CHAPTER 22: GRIT AND RESOLVE
The Room of Requirement had never felt so alive. The walls, usually blank and unassuming, now shimmered with anticipation, as if the very stones were aware of the significance of the gathering. Dozens of students, huddled in groups according to their houses, exchanged nervous glances and hushed whispers as they settled into their seats. The air buzzed with a mixture of curiosity, excitement, and underlying tension—an atmosphere only heightened by the prospect of learning what had been denied to them in the classroom.
"Welcome, everyone, to the first official meeting of the Defence Association," Hermione announced, her voice clear and steady, though it carried the unmistakable cadence of a speech well-rehearsed. "Thank you all for signing the parchment. You should have each received a coin as well, which will let you know when and where our next meeting will be held."
Hermione's eyes swept the room as she spoke, her tone taking on an almost lecturing quality. But before she could delve too deeply into her prepared remarks, Harry stepped forward, cutting in smoothly. "Thank you, Hermione," he said with a slight smile, his voice breaking through the room's tension like a knife through butter. "And I think we'd all like to give Hermione a big thank you for organizing all of this. It's no small feat getting four houses to come together."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd, and Hermione, clearly flustered by the attention, blushed a deep shade of pink as she took a seat behind him. "Indeed," Harry continued, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, "only Umbridge could have brought about such unity."
A chorus of laughter erupted, lightening the mood considerably. As the laughter subsided, Harry's gaze roved across the room, scanning the faces of those who had come. He noted the groups with a calculating eye, searching for any signs of trouble.
The Hufflepuffs were there in force, seated together with the solidarity their house was known for. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott were near the front—Susan avoided his gaze, while Hannah gave him a small wave. Behind them sat Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley, both watching him with measured expressions. Then there was Zacharias Smith, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently, as if he was already preparing to challenge whatever Harry had planned.
Harry's eyes shifted to the Ravenclaws, who seemed eager to soak up whatever knowledge he could impart. Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, and Michael Corner leaned forward, their faces attentive. Padma Patil offered a shy smile, reminding Harry of their awkward Yule Ball date and the need to smooth things over. Parvati Patil was also there, chatting with Lavender Brown, both of whom seemed more excited about the social aspect of the meeting than the defense lessons. And then there was Cho Chang, who played with her hair, her expression unreadable, flanked by a rather placid-looking Marietta Edgecombe.
His Gryffindor peers filled a large portion of the room. The three beautiful Chasers—Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson—sat together, whispering among themselves. The Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis, were as enthusiastic as ever, their eyes wide with admiration. The Weasleys, as always, were a united front—Ron stood slightly apart, looking put out that he wasn't beside Harry and Hermione, while Ginny, Fred, and George exchanged amused glances. Dean Thomas and Lee Jordan were engaged in a quiet conversation, though their eyes flicked up to Harry every now and then, while Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan waited with expressions of quiet determination.
Finally, Harry's eyes fell on the small group of Slytherins who had shown up, their presence a testament to the seriousness with which Harry had extended his invitation. Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott, Adrian Pucey, and Terence Higgs stood slightly apart from the rest, their faces carefully blank, though Tracey Davis couldn't quite hide her scowl.
"We're here to learn how to defend ourselves," Harry began, his voice gaining strength as he spoke. "We'll cover everything on this year's curriculum, but we're not stopping there. Stunning Spells, Body-Binds, Cutting Curses, and five different types of shield spells—these are just the basics. In the first half of the year, we'll focus on these, as well as some Healing spells, to make sure everyone has a solid foundation. But in the second half, we'll dive deeper. We'll focus on what it really takes to survive a fight with a Death Eater, using lesser-known spells that could mean the difference between life and death."
A murmur ran through the room, some students nodding in agreement while others looked more apprehensive. The gravity of what Harry was proposing was beginning to sink in.
Zacharias Smith's hand shot up, cutting through the growing tension. "But who's actually going to be teaching us?" he asked, his voice carrying an edge of skepticism.
Harry met Zacharias's gaze steadily, not allowing himself to be rattled. "I am," he replied firmly. "I know what we're up against. I've faced Death Eaters, Dementors, and other dark creatures more times than I can count. This isn't just about theory or what's in the textbooks. This is about real-world experience—experience that I'm going to share with all of you."
The room fell silent, the weight of Harry's words hanging in the air. For a moment, no one moved or spoke, the reality of the situation dawning on them all.
Zacharias, however, wasn't entirely satisfied. "But what if—"
"Look," Harry interrupted, his voice taking on a more commanding tone. "If you're not interested, you're free to leave. No one's forcing you to stay. But if you do stay, you need to be serious about this. We don't have time for doubts or second-guessing. The world out there isn't going to wait for us to be ready."
Zacharias hesitated for a moment, then slowly lowered his hand, though his expression remained skeptical. Harry took a deep breath, letting the silence stretch for a few more seconds before continuing.
"If we're going to stand any chance against what's coming, we need to be prepared. This isn't about house rivalries or schoolyard grudges. This is about survival. So if you're ready to learn, then let's get started."
With that, Harry turned towards the front of the room, raising his wand. "First up, the Disarming Charm. It's simple, but effective. Let's pair up and get started."
As the students began to pair off with varying degrees of enthusiasm, the tension in the Room of Requirement remained palpable. Harry's mind whirred as he observed the group, considering how best to manage the mix of eagerness and skepticism in front of him. Hermione's subtle nod of approval bolstered his resolve, reminding him that despite the challenges, this was the beginning of something important—something that could make all the difference in the battles they would inevitably face.
Harry felt a surge of determination rise within him. Perfect. This was exactly the kind of atmosphere that would test their commitment, separating those who were ready to fight from those who were merely curious.
"I am," Harry repeated firmly, his voice steady and resolute.
Zacharias Smith, ever the skeptic, pushed through the crowd with a scowl etched on his face. "Just you?" he asked, his tone laden with disbelief. "I thought we were going to be getting lessons from seventh-years or maybe some ex-students who actually know what they're doing."
Harry met Zacharias's gaze without flinching. "All the teaching will be done by me, and me alone," he replied, his voice calm but authoritative. He let his gaze sweep the room, ensuring that his message was clear to everyone. "Though I'm glad to call some of you friends, I think it's best if we keep this as close to a formal classroom setting as possible. That's why I'll be asking you to call me 'sir,' just as you would any other teacher."
A ripple of discontent spread through the crowd, punctuated by Zacharias's scoff. "Oh, come off it, Potter," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. Grumbles of agreement rose from several students, particularly from Ernie Macmillan and a few of the Slytherins who were clearly less than impressed.
Zacharias pressed on, his voice rising above the murmur of the crowd. "We didn't come here to join your fan club or stroke your overinflated ego. We came for proper lessons from someone older, someone with actual experience, like we were promised!"
Harry remained unfazed by the outburst. Instead, he offered Zacharias a small, knowing smile. "I understand where you're coming from," he said evenly. "You don't think you have anything to learn from me, do you?"
Zacharias snorted, clearly thinking he'd caught Harry in a trap. "Maybe I can't beat you in a duel, maybe I can. I don't believe all that rubbish in the Prophet. But either way, I don't see why you think you can teach seventh years like Fred and George. You've been reading your own press too much."
"That's not fair, Zach!" Hannah Abbott interjected, her voice filled with indignation as she stepped forward, but Harry raised a hand to stop her, offering her a reassuring smile.
"It's okay, Hannah," Harry said gently, before turning back to Zacharias, his eyes glinting with something that was both challenging and inviting. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I need to reaffirm my credentials. How about we settle this with a friendly duel?"
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Zacharias's face, but he quickly masked it with a sneer. Before he could respond, Ernie Macmillan stepped up beside him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just because you can beat Zach doesn't mean you're a good teacher, Harry."
Harry nodded thoughtfully, his voice taking on a silky, almost dangerous edge. "I quite agree, Ernie. Which is why I'm not suggesting a duel with just Zacharias. I propose a duel against Zacharias, Adrian Pucey, Terence Higgs, Marietta Edgecombe, and Tracey Davis—all at once."
The room went silent as Harry called out the names, each one dropping like a stone in the hushed air. It was as though he were taking attendance, his tone calm and measured, yet carrying an unmistakable weight.
Adrian Pucey frowned, clearly confused. "Why us?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.
Harry turned to Adrian, his expression unreadable. "Nothing against any of you," he assured them, his voice smooth and steady. "No harm will come to you in these duels—you have my word. I simply want to get a sense of the average skill set from each House. It'll help me understand where we stand and what we need to focus on."
The five students exchanged uneasy glances, each trying to gauge the seriousness of Harry's proposal. The rest of the room watched in silence, the tension building once more as they waited to see what would happen next.
Finally, Zacharias squared his shoulders, his defiance returning. "Fine," he said, his voice hardening. "Let's see if you're as good as everyone says you are."
Harry nodded, a calm confidence radiating from him. He stepped back, creating space in the center of the room. "We'll start in thirty seconds. Wands at the ready."
The crowd parted, forming a loose circle around the six students. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, everyone holding their breath as they waited for the duel to begin.
Harry could feel the weight of their eyes on him, the pressure of their expectations. But instead of feeling nervous, he felt a strange sense of calm settle over him. This was his element. This was what he'd been preparing for, knowingly or not, for years.
As the thirty seconds ticked down, Harry raised his wand, his eyes locking on his five opponents. He could see the uncertainty in their faces, the flicker of doubt that they tried to suppress. And in that moment, Harry knew that this was more than just a duel. This was a demonstration—a statement of intent.
"Begin!" he called out, his voice cutting through the silence like a whip.
In an instant, spells erupted from all sides, flashing through the air like streaks of light. Harry moved with fluid precision, deflecting, dodging, and countering with a skill that left the room in awe. His wand work was impeccable, each movement purposeful, each spell controlled. He wasn't just defending himself—he was teaching, showing them exactly what it meant to be prepared, what it meant to fight.
Within minutes, the duel was over. Adrian, Terence, Marietta, and Tracey were disarmed, their wands scattered on the floor. Zacharias was the last to fall, his wand slipping from his grasp as Harry's final spell hit him squarely in the chest, knocking him back onto the floor.
The room was silent, the only sound the heavy breathing of the defeated. Harry lowered his wand, his expression neutral, though a small, satisfied smile played at the corners of his mouth.
He looked around the room, meeting each student's gaze in turn. "This isn't about ego," he said quietly, his voice carrying a gravity that no one could ignore. "This is about survival. If you're willing to learn, I'm willing to teach. But you have to trust me. We don't have the luxury of time, and we certainly don't have the luxury of doubt. We have to be ready."
The silence that followed was thick with unspoken agreement. Slowly, the students began to nod, the skepticism in their eyes replaced by a newfound respect.
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Now, let's get back to it. Pair up again, and let's work on those Disarming Charms."
As the students moved to obey, Harry felt a quiet satisfaction settle over him. This was just the beginning, but it was a beginning on his terms. And that, he knew, was exactly what they needed. However, the room still buzzed with a mix of skepticism and disbelief.
Zacharias Smith, never one to let things go, snorted loudly. "Wait, you're not joking? You really think you can win a duel against six of us?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm, his disbelief apparent.
"Without a problem," Harry confirmed, his tone calm but confident, which only seemed to irritate Zacharias further.
"Wait, Harry, is this really necessary?" Hermione asked, her voice tinged with anxiety as she fidgeted nervously, her eyes darting between Harry and the group of students he was about to face.
Harry glanced at her, offering a reassuring smile. "It's fine, Hermione. Trust me."
Marietta Edgecombe, who had been shifting uncomfortably, finally spoke up, raising her hand as though she were still in a regular classroom. "Why me?" she asked nervously, her voice wavering slightly.
Harry's gaze softened as he looked at her. "I didn't want to injure Cho before her big Quidditch match," he said with a teasing grin aimed at Cho, who blushed prettily in response. Turning back to Marietta, he continued, "And with the greatest respect, I don't know you, so I need to gauge your skill level to teach you effectively."
Tracey Davis, who had been bouncing on the balls of her feet, couldn't contain her impatience any longer. "Come on, let's do this already," she snapped, her eyes blazing with determination. It was clear she intended to teach Harry a lesson—a lesson that, in her mind, the boys should have taught him a long time ago.
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