The common room debate was heating up. Despite promises, the schedule still hadn't changed. Tons of classes Harry wanted to attend were scheduled at the same time. And since he'd somehow managed to get basically the entire third year on board... Here's how it went down.
It started in the Great Hall. Harry noticed his friend looked pale and exhausted. He kept thinking out loud about wanting to try all the elective subjects. Suggested all his yearmates sample everything first, then choose.
The Gryffindor table went unexpectedly quiet. Everyone stared at Harry with their mouths hanging open. Because this guy—in their experience—had never been all that interested in schoolwork. One thing to retell books and movies he'd binged over summer. Another to actually bury himself in textbooks. Boring ones.
"Yeah, I grew up a bit. So what? Look, who's gonna tell me—maybe I've got a talent for divination? What if numerology clicks for me? How am I supposed to know if I don't attend even one lesson? Give me at least one class, better two or three, in every subject so I can actually make an informed choice. I can't be in two places at once!"
"Potter, I completely agree!" A short, sturdy Ravenclaw approached Harry, who still hadn't sat down. "That's the right way to choose." He turned to the others at the table. "Otherwise we're basically fumbling in the dark, opening doors to who knows where. Or we know, but only from rumors. And our whole future depends on picking the right door..."
"Great analogy!" Harry stared at his unexpected ally and finally thought to stick out his hand.
"Harry Potter."
"Anthony Goldstein. Listen, I came over because we drafted a petition. If you guys sign it too, not just our house... especially you, Potter, you know..."
"Not a problem! Show me where?"
The guy pulled out neat parchment and jabbed his finger.
"Here, up high, so they notice your name right away..."
Harry signed.
"Can I?" Dean Thomas reached for the parchment.
Seamus stared at him in shock...
"Me too," Hermione reached out.
The neighboring table erupted in loud, contemptuous snorts from the Slytherins. Harry turned around.
"Is that a walrus convention, or do you have something intelligent to say?"
Potter. Just roasted them. And damn, what a roast... The Gryffindors could've been laughing their asses off right now. Would've been. If they weren't in just as much shock, holding their breath for what came next.
"Just interesting watching the start of a bookworm movement in a house completely unsuited for them," Parkinson drawled in a saccharine-poisonous voice after a brief pause where the snakes recovered.
"Only mudbloods and Muggle-raised don't know their family talents," Malfoy threw out haughtily, bracing for a red-and-gold attack.
"Malfoy, you're hilarious," Potter said calmly instead of blushing or getting worked up. Even held back his ginger friend who'd started to jump up—arm around the neck, with a wink.
The Slytherin stared at Harry in complete bewilderment. For a moment he looked exactly like Weasley. Ron's knees just went weak. He plopped back down.
"And you're boring to watch," Granger responded to Parkinson's jab.
The Slytherin crew stopped chewing in unison. Made big eyes. Though the neighboring Gryffindors looked about the same.
"Why's that?" Malfoy and Parkinson demanded almost in chorus after a brief pause.
"Malfoy," Potter practically mirrored the Slytherin's tone, "are you seriously saying that over dozens of generations of your noble family's glorious history, every single child was born with identical abilities? You don't reproduce by Geminio, do you? Never had anyone with a talent for, say, numerology or runes? Maybe seers? And when choosing a match for the heir, parents never cared about candidates' abilities?"
Goldstein grinned and, winking at Harry, continued the thought:
"Imagine you're offered a chance to invest serious money in some venture... But will it succeed? A seer might sense it."
"A numerologist can calculate the probability of any outcome," Granger picked up.
"A rune master can add a small chain to the contract so nobody can cheat you. Or if the terms are unfavorable, help you break it easily."
Granger and Goldstein exchanged knowing looks. Their tag-team worked beautifully.
"We can hire—"
"And spend money. Smart. But if you've got even a spark of that talent yourself, are you seriously planning to pi—" Harry bit his tongue. Should hold back. Not get too casual with these "highborns."
Hermione and Anthony finished his sentence in unison:
"Waste it..."
"Squander it..."
"You don't want it or what? Throwing away..."
Judging by their faces, the Slytherins had clearly been hit with some interesting new thoughts. They suddenly had zero desire to keep arguing.
"Goldstein, hand over your petition. I'll sign," Daphne Greengrass got there first.
The enterprising Ravenclaw thanked the Gryffindors and followed his parchment.
"Potter, you've changed way too much," the twins whistled, rescuing their younger brother. He was in such shock from the whole conversation—especially from his "best friend"—he couldn't get a word out.
Harry just smiled, making his face as innocent as possible, and addressed his ginger friend. Definitely needed to keep Ron occupied or they just wouldn't survive all this insanity...
"Ron, don't you want to sign?"
"Why?" he asked hoarsely, sensing... trouble?
"Imagine there's a table full of pies. So many you can't possibly eat them all. Different fillings. Some you've never tried. You need to pick the tastiest. What would you do?"
Ron's brain stalled, Harry thought. But in a good way. Nice comparison. He gave himself mental props and continued:
"I'd split samples with someone. Half a pie—and you know. Or just break off a piece. Then eat what's actually the absolute best for you. Enjoy it. That's what I want with new subjects, get it?"
Judging by the ginger's face, comparing school subjects to pies was absurd... But... it actually did make sense. With pies he understood perfectly. The guy even stopped chewing, lost in thought.
***
"Goldstein, when are you taking this pe... petition to the headmaster?" Potter caught up with the Ravenclaws leaving for breakfast.
"Why the headmaster? We're sending it to the Board of Trustees... If he wanted to, the schedule would've changed ages ago. People have brought this up before! Time's passing and they keep feeding us promises..."
"What if trustees get a copy, but after classes we all go to Dumbledore together? Otherwise it's like we're tattling on him... Not cool. We've got five more years here."
The Ravenclaw looked at him with respect and nodded.
So after classes, quite a crowd formed by the famous gargoyle. Several representatives from every house. Even the Hufflepuffs showed up.
Good thing Malfoy didn't come, Harry thought, watching his ginger friend shoot suspicious looks at the Slytherin representatives. Wonder if he's the one who decided to send only pretty girls? Somehow Ron couldn't bring himself to pick fights with Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson.
Finally they were let up. Harry laughed to himself again watching his yearmates stare at their feet in amazement—except Finch-Fletchley and himself.
So clueless... Should drag them all to a shopping mall on field trip or something. Let them ride escalators!
***
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was frowning. He'd been trying his hardest to delay the promised subject sampling for almost the same reason the children wanted it. New inclinations appearing? Entirely possible! But that meant tons of new factors and variables. And who had to calculate them all? How simple and clear everything was when family members all pursued the same things as their ancestors! How wonderfully predictable events were! And now? These ones start, then the rest follow...
And his influence over Granger would weaken significantly. What if she decided to be selective too? Though... no. Judging by her behavior, the thirst for knowledge he'd amplified back in first year would more likely drain the girl dry than make her settle for less. He'd need to think about a restorative potion... He wasn't about to lose even a small but useful piece through which he so conveniently influenced the Hero.
When the third-years appeared at the door—led by an odd pair, Potter and Goldstein—the headmaster was already beaming one of his most radiant smiles.
When Harry Potter finished his short but fairly substantive and expressive speech, the headmaster internally winced.
Severus clearly overdid it. Shame, but I can't really complain to him. Should've been clearer with my... requests. But for now... isn't Harry taking on too much? And more importantly, hasn't he made too many new contacts? I need to separate him... a bit. Teenagers hate being bossed around, so... What if?.. No. Can't be. Tom?.. That last flickering thought required all the headmaster's composure to keep his face neutral. Yes. Tom Riddle would've been remarkably appropriate leading exactly this kind of delegation.
"Leadership ambitions, Harry?"
The genuine bewilderment in those wide green eyes calmed Albus somewhat. But... thoughts in his head never arose randomly. He was sure of that much.
"What? No!" Harry's voice took a moment to work. "I just wanted to try stuff. To choose. How can I choose without trying? And this—" he nodded at the parchment on the desk "—the Ravenclaws came up with. Brilliant, right? Everyone signed. Look..."
Dumbledore's eyes moved from the last awkward scrawl to a blushing Ron Weasley.
At dinner the headmaster had to announce two weeks of open class attendance for third-years. With the condition of careful tracking and daily reports to prefects and Heads of House.
Some applauded enthusiastically. Others politely. Nobody besides the third-years cared. It didn't affect anyone else.
***
Sybill Trelawney was completely unprepared for such turnout in her class. How to survive this?.. Drop a few opiates to calm the children down... Fortunately her hand trembled in time. A thought came that some children might have protective amulets. Which would definitely alert their owners that something was wrong with their tea.
So she had to settle for adding chamomile and mint... Sadly, to contain the overflowing teenage energy, these modest herbs were clearly insufficient.
Sybill internally shuddered seeing the room full of Gryffindors. And the brats kept climbing through the floor hatch! If only... She imagined the hole sealed shut. Didn't help, obviously. She'd just endured horribly nitpicky Ravenclaws. The poor woman dreamed of a break more than ever. Tea. Just tea. Lots of it. Maybe then they'd stop asking so many difficult and terribly inconvenient questions?
Even that girl was still here. The professor had so hoped never to see her again. Or her overly famous friend. That Potter again! Didn't he understand there'd been a terrible warning in his cup...
Hermione was calmly whispering to extremely interested Brown and Patil about culottes. Harry ended up paired with Ron.
He's definitely got some special ability to forget what he wants to forget, Harry thought. He was clearly told—don't come near until you apologize. And what? Hasn't apologized for shit. But here he is. At meals, in classes—weaseling in, sitting around like nothing happened. Hint at it—he acts confused. Fight?.. Don't need fights.
Finally finishing his second cup (why'd it take so much today?), he passed it to his friend. Ron was turning it this way and that, trying to at least imagine what the ridiculous shapes formed by tea leaves might look like, when Professor Trelawney finally approached.
She turned the cup in her hands a bit and predicted "mortal enemy," "attack," "danger on the road," and of course spotted the Grim again, howling dramatically that it was a harbinger of death.
Yeah, I know... death, right. Maybe death from laughter... Harry remembered some of Sirius's antics as a bulldog and nearly cracked up. Then another thought hit him. He instantly got serious.
"Excuse me, Professor... could you clarify: attack BY a mortal enemy or ON a mortal enemy?"
The professor mentally groaned... The dregs only let imagination conjure a series of images, but never connect them. How was she supposed to explain this? Oh Merlin, what was this boy thinking?..
"You," she said weakly, already seeing her guess was close to the truth, "want to attack the Grim?"
"That's the only way with dogs," Potter said confidently. "Most important thing is never show fear. They can smell it. Show them who's boss right away and everything's fine!"
"You... you've already encountered it?!"
The world suddenly faded. Miss Trelawney simply passed out.
***
"She's so thin," Brown said sympathetically, helping Granger wrap the professor's skirt tighter. Transporting an adult body through the hatch, even a scrawny one, especially in a skirt... Female solidarity wouldn't let the girls leave the professor's skinny legs to fate. Or rather, to the boys' eyes.
Meanwhile the guys were puzzling over how to squeeze an unconscious body through the hatch. Turned out Mobilicorpus wasn't just known to Potter and Granger.
"Maybe we should try reviving her up here?"
"Well... find something that smells bad."
"Can't... everything smells nice here. This thing's stronger, almost reeks." Brown handed Potter and Finnigan some box. Without thinking twice, they stuck it under Trelawney's nose.
"Aa-ah... ahhh!" Brown yawned. Patil, after one sniff, dragged her toward the open window. Potter had thrown it open first thing when the professor fainted.
"Get it away from her!" the girl yelled. Too late. Professor Trelawney was sound asleep, never having come to.
"Maybe just leave her to sleep?" Harry suggested.
"But we already prepped everything. Rescue operation, right?"
"Ah... fine. Keep going. What if she's actually in danger? Look, she inhaled... Patil, was that stuff harmful or not really?"
Parvati shrugged.
The company of Gryffindors carefully levitating their Divination professor couldn't help attracting general attention. First to cross their path... Slytherins. Not the full crew—no Draco or a couple of his faithful companions.
"What did you do to the professor?" Greengrass demanded.
"Why assume we did something?" Potter sounded almost businesslike in his surprise, still focused intently on the teacher. "Don't distract me. I'm scared of dropping her."
"Mobilicorpus..."
"Thanks, Greengrass."
"Hospital wing?"
"Obviously."
"What happened?"
"Wish I knew... Nothing much. Maybe drank something. Maybe inhaled something."
"The smell around her is kinda... suspicious," Zabini sniffed.
"Her classroom always smells bad! She's saturated in it."
"Yeah, but we're all still alive. And she... sits there breathing it."
"Horrifying..."
"Poor thing..." Patil and Brown sighed in unison. "She doesn't spare herself. Potter, you were absolutely right..."
"Honestly, next time I'm coming in a respirator..." Hermione announced.
"Will there be a next time?"
"What's a respirator?"
"Muggle thing... Greengrass, you sure you want to know?"
"If it helps with the smell... Spill."
Gryffindors and Slytherins peacefully discussing something was already pretty unexpected. Their shared burden though... So on the way to the hospital wing, everyone who saw them joined in. Maybe twenty or thirty people. When Madam Pomfrey saw the peculiar demonstration, she exhaled and silently leaned against the wall... Only after settling poor Trelawney and learning everyone else was "just escorts" did she sigh with relief.
"Didn't think you'd become so popular, Sybill," she addressed the unconscious woman. "I hope when you wake up you'll share the news."
She waved her wand, running preliminary diagnostics.
"Merlin, dear, you really should eat occasionally, not just drink! Sometimes at least..."
***
Meanwhile, everyone involved in the unexpectedly ceremonial transport of the Divination professor to the hospital wing was actively eating. They'd nearly missed lunch! Jaws worked fast and efficiently. No time to chat. Everyone had classes after lunch. Nobody wanted to lose house points. Especially not detention.
On the way to Care of Magical Creatures, the Gryffindors predictably found themselves with Malfoy's crew. Only one path from the castle. Zabini actually got his people talking, interested in that "respirator" thing. He kept developing the thought.
"If we made a magical version... took a small pad and conjured something like a bubble-head charm around it..."
"What's a bubble-head charm?" Potter asked.
Draco desperately wanted to needle his eternal rival. But Mordred, he didn't know what it was either yet... Couldn't admit that!
"Explain it to them, Blaise, since you brought it up!"
Perfect. Hide my own interest. "Best education, best education!"—thanks Dad...
Weasley kept opening and closing his mouth, not understanding what had gotten into his longtime enemy.
"Interesting. What if you layered, say, just a tiny semi-permeable air shield here... and anchored it somehow?"
"Granger, you're brilliant. Not those idiotic pig snouts from your insane twins. Actual proper filters! Dragon handlers and farmers would line up for them!"
"Weasley..." Malfoy's lips barely moved but everyone somehow heard. "You've got an older brother..."
Ron gaped at the Slytherin like seeing him for the first time.
"What's it to you?"
"He's a dragon handler, right?"
"How do you—"
"Pfft, in our village everyone knows everything about everyone! If they care to, anyway." Seamus Finnigan clapped Ron on the shoulder. "He could find out if they really need stuff like that at his reserve. How much they'd pay."
"Sell?.. Make and... sell? Ourselves?"
"What, can't handle it, Weasley?"
"I can too!"
A fight might've broken out. But... they'd arrived.
Hagrid wasn't ready for total attendance from both houses either. But seeing Harry, he brightened and sighed with relief.
"Take out and open your books," the half-giant said. Immediately heard unified grumbling in response.
Harry listened in surprise as his housemates complained about their books. Hermione, who he'd helped figure it out before leaving for school, chose to... observe. This was way more interesting than just explaining everything to everyone. How fascinating! Look at Parkinson and Greengrass carefully extracting their books with literally two fingers. What's on their hands? So curious! She wanted to walk over and ask. Later. For now she'd just note it down. Just in case.
"The book's awesome though..." Harry was first to pull out his textbook. Already holding it in his hands, petting it happily. It purred loudly and offered its spine, which its owner scratched with pleasure. "Good boy."
Hagrid looked at the students fondly, nearly tearing up.
Watching his yearmate, Neville almost automatically did the same... and instantly solved his problem. The book sprawled comfortably on the boy's arm. He smiled at it in disbelief.
Draco really wanted to show he wasn't like everyone else. So after discreetly scratching the binding and instantly "taming" the book, he commanded loudly:
"Heel!"
Hermione quietly snorted watching Malfoy's book size up his trouser leg... But the blond trickster surprised her again, whispering down:
"Sit. Or I won't scratch you for two days. Won't even pick you up."
The book obediently settled down.
So this Care of Magical Creatures lesson—which the gamekeeper had dedicated specifically to familiarizing with the textbook—went normally. Unlike the previous one when the books nearly chewed up the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff third-years. He never understood why... And there'd been no time. He'd barely managed to catch all the books so nobody got seriously hurt and they didn't scatter into the Forbidden Forest.
***
Ron Weasley felt terrible. Completely. It finally hit him—his best friend was interested in totally different things than he was. Soon they'd have nothing to talk about. Harry... How could this happen? The least-loved sixth Weasley hadn't realized how attached he'd actually gotten to Harry Potter. Harry was the only one who really listened to him... The only one who actually found him, Ron Weasley, interesting and needed. How... What now? Be alone? The thought alone sent chills deep inside somehow.
Last day of the week, barely out of bed, Harry announced he was ditching Muggle Studies and Divination. Going to Runes and Arithmancy instead. What Ron went through then defied description. Though tomorrow was the weekend. Quidditch practice. Maybe he'd finally see the old Harry again?
"Ron, come to Runes with us," Potter called after breakfast.
"What would I do there? It's pure brain torture!" He was happy to be invited. But the subject itself... scared him. For some reason.
"What if you turn out to be an amazing rune mage?" Hermione asked. "Merlin worked on runes in his youth. I read about it..."
"Me? Amazing?" the guy was stunned.
"Well, look at the chess combinations you pull off... Runes are combinations too. I read that. We just don't know yet which ones are pawns, which are rooks, queens... or is it queen? What's correct?"
They grabbed him under both elbows. Brought him along. It was... great. He felt strange warmth inside. For some reason pictured a sugar cube dissolving in tea. Automatically started moving his legs, listening to Hermione describe how she imagined "runic protection." Oh yeah... the embroidery on their shirts. Oh, could compare them! Read what's stitched on his... He got thoughtful. Started imagining stuff, muttering under his breath. Didn't notice when his friend stopped talking or how carefully Harry looked at him.
"Combinations... Queen's always singular, though... they definitely say 'queens'..." Lips moving, surprising himself, Weasley-six reached the Runes classroom. Walking through the door, he felt like he'd been caught in heavy rain. He looked around. Nope. Dry. Weird. Then it felt easier to sit next to Harry than go back to the common room alone.
The intro lesson was kind of like instructions over a chessboard. Piece values. Rules. Combinations. Ron unexpectedly realized he... understood everything. Then got hooked. Because... there was definitely something here! Building a chain to get results—Merlin, this was engaging! Especially since you didn't have to memorize anything. Just check the reference guide.
What if instead of Sowilo you took Jera meaning "person will return"? Wonder what changes? And why?
His thoughts never stayed in his head long. Always jumping straight to his tongue. He asked...
Interest sparked in Bathsheda Babbling's eyes. After class ended, she asked him to stay.