CHAPTER 18 – SETTLING DIFFERENCES
No one could sustain an emotional high indefinitely, and for Harry Potter, maintaining such a state was practically impossible. His life, as he had acknowledged before, was far from simple or tranquil; it resembled more a turbulent journey down raging rapids or sailing headlong into a monstrous hurricane. Regardless of whether one's life mirrored Harry's extraordinary experiences or was more commonplace, the inevitability of reality setting in and day-to-day challenges taking precedence was undeniable.
Harry's emotional descent was not a gradual decline, but a sudden and precipitous drop, triggered by a confluence of various factors. It all began with the howler from Molly Weasley, unleashing a verbal assault on his best friend. The absence of even a modest apology from the Weasley matriarch failed to impress Harry, nor did it soothe Hermione's wounded feelings. While Molly shared the details of her conversation with her children, offering some reassurance that she wouldn't repeat the incident, Harry knew that an unspoken apology wouldn't suffice. Molly might expect them to brush it aside, but for Harry and Hermione, the absence of a genuine apology meant the incident lingered in their minds.
In the days that followed, Harry found himself responding to the Weasley siblings with an unusual chilliness, a demeanor echoed by Hermione and Fleur. It wasn't fair to blame the children for their mother's actions, but the distance served as a necessary buffer for the trio to process the event. The Weasleys, understanding the need for space, allowed the friends the time required to reconcile. Soon enough, the trio was back to being as close as ever.
The howler had an unexpected effect on Harry—it compelled him to contemplate the female adult figures in his life and put them into perspective. Molly Weasley, initially perceived as a maternal figure, now seemed more akin to a meddling aunt. The revelation stemmed from the realization that his original perception was merely a result of never having experienced such a maternal presence before. Mrs. Weasley, despite her positive qualities, did not embody the idealized image Harry held of a mother. His idealized vision included someone loving, supportive, and quietly encouraging him to overcome his flaws—a portrayal he knew was skewed and unattainable.
Reflecting on his mother, Lily Evans, Harry envisioned her as a strong woman with a stubborn mindset and a hint of a volatile temper. Despite these qualities, he believed she would have provided a nurturing and positive environment had she lived. These thoughts inevitably reignited his sense of loss, a sentiment he had grown accustomed to over time.
So, if Molly Weasley wasn't a mother figure, what role did she play in his life? The more Harry contemplated it, the clearer it became—she occupied the role of a meddling aunt, one who intrusively involved herself in the lives of her nieces and nephews while drowning them in unnecessary, perhaps contrived, affection. Harry recognized that the description fit Mrs. Weasley precisely, even if he knew both the woman and her children would take offense should he characterize her as such in their presence.
In stark contrast, Apolline Delacour was rapidly filling the void of Harry's idealized mother figure. She embodied the qualities he envisioned—firm and unyielding when necessary, yet allowing her children the freedom to navigate their lives, only stepping in with guidance when sought. Although Harry hadn't known her for long, he found comfort in her presence, acknowledging that she would eventually become his mother, or at the very least, his mother-in-law.
Despite the turbulence caused by Mrs. Weasley and the chaos it wrought on Harry's emotional equilibrium, a mere few days were all it took for him to quell the tumultuous feelings and relegate them to the past. The Weasley drama, though not forgotten, gave way to more pressing concerns that seized Harry's attention. Malfoy's brief hiatus from their interactions proved to be temporary, and he returned with a newfound intensity, redirecting his malice towards a fresh target—Hermione.
While Malfoy continued to include Harry in his barbs, he now took perverse pleasure in tormenting Hermione. He would taunt her about her purported aspirations to become Harry's mistress, inquire about her relationship with Mrs. Weasley, and exploit any opportunity to cast her in a negative light. Hermione urged Harry to dismiss the insolent comments, wisely advising that Malfoy wasn't worthy of his time or effort. Although Harry harbored a burning desire to retaliate, he concurred with Hermione, recognizing that the blond troublemaker wasn't worth the energy. Moreover, Malfoy seemed to have curbed his crude remarks, possibly a result of Snape's earlier reprimand or the fear of another dressing-down from his head of house.
Harry's conscious decision to ignore Malfoy proved to be prescient, as they discovered Umbridge monitoring them during one of Malfoy's tirades. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor seemed eager to catch Harry reacting to the taunts, undoubtedly aiming to fulfill her mission of branding him as a troublemaker. So far, Harry's steadfast control over his temper had foiled her plans.
The final and most formidable concern occupying Harry's thoughts was none other than Professor Umbridge herself and her peculiar teaching methods. He quickly deemed her a menace, convinced of her deliberate attempts to provoke him. With newfound maturity and the unwavering support of his closest friend, Harry resisted succumbing to her increasingly blatant provocations. Despite his desire to put Umbridge in her place, he navigated the challenges, aware that patience and restraint were his most potent weapons in this battle of wills.
Over a month into classes, the glaring reality that their initial assessment of Professor Umbridge's Defense Against the Dark Arts class was accurate became increasingly evident. The meager knowledge gleaned during this time left Harry skeptical that the situation would improve as long as she held her position at Hogwarts. The imminent threat of OWLs at the end of the academic year added an extra layer of concern. Even Harry, who traditionally found Defense to be more manageable than most subjects, began to worry about how he would fare in the tests without any practical experience.
Surprisingly, the greatest source of irritation for Harry wasn't Umbridge or Malfoy, as one might expect. Instead, it manifested in the seemingly ludicrous suggestion Luna had made during a dinner—an idea to establish a Defense Club. While Harry had a genuine desire to grasp the Defense material for his OWLs and would have readily participated in such a club if it existed, the prospect of leading it himself was one he vehemently resisted. He considered himself unqualified to instruct his peers, and given his determination to enhance his overall academic performance, taking on such a responsibility seemed likely to detract from his other subjects. Subjects that, unlike Defense, demanded more effort from him.
Despite Harry's reservations, the notion of a Defense Club became a frequent topic of discussion, not only among the training group but also among their friends in Gryffindor house. Almost every hour seemed to bring up the possibility, leading eyes to inevitably drift in Harry's direction, and comments were made with little subtlety, reigniting his annoyance with the subject.
His friends, particularly Fleur and Hermione, were the most persistent instigators. They seized every opportunity to emphasize that no one matched Harry in Defense and that planning for the club should commence. Hermione, in particular, seemed resolute in seeing Harry take the lead in this hypothetical endeavor, regardless of his reluctance. The incessant pressure from his friends left Harry grappling with conflicting feelings about the proposed Defense Club and his role in it.
The tipping point arrived on the second Monday in October, a day that had left Harry in a persistently foul mood. Snape's Potions class, with its usual blend of strict discipline and exacting demands, had done nothing to lift his spirits. While Snape had eased up on Harry specifically, the overall atmosphere in the class remained stressful and devoid of any enjoyment in Harry's perspective. History and Divination followed their usual uninspiring patterns, but Defense Against the Dark Arts proved to be the proverbial straw that broke the hippogriff's back.
Umbridge, with her persistent attempts to bait Harry, had reached new heights of provocation that day. Exiting the Defense class, Harry contemplated the possibility of provoking the toad-like professor just for the satisfaction of expressing what he truly thought of her. Not even Hermione's typically soothing tutoring session in Runes, a subject Harry surprisingly found enjoyable and relaxing, managed to alleviate his stress that evening.
Seated with his friends in the Gryffindor common room after dinner, Harry, immersed in deciphering a challenging Rune cluster given to him by Hermione, found himself on the brink of a breakdown. The trigger for his outburst remained elusive even in hindsight—often, the most innocuous comments could unleash a torrent of negative emotions. One's mental state had a curious way of influencing behavior unexpectedly, and this proved to be one such instance.
"Hermione, will you just let it go already?" Harry snapped at Hermione, a tone he rarely employed, especially with her. The abruptness of his response visibly startled her.
"Harry, I—"
"No, Hermione!" Harry practically yelled, the frustration that had been building up finally erupting. The entire common room seemed to pause, eyes fixed on the unfolding spectacle. Harry, beyond caring about the audience, continued his tirade.
"You've been harping on this incessantly, and you don't seem to get it. I don't want to lead any stupid club, and I wish Luna had never come up with this harebrained idea. I'm sick of hearing about it from everyone—no one respects my feelings on this matter. Now shut it! I don't want to hear about it again!"
Slamming his textbook shut with a resounding crack, Harry stormed out of the room, nearly colliding with a first-year student entering through the porthole with a friend. Ignoring the curious gaze directed at him, Harry dodged around her and, with his frustration still palpable, stalked away from the common room.
The next half-hour found Harry aimlessly wandering through the school, his thoughts consumed by the events of the past weeks and the overall state of the school year thus far. It didn't take long for his anger to subside, and his innate control reasserted itself, leaving him feeling remorseful for the outburst directed at Hermione. He knew he owed her an apology, and he understood that it had to be made promptly.
Despite the realization, Harry hesitated to return to the common room immediately after losing his temper. His mind craved a bit of solace, and some time alone for contemplation seemed necessary. The school year had been challenging, with its fair share of ups and downs. There were bright spots, but he couldn't help yearning for just one year without the chaotic twists that seemed to define his life. Dealing with unqualified Defense professors, grudge-bearing potions masters (though Snape had improved somewhat), and the constant interference from arrogant, bigoted individuals without manners or brains made Harry wonder if the title of "Harry Potter" was a curse in itself.
As he contemplated rejoining his friends, Harry turned a corner and encountered Hermione and Fleur walking toward him, both wearing expressions of determination. Fleur took Harry's hand and urged him to come with them, pulling him along the corridor with Hermione following closely.
"That one's empty," Hermione said, pointing to a door on their right.
Ignoring Hermione momentarily, Harry raised an eyebrow, and she responded with a smile, revealing the Marauders' Map in her hands. They entered the empty classroom, and Fleur applied privacy charms while Hermione arranged three chairs close together.
"Look, Hermione," Harry began, "I'm sorry I lost it back there. I shouldn't have yelled at you."
Hermione smiled, patting Harry's knee. "It's all right, Harry. I shouldn't have kept pushing you either."
Fleur interrupted with a clipped tone, "It is not all right." Seated in the third chair, she directed a pointed look at Harry. "This is exactly what we've spoken of—you've done well this year, but you still need to learn to control yourself better."
Mumbling his acknowledgment and effort to improve, Harry met Fleur's intense gaze. After a moment, she seemed to accept his apology. The atmosphere in the room lightened as they prepared to discuss their concerns and find a resolution to the tension that had arisen among friends.
"We need to discuss this," Fleur stated after a few moments, her voice calm and measured. "You should not have spoken the way you did, Harry, but we have not handled this any better. We should have sat down from the beginning and talked about this, rather than pestering you about it."
Harry looked up in shock. "Fleur, I already said I don't want to do this."
"Why?" she bluntly asked. "Why are you so against it?"
Sputtering, Harry felt his frustration bubbling up again. It seemed like they simply would not let this issue go.
"Maybe because I'm not qualified," Harry growled. "Or maybe it's because I have enough on my plate with being a Prefect, trying to do my best in all my classes, not to mention Quidditch. I don't understand why you two are so insistent about this."
Sighing, Fleur reached out, gently grasping his hand once again. Her thumb traced soothing circles on the back of his hand, a gesture aimed at calming him. Given her soft hands and affectionate manner, Harry had to admit that it was working perfectly.
"Harry, we need to speak about this rationally. I don't think you've considered everything yet."
"What do you mean?"
"What we mean is that Defense is not doing us any good, Harry," Hermione interjected. "And the way things are going so far, we may have to put up with her for the rest of the year."
"So how is that my problem?" Harry demanded. "Why is it my responsibility to make up the slack for her incompetence?"
"It isn't your responsibility, Harry," Fleur replied. "But what everyone has been saying is correct—you are the best in Defense in the school. You are modest, which is a good trait, but you cannot deny the facts."
"And think about it, Harry," urged Hermione. "We came to school thinking that we would need some way to put the things that Moody taught us to good use. This is the perfect way to do it and to train others at the same time."
"You will learn more that way, too," Fleur added. "Teaching others is a great way to learn yourself."
Harry almost felt like he was watching a tennis match, with the two girls going back and forth. Despite feeling like they were pressuring him once again, he found himself not getting angry but rather tired of the entire situation. Was that their plan? To persist until he gave in, just to get them to stop?
Once again, Harry was shamed by his thoughts. They wouldn't manipulate him in such a way—they were both passionate about their beliefs and unwilling to compromise when they believed they were right. But Fleur's gentle question broke through his frustration.
"Harry, what is it that really bothers you about this?" she asked, her tone gentle.
"I've already told you," said Harry, running his hand through his hair. "Hermione's been after me since we came to Hogwarts to take my studies seriously, and I'm trying to do that. I'm comfortable with Defense—it's my best subject. I think I should be spending more time working on other subjects that I'm not as comfortable with, rather than getting involved in a time-consuming Defense Club."
Hermione and Fleur exchanged a glance, and for a moment, Harry found a touch of amusement in their silent communication—they had grown so close that an entire conversation seemed to transpire in the space of one look.
"Do you think it will be all that bad?" Fleur asked.
Harry shrugged. "I would think a lot of work goes into running a club like this."
"Who says you have to do it alone?" Hermione chimed in.
"That's not what I meant," Harry replied with some exasperation. "I am well aware that you were not intending for me to do all the work on my own. That doesn't change the fact that running a club will be time-consuming and will divert our attention from other things, like my other classes."
"I hardly think you have anything to worry about," reassured Hermione. "You do well in your studies, Harry, and your increased dedication is only going to help. I don't think this will take up so much of your time that you'll have to neglect your other classes."
Shaking his head, Harry met Hermione's gaze. "I still don't think I can juggle this many things and not have my schoolwork suffer."
The girls exchanged another look before Hermione gently leaned forward, grasping the hand not already held by Fleur. "Harry, why don't you tell us the real reason you don't want to do this?"
Sputtering, Harry glared at her, but Hermione responded with a placid, yet expectant, smile. "I think I've already told you."
"No, you haven't. All the things you've said are reasons, but I don't think they are the real reason why you're so set against this. You've always shared things like this with me before—why can't you now?"
Frustrated with her continued probing, Harry snapped, "Is it wrong to want to have a normal year for once?"
"No, it isn't," Fleur soothed. "But you should consider that 'normal' is not a word that describes you, nor should it be something you aspire to be."
"What do you mean?"
"Harry, you are not normal," Hermione said affectionately. "You are a great Quidditch player and flyer, you are a prodigy in Defense, and you are loyal, intelligent, brave, and cunning—a true mix of the four houses. The fact that you are the only known survivor of the killing curse does not even begin to scratch the surface of who you are as a person."
Feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, Harry looked away, embarrassed by the praise they were heaping upon him. He didn't see himself as extraordinary—he was just Harry Potter, one of the guys. Let others revel in fame and fortune; he simply wanted to be himself.
"Your relatives told you all your life that you were not normal, right?" Fleur asked.
Harry nodded, and she continued, "Regardless of what your relatives told you, their brand of normal is not something you should aspire to. Think of it—would you really want to be like them if they are the ones who are normal?"
Harry hadn't thought of it in quite those terms, but he immediately understood that Fleur was correct and acknowledged as much.
"You are not normal, Harry," Fleur continued. "You are a symbol of hope. You are a natural leader. You are the focus of a Dark Lord who considers you to be the greatest threat to his power. He must have some reason for believing that, even though we don't understand it. Perhaps you should begin to act like the exceptional person we all know you are. Normal people live in the world; exceptional people change the world."
In truth, Harry had never considered himself in that light. He had never felt like a born leader, always yearning to be a normal teenager and worry about regular things, free from the weight of the world on his shoulders.
But here were the two most important people in his life urging him to be more. Did he have it within him to be more? Did he even want to?
With these two pushing him, he knew he at least had a chance. Ever since entering the magical world, he had recognized the flaws that needed fixing. Starting a Defense Club might be a small step, but it had the potential to grow into something much more significant. They were correct in asserting that Voldemort needed to be opposed, and perhaps it was the younger generation that had to do so. Initiating this club could be the first step in preparing them for the task.
Regardless of his personal desires, he knew that being considered normal was unlikely, especially with the scar on his forehead. Whether he liked it or not, he was a galvanizing figure, and others would follow him if he showed them the way. Perhaps Fleur was right, and it was time to take a lead in confronting Voldemort. Perhaps it was time to grow up.
"Can I think about it tonight?" Harry requested, not wanting to make a hasty decision.
They smiled at him, assuring him they had no intention of forcing him into something he didn't genuinely want to do.
"Harry," Hermione spoke up as they were getting up to leave, "I should apologize to you as well. I know I get a little…" she blushed and ducked her head, "single-minded when I decide something. I shouldn't have badgered you about the club."
"Yeah, Hermione, you're a Gryffindor," Harry said with a smirk. "Whatever you do, don't go badgering people. Otherwise, we'll all think you have become a Hufflepuff."
Groans and playful smacks on the shoulder met Harry's attempt at a joke, but he grinned at Hermione before placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Seriously, Hermione, don't worry about it. I know you are passionate in your beliefs, and whatever happens, I should never snap at you like that. I think I should be asking for your forgiveness."
"But you already did," Hermione replied impishly.
"And I think we should let it rest now," said Fleur.
She stepped next to Harry, and soon her hand was comfortably nestled within his own. Harry smiled at them both, indicating his agreement with Fleur's statement, and the three ambled from the room, making their way back toward the Gryffindor common room.
However, Harry couldn't shake the thoughts that had occupied him in the past few hours. He began to wonder about his relationships with the two attractive girls with whom he was walking. Fleur remained somewhat of a mystery. While they had made progress—with little touches of affection becoming more commonplace—they were still adjusting to their situation and getting to know each other. She was a beautiful and brilliant young woman, and Harry felt that he could easily come to love her. Yet, he was not willing to rush the process, content to let their relationship deepen naturally.
As for Hermione, Harry was no longer certain about what to think. She was his best friend—a subject he had contemplated many times before. He did not know where he would be without Hermione. That was part of the problem; he was now pledged to Fleur for the rest of his life, and he would not betray her. However, the thought of losing what he had with Hermione caused Harry to feel an almost physical pain. He did not think he could do without her in his life. But what would happen as they got older? Someday, some lucky person would see Hermione for the truly exceptional young woman she was. The man would sweep her off her feet, and they would marry. The thought troubled Harry immensely. Why? What did he truly feel for his best friend? Was he in love with her? He was not certain of his feelings, but he did know that he would not betray Fleur; such a thing was unthinkable.
As they arrived at the portrait hole, Harry decided to put those thoughts out of his mind—it was a topic to be considered another day. They stepped into the common room and took their former seats, once again pulling out their homework, which had been interrupted by Harry's outburst.
But as he worked on his homework, Harry couldn't help but notice Ron giving him dark looks as he focused on his own assignments. Knowing what his friend was likely upset about, Harry had to suppress a grin—it was quite the reversal for Ron to be angry with him for his treatment of Hermione. Mentally, Harry prepared himself for a confrontation, as Ron seemed eager to have it out. He didn't have to wait long.
They had retired to the dormitories early—the day having been long and difficult, and Harry found himself tired and ready for bed. When he approached his bed after brushing his teeth and washing up, he was accosted by Ron, who wore a very determined expression.
"You were out of line tonight, Mate," Ron stated without preamble.
"I know, Ron," Harry replied.
The best way to deal with Ron in a situation like this—not that he had much experience in this exact set of circumstances—was to agree with him and allow him to express his opinion. Ron's anger could be impressive when provoked, but it usually ran its course fairly quickly, unless he was in the mood to hold a grudge. Harry didn't think he was in that mood at this point.
"I've already apologized to Hermione, Ron, so you can leave off the big brother act."
Ron cocked his head to the side, clearly taken aback, yet thoughtfully considering Harry's words. He shook his head after a moment.
"All right then, but I hope you've worked it out."
"We have."
"Good, because I don't want you taking my place. I'm the one who makes her cry, and you're the one who sticks up for her."
Thinking that Ron's joke was in poor taste, Harry gazed pointedly at his friend.
"All right, all right," Ron conceded, his hands raised in surrender. "I know I've got some things to work on myself, and I've been trying, you know. But I've never seen you go at Hermione like that before, though if you'd done so, maybe I would have got my head out of my arse before now."
"What do you mean?" asked a curious Harry.
Ron sighed. "I guess I finally saw a bit of myself in the way you yelled at her," Ron admitted.
"It's not easy seeing something like that about yourself, is it?" Harry stated, with some sympathy.
"It isn't, mate, but now I've finally figured it out, I figure I can do better with her. She doesn't want to go out with me, but she's still my friend. I know I need to treat her better to keep her as a friend."
Ron appeared as though he wanted to say something further, but he glanced around at the other three occupants of the room and seemed to think better of it. He smiled hesitantly at Harry before saying good night and making his way to his bed.
Harry lay down on his bed, his mind immediately working over the problem of the Defense Club. Fleur and Hermione had not yet convinced him of the benefits of his leading it, but though he would have liked to dispute its necessity, he could not. Clearly, this was something that would be beneficial not only for him and his friends but for anyone who was invited to attend. Though he was tired, Harry took a long time to fall asleep that night, and by the time he did, he had almost reconciled himself to appeasing his two closest female friends—though perhaps "appease" was not really the right word—and agreeing to their request. First, however, there were a few things he wanted to make clear with them, and a few ground rules he thought would be necessary.
"Right," Harry said, a smirk playing on his lips. "Let's hear it then, Professor Granger."
Hermione rolled her eyes again but continued, "We could start with basic defensive spells and maneuvers. As we progress, we can introduce more advanced techniques. We'll need to decide how often we want to meet and how long each session will be. It might be a good idea to have some additional meetings for planning and organizing, especially in the beginning. And of course, we need to figure out the logistics of where to hold the meetings. The Room of Requirement might be a good option, as it can adapt to our needs."
Harry nodded, taking in the information. "So, we'll need a schedule, a curriculum, and a location. Anything else?"
Fleur chimed in, "We should also think about recruitment. How will we let people know about the club and encourage them to join? We could post notices around the common areas, maybe even send out a notice in the school owlery. And we should decide if we want any requirements for joining or if it will be open to everyone."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Anything else?"
Hermione, not to be outdone, added, "We should establish some rules for the club, too. Guidelines on behavior during sessions, attendance expectations, and perhaps a way to track progress for those who attend regularly. And, of course, we need a name for the club."
Harry chuckled. "Well, you've certainly thought this through. I suppose I can't argue with the thoroughness of your planning."
Hermione beamed at the compliment. Fleur smiled as well, clearly pleased with their joint efforts.
"I must admit," Harry continued, "you've convinced me that this could be beneficial. I still have some reservations, though. I don't want this to interfere with my studies or other responsibilities. And I want to make sure it doesn't become a distraction or a target for Umbridge. We'll need to be cautious."
The two girls nodded in agreement.
Fleur added, "Harry, we can make it work. We are all responsible individuals, and we know the risks. We'll take precautions and ensure that it doesn't become a problem. Besides, I think the benefits outweigh the risks."
Harry considered their words for a moment before finally nodding. "All right, I'm in. But we do this on our terms, and we make sure it doesn't become a source of trouble. Agreed?"
The two girls exchanged a look and then nodded in unison. "Agreed," they said.
With that settled, they finished their breakfast and headed to their first class of the day, now with the added weight of a new responsibility on their shoulders. The Defense Club was born, and Harry couldn't help but wonder how this venture would impact his already eventful life at Hogwarts.
"A plethora of spells essential for our endeavors are already within our grasp. Take, for instance, the indispensable Patronus Charm. Considering the ominous echoes of the first war, it seems prudent to equip ourselves with this formidable defense. Given Voldemort's resurgence, it wouldn't be a stretch to imagine him aligning with Dementors. Harry, you're already adept at casting the Patronus Charm, making the preparation relatively straightforward," Professor McGonagall explained.
"Moody imparted more than mere spellcasting during our lessons," Harry observed, scrutinizing the room. "I assume you have broader plans for the club beyond teaching spells?"
The girls exchanged a knowing look. Hermione spoke on behalf of the group, her voice carrying a weighty conviction. "Indeed, our aspirations extend beyond academic achievement. While helping students excel in their OWLs is a worthy objective, we also envision a collective of individuals capable of defending themselves against Death Eaters and, perhaps, actively opposing them."
Harry furrowed his brow at the gravity of their intentions. "That's risky business, you know," he warned. "Turning school children into a militia—some of them could end up dead."
Acknowledging the severity of the situation, Hermione conceded, "Yes, Harry, there is an inherent risk. However, with Voldemort's resurgence, we're all already in jeopardy. The longer we allow him to amass power, the greater the danger for everyone."
Fleur added her perspective, "Some are more vulnerable than others. Consider Dean Thomas, a Muggleborn, or the Patils and Cho Chang, who hail from outside England. Voldemort will undoubtedly target them due to his disdain for what he deems as 'mongrels.'"
Harry reluctantly conceded their point. While he hesitated to form a group that would undoubtedly expose its members to danger, Fleur's observation resonated with the stark reality—they were already in peril.
Before Harry could voice his thoughts, Hermione nudged him discreetly, directing his attention elsewhere. Fleur exchanged a subtle glance with Hermione, indicating an approaching figure. It was someone they certainly didn't want eavesdropping on their conversation.
"Mr. Potter," chimed the cloying voice of their newfound adversary.
Turning, Harry faced Professor Umbridge, decked out in her nauseatingly pink ensemble, her false cheerfulness thinly veiling a more sinister intent. "You and your... friends are here early today, Mr. Potter," she trilled in her affected, girlish tone.
Harry keenly sensed Umbridge's disdain, and the implication that she regarded his closest friends as beneath contempt did not escape him. The desire to put her in her place burned within him, yet the wisdom from the previous day's events and discussions with Hermione and Fleur prevailed. He resisted the temptation to engage in a confrontation, but the promise of eventual payback lingered in his thoughts.
"Just wanted to get an early start on the day," Harry replied, adopting a chipper and eager tone that he knew grated on Umbridge. It was his sole weapon against her at the moment, and he employed it liberally, especially when he felt the urge to snap at the toad-like woman.
Umbridge sniffed with thinly veiled disdain. "Very commendable of you, I am sure."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry continued in the same tone. "I am trying my best."
Umbridge offered no further response, merely shooting Harry an expression of sweet approval that barely concealed the malice in her eyes. With her nose held higher than usual, she sauntered away toward the staff table.
Grinning at his friends, Harry motioned toward the entrance. The trio gathered their belongings and left the Great Hall, seeking a more private location for their discussion. It dawned on them that discussing such matters in the Great Hall was imprudent, given the numerous eyes and ears present.
They navigated through the school until settling in the same classroom where they had held their previous discussion. Once Fleur had cast privacy spells, they began to speak candidly.
"What about Umbridge?" Harry inquired without preamble.
"What about her?" responded Hermione.
"I assume you don't want her to know about this," Harry said, more as an assertion than a question.
Hermione nodded in agreement. "Plausible deniability, Harry. We don't want Umbridge to have any ammunition to try to take over the school. If our professors don't know what we're doing, they can't be held responsible."
Harry frowned. "But we can."
"Perhaps," Fleur interjected. "But what's the worst that could happen to us? Starting a group like this isn't against school rules. The only ones who might take exception are Fudge and Umbridge, and that's only because they're paranoid that Dumbledore is trying to take over the Ministry. If Dumbledore can truthfully claim, even under Veritaserum, that he had no knowledge of our activities, then any suspicion is deflected away from him and onto us. The worst we might face is a slap on the wrist for failing to clear the club with one of the professors."
The plan laid out by Fleur and Hermione was intricate, a testament to their careful consideration. As Harry mulled over the details, he found himself inclined to agree, although a few loose ends still needed tying.
"You mentioned that we would act like instructors. What about our practice time?" Harry inquired, wanting to ensure their own proficiency didn't suffer.
"Why, Harry, have you forgotten we need to prepare?" Hermione teased playfully. "On the nights we run the club, we would instruct. However, we could schedule our practice sessions with friends on other nights. Besides, I think there would be plenty of practicing going on while instructing."
"We could even organize dueling tournaments," Fleur suggested with enthusiasm. "That would help us assess our skills and identify areas for improvement."
"Good idea," agreed Harry, "though I'm concerned some of the younger students might find themselves in over their heads."
"Then we'll have mini-tournaments," proposed Hermione. "Rank everyone based on their progress, and conduct several smaller tournaments. It's a way to make it inclusive."
The trio contemplated the logistics of the plan. Hermione, ever the pragmatist, admitted, "The location is still uncertain. We need a secure place away from Umbridge's prying eyes, but I'm not sure where that could be."
"Well," Harry began slowly, "if nothing else, there's always the chamber."
Hermione wrinkled her nose. "From what you've told me, Harry, it doesn't sound like a very pleasant place to spend several hours."
"No," Harry agreed, "but it's secure. Umbridge isn't a Parselmouth, so she won't be able to find us there."
"True, but she could catch us entering or leaving. We should look for a better place," Hermione suggested.
Harry acknowledged the shortcomings of the chamber, realizing the need for an alternative. As the only one among them who had ventured into the chamber, he understood its unsuitability for their purposes. They decided to seek advice from Fred and George, Gryffindor's pranksters, believing that if anyone knew of a suitable location, it would be them.
"Have you two compiled a list of who you want to invite?" Harry inquired, turning the conversation toward potential members.
"Does this mean you're on board?" Hermione asked.
"Looks like I don't have a choice," Harry smirked. "You two will pester me until I agree, so I might as well save myself from being annoyed by just agreeing now."
Fleur, glowing with excitement, squeaked and hugged Harry, planting a kiss on his cheek. To Harry's astonishment, Hermione mirrored Fleur's actions, leaving him with two pairs of soft lips attached to his cheeks. The unexpected display left him momentarily stunned, caught between surprise and amusement at their shared enthusiasm.
The momentary surprise on Harry's face was replaced by amusement at Hermione's sudden realization. She blushed and withdrew quickly, her embarrassment evident in her pink cheeks and fidgety glances. Fleur, however, seemed unfazed and even amused by Hermione's impulsive gesture. Despite the awkwardness, Hermione remained silent, perhaps too flustered to articulate an apology.
"Well, it's not every day a guy gets kissed on the cheeks by two pretty girls," Harry deadpanned, lightening the mood.
Hermione's blush deepened, and she started to stammer, likely preparing an apology. Fleur intervened with a touch of humor to complement Harry's remark.
"We had better be careful, Hermione," Fleur said in a dry tone. "Harry's going to get a swelled head with this kind of attention."
Giggling despite her embarrassment, Hermione theatrically gathered her belongings and stood. With feigned nonchalance, she turned to her friends. "Well, shall we head off to classes?"
Harry shook his head, rose, and helped Fleur to her feet. Wrapping his arms around both girls, he playfully ushered them from the room.
"I think you're right, Hermione," he said. "I'm sure glad I have you two around to keep me grounded. You two are the best."
Both girls beamed, allowing Harry to guide them out of the room, the awkward moment momentarily forgotten in the camaraderie.
Meanwhile, in a small breakfast nook, Sirius Black relished the joys of breakfast in the Delacour home. The chocolate-filled croissant he enjoyed was a far cry from the dismal fare he endured during his twelve years of imprisonment. The tasteful decor of the Delacour residence contrasted sharply with the dark and squalid environment of his upbringing.
Appreciating the hospitality, Sirius glanced around, feeling grateful for the chance to recuperate. The Delacours insisted he treat their chateau as his own during his stay in France. The house-elves, treating him as a cherished member of the family, attended to his every need. The tranquil setting allowed him the peace required to confront the demons of his past, and when he desired company, a short Portkey journey connected him with the Delacours.
Reflecting on his new acquaintances, Sirius found Jean-Sebastian to be a promising friend and ally. Apolline, warm and welcoming, added to the charm of the Delacour household. The decision to involve them in Harry's life seemed wise, offering not only a supportive environment for Sirius but also potential connections and assistance in the challenges that lay ahead.
Sirius's recovery was progressing remarkably well, the grip of Azkaban's nightmares loosening with each passing day. While the occasional dark thought still cast a shadow over his mind, his therapist assured him that he was on the path to significant improvement.
Amused, Sirius thought about Audrey St. Laurent, the woman guiding him through the labyrinth of his emotions. She stood out as the one element of his recovery that refused to conform to expectations. Audrey, a statuesque blonde, exuded a magnetic charm that immediately captivated Sirius, the self-proclaimed ladies' man. Despite his best efforts, attempts to forge a more personal connection were consistently met with professional boundaries. Audrey took a certain satisfaction in reminding him of the ethical boundaries between therapist and patient.
Yet, Sirius found joy in the chase, reviving his long-dormant flirting skills honed during his time at Chateau Azkaban—a place, as he humorously noted, where Dementors weren't known for their prowess in social etiquette. His banter with Audrey became a source of amusement, a game of wit and charm that he relished.
However, his musings were abruptly interrupted by the entrance of an owl, gracefully gliding through an open window. The parchment attached hinted at unexpected news, a twist in the tale that elicited a devilish grin from Sirius. The Marauder within him recognized an opportunity for mischief, a chance to weave a prank that would surely shake things up.
In response, Sirius summoned a quill and parchment from the attentive house-elf, his mind already concocting a mischievous reply. The prospect of a well-executed prank added an exhilarating spark to his world, a reminder that even in the face of dark memories and lingering nightmares, Sirius Black remained a force to be reckoned with.
As he crafted his response, Sirius couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation. The winds of change were blowing, and he was ready to embrace the challenges that lay ahead. With a heart brimming with determination and mischief, Sirius Black prepared to return to England, ready to reclaim his place in society and defy the forces that had once sought to break him.
Over the next few days, Harry, Hermione, Fleur, and their group of friends engaged in lively discussions to determine the composition of the proposed club. The roster naturally leaned towards Gryffindors, encompassing most students from Harry's year and above, with a few exceptions from the younger years. However, after careful consideration, trustworthy Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were also added to the list, ensuring a diverse and inclusive group.
The primary challenge, however, lay in finding a secure and undisclosed location for their meetings. Harry adamantly insisted on a venue with foolproof defenses, dismissing the idea of simply commandeering an unused classroom and applying protective charms. To address the need for secrecy, Hermione and Fleur enchanted a set of coins with a Protean Charm, allowing them to notify potential members of meeting times. Once a secure meeting place was established, the plan relied on word-of-mouth among members to disseminate the information to others on the list.
Throughout the planning process, Fleur, although a newcomer to Hogwarts, contributed as much as possible. She listened attentively, absorbing information from her friends' experiences and offering insights where she could. Recognizing her limited knowledge of the students and the castle, Fleur played a supportive role, collaborating closely with Hermione and Harry to design a list of club activities for the future.
Aside from her involvement in the club initiative, Fleur spent her days getting to know her friends and housemates, adapting to the nuances of Hogwarts. After a month, she had acclimated to the new school environment, finding it different from Beauxbatons in intriguing ways. The absence of a house system, a concept unfamiliar to her from her previous school, made for distinct social dynamics. While Beauxbatons had its share of cliques and rivalries, they paled in comparison to the intricate and sometimes intense house-based affiliations that defined life at Hogwarts.
It was a puzzling reality, but a reality nonetheless—interactions between members of different houses at Hogwarts were often minimal, characterized by a basic level of civility at best. While there were exceptions, Fleur observed that these often occurred among friends who had pre-existing relationships before arriving at school. Generally, houses engaged in superficial interactions marked by an underlying sense of distrust and wariness. Conversations between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, for instance, were prone to veer towards threats and intimidation rather than genuine dialogue. Luna's association with their group stood out as an anomaly, considering the typical expectation for students to stick with those of their own house. Luna's unusual demeanor and the lack of acceptance within her own house made it easier for her to connect with Gryffindors, particularly given her childhood friendship with Ginny. However, Luna remained an exception in a system dominated by house-based affiliations.
Despite these dynamics, Fleur found contentment in her new home at Hogwarts. The friendships she forged here felt genuine, providing her with a sense of acceptance she hadn't experienced before. Her bond with Harry and Hermione continued to deepen, bringing her joy and a sense of belonging.
However, not all aspects of Hogwarts life were smooth for Fleur. Defense Against the Dark Arts class proved to be a challenge, with Professor Umbridge displaying an evident disdain for her. Whether through intentional neglect or thinly veiled contempt, Fleur recognized the professor's unfavorable opinion.
On a Friday after successfully persuading Harry to initiate the club, Fleur left the Defense classroom in the company of fellow Gryffindors, the Weasley twins among them. As they strolled down the corridor, a voice called out her name, causing her to pause.
"Hello, Fleur," Roger Davies greeted her as she turned around.
Fleur reciprocated Roger's friendly greeting with a smile, although her thoughts on him were far from straightforward. Their ill-fated date to the Yule Ball had left her with an enduring memory of an evening spent fending off unwarranted admiration and tending to sore toes. Despite the initial appearance of composure and confidence, Roger's true colors had surfaced during the event, turning what was meant to be a pleasant evening into an uncomfortable experience. The rumored speculation about their alleged intimate escapade in the gardens had only added a layer of amusement to Fleur's recounting of the night.
This year, Roger seemed to have overcome his susceptibility to her allure, but Fleur couldn't shake the feeling that he was still unduly influenced by her presence. While she acknowledged him in the hallways and exchanged brief pleasantries in class, she made a conscious effort to limit their interactions.
As they walked from the Defense classroom, Roger remarked on their infrequent encounters. Fleur offered a vague response about the busyness of schoolwork and the challenges of Defense class, carefully avoiding any mention of the burgeoning Defense Club.
"I haven't seen you in a while," Roger commented as they continued walking.
Fleur responded with a noncommittal acknowledgment, keeping her intentions guarded. Roger was on the list of potential club members, but she didn't want to reveal their plans prematurely.
"True. Seems crazy that it's already NEWT year, doesn't it?" Roger remarked.
Fleur smiled and agreed, allowing the conversation to lapse into a comfortable silence.
"Are you looking forward to your first trip to Hogsmeade?" Roger inquired after a moment.
"I am—anything to get out of this castle. I never thought a building this big could become so stifling, but I am looking forward to leaving it for a while."
Roger responded with a smirk, teasing about the impending Scottish winter. Fleur, a native of the south of France, theatrically shivered at the mention.
"Don't remind me," she said, recalling the challenges of the previous winter at Hogwarts.
"So what are your plans for the Hogsmeade weekend?" Roger asked, steering the conversation toward their upcoming visit to the wizarding village.
Fleur couldn't help but cast a sidelong glance at Roger, wondering about his intentions. Surely, he must be aware of her association with Harry and Hermione, not to mention her betrothal to Harry—did he expect her to have plans in Hogsmeade that didn't involve them?
"Harry and Hermione have promised to show me around the village," she replied.
A fleeting expression crossed Roger's face, too quick for Fleur to decipher. "It's good to see they are taking care of you," he offered cryptically, excusing himself with a friendly goodbye as he strode off towards his common room.
Their conversations remained brief, superficial, and devoid of substance. Fleur couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to his occasional small talk. While there was no overt malice in his demeanor, she couldn't fully trust him either. His avoidance of any discussion about Harry or her other friends only fueled her suspicions.
Shrugging off the unease, Fleur focused on her plans. Beyond Roger and Luna, along with a few acquaintances from the previous year, she had limited contact with students from other houses. The prevailing atmosphere at Hogwarts didn't foster cross-house friendships. The Defense Club they were planning promised to break down some of these barriers, promoting interaction and perhaps cooperation among students from different houses—a welcome change for the school.
Regarding the girls she had yet to befriend, Fleur wasn't sure if they saw her through the lens of Beauxbatons prejudices or simply weren't interested in forming connections with someone outside their house. However, one thing was clear: the Slytherins, particularly the older boys, viewed her with disdain, and some looks she received triggered unsettling thoughts of Veela subjected to nefarious practices. While the world had become more civilized, the existence of such trafficking persisted. The protective instincts of her father, especially towards her and Gabrielle, made sense in the face of this harsh reality. The presence of her friends, particularly in the face of certain Slytherins like Malfoy, provided a comforting shield against the unsettling undercurrents in the school.
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