no stake in this argument and could see no benefit in joining in on the rapidly escalating dispute over the course aims.

Especially considering what a vindictive nightmare Umbridge was.

He was probably already on her shit list considering what had gone down at the Ministry, and as such he didn't want to give her any more reason to try to make his life hell. Or at least not without good reason, and considering he didn't have anything he could learn from this class there were no benefits for him to stick his neck out.

"There is nothing out there at all, Mr. Weasley," Umbridge scoffed casually, her eyes shooting to Harry suspiciously as he remained silent. "Is there something you want to add, Mr. Potter?"

Harry blinked in surprise, at the question. "I'm sorry, miss. What was the question? I'm afraid I didn't hear as I was doing what you told us to do and reading the first chapter."

Umbridge's face twisted into a scowl.

Ron meanwhile sent him a wide-eyed look.

As did some of his other classmates.

Even the Slytherins, like Malfoy, Tracey and Daphne looked surprised.

Smiling innocently, Harry tilted his head to the side curiously.

Integrity and honesty were practically foreign concepts to him.

"Well," Umbridge bit out, swiftly regaining her composure as she returned her attention to Ron. "As I just said, Mr Weasley, there is nothing out there, as you say."

"Yes, there is!" Ron snapped angrily. "You-Know-Who is back, don't try to deny it either."

"Ah yes, that unsubstantiated, and quite frankly dangerous rumour," Umbridge smiled coldly. "I'm afraid you have been greatly misguided, Mr Weasley. You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead. This is a lie. What you have heard, is little more than rumour and fear-mongering that is being spread by a few questionable individuals. These lies are not to be listened to. The Ministry clearly stated the truth of events. Which you should know, considering your own father works at the Ministry."

Ron's cheeks reddened.

But Umbridge ignored him and glanced back at him, looking for a reaction.

In response, he kept his eyes rooted on his book.

Unless he was specifically forced to say something, he wouldn't. He wasn't prepared to let himself be baited into taking a position. Especially since if he did so, then he was only setting himself up for said position to be undermined.

From the side, he could see several of his peers looking at him.

Some looked confused, and some looked considering.

Glancing sideways, he saw the frown on Seamus's face.

He wet his lips.

But kept his head down.

He would likely need to do some damage control later.

From the side, he saw, Hermione angrily thrust her hand back into the air.

"Has the Ministry actually investigated what has happened?" Hermione said, once again speaking before she was given permission too.

"Yes, Miss Granger, the Ministry has conducted a thorough investigation into what happened, and concluded that Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident and a result of sabotage, perpetrated by the mentally unstable wizard who had previously been masquerading as your former Professor, Alastor Moody. Those are the facts." Umbridge said loudly, looking around at the class. "Any other version of events that you have heard is a lie."

"Barty Crouch Junior was a Deatheater!" Ron said loudly.

"Your hand is not up, Mr Weasley!" Umbridge sang.

Ron put up his hand; Umbridge turned away from him.

"Now, I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed — not to mention," she gave a nasty little laugh, "extremely dangerous half-breeds."

"If you mean Professor Lupin," Dean suddenly piped up, "he was the best we ever —"

"Hand!" Umbridge said sternly. Dean glanced at Harry but kept his hand down. "As I was saying — you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day. I have even heard that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you —"

Umbridge's nostril flared, and she shook her head.

"As I have said before, you have been greatly misguided. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means, come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners.' " Umbridge said, looking around at the assembled class with an earnest expression on her face.

Grumbling and mumbling followed.

Both Hermione, Ron and several other members of his year including Parvati and Seamus had their hands raised.

Looking out across the room, Umbridge expression hardened.

"I believe I gave you all an instruction," She said, her tone becoming more clipped. "I'm not sure how things were done in the past. But I am the teacher, and you are the students. This means that during class, you will do as I tell you to do, learn what I tell you to learn, and ask questions, only when, I allow you to ask questions."

Several hands lowered.

Hermione didn't back down, however.

"Miss Granger," Umbridge said, "That will be ten points from Griffindor for ignoring your teacher's instructions."

Hermione's hand wavered.

Umbridge glared her down.

"And now it will be a detention. Would you like to make that a week's detention?" Umbridge asked.

After a long moment, Hermione lowered her hand.

"Good, now continue with your reading," Umbridge said, looking around as if daring anyone to try to ask another question. "Once you have finished, you may sit quietly until everyone else has caught up, at which point we will have a structured and focused discussion on the first chapter of Slinkhart's work."

Nobody spoke.

Shifting his attention, back to his book, Harry took a moment to think over all that had happened.

Had he made the right choice in not speaking up?

He had once heard, that you can choose courage, or you can choose comfort, but you cannot choose both.

Right now he had chosen comfort.

A comfortable life was what he wanted.

But to do that, he needed a support system, and to be rid of his Voldemort issue.

His eyes narrowed a fraction, and he glanced at the others.

He would definitely need to do some damage control.

In fact, it might be time to usurp Hogwart's infamous rumour mill and get it working in his favour.

His gaze locked on Parvati and Lavender, before then shifting to Tracey Davis and Pansy Parkinson.

Plans quickly started taking place in his head.

He already knew which tools to use. Now he needed to figure out how best to use them.

As he continued to ponder, he became aware of Umbridge's gaze.

The short, squat witch was staring almost unblinkingly at him from behind her desk. Her bulging eyes watched his every move. No doubt she searching for any reason she could find to punish or humiliate him.

His lip curled.

He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

He wasn't prepared to play her petty little games, or at least not until his victory was assured.

( - )

AN: I think one of the bigger issues I had with this story, was the pacing. Which might seem a little dumb considering this chapter was a bit slow. But at the same time, I wanted to do this chapter as it finishes the setup, which in turn will allow me to quickly start speeding things up and escalating as school starts and Harry gets the swing of things.

I've got everything planned out until the end of the school year, and have ideas for what follows and an overall ending in mind.

All being well, and so long as I remain focused. I might be able to get this story finished next year.

He says looking away awkwardly.

One of the issues with having a stupid amount of stories is it's difficult to remain focused.

In fact, while writing this I actually did the first draft for a new PJO/HP story with Nico as the MC. It was pretty fun to plot out and write. But at the same time, I had the realisation that I would likely never finish it, so what was the point of posting.

But ahh well, I got this one out, and before Christmas too.

Hope you all like the chapter, and if you didn't then please let me know why? I don't mind negative or critical reviews, so long as their not abjectly rude and are constructive. And like I said at the top, I am aware of some of the issues, and will be working on them in the background as and when I have the time.

Have a good Christmas and New Year all, and cheers for reading.

Some of you are the reason I post my fanfics online, as opposed to hording them in my computer files.

Have a good one.

Greed720.