Chapter Eleven: Dolores Umbridge

Harry stormed out of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Ron and Hermione hot on his heels. Needless to say, their first lesson with Professor Umbridge had not gone well.

"I cannot believe her," Hermione said angrily, as she caught up with Harry. "How can we be expected to pass our O.W.L., if we never get to practice any of the spells?"

"Yeah, I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, appointing someone useless like that as a teacher," added Ron, slightly out of breath.

"I don't think he had any choice," grumbled Harry, as they turned down the next hallway. "It's like you said, Hermione, the Ministry are just sticking their nose in where it doesn't belong. You heard her: me and Dumbledore are liars, Voldemort's not back, and only the Ministry can keep everyone safe. This has Fudge written all over it."

"She was obviously trying to provoke you, too," said Hermione. "I'm honestly amazed you didn't start shouting at her."

Harry stopped and shook his head. "I nearly did," he confessed. "I promised Dumbledore I'd try to avoid direct confrontation with Umbridge, but I have a feeling it's going to be a lot harder than I thought."

"No one would've blamed you if you did, the way she was going on," Ron commiserated.

"That may be true, but it wouldn't have helped anything," offered Hermione. "She would've just given Harry detention and used the incident to paint him as unstable, playing into everything the Prophet's been saying."

"Thanks for the reminder," Harry replied sarcastically, taking a moment to stare pointedly at the small group of Hufflepuffs whispering and glancing in his direction. "Come on, let's get out of here," he said, and then marched off in the direction of their common room.

Hermione eventually split off, saying she needed to work on an assignment for Ancient Runes and promising to catch up with them at dinner. Just as the portrait of the Fat Lady came into view, Ron suddenly mentioned forgetting something and took off in the opposite direction. Harry thought his behaviour was a bit odd, but he shrugged it off entered the portrait hole.

Several people were milling around the common room, but it was empty enough that Harry was able to get one of the good seats near the fire. Not having anything better to do at the moment, he pulled out his Potions book and some parchment from his bag, thinking that spending some time working on Snape's moonstone essay might help distract him from their disastrous first Defence lesson.

It didn't take him long to notice that not even his fellow Gryffindors were immune to Ministry propaganda. He couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, but he could tell by the looks certain people were giving him that plenty of his housemates believed the Prophet — even Seamus, with whom he had shared a dorm for four years. Deciding that heading down to dinner early sounded better than working on his essay with a dozen people staring at him, Harry packed up his things and took them up to the dorm to drop them off.

"Hi, Harry," Neville greeted him as he entered.

"Hey, Neville," he replied. "I'm about to head down to dinner; want to come?"

"Um…sure, but don't you, Ron, and Hermione usually go down together?"

"Well…yeah, I suppose so," replied Harry. "That's mostly out of habit, though. It's not like they're the only people I can eat with. Besides, I'm pretty sure Hermione's in the library, and I have no idea where Ron went."

"All right, then," said Neville, and he closed his book and stood up to follow Harry. As they marched down the stairs and through the common room, Neville noticed everyone staring and spoke to Harry in a low voice, "Don't worry, Harry, there are a lot of us who believe you. My Gran actually cancelled her subscription to the Prophet over all the things they've been saying about you and Professor Dumbledore."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she told me about your hearing, too. I can't believe they tried to expel you for fighting off dementors!"

"Thanks, Neville," said Harry gratefully, clapping the other boy on the shoulder as they exited the common room. It really was nice to get a reminder every so often that not everyone thought him a dangerous nutter.

The Great Hall was still relatively empty, as dinner service had only just started. With plenty of seats to choose from, Harry and Neville sat down across from one another at the Gryffindor table and served themselves, while they compared notes on their first day of classes.

"Professor Snape made it sound like this is going to be our hardest year yet," Neville said miserably.

"I know, I'm really not looking forward to whatever he has in store for us," sighed Harry. "Look on the bright side, though. You'll be allowed to drop Potions next year, if you want."

Neville looked down at his plate. "Gran won't like that, but I probably won't have a choice," he said. "I doubt I'll do well enough on my O.W.L. for Professor Snape to even let me into his N.E.W.T. class."

"Sounds like a silver lining to me," joked Harry, making the other boy grin sheepishly. "No more Snape might even be worth failing an O.W.L. on purpose. I mean, having one teacher who hates me is bad enough, but it looks like this year I have a matching set."

"You mean Professor Umbridge?" asked Neville, to which Harry nodded glumly. "It's weird," he continued, "I don't understand why she's even here, if she doesn't plan on teaching us any magic."

"Well, she works directly for Fudge, who I'm positive is behind all the rubbish the Prophet has been printing lately," explained Harry. "I've been told he's gotten really paranoid that Dumbledore's going to use us to try and take over the Ministry, so maybe it's something to do with that."

"So…you mean they're afraid? Of us?" Neville asked confusedly.

"Maybe," replied Harry, with a shrug. "It's just a theory. We can't fight the Ministry if we don't learn proper magic. Of course, we can't fight the Death Eaters either. Either way, whoever's pulling the strings probably likes the idea of keeping us defenceless."

Neville's eyes widened. "What do we do, then?" he asked anxiously.

"I don't know…but we'll think of something," Harry replied distractedly. He had already planned to keep up his training on his own, but maybe it wouldn't hurt to bring in a few others. He'd have to think about it, but he needed to find a suitable place to train before doing anything.

It looked like Neville had something more to say, but his mouth clamped shut when he saw someone approaching over Harry's right shoulder. Following Neville's gaze, Harry turned and saw Astoria walking towards them.

"Hi, Harry," she said brightly, taking the seat next to his. "How was your first day of classes?"

"Pretty much as bad as I expected," he told her. When she responded with a quizzical look, he elaborated, "Today I had Binns, Snape, Trelawney, and Umbridge."

Astoria grimaced sympathetically. "I see what you mean. I haven't had Defence yet, but I've yet to hear anything good about the new teacher," she said. "She does seem rather unpleasant, though."

"You're not wrong. She also spent half the lesson trying to provoke me — probably trying to get me in trouble."

"Why would she do that?"

"Because she works for Fudge. She was with him at my hearing this summer."

"Oh…" she nodded in understanding. "That does explain a few things. We should probably be careful around her — especially you."

"Trust me, I'm trying," grumbled Harry. "I wouldn't expect to learn much from her this year. Do you know Neville, by the way?" he added, gesturing across the table to the boy in question, who looked as if he wasn't sure whether he should be listening.

"Yes, but it's been a long time," nodded Astoria. "How are you, Neville?"

"Pretty good, thanks," he replied, somewhat quietly. "How've you been?"

"Good. Is your grandmother well? I was just thinking about the time —"

"There you are, Harry!" Ron called out from behind him. He and Hermione had just entered the Great Hall together and were making their way towards the Gryffindor table. Ron plopped down on Harry's other side, while Hermione rolled her eyes and walked around to sit next to Neville.

"Where'd you go? We were looking for you," said Ron.

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry replied, "I just felt like heading to dinner early, so I asked Neville to come along." He chose not to mention the part that the uncomfortable atmosphere within the Gryffindor common room played in his decision.

Ron nodded and started loading up his plate, but Hermione loudly cleared her throat while looking directly at Harry. "Aren't you going to introduce us, Harry?" she asked pointedly.

"Right, sorry…guys, this is Astoria Greengrass. Astoria, these are my friends Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley."

"Pleasure to meet you," Astoria said politely.

"You as well," Hermione responded in turn.

Ron merely grunted, as his mouth was otherwise occupied. Once he had swallowed his rather large piece of chicken, he leaned in and said, in a low voice, "So…she's the one, right?"

"Ron!" hissed Hermione, glancing sideways towards Neville.

Harry sighed and took a quick look around. The Great Hall was slowly filling up, but it was still empty enough that they could speak without being overheard. "It's fine, Hermione," he said. "Neville, you might as well hear this too — I know I can trust you."

Neville seemed rather pleased to be included. Harry beckoned all four of them to lean in closer and started quietly explaining.

"What I told you all about Astoria writing to me over the summer is true," he began. "What I didn't tell you is that the night of the dementor attack, I wrote her back asking for help."

Ron, Hermione, and Neville all shared surprised looks.

"I knew I had to leave my relatives' house, you see," Harry continued, "but I also knew I needed help from someone who wouldn't rat me out to Dumbledore."

Hermione made at face at Harry's remark but chose not to comment.

"Anyway, she wrote me back the next morning, so I ended up escaping the Dursleys' and taking the Knight Bus to somewhere close to her house. The Greengrasses have a small cabin on their property that no one uses, so she let me stay there and lay low for a while. She made sure I had food, picked up some new clothes for me, and she even found a solicitor to help with my hearing — which was brilliant, by the way."

Astoria smiled broadly at the praise and patted Harry's arm, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Hermione.

"Thank you for being there for him," Hermione said with a strained smile, no doubt thinking of their own failure to be there for Harry when he needed them. Astoria just smiled back and nodded graciously.

"That's good and all," said Ron, "but why're we acting like it's some big secret?"

"Part of it is my sister, Daphne," explained Astoria. "She's afraid that our family could be in danger if people found out we helped Harry. I'm not too worried — not anymore, at least — but she has a hard enough time in Slytherin as it is."

"That does sort of make sense," remarked Neville. "I don't even want to think about what people like Malfoy would do if they thought she was on Harry's side."

"True…I have a feeling Draco is going to steer clear of Harry for a while, though," replied Astoria, making the Gryffindors chuckle at the memory of what Harry told them about the incident on the train. "There's also the fact that we didn't tell our parents Harry was staying in the cabin," she added thoughtfully. "They definitely wouldn't have approved of that."

"No, I suppose not," Hermione replied amusedly.

"Speaking of my sister," said Astoria, turning to Harry. "I believe I need to arrange the return of your property."

"Oh, right!" exclaimed Harry. "Angelina told me tryouts are this Friday, so I do sort of need it back. Did you bring it with you?"

"No — we couldn't figure out how to bring it without my parents noticing, but I think I have a solution. If you're done eating, we can go take care of it now."

"Great, let's go," said Harry, standing up from the table. He helped Astoria to her feet, and then the two of them left the Great Hall, while the other three Gryffindors exchanged looks with one another. Ron and Neville both shrugged and returned their attentions to their meals, but Hermione just sat there for a moment with a thoughtful expression.

oOoOoOo

"So, what's the plan?" asked Harry, as Astoria led him into an empty classroom.

"Well, my first idea was to ask Flopsy to bring it to you, but she doesn't like leaving the house," Astoria informed him. "She goes as far as the village when she must, but I could tell she wasn't keen on coming all the way to Hogwarts."

"That is a bit odd, but yeah…I wouldn't want to distress her if we don't have to."

"My thoughts exactly," she replied with a smile. "So, I was thinking you could ask the elf that you called to Mr. Cartwright's office. He works here at Hogwarts, right?"

"Yeah, Dobby —"

Crack

"Did Harry Potter call for Dobby?" squeaked the oddly dressed house-elf.

"Well…yeah, I supposed I did. How are you, Dobby?"

"Harry Potter asked how Dobby is! Harry Potter is a great wizard!" the elf exclaimed, practically jumping up and down.

"Calm down, Dobby," said Harry embarrassedly, while Astoria tried not to laugh. "We're friends, right? So why wouldn't I ask how you're doing?"

"Of course, the great Harry Potter is a most humble, most kind wizard. Dobby is proud to be Harry Potter's friend!"

"Er — thanks, Dobby. Anyway, I was wondering if you could help us with something. Do you remember Astoria, from over the summer?"

"Of course, Dobby remembers! Dobby would never forget one of the great Harry Potter's friends!"

"Thank you, Dobby, it's nice to see you too," Astoria said to him kindly. "We need your help to bring Harry's broomstick back to Hogwarts. If you can, we'd like for you to go to the Greengrass Estate just outside of Appleby and speak to my house-elf, Flopsy. Just tell her why you're there and she'll give you the broom. Can you do that?"

"Of course, Harry Potter's Miss Tori. Dobby would be honoured to help!" the elf gushed, and he popped away in an instant.

"Harry Potter's Miss Tori?" she repeated, her cheeks tinged slightly pink.

"Yeah, I heard that too," laughed Harry. "I wouldn't think too hard on it, though. Dobby's…unique."

A few moments later, Dobby returned holding Harry's Firebolt in both hands.

"Here is your broomstick, sir," he said, dutifully presenting the Firebolt to Harry. "Is there anything else Dobby can do for Harry Potter and his Miss Tori?"

"I don't think so, Dobby, thanks a — wait!" Harry interrupted himself, thinking back to his earlier conversation with Neville. "There is something you might be able to help with. I need a place where I can practice magic without anybody being able to find out what I'm doing, and I mean nobody — not even Professor Dumbledore. Is there a place like that in the castle?"

Harry knew it was a longshot, but if anyone knew the castle better than the Weasley twins it was the Hogwarts house-elves. Still, he braced himself for disappointment and was surprised when Dobby gave a little skip and clapped his hands together, his ears waggling with joy.

"Dobby knows the perfect place, sir!" he said happily. "Dobby heard tell of it from the other house-elves when he came to Hogwarts, sir. It is known by us as the Come and Go Room, sir, or else as the Room of Requirement!"

"Why do you call it that, Dobby?" Astoria asked curiously.

"Because, Miss Tori," began Dobby, in a more serious tone, "it is a room that a person can only enter when they have real need of it. Sometimes it is there, sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker's needs. Dobby has used it before, and Dobby knows Mr. Filch has found extra cleaning materials there, sir, and —"

"— and if you really needed the loo," said Harry, suddenly remembering something Dumbledore had said during the Yule Ball, "would it fill itself with chamber pots?"

"Dobby expects so, sir. It is a most amazing room, sir."

"That sounds perfect, Dobby," said Harry gratefully. "Where is this room? Can you show us how to open it?

"Dobby can, sir," the elf replied happily. "Would you like to see it now, sir?

"I'm game," replied Harry, who then turned to Astoria. "How about you, Miss Tori?"

Astoria snorted and slapped Harry lightly on the arm. "Prat," she said, holding back a chuckle. "But yes, we have plenty of time before curfew and I would love to see this amazing room."

"Dobby promises you will not be disappointed, miss," he insisted. "Meet Dobby on the seventh floor, near the picture of a wizard teaching trolls to dance, and Dobby will show you the room!"

"Okay Dobby, we'll meet you there — hang on, could you do me a favour and drop this off in my dorm on your way?" requested Harry, handing his Firebolt back to the elf.

"Of course, sir!"

Dobby took hold of the broom and disappeared again with a soft pop, so Harry and Astoria exited the classroom and began making their way up to the seventh floor. As they were still on the ground level, they had quite a bit of walking ahead of them, including several staircases (some of which tended to move at the most inconvenient times). By that time, however, the majority of students were already in the Great Hall for dinner, so they were lucky enough not to encounter many others on their journey.

"So, is this how all your adventures start?" asked Astoria, a teasing lilt to her voice. "An intriguing, yet seemingly innocent mystery, like a secret room that no one knows about?"

Harry laughed out loud. "No, they usually start with something a bit more dramatic, like trolls and three-headed dogs hiding in corridors, or students getting petrified by ancient serpents. Secret rooms are pretty mild by comparison, so I think we're safe this time," he assured her.

Astoria started to laugh, but something in Harry's expression made her pause. "Wait, you're not actually joking, are you?" she asked.

Harry just shrugged noncommittally.

"I'm starting to think you left out a lot of details when you talked about your adventures this summer," she lightly chided him.

"You're right, I did," he admitted. "I'm used to people either not believing me or accusing me of being an attention seeker, so I tend not to talk about things."

"Well…I believe you," she replied sincerely. "If it's not too much, I'd really like to hear more about what you've done. It sounds like you've been through an awful lot."

Harry looked at her curiously as they walked. Between his time with the Dursleys and the wizarding world's obsession with the legend of the Boy Who Lived, Harry had been conditioned to the point where reticence was as natural to him as breathing. Aside from Ron and Hermione, he was used to people wanting answers for their own benefit, but Astoria seemed genuinely interested in learning more about him — something that Harry was beginning to realise had been the case from the very beginning.

"All right, let me tell you how we first became friends with Hermione," said Harry, beginning his tale. "It was Halloween of our first year…"

He spent the rest of their walk up to the seventh floor going over the highlights of his first three years at Hogwarts. Astoria listened attentively while asking the occasional question, and by the time Harry got to the part where Sirius escaped on Buckbeak, they had nearly reached their destination.

"I remember you mentioning having a godfather, but I never would have guessed it was Sirius Black," said Astoria, sounding somewhat mystified. "You're still in contact with him, aren't you?"

"Yeah, it was actually his house I went to after leaving yours," replied Harry, after first confirming they were still alone. "Ron and Hermione know, but otherwise we can't mention that around anyone else — even Daphne."

"I understand," she nodded, as they rounded the corner and saw Dobby waiting for them in an otherwise empty corridor.

Just as the elf had described, Dobby was standing next to an enormous moving tapestry depicting a forest clearing, where a tiny wizard was surrounded by a small group of trolls wearing tutus and wielding enormous clubs.

"Barnabas the Barmy," muttered Harry, reading the small plaque next to the tapestry. "I'd say he earned his name, wouldn't you?" he asked, as the wizard futilely attempted to teach one troll how to pirouette, while simultaneously avoiding being turned to jelly by another's club.

"Yes, I'd have to say I agree," giggled Astoria, while Dobby nodded gravely beside her.

"All right, Dobby, we're here. Where's this room you were telling us about?"

"Right here, sir," bowed Dobby, gesturing to the blank stretch of wall across from the troll tapestry. "To open the room, Harry Potter must walk past this wall three times while thinking very hard about what he needs."

Harry looked sceptically at the elf, but Dobby's expression was so earnest that he decided to just do as he was instructed. Shrugging his shoulders, he walked past the blank wall thinking "I need a place to practice magic…I need a place to practice magic…"

"Harry, look!" gasped Astoria, as he completed his third pass.

Where there was once nothing but a blank wall, there was now a highly polished wooden door set within an ornate stone archway. With a rush of excitement, Harry pushed open the door and led the others inside, only for his jaw to drop the moment he stepped over the threshold.

They found themselves inside an enormous room with a domed ceiling, lit by at least a dozen torches. The floor was made from wide, exceptionally well-polished floorboards that came together to form a square in the middle. The wall on the left was lined with shelves holding enough books to keep Hermione occupied at least until Christmas, and along the right were what appeared to be targets for spell practice, and even a few wooden training dummies.

"This is incredible," breathed Harry, as he and Astoria both stood in the centre of the room, looking all around. "Thanks Dobby, I owe you big time."

"Harry Potter is most welcome, sir," replied Dobby, offering him a low bow. "If you need anything else or want to change the room, all Harry Potter must do is think of it, and the Come and Go Room will make it so."

"It really is extraordinary magic," said Astoria. "What exactly did you ask for, Harry?"

"Just a place where I could train. What do you think?" he asked, while examining one of the dummies.

"It's not bad, but I think it could use a woman's touch," she replied with a grin. "May I?"

"Be my guest."

Astoria closed her eyes, and the room immediately underwent a rapid metamorphosis. Harry looked on in wonder as several skylights opened up in the domed ceiling, allowing the last vestiges of light from the evening sky to filter into the room. Rugs of various shapes and sizes burst into existence, along with several tables, sofas, and chairs, giving the room a homier feel. The spartan walls that Harry had thought into existence were now a deep burgundy colour and covered in artwork, and last but not least, a huge stone fireplace now occupied the back wall.

"Oh…Miss Tori is very good at using the room. Miss Tori must be a great witch!" Dobby said in awe.

"Thank you, Dobby," she replied, and then turned to Harry and gestured towards the fireplace. "Shall we?"

"Sure," he grinned, moving to occupy one of the twin chairs next to the fire.

"Now this is much cosier," remarked Astoria, as she sank into the chair. "Just because you're training to fight Dark Wizards, that doesn't mean you have to be uncomfortable."

"No, I suppose not," agreed Harry, although he had a feeling Mad-Eye Moody would beg to differ.

"Does Harry Potter or his Miss need anything else from Dobby?"

"I don't think so, Dobby," replied Harry, turning back to the elf. "Thank you so much for telling us about this room. I'm going to buy you a ton of new socks next time I go to Hogsmeade."

"Harry Potter is too kind to Dobby," he said tearfully. "Please let Dobby know if he can be of any more service," he added, before popping away.

"You certainly have a way with people, Harry," Astoria said teasingly. "He seems to be quite loyal to you, considering he's not bonded. You said you tricked Draco's father into freeing him?"

"Yeah, in my second year," he confirmed. "He had a hard life with the Malfoys, so I was glad to do it. This isn't the first time he's helped me out, either."

Harry stared into the fire for a few moments, caught up in the memory of Dobby's assistance with the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, which naturally led to flashbacks of the third task and the nightmare that followed.

"Are you all right, Harry?" enquired Astoria, suddenly sounding concerned.

"Yeah…sorry," he said, turning his gaze away from the fire and giving her a strained smile.

"I didn't just mean right now," she responded, now worrying at her lower lip. "There's something different about you, Harry. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's there."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Astoria had proven more perceptive than the average witch, so he knew he couldn't lie to her — and more importantly, he didn't want to lie to her. The question was, how much should he tell her?

"The weeks after my hearing were…eventful," he started. "I can't tell you everything — for your own safety — but I found out there was a prophecy…about me and Voldemort."

Astoria's eyes continued to widen as Harry summarised his conversation with Dumbledore about the prophecy and what it meant for him, although he didn't give her the exact wording. He told her about the Order of the Phoenix and how they were trying to work against Voldemort, but that it ultimately didn't matter, because it would all come down to him in the end.

"Oh, Harry," she said quietly, and reached across to grasp his hand, which was resting on the arm of his chair. "What a terrible burden to have placed on you…no wonder you've seemed so on edge, compared to when I last saw you."

"That's not all," he said as he turned his gaze back to the fire.

Astoria didn't respond. Instead, she sat there with her hand on top of his, waiting patiently for him to find the words.

"Do you remember asking me about my scar when we were on the train?"

"Of course," she replied. "You said that something good happened, which is why it's faded."

"Yeah…listen, Astoria," he said, his eyes locking on to hers. "What I'm about to tell you…I don't know…I'm not even sure I should be telling you…"

"It's okay, Harry," she said softly. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I'm always willing to listen. I promise you that I'll never betray your trust."

Her remark took Harry somewhat by surprise. He was much more used to people demanding information from him, even his friends. Astoria's more gentle approach was new ground for him, and it only made him want to confide in her more.

"Okay, here it goes," he began. "When Voldemort attacked me when I was a baby, he left a part of himself behind when his body was destroyed."

"A part of himself? I don't understand…"

Harry took a deep breath and shifted his gaze back to the fire.

"He left part of his soul behind…and it somehow attached itself to me," he explained, pointing to his scar with his free hand.

"His soul?" gasped Astoria. "How is that even possible?"

"Dumbledore explained it…sort of…but it's probably for the best if you don't know the details; it could be really dangerous for you."

"Okay…so what does that mean for you?"

"Well, it created some sort of connection between us. My scar would hurt whenever he was close by, or when he was really angry about something. Sometimes I could even see what he was up to, which definitely wasn't a picnic…"

Astoria looked horrified, but Harry was still staring into the fire.

"…and then, a week ago…something happened. We were cleaning out Sirius's parents' house, which hadn't been lived in for ages. There were a few Dark artefacts in one of the rooms, and one of them tried to possess me."

"No!" she gasped again, this time covering her mouth with her hand.

"Yeah…it almost worked, too. I nearly gave up, but I somehow managed to fight it off in the end," he said, quietly recalling his feelings of desperation at the time. "Here's the good part, though. When the thing that tried to possess me was forced out, it took that piece of Voldemort with him."

"Really?" said Astoria, wearing a look of surprise. "How?"

"It's…complicated," replied Harry. "This is another thing where I can't explain the details, but Dumbledore basically said that what happened that day might've been the only way to remove that piece of him, short of me dying."

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Harry spared a glance in Astoria's direction to see the girl looking back at him with watery eyes.

"The thing is…ever since then, I've felt…different. In a lot of ways, it's good — really good. I'm better at magic, it's easier to concentrate, and I don't randomly get angry for no reason anymore. I should be happy about all this, and I am really, it's just…"

"Go on, Harry, you can tell me," Astoria said after a few moments.

Harry rose to his feet and stood in front of the fire, his eyes never leaving the flames.

"I feel…tainted. I mean, how could I not? I carried a piece of him around with me for almost my entire life. And now that it's gone…I can't help wondering if part of him isn't still hanging around."

Harry turned around to face her with a pained expression.

"Dumbledore confirmed the actual piece of soul is gone, but what if forcing it out affected me, like I somehow took on some of it? Like the thing with Malfoy on the train — I can't see myself being that aggressive even a few months ago. It's obvious that I've changed, but what's driving me mental is not knowing how much of it is me and how much — if any — is him."

He looked down at the ground and verbalised, for the first time, the fear he had been wrestling with for the past week — a fear that he'd first experienced at age twelve, shortly after a different piece of Tom Riddle's soul had pointed out the obvious similarities between the two of them.

"What if I end up like him?" he said quietly. "What if I become a danger to everyone I care about? What if I end up being the monster that someone has to stop? What if I end up hurting —"

Astoria leapt to her feet and wrapped Harry in a tight hug. Unlike the day he showed her and Daphne the graveyard memory, this time he allowed himself to relax into her embrace. He took a deep breath and allowed some of the weight to slip from his shoulders, at least for a little while.

"You won't, Harry, I know it," she said fiercely. "You're a good person; it's obvious to anyone who gets to know you for even five minutes."

"How can you be sure?" he asked in a strained voice.

"I just am. You could never be like him, Harry, you care too much."

Harry wasn't entirely convinced, but he nodded in agreement and relaxed his grip on her. Astoria also let go and took a step back, neither of them making eye contact with one another.

"Thanks…" said Harry, feeling somewhat embarrassed by his emotional outburst. "I hope you're right."

"I mean it, Harry," Astoria reiterated, "especially after everything you told me today. No matter how hard things get, you refuse to let down the people you care about, and there are plenty of others who feel the same way about you."

Finally looking up from the floor, Harry met her gaze and saw something there he hadn't noticed before — a steeliness, or perhaps even a sense of resolve lurking behind her normally kind eyes. In the short time that he had known her, Harry didn't think that he'd ever seen Astoria looking that serious.

"Isn't that what Professor Dumbledore told you?" she continued, taking a step forward. "That the friendships you make, the way you inspire others is what makes you better than him?"

She was looking at him with such intensity that Harry found himself breaking eye contact and rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Yeah…I suppose you're right. With everything going on, sometimes it gets…" he attempted, only to trail off at the end.

"It's okay, Harry," said Astoria, reaching up to touch his arm.

"Thanks...I think I needed that," he replied, a small smile starting to break through his expression.

Astoria looked up at Harry, her expression unreadable. With one hand still resting on his elbow, she cautiously took a step closer to him. Her lips gently parted as if she were about to speak, when suddenly her eyes grew wide, and she froze in place.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I mean — I think it's almost curfew. I really should be going now," she said hurriedly, her cheeks starting to flush.

"Er — okay," Harry replied hesitantly. "Do you want me to walk you back?"

"No, we're actually pretty close to my common room, so I should be fine. Thank you, though, and thank you for sharing everything with me today."

"Of course…thanks for listening."

"Anytime," she said, and then turned towards the door, calling out over her shoulder, "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? 'Bye, Harry!"

Harry watched as Astoria exited the room and re-entered the seventh-floor corridor. He actually did feel much better after getting all that off his chest, even if their conversation had taken an odd turn right near the end.

"What was that all about?" he wondered, with a slight shake of the head.

oOoOoOo

It would be a few days before Harry could go back and put the Room of Requirement to good use. Both Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had assigned massive amounts of homework, which had taken up most of Harry's Tuesday evening. Wednesday's timetable didn't allow for much free time either, especially considering their nighttime Astronomy lesson. It was only their first week, and already it appeared there was some truth to the rumours about how brutal O.W.L. year could be.

Unfortunately, as difficult as their first week had been, it was about to get worse.

"Are you ready, Harry?" asked Hermione, as they approached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"As I'll ever be," he grumbled.

"Remember, the plan is to just sit there and read like she wants us to. This isn't the time or place to mount a protest."

"Oh? I always thought you enjoyed a good protest, Hermione," Harry replied cheekily.

"Right, remember all that last year with spew?" Ron chimed in.

"It's not spew, Ronald, it's S.P.E.W. — and I'm still working on it, but we have more important things to deal with right now," said Hermione crossly. "Dumbledore specifically warned Harry to avoid getting into trouble with Professor Umbridge, so that's what we're going to do."

"We know, Hermione, we just talked about this five minutes ago," groaned Ron, rolling his eyes at Harry behind her back.

Harry snorted and shook his head. With everything going on around them, it was nice to know that at least some things never changed. They paused briefly at the entrance to the classroom, and after taking a moment to steel himself, Harry led Ron and Hermione inside, where they all took their seats.

They had only been seated for a few short moments when Professor Umbridge entered the room and called them all to order, her usual fake smile plastered across her face.

"Today, we will be continuing where we left off on Monday and reading the rest of chapter one. I would like you all to open your books to whichever page you last completed and continue on through the rest of the chapter. There will be no need to talk."

She sat down at her desk and surveyed the class with her wide, insincere smile. Harry got the impression that she was just waiting for someone to complain about the assignment, giving her the opportunity to grandstand in front of the class. When over half of the period had passed without anyone speaking, her patience seemed to reach its limit, and she got up to start walking among the students.

Hoping she would just pass him by and continue to ignore him, Harry focused intently on the page in front of him, even if he wasn't actually reading the words.

It was not to be, however, as Professor Umbridge stopped directly in front of his desk, leaned down, and whispered in a dangerously sweet voice, "It's nice to see you working so hard at your studies, Mr. Potter. I hope this is a sign that you've decided to stop telling dangerous lies."

Anger bubbled up inside of Harry, but he didn't respond or acknowledge her comment; he just turned the page and continued staring at his copy of Defensive Magical Theory.

"I'm speaking to you, Mr. Potter," she spoke again, this time a bit more loudly.

"I'm just trying to do my assigned reading, Professor," he replied through gritted teeth.

"Yes, I can see that," she responded with false gaiety. "And I said that I hoped this was a sign that you've learned your lesson. After all, spreading nasty falsehoods in order to disrupt and disturb our society is a crime worthy of severe punishment, and I daresay you've been lucky in avoiding it so far."

He wanted to stand up for himself. He wanted to yell and rage, or even storm out of the room, but he knew he had to control himself. Swallowing heavily, Harry simply nodded and continued pretending to read, without ever looking up from his book.

Professor Umbridge's eyes flashed in anger when she realised Harry wasn't going to take the bait, but then a malicious grin spread across her face as she leaned closer to him.

"Of course, you cannot entirely be blamed for your uncouth behaviour," she whispered quietly, so that only those in the immediate vicinity could hear her. "Anyone raised by muggles is unlikely to understand how to comport themselves in polite society."

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Harry could almost feel Hermione staring at them in disbelief.

"Of course, sometimes it all comes down to one's blood," continued Umbridge. "I've heard that your father was a respectable wizard, so I can only imagine where your filthy, disgusting conduct stems from."

Harry's eyes bulged at the thinly veiled slight against his mother, and he raised his head and glared at Umbridge with a look of unbridled fury. Every fibre of his being was practically begging him to take out his wand and teach the foul woman what it really meant to be punished. The desks surrounding them began to vibrate as magic rolled off of Harry in waves, and behind him, Lavender Brown actually shivered at the sudden chill.

Professor Umbridge quickly straightened up and took a few steps backwards, her predatory expression replaced by one closer to fear. Once she recognised that Harry was not actually going to attack her, however, she attempted to quickly compose herself and pretend as if nothing unusual had happened.

"Continue with your reading, Mr. Potter," she said hastily, before retreating to her desk, where she remained for the rest of the period.

As soon as class was dismissed, Harry strode angrily from the room before anyone could speak to him.

"Harry, wait!" called Hermione, as she followed him into the corridor.

"Not now, Hermione," he ground out, not even bothering to look back.

He climbed one staircase after another with hardly a conscious thought, just the unignorable need to allow his anger to lash out at something. There was only one place in the castle where he could do that safely, and that was his destination. After finally reaching the seventh floor, he hurried along the corridor to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and paced back and forth until the door to the Room of Requirement appeared.

Entering the room, Harry briefly noted that the room had configured itself to be like Astoria's version, rather than the one he had come up with. He threw down his bookbag and activated one of the training dummies with a flick of his wand, barely waiting for it to get into position before he started casting.

"Reducto! Confringo!"

The dummy blasted apart as Harry's spells landed one after another, only to magically reform itself a few moments later. Tightening his grip on his wand, he pictured Umbridge clearly in his mind, right down to her wide, toad-like mouth and her ridiculous pink cardigan. How dare that pathetic excuse for a witch insult Lily Potter in that way?

Harry had been bottling up his rage ever since Umbridge made the comment, but now, in the relative safety of the Room, he allowed it to fill him up and flow through him. He calmly pointed his wand at the ground below the dummy as his face contorted into an angry scowl.

"Clavum Infigo."

As soon as the unpleasant-looking brown spell made impact, a long spike erupted out of the ground, penetrating the dummy from underneath and exiting through the top of its head. Harry took a moment to admire his work, slowly exhaling as he savoured the feeling that came with using such powerful magic.

Not one to waste an opportunity, he followed up with the Bone Exploding Curse — one of his favourites from his time with Daphne. A smile crept onto his face as he continued to exact his revenge on the helpless training dummy, running through nearly every spell he had practiced over the summer. By the time he was finished, Harry had nearly exhausted himself, but he felt much better…much calmer.

Ever since he had purged the fragment of Voldemort's soul, somewhere in the back of his mind he had wondered if losing his connection to the Dark Lord's anger would affect his own ability to use Dark Magic. As it turned out, Harry had more than enough anger of his own to power his spells, and he had even found a new source of motivation. As he gathered his things to leave the Room, Harry couldn't help but picture what it would have been like to have the real Dolores Umbridge under his wand that evening. The accompanying visuals were quite disgusting, but that didn't seem to lessen his enjoyment. In fact, a small part of him held out hope that he could one day make it a reality.