Harry had a dream.
He was walking down a corridor with no windows, his footsteps echoing in the silence.
The door at the end of the corridor grew closer and closer, his heartbeat speeding up.
If only he could open it… walk through it…
He reached out his hand… his fingers were just inches away.
"Mr. Harry Potter, sir!"
Harry jolted awake.
The candles in the common room had already burned out, and something was moving nearby.
The fire in the hearth was nearly gone, and the room was dark.
"Who's there?" Harry sat up straight, a trace of tension in his expression.
"Dobby brought your owl, sir!"
A high-pitched voice, and a short, small figure. It was Dobby.
The free house-elf who had come to work at Hogwarts.
Hedwig.
Hedwig had been injured the last time she brought back a reply, so Harry had no choice but to leave her in Professor Grubbly-Plank's care.
Clearly, Hedwig had been well taken care of—she was now standing atop the many hats stacked on Dobby's head, hooting calmly.
Harry stared at Dobby in surprise. At this point, Dobby had so many hats on his head that his ears were squashed down, making him look two or three feet taller.
Harry recognized the style of those hats—Hermione had knitted them herself.
He hadn't expected Dobby to have picked them all up.
"Dobby volunteered to return Harry Potter's owl!" Dobby squeaked, his enthusiasm for Harry as deep and unwavering as ever. "Professor Grubbly-Plank said she's all better now!"
He gave a deep bow, his pointed nose brushing the worn carpet. Hedwig let out a displeased hoot from atop his head and flew over to perch on the armrest of Harry's chair.
Harry stroked Hedwig's head and thanked Dobby.
He blinked, trying to shake off the remnants of his dream.
Looking at the scarves and socks on Dobby, Harry hesitated and asked, "Did you take all the clothes Hermione left here?"
"Oh no, sir," Dobby said cheerfully. "Dobby also took some for Winky!"
At the mention of the alcoholic house-elf, Harry asked curiously, "How's Winky doing?"
"Winky's still drinking, sir," Dobby said sadly, and then began to talk about how the house-elves now felt about Gryffindor.
"They all refuse to clean the Gryffindor Tower anymore. Hats and socks are hidden everywhere—they think it's an insult."
The cleaning of Gryffindor Tower these past days had all been done by Dobby himself, and all the items Hermione had left behind had been taken by him.
"Dobby always hoped to see Harry Potter, and tonight, his wish again came true." Dobby gave a deep bow, then looked up at Harry timidly and asked, "Dobby heard him talking in his sleep. Did Harry Potter have a nightmare?"
Harry recalled the scene from his dream, rubbed his eyes, and yawned. "It's fine. I've had worse."
Dobby gazed at Harry, his ears drooping. He said seriously, "Dobby wants to help Harry Potter, because Harry Potter freed Dobby and made Dobby happy."
"You can't help me with this, but thank you anyway." Harry knew his problem was complicated—he still hadn't figured out what that dream meant.
As he picked up his Potions textbook from the floor, a thought struck him, and he asked, "There might be something you can help with, Dobby."
Dobby beamed, his voice bursting with excitement. "Say it, Harry Potter, sir!"
"I need a place where twenty-seven people can practice Defense Against the Dark Arts, and not be discovered by the teachers," Harry clutched his textbook nervously, "especially Professor Umbridge."
He had thought this request might trouble Dobby—but instead, Dobby jumped up in excitement.
"Dobby knows a perfect place!" Dobby was overjoyed that he could help Harry Potter.
"The other house-elves have talked about it—we call it the 'Room of Requirement,' or 'Come and Go Room.'"
Harry hadn't expected to actually hear of such a perfect place from Dobby's mouth.
Suddenly, he remembered—last year at the feast, Dumbledore had mentioned this place.
Back then, Dumbledore had said he wanted to use the bathroom and stumbled upon a place filled with all kinds of chamber pots.
Harry was overjoyed. After Dobby told him the location, he found Hermione and Ron the next day and shared the news with them.
They notified the other students who had signed up at the Hog's Head to gather at 7th o'clock on the eighth floor, opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls.
The trio arrived at the 7th floor at half-past seven. To avoid being discovered, Harry also brought the Marauder's Map.
After observing for a while and confirming no one was nearby, he began to follow Dobby's instructions.
He walked back and forth three times in front of the wall while Hermione muttered quietly under her breath.
"We need a place to learn how to fight."
The three of them concentrated and paced the corridor three times. A sleek, smooth door appeared on the wall.
The Room of Requirement.
Ron remained cautious as Harry pulled open the door.
What greeted them were bookshelves filled with all kinds of books on Defense Against the Dark Arts.
There was even a foe-glass, like the one fake Moody had used.
And a humanoid dummy, similar to the ones Professor Oz used in class.
Hermione stepped forward, flipping through the books in delight. One black-covered book caught her attention.
She walked over and flipped through the book—it was a collection of stories.
She recalled that John seemed to like carrying this book around. The Tales of Beedle the Bard
Eight o'clock arrived, and the students began trickling in.
Everyone was amazed that such a room existed inside Hogwarts.
Fred and George frowned—last time they came here, it had just been a broom cupboard.
Hermione suggested electing a leader, and unsurprisingly, Harry was chosen.
They brainstormed a few names.
Defense Association, abbreviated as—It could also be interpreted as Dumbledore's Army.
If the Ministry truly wanted to raise an army to fight Dumbledore, then they'd join Dumbledore's Army instead.
Harry's heart thudded. Dumbledore's Army—it felt just like the Order of the Phoenix, which his parents had once joined.
...
Constellation Society.
After Quidditch training, the members even held extra drills, to the point that Neville felt a bit guilty bullying such weaklings.
"Even if I let you use one leg, you still wouldn't beat me."
Daphne rolled her eyes at Malfoy's bluster. That guy's mouth was the only tough part left on him.
John poured Malfoy a glass of fruit juice meant to help with recovery.
After drinking it, Malfoy kept grumbling nonstop.
These days, every member of the Constellation Society was working hard to grow stronger. Even during the holidays, they never stopped training.
Daphne's spellwork had become increasingly proficient, and Cedric's Transfiguration was steadily at a Level 4 without issue.
Neville and Malfoy had become the dual physical training stars of the Constellation Society—their current physical strength was enough to crush an average wizard without breaking a sweat.
With the equipment John had outfitted them with, they could even go head-to-head with Aurors.
Last time, when John was passing along a gift from Tommy, he happened to overhear Oz and Professor McGonagall complaining that even in their fifth year, students were still unfamiliar with the Disarming Charm.
Professor McGonagall was rather embarrassed too—their Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum had always been weak.
Lupin had been a good teacher, but his focus had been mainly on magical creatures.
As for spells used against fellow wizards, Lupin hadn't taught much.
At the same time, Oz's classes had exposed many issues. Hogwarts students were severely lacking in some critical areas.
Calling it "happy-go-lucky education" was being generous.
This was practically no education at all.
John dropped off the gift and left without alerting Oz.
In the Constellation Society, Malfoy was cracking his knuckles, full of fighting spirit. "This time, I'm definitely going to humiliate Potter properly."
With the Quidditch tournament restarting, Slytherin's opponent was Gryffindor.
As the reigning champions, Malfoy couldn't wait to see the miserable look on Potter's face after his defeat.
To prepare, Malfoy had taken out his beloved Firebolt and was carefully maintaining and inspecting it. He wasn't about to risk a malfunction during flight.
"Cedric, don't think that just because you're the head boy now, you can boss me around. On the Quidditch pitch, you're no match for me."
As the resident trash talker, Malfoy hadn't forgotten the Constellation Society had another Seeker.
"Heh.." Cedric smiled helplessly. When it came to this sort of thing, even skill wasn't enough—especially with such a glaring difference in equipment.
If he had a Firebolt, maybe he could talk back with a bit more confidence.
John smiled faintly. He was actually kind of looking forward to that scene.
________
Read 12 Chapters ahead: Patreon/Dragonel