MTLNOVEL Chapter 26: Chapter 26
Chapter 26:
"I have some news that might interest you," announced Daphne Greengrass, plopping herself down across from Harry at the Ravenclaw table.
"Good morning to you too, Daphne," Harry chuckled, setting down his forkful of eggs. He hadn't spoken to her once since term resumed the week before. "How was your break?"
"It's about Longbottom," said Daphne without preamble. "You're interested in developments about him, are you not?"
Harry's ears perked up at this. "Yeah," he said. "Is he alright?"
"Beats me," Daphne shrugged. "Apparently he's been sneaking out of the common room late at night. No one's seen him leave, but Snape caught him out of bounds during a bed check last night."
"How odd," Harry muttered. "Any idea where he's going?"
"I was going to ask you that," Daphne said pointedly. "Since you consider yourself a friend of his."
"In a sense," Harry shrugged. Truthfully, he hadn't spoken much with Neville lately, choosing to give him, Ron and Hermione a wide berth for the past few months. He really ought to keep up with that relationship, though, lest he neglect the most important friendship of them all.
"Well, that's all," Daphne sighed. "He lost Slytherin thirty points, so we're all cross with him, but I doubt you care about that." And she stood to return to her own table.
"Wait!" Harry said, halting her. "How are you doing, Daphne?"
Daphne narrowed her eyes at him. "What kind of question is that?" she demanded.
"We're friends," Harry reminded her. "We can talk about things other than our 'deal', you know. Like classes. Or hobbies. Or boys."
"Ugh," Daphne scoffed at this last cheeky remark, and spun around to leave. Harry chuckled to himself; he was determined to crack Daphne's tough exterior and get to know her beyond her political ambitions. If Tracey Davis could do it, so could he.
This Neville news was intriguing, though. Where was he sneaking off to late at night? And how was he getting in and out of the Slytherin common room without anyone seeing – particularly if, as Daphne said, he has 'many eyes on him at all times'? Harry had a hunch about both questions, and decided to investigate that very evening.
After an uneventful day of classes, Harry slipped away from his classmates and headed to the seventh floor. He had some time to kill before nightfall, and he had a far more productive evening in mind than simply waiting around Ravenclaw Tower.
I need to visit my training room...I need to visit my training room...I need to visit my training room…
After his third pace back and forth before the blank stretch of wall, a door materialized, and Harry entered the Room of Requirement. He'd started coming here since the new term started, needing a private place to practice his spells without hurting anyone by accident. The room had provided him with a makeshift combat arena, complete with movable training dummies and absorbent walls that prevented errant spells from bouncing dangerously around the space.
Harry was quickly learning the many abilities – and shortcomings – the Room of Requirement possessed. When he got hungry after a particularly-long session, a door appeared that led directly into the kitchens to nourish himself. When he wished he had reading material to brush up on his spell vocabulary, a bookshelf materialized with a wide selection of books on hexes, curses and other combat tools. Notably, they were all library books, and none of them came from the Restricted Section...it seemed the room could only provide what Hogwarts already had to offer, and it knew that he did not have a pass to the more sinister books behind the locked door.
But no matter. He had seven years with which to expand his knowledge and grow to his full potential. Right now, he just needed to master basic spell casting and learn how to control his wand. So he launched himself into a furious attack on the training dummies, throwing everything he knew at them. He cast them as fast as possible, his wand a blur of movement as jets of light streamed out and pummeled their targets.
Harry had learned that his wand worked best when he operated on instinct – casting quickly and intuitively without thinking too hard about what he was doing. When he was forced to slow down and be more deliberate, the wand seemed impatient, often preferring to stir up trouble rather than do what he wanted. But these occurrences were lessening with time, as Harry slowly learned how to exert his will over the wand and force it to do his bidding.
As Flitwick had theorized, the wand seemed to respond best when Harry felt in danger. Harry realized that he could use this to his advantage by injecting a sense of desperate urgency into his intent, even with basic spells. I need to master the basics if I'm going to survive the war in a few years, Harry thought as he attempted a simple Levitation Charm. The wand initially resisted his will, but on the second attempt it finally relented, lifting the feather on the table in front of him up to the ceiling.
Will I have to act desperate at all times to get my wand to work? Harry thought glumly. But maybe that was exactly what the wand was demanding of him – a sense of urgency that he hadn't displayed thus far in his new timeline. He was enjoying the relative peace of having a loving family and not worrying about his future, but perhaps he needed to focus harder. It was as if the wand knew he had the power to prevent Voldemort's return, and that he was squandering that foreknowledge. Fair enough, he supposed.
A clock on the wall chimed midnight. Harry swore; he'd lost track of time in the windowless room. I need to get to the library, Harry thought intently, waiting as the Room processed his request. Soon a portrait-hole materialized on the wall, and Harry pushed through it, finding himself on the first floor, just down the hall from the school library. Harry carefully closed the portrait behind him and crept along the darkened hallway.
He felt quite naked and exposed without the Invisibility Cloak or the Marauder's Map to aid him. Even when he'd had said items he was always on-edge, worried that he might stumble across the path of Filch, Mrs. Norris, or worse, Snape. Now he had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide if someone came across him. Fortunately, he knew his destination was close, as he inched along the halls towards the empty classroom he had traveled to so often during his original timeline…
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