The second term at Hogwarts began with loud whispers and gossip about one Harry Potter. He seemed to have been accepted into the famed accelerated program which had not been seen at the school for a century. People wondered how talented he must be for him to be selected, but others were positive that he was awarded the opportunity only because he was the Boy-Who-Lived.
The newspaper article about him seeking attention by enrolling himself in the program written by Rita Skeeter didn't help matters either. Of course, Sirius had gone and let the editor of the Daily Prophet know exactly why people trembled in fear when they heard the name 'Black'. It was a synonym for blackmail and the editor had hastily printed an apology the next day.
Naturally, it was ignored by the rest of the population. No one read something as boring as a retraction in the newspaper.
Much to Sirius' delight, Harry didn't seem to care about the negative press. Many of the older years in Ravenclaw were openly sneering at him, not to mention Hermione Granger had thrown a major temper tantrum, but he didn't care. Harry was thriving in his third-year classes. He had quickly risen to the top of the class again, much to the joy of his teachers. Professor Babbling especially was thrilled when she realised Harry considered Runes to be one of his most favourite subjects. The third-year students began to realise why he was in the accelerated program. He was a prodigy.
Snape was, naturally, nastier than ever. Harry was seriously considering murdering the bastard, but he didn't know how to do it without raising suspicion. Then there was Quirrell. Harry had caught sight of the man openly staring at Harry with a hungry gleam in his eye and it was making Harry very uncomfortable. He had not shared this with Sirius. Merlin knows he would march to the castle to 'take care of it' if Harry ever mentioned it to his godfather.
Harry still didn't know what he was feeling when it came to Sirius, and now that he realised it, Daphne as well. His relationship with each of them had deepened over time. His godfather had given him a communication mirror so that they could talk to each other all the time. Harry had been very impressed with the mirror and had sent a letter to his account manager at Gringotts to find out everything about the company. At the back of his mind, he couldn't help but think that despite knowing Sirius for a very short time, he could picture a good - dare he say it - father-son relationship with the older wizard in the future. His chest always tightened when he thought about it, but Harry didn't know what it meant.
Then, of course, was Daphne. He had taken to spending increasingly more time with her in the Room of Requirement. Doing so made them start talking to each other more as he tutored her in her studies. It was now at such a level that Harry genuinely felt protective of her and he would go so far as to call her his best friend, even though she was his only friend. The Room of Requirement itself was a big mystery to him and the way he found it, even more so. He let his mind wander, thinking back to that day.
It was the first week back at school. Harry was walking along a corridor on the seventh floor after meeting the Headmaster. Dumbledore had wanted to speak to him about the exams he had taken at the Ministry. He had also given Harry one of his patented 'I'm disappointed in you' looks. Apparently, he was about to let Harry know that he had approved of the accelerated program and was waiting for him to come back to school, but Harry honestly doubted the veracity of the headmaster's statement.
Just as he turned a corner, he saw the tapestry of a man teaching a group of trolls how to dance. Suddenly, he was assaulted by a memory again.
He had found the legendary Room of Requirement. It had been a perfect coincidence that he had seen one of those house-elves using the room. Excitement churned in his stomach as he paced three times in front of the blank wall. From what he gathered after interrogating the elf, he could imagine the room to resemble anything he wanted! He opened his eyes and stopped pacing.
A large iron door appeared.
Harry gasped as he missed a step, nearly tripping on his shoes, wincing in pain as his head throbbed horribly. That had been another memory; a memory that belonged to Voldemort. What the hell was happening?
He curiously looked at the blank stretch of wall. Could it really resemble anything he wanted? Harry slowly moved closer and paced three times in front of it. On the third try, a large metal door appeared. When he opened it and stepped inside, Harry's eyes widened in shock. The room was exactly as he wanted it to be. Several practice dummies were present, with wands in hand.
Ten minutes later, Harry realised that these dummies were nothing like those he had back home at Potter Castle. These felt real, like he was actually duelling a grown wizard. A slow grin formed on his face He couldn't even describe the advantages this room could offer. He would use it to his advantage. After all, he had a duelling championship to prepare for.
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