Unofficial Portkey Archive

A Club by Viopathartic

A Club


A Club


I wrote this in a short time and can't believe I had the will to come up with it. This will certainly be different from everything I have written before. This takes place in 6th year and as you may have realized, it's a different take on how Harry would deal with his godfather's death.

I really hope you enjoy it and wait for the next chapter.

Harry found himself disliking Hogwarts as weeks went on in the term. Usually he would be ecstatic. Hogwarts was his home-his sanctuary where the Dursleys were out of reach and where he could be around friends.

But he and his friends were quickly approaching adolescent years and that complicated life even more.

So, on one of his late night walks-and late meaning the time being one in the morning-he decided to stop by the one place that he was hesitant to go to. Initially he had arrived at the Headmaster's office purely out of guilt. During the summer, Harry had to time to reflect on his behavior at the end of fifth year. He completely disrespected the closest person he had to a grandfather or mentor and probably destroyed half of his prized possessions. He overreacted after the realization that his godfather was dead, and Harry actually felt angered that Dumbledore never mentioned it again once he had returned to Hogwarts.

He didn't want explanations really-he only wanted Dumbledore to see him. See how miserable he was.

But then, his rational side came over him. Showing at his office at this time!

Instantly, Harry took one last look at the door guarded by the gargoyles and turned around.

The next time, however, his logical side had fallen asleep.

Harry remembered his first time at the office in his sixth year. It was after Ron asked Hermione out on a date and she said yes. He left after that; the sight of them together, even though they were his best friends, was oddly disconcerting. Sometimes he would think that they were too young to "date" but then would be horrified how he could act like such a…well, such an adult. Sometimes he would say to himself that it won't last long; they were only 15 or sixteen! Sometimes, he would say that he should be the one dating her and every look at them together made him want to hurt someone.

His Transfiguration professor and Head of his House, Gryffindor, was, as usual, accompanying her friend in the office. Harry was shocked to find that her office was also magically connected to Dumbledore's. It only took a magical barrier and invisible wall to cover that fact up.

At first the professors (perhaps Minerva more than Albus) were shocked. A student, wandering the castle without a care of being caught, and then voluntarily ended up at the Headmaster's office! Such an odd thing to see these days. But then Albus would just give his student one glance and return to signing his parchments or something else.

McGonagall and Dumbledore were also worried about his academics-how could he manage his homework when he barely gets any sleep? But the lack of sleep didn't seem to affect the boy much other than his appearance. In fact, his lack of sleep brought a sudden improvement in his work. Not brilliant as in "Hermione Granger" brilliant but enough for teachers to raise eyebrows.

He visited them maybe once or twice a month, but that soon turned to once a week and then, every day of the week.

Soon Harry would come to the office based on the fact that he actually liked being in the office.

Harry would use the password of some sort of candy (Minerva constantly tells her colleague to change it for it was too impractical but the white bearded would simply answer, "Exactly.") and step in as if he had been summoned to the office. He'd then take eight steps to the right and sit in the chair that was, by now, his.

He never talked at first-but then again, McGonagall was a bit used to it. Harry was never quite the same ever since his godfather had died on that faithful night in the Department of Mysteries. Never the same after he left Dumbledore's office, fuming and hands clenched in fist. Then, Dumbledore relayed the prophecy and Minerva understood.

He also mentioned such things involving Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. Minerva never thought of the two to be a good pair and agreed as to why Harry may enjoy finding refuge here. Having them together must be such a pain with all of their childish bickering! But Dumbledore shook his head when she said she understood. He didn't say anything, of course-something that Minerva had gotten used to. As the school year came to its second month, as curious Minerva observed, she learned that Miss Granger had captured the heart of another person besides a red-headed Weasley.

After awhile, Dumbledore would ask Harry to help around in the office. Things such as correcting paper or fixing a slanted portrait kept Harry occupied and satisfied.

It wasn't necessary for Minerva to be there, really. In yet, the witch always found herself in her friend's office, waiting for the boy to arrive.

One night, the two made a discovery about the boy.

"Nightmares? Of Voldemort?" Albus asked, the twinkle gone from his eye and seriousness replacing it.

"No. Just of Sirius…dying," answered Harry, not letting his eyes meet his teacher's. Telling them about his dreams was already hard enough to admit; he didn't want them prying anymore. He nearly let out a breath of relief when Dumbledore merely gave him a look and then leant back in his chair.

"Have you gone to Madam Pomfrey?" asked Minerva, concern written on her face. Harry nodded and explained that she had tried to give him one of the dreamless potions, but he would still have flashes.

"It doesn't scare me, really," he assured his Transfiguration teacher. "It just makes me miss him even more." He avoided their looks of sympathy and twiddled his thumbs in a way that reminded Minerva of Albus' habit of boredom.

"But that's horrible. A boy like yourself should at least get one night of rest!"

"I do get some sleep, but only when I come here."

The two professors decided they didn't mind anymore.

The next night, Harry was finishing up a Potions essay in the presence of his familiar friends as he called them.

"I couldn't help but notice that you never come to breakfast anymore, Harry," said Minerva as she corrected her students' papers from Period 4.

"Sometimes I eat with the house elves but sometimes I just sleep in," he murmured. He wasn't trying to come off as being rude but he could tell his teacher wanted to hear more.

McGonagall remained unfazed. "You're drifting apart from Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley."

Harry stopped writing but didn't look up. The witch knew she probably shouldn't say anything else.

"That's not good, Harry. You and those two have a special bond that shouldn't be ignored," advised Dumbledore reverently. He was behind his desk with a hand stroking the feathers of Fawkes, his Phoenix.

"I'm not ignoring them. It's just-" the boy sighed, ruffling his hair with his free hand. James Potter, the two professors thought at the same time. "I don't really feel like…facing them right now."

"You mean tell them of the prophecy?"

Harry nodded.

"I suppose you aren't ready at the moment, but when you are, you must. Having their support will help you, Harry. I cannot stress the significance of your relationship with Ron and Hermione, but you probably have some sort of understanding on this point, am I correct?" Dumbledore asked as he peered at his student through his moon shaped spectacles.

Harry blinked and nodded again. For a moment, silence fell around the room.

"Professor?" he asked in a hesitant voice. Both of the teachers looked up from their work.

"I was wondering…well, can I form some sort of …club?"

It had been on his mind since last week. He hadn't been very social with his other classmate and always felt left out whenever they would discuss an event that occurred in their "group" or club. It was like being the third wheel in Hermione and Ron's relationship but instead of lasting five or ten minutes, it was all the time. Harry didn't want to feel that way anymore. Plus, doing nothing besides homework and moping was extremely boring, and he didn't want to make it a habit.

"A club, Harry?" asked Minerva McGonagall with an eyebrow raised skeptically.

Harry nodded.

"And what is this club?"

Harry shrugged.

"You don't know?"

Harry nodded.


There was no point in hiding the truth. "Because…I'm bored."

The Headmistress could no longer comprehend what her student (one of her favorites now, she quietly admitted) meant by forming a…club.

"Will it be dangerous?"

Harry shook his head, fighting the shiver that suddenly came. He wanted danger to be far away. D.A was a bit too much for him; he just wanted to start small.

Minerva and Albus exchanged a glance before the Headmaster leant forward with his hands steepled and elbows on the desk. "I suppose…it'll be fine with us."

Harry gave a small smile at their permission. Biding them a goodnight, he packed his bags and hurried off to his dormitory.

The next morning, Harry felt oddly rejuvenated even though he only had hours of sleep. He even woke up before Hermione, which was a bit suspicious to him. She was usually up by now. But then again, maybe she spent a late night with Ron or something, Harry thought with a bitter edge.

In his hands, he had a single piece of paper in which he would pin up on the notice board that all Houses shared.

A plump boy with his nervous hands frantically searched through his book bag as he stepped out of the Portrait Hole. He sighed in relief once he realized that he had indeed remembered his Potions homework. Snape would have killed-no, laughed and then killed him-if didn't have it. The greasy, slimy haired professor scared him as much as spiders scared Ronald Weasley.

Someone had greeted him, but the Gryffindor only nodded before realizing he was actually noticed and somehow had actually said something to him. He would have to work with socializing more.

Nearing the Great Hall, he stopped as usual by the notice board. He was looking for anyone who needed Herbology lessons...he was quite good at it...what with it being the only thing he was good at….

The sign made his wandering eyes stop.

He didn't know why but he stood straighter when he read the sign. He was curious and this person who had posted it certainly caught his attention. Smiling a bit while closing his bag, he turned and walked to the Great Hall for a plate of waffles.

As the sound of malicious laughter drifted away with a horde of skinny girls, a blond-haired witch with orange radish earrings cautiously came out from her corner of the Ravenclaw common room. She sighed and hugged her copy of The Quibbler closer to her chest, walking in her own airy, drifting pattern. She pretended to not notice the snickers from students as she past or the line of feet that suddenly was in her floor vision and taunting her own legs.

She made her way to the Great Hall, hoping that blueberry muffin would be saved from all of the other students but a large sign had stopped her. Two boys were already there, looking (without a doubt) for tutor sessions with an "educated" (educated meaning a girl educated in the anatomy of a human boy) girl. Once they spotted her, however, they merely smirked at her and pointed to a sign.

The odd looking boy sneered, "Looking for the Crumby Short stacks? Because it's right there, I can see it!"

"It's Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and they're only located in Sweden," she answered vaguely, looking at the boy straight in his eyes. He laughed and playfully punched his friend in the shoulder. The two walked away yelling, "She's a loony!"

Next the sign that he said had Crumple-Horned Snorkacks was the sign that caught her attention.

The witch blinked.

The young blond wizard scowled as he saw two Mudbloods giggling their way to the Great Hall. He hated them. Father always said that they carried some sort of disease and when one of them had touched him the other day, the wizard began to think he was right.

He saw that loony witch from Ravenclaw walking away from the notice board and could only imagine what had caught her attention away from her planet. Deciding he could use a good laugh, he sauntered across the hallway, glaring at some first year boys as he did so, and stopped in front of the board.

His eyes burrowed in confusion.

Letting out a scoff of disbelief, he began to turn. Then, in a sudden change of heart, he whirled around and read the sign again.


The wizard shook his head and stuck his hands in the pocket of his cloak. Absolutely ridiculous.

As he entered the Great Hall for his daily breakfast, the doors closed behind him. The corridor was now empty without students or teachers. On the notice board hung a simple piece of paper with words that had caused the loony witch from Ravenclaw to blink, the shy Gryffindor to stand straighter, and the Pureblooded Slytherin to actually consider.

It read:


Transfiguration classroom

Friday, November 2


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