AN: Adding to this is pretty fun as it's giving me ideas for The Delicate Art of Raising Thestrals.

Chapter 7 - Nonverbal

"Of course, a lot can happen between now and the exam, we've got plenty of time to improve, but the grades we're getting now are a sort of baseline, aren't they? Something we can build on," Hermione was saying.

They sat down together at the Gryffindor table.

"Obviously, I'd have been thrilled if I'd got an 'O'-"

"Hermione," said Ron sharply, "if you want to know what grades we got, ask."

"I don't-I didn't mean-well, if you want to tell me-"

"I got a 'P'," said Ron, ladling soup into his bowl. "Happy?"

"What did you get, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"You don't want to know," Harry said, though he was just barely done it. He was still holding the essay in his hands. He didn't dare look up to the head table, he would not have been able to swallow his smugness.

"Oh it can't be worse than, Ron's," George said.

Fred came around him and snatched Harry's essay out from under the table. He whistled.

"What is it?" Ron asked, "No way he got a T. Harry's been doing so much better in Potions."

"Better?" Fred chocked.

George laughed.

"What does T stand for?" Hermione asked.

"Troll," Ron said.

"Oh come on, just show us, it can't be a T. Harry really has been doing well in potions," she said positively.

Fred laughed then, tipping down the parchment so all could see, the small, spindly, tiny 'O' in red ink.

"I'd say Potter's doing a far shot higher than 'well'," Fred said.

"I don't think I've seen anyone outside of a Slytherin or Ravenclaw get an 'O' on anything in his class," George said.

Hermione's face was pained when she said, "Good job, Harry, really, you did great."

"How?" Ron asked.

"What did you think I was doing all weekend?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, all the other homework we had?" Ron suggested.

"I finished that with Hermione when you were out practising Quidditch with Ginny."

"Who are you and what have you done with my Potter?" he asked only half joking.

"I think he died," Harry said in a joking tone, though he wasn't joking at all.

oOo

Something was wrong with Severus's classes. Vastly wrong with his classes. It started with his fifth year class. Potter's abnormally superior brewing skills had continued as they had in the last two weeks, proving to be more than just a fluke. But that wasn't the wrongness that infiltrated his class.

His class had grown… quiet, dare he even think it, in a peaceful way. Tensions between the Slytherins and Gryffindors were at an all time low. Experimentally, Severus decided to hold back on his critics unless someone (Longbottom) was about to put something explosive into their cauldrons. It had become, somehow, one of the most productful, easiest classes to teach.

The same trend followed throughout the week in his fourth and seventh years classes as well. The first years to third years as well as the sixth years were still abhorrent amongst the Gryffindors and Slytherins. The Hufflepuffs still cowered and the Ravenclaws were their usual selves, split between studious or twittering.

His favourite student, Ms. Lovegood, remained the only fixed point, her skills as remarkably precise as ever.

Severus wasn't the only one to notice the change. The other Heads of House were beginning to whisper.

It wasn't so much that the Gryffindors and the Slytherins were getting along as they seemed to have called a truce. The younger years seemed to be taking their lead. The problem all the professors seemed to share was that it felt less like a resolution and more like the calm before the storm.

oOo

Filius called Harry to stay after class on Thursday.

"How have you been, Harry?" he asked.

Harry sat on the table next to Filius's podium. "I've been fine though I feel like I keep making little slips all over the place."

"Like what?"

"Well, I used wandless magic on the train and I let on that I know Ginny is a Chaser, which none of her brothers, not even Ron knew," Harry said, kicking his legs in the air.

"So you still haven't told your friends," Filius stated.

Harry shrugged, "Even if I told them what would it really change? They wouldn't spontaneously be the Ron and Hermione from my future. Oh hey, Ron, you should know that you deserted us when we went camping, and oh, Hermione, you were tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. Also, we robbed Gringotts and rode on a blind dragon together. It was awesome. Then we went back to Hogwarts where we barely survived slaughter."

Filius listened, letting Harry voice the poison festering in his veins. The boy may be eighteen in reality, but he was still so young for the trauma he had witnessed and endured.

"I don't know what I am doing," Harry said finally.

"Did you know the first time?" Filius asked.

Harry laughed and smiling, he admitted, "No, in fact, I think I was even angier last time. I treated my friends like crap." His smile faded, "Guess things haven't changed all that much."

Filius thought he was being too hard on himself, regrettably, what he knew of Harry, told him it wouldn't do much good to say so. "Speaking of change, you wouldn't happen to be involved in the new… peace, shall we say, between Gryffindor and Slytherin houses would you?"

Harry grinned, "I may have started a club."

Filius repressed a smile, "What kind of club?"

"A DADA club where we use magic. I did it the last time too. Except without the Slytherins. I figured this time I would be more inclusive."

"Good," Filius said, "Whatever faults the Slytherins may have, keeping secrets is typically one of their talents if you treat them fairly."

"Ron and Hermione say we shouldn't trust their sense of honour."

Filius shrugged, "If you never give them a chance than you will never know."

"That's what I told them. Besides, it fell apart last time anyway because they figured us out."

"Harry, may I make a suggestion?"

"Sure."

"I still think you should open up a bit more to Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, however, you should not limit yourself to just two friends. You may find that there are others in this school who are as welcoming of your company, and perhaps, more mature that may help you feel more connected to this timeline," Filius advised.

Harry thought about opening up to Draco and scrunched his nose.

Filius laughed, "I am not suggesting you go around at random and share your circumstances but there are those you can spend time with who might not make you feel so alienated. It seems to me, you're having difficulties keeping back things that they already 'should' know. You may find you have more control over your own words with someone you were not previously close with."

Harry nodded, "I'll try. The DADA club should help. Although, my Arithmancy class has been kinda fun. Luna, Susan, and Astoria are pretty fun to be around."

"A study group outside of class might not go amiss," Filius suggested.

"Yeah, and I see them at the DADA club too, so yeah, that sounds good idea," Harry said. "It is still the class I have the least practice with."

Filius was pleased to have been helpful and relieved to hear on many fronts the child wasn't isolating himself.

"Harry, what would you have wanted to be had you graduated Hogwarts?" Filius asked, switching topics.

"I wanted to be an Auror."

That was surprising. Not because he was unqualified, no, Filius had the suspicion that Mr. Potter was more skilled than most Aurors, but that he wanted to work for the government after they had failed him so.

"Do you still want to be an Auror?"

Harry frowned, "I don't know. I haven't thought much about the future to be honest, not outside Hogwarts. Choosing to die sort of felt like the end all be all choice."

Filius's heart clenched, "What else do you enjoy doing?"

Harry thought for a moment, "Teaching, I really like teaching. But I suppose getting a job at Hogwarts is sort of a limited opportunity."

"Not if you're applying to the DADA position," Filius remarked, half joking.

Harry smiled, understanding the joke, "Yeah, but that is only for a year unless I manage to kill Voldy completely."

"So it really is cursed?" Filius asked.

"Yeah, Tom Riddle came back to Hogwarts and offered to teach it but Dumbledore turned him down and demanded he leave the school grounds. This was before he started openly attacking Britain. I think his eyes were already red then though, sort of a tip off."

"How did you see that?" Filius asked, surprised by the visual description.

"Dumbledore showed me in his pensive."

Filius sighed, rubbing his nose.

"Lunch period is almost over, Professor," Harry commented looking at his watch.

Filius held up a finger and hopped off his stack of books. He pulled out one towards the bottom. He handed the book to Harry. "Sixth and seventh years can apply for a teaching assistant position. Start going over this book and make lesson plan outlines. Next year, if you like, you can be my assistant. Mostly, I will use you for in class examples and you will help me grade homework. But if you want a career as a teacher, it will help. You might have to do a few years as a private tutor but if becoming a professor is what you want, there is no reason you can't accomplish that."

"Thank you," Harry said, smiling.

"Keep me updated on your club," Filius said, smiling back.

"I will, bye Professor, have a good day."

"You too, Harry."

The boy flashed him an even wider grin at the use of his first name.

When he was gone Filius sighed and his thoughts swirled in worry for the Boy Who Lived.

oOo

Minerva was watching Harry closely. She could have sworn he did the last transfiguration spell wordlessly, however, she was not sure as she had been on the other side of the room.

Harry was officially ahead of the rest of the class with or without the factor of wordless magic. He was no prodigy so much as it seemed like he had learned these spells before.

His essays were much improved as well, showing not just a reiteration of the text or class notes but actively engaging with the theory. Harry's essays were blessedly shorter compared to that of Ms. Granger's small scripted lengthy papers.

An unforseen effect of Harry doing well in class and on homework was he was engaging more with the other students. Students would ask him for assistance before asking herself or Ms Granger. Minerva had never seen Harry so open with others and the other students seemed to be advancing further by taking his lead.

"Mr. Potter," Minerva called.

"Yes, Professor," he said, looking at her questioningly.

"Come to the front of the class please."

Harry got up with a lack of nervousness that made her realize how much change he had gone through over the last year. She placed a rat on her desk, "Vanish it."

Harry frowned at her.

"Silently," she said.

The class was rivitated.

Harry opened his mouth to ask, but she cut him off.

"Say the word in your mind and visualize what you want done."

His focus went to the rat, his eyes narrowing. He raised his wand.

"And Mr. Potter," she interrupted.

"Yes, Professor?" he asked.

"If you fail on purpose, I will know."

Harry bit his lip, then with a single flick of his wand, the rat was gone.

The students were opened mouthed. Hermione's eyes were so wide one could see the white all the way around her irises.

"Fifty points to Gryffindor," Minerva said, cooly.

The Ravenclaws looked at each other, doubtful that any of them were ready to try that.

"Now I don't want anyone to be discouraged. Nonverbal spell work is a measure of focus and mental discipline. Determination, though, is not enough, your mind must also be settled. Typically, it is in the sixth year when we encourage, or demand, that students practice nonverbal spells," Minerva said. "If you feel that you have mastered a spell or wish to challenge yourselves you may try it. As Mr. Potter so politely showed us, it is possible even for younger students."

oOo

Harry kept his expression mild even as guilt and anxiety built inside him. He was afraid to meet Hermione's gaze. Afraid to see the harm he had caused her.

It really wasn't fair that he jumped ahead.

A small part of him hissed, But didn't she do the same with the time turner in their third year.

He shook the thought away because it wasn't the same, and he wasn't half a year ahead, he was two years ahead, almost three.

One of the Ravenclaws raised his hand addressing his question to Professor McGonagall, "How was Potter able to do that on just one try?"

Harry watched her, worried what she might say.

He wasn't expecting earnest praise of his past abilities, "As I have heard, Mr. Potter was able to throw off the Imperius Curse on his first attempt. Mr. Potter has demonstrated an incredible sense of self and mental fortitude which has a tangible effect on his mastery over his own magic.

"However, while he may be an outstanding example, it does not mean any of you are incapable of reaching similar heights." She met his gaze, giving him a small smile.

Harry felt his cheeks warm, trying to hold onto the praise of his character even as both Hermoine and Ron refrained from talking to him for the rest of class.

It was Neville who leaned over to ask, "How did you do that?"

Harry shrugged, "Practise."

Neville frowned, "Why have you been practising nonverbal spells?"

Harry thought of the months on the run, hiding, cowering. "I thought it might come in handy."

It had saved his life more than once.

oOo

Harry stayed after class to talk with Professor McGonagall. Neither Hermione nor Ron offered to wait for him.

"I wish you hadn't asked me to do that," Harry said when the last student had left.

Minerva straightened her papers before giving him a shrewd. "You could have held back, Merlin knows, you have before."

"That's not true, I have always tried," Harry said indignantly.

"Potter, the only magic you have ever put your full focus into before this summer were those spells you felt it necessary to survive with. Defending your life or others' has been your only magical interest, aside from flying, since arriving at this school."

"That's not fair."

"It certainly isn't, not to yourself nor to your professors. I will be expecting far more from here on out, and as your Head of House, I will insist that your other professors do the same," McGonagall said.

Harry skin drained of colour thinking of what Snape would do with that instruction. He hadn't even started Occlumency classes with him yet.

She must have seen his expression, for hers softened, "Harry, I know it may sound daunting now, but in the long run, it will only be for your benefit. You could be great, you know."

Harry laughed bitterly, "That phrase does like to keep following me around, I think a part of me wanted to prove it wrong."

"What keeps coming up?" she asked.

"That is exactly what the Sorting Hat said when it wanted to sort me into Slytherin."

McGonagall's eyes widened ever so slightly, "Do you regret your sorting into my house?"

Harry laughed again, "No, of course I don't, Snape would have had me expelled in the first month."

She smiled slightly, "Well, all the same, I am proud to have you in my house and Snape would have been lucky."

"Or retired."

She laughed.

"Professor, I was wondering if I could request a favour?" Harry asked.

She raised a brow.

"Are you going back to Headquarters at any point soon?"

She nodded, "Likely this weekend, why?"

Harry pulled a small bundle of letters out of his bag. "I was wondering if you could give these to Padfoot. I am afraid to send Hedwig."

She took the letters, "Wise. The Ministry has its eye on us."

"Umbridge shouldn't be around people, much less children, or owls," Harry said, just barely swallowing his anger when he thought of what had happened to her last time.

McGonagall's lips thinned. "Yes, well, there was no one else available."

"Cancelling the class would have been better."

"It is a core subject, Mr. Potter."

"Maybe Dumbledore should hire Bill Weasley to have a look at the school. He is a curse breaker after all," Harry said.

Minerva tilted her head, like a cat trying to get a better look at a shiny object, "Not a bad thought, Mr. Potter. But it is fast approaching dinner and I have noticed you skipping one too many meals of late. Though I am pleased you have been feeding your mind, your body is just as important."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, though he had little to no intention of eating much, certain he wouldn't be able to keep the food down tonight.

oOo

"So this whole nonverbal thing wasn't supposed to extend to my two best friends," Harry commented at dinner.

"Says the guy keeping secrets," Ronretorted.

He has no idea, Harry thought, aloud he said, "We don't always have to be attached at the hip."

"I am not helping you with your homework anymore," Hermione said.

"Alright," Harry said, "At least you're talking to me again."

"You made it look so easy," she muttered.

"It isn't!" Harry exclaimed, "It took me forever to figure out how to do it."

"By 'forever' you mean a year ahead of everyone else," she seethed.

Harry throw his hands up, "What do you want from me, Hermione!? I thought you wanted me to do well, I thought you wanted me to try harder at school work."

"I did," she said, "but-"

"But only if you can stay being the best, is that it?"

She paled, back tracking fast, "No, Harry, wait-I-"

"The thing is, Hermione, even if I end being good at things, or seemly better, that doesn't mean you aren't smart, it doesn't mean you aren't the brightest witch of our age. Someone else's success or failure doesn't define you," Harry said, standing. He felt his stomach twist. He really hadn't been eating much lately.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked as Harry seemly walked in the direction of the Slytherins.

"I am going to go sit with Luna, at least she doesn't look at me like I'm a freak," he shot back.

"Because she is one," Ron said flippantly.

Harry froze, his whole world seeming to slow down to that moment.

How long had he tolerated that?

How long had he been okay with his friends being mean to others? Hadn't that been why he refused to be friends with Draco and allow himself to be sorted into Slytherin?

Ron's remarks about Hermione in there first year had made Harry uncomfortable, but he had already thrown his lot in with Ron, who had been his first human friend.

But that had been waved away when Ron had stopped the troll.

The question was, no that being their friend was so difficult, now that he was older, was Harry still okay with it?

Was he still okay with the way people, his friends, treated Luna, just as everyone had treated Harry throughout his life?

oOo

The way Harry went completely still informed Ron he had well and truly stuck his foot in his mouth again.

He swallowed hard when he saw the anger in Harry's eyes when he looked back to meet his gaze.

No one at the other tables had noticed, but Hermione was avoiding his gaze while Fred and George watched.

Harry took one step back to say in a voice low enough that most wouldn't overhear, "She isn't a freak. She is a kinder and more intelligent person than you have ever been or could hope to be."

In an almost Snape-like move, Harry spun around and didn't look back as he went to Ravenclaw's table.

George gave a low whistle and Fred remarked, "You know, Ron, when your best mate has a crush on a nice girl, maybe don't call her names."

"Harry doesn't have a crush on her," Ginny chimed in.

George laughed, "Gin, you've been looking at that boy like he hung the moon in the sky since you met him, if you haven't noticed that he looks at her as if she was the moon, then maybe you've never really seen him."

"He's not wrong," Angelina said.

Ron bit his lip, again, cursing himself for not keeping up with Harry over the summer.

He met Hermione's gaze and knew she felt just as lost.

At least, by her pinched expression, Ron could tell that she seemed to agree with him that Luna Lovegood was a weird choice of friend, much less to have a crush on.

oOo

Harry was welcomed warmly at the Ravenclaw table.

"Hi, Harry," Cho greeted, ignoring the stunned Gryffindors behind him.

"You can sit with us whenever you like, Potter," Terry Boot said, "We don't mind excellence."

Luna placed a buttered roll on the plate that had appeared before Harry.

"Thanks," he said, taking a bite of the much needed sustenance.

Luna patted the top of his head.

Harry felt his shoulders ease at the wordless acceptance. The anger he felt towards his friends was easy to set aside as he watched quietly as Terry got into an argument with a seventh year about the origin of Welsh Green dragons.

It was strange, but he felt included in the debate though he never said a word.

Neither did Luna, but they both laughed when the seventh year described the difference between a Common Welsh Green and Welsh Red by making fang gestures with his hands then emphising a big frill with flaying hands and whooshing sounds.

Luna's laugh was loud and bold and he wished he could be more like her.

McGonagall said he had a great sense of self and mental fortitude, but he wished he was as comfortable in his own skin, in being himself, as Luna Lovegood seemed to be.

oOo

AN: Thoughts, things you want to be added to upcoming chapters, or Atlantic walruses, pretty please?