Personal Disclaimer: This chapter is terrible and I hate it. But, in the interest of simply moving on with the story, I give you this horrible and putrid excuse for writing. Enjoy!

Important Author's Note: Please, please, please do not assume you know who I'm going to pair Harry with. Some of you may feel that this chapter is evidence of who he will be with, but do not put too much weight on a few offhand comments; Harry is a heterosexual thirteen year old male, and will take notice of the opposite sex.

That is all.

Chapter Four

Brilliance Shall Spawn Creativity

Harry awoke groggily the next morning after spending half the night tossing and turning in his bed. Last night they had gone to visit Hagrid, to comfort him, but it had just made Harry feel even guiltier. They'd found him in his cabin, quite drunk, trying to drown his sorrows away. Apparently there was a very high chance of him getting sacked, or so Hagrid thinks, and it was gnawing at Harry's consciousness. So, he'd made Hagrid promise to let him speak in his defence when the Board of Governors came to question him.

With reluctance, he agreed, but almost immediately afterwards Hagrid seemed to process the fact that Harry was out after dark, and bellowed so loud for him to go back to the castle that Harry was sure it would have alerted Black, no matter where he was.

But, even with Hagrid's promise, Harry knew he wouldn't feel better about it until he'd made things right; he wasn't going to let someone else suffer for his mistake.

Rolling out of bed, he checked his timetable, noting that he had Herbology first thing. Not exactly the most interesting class, but easy enough. So, with a sigh, he braced himself for the day to come.

XXX

Although Harry had expected Herbology to be a bust, it came as quite the shock when Ancient Runes had been even more boring. After finding a seat with Hermione, he'd eagerly waited for the lesson to begin. The problem was that their teacher, Professor Rubin, was an aging man who believed in a thorough understanding of Runes before attempting any practical work.

Technically, this was probably the correct way to teach the course, but it also made for a very tedious lesson; they would be spending the first term entirely focused on the language aspect of Runes, and wouldn't be studying the practical uses until after winter break. That isn't to say Harry wasn't doing anything, though; while he had a firm grasp of how to use Runes, his knowledge of the actual language was minimal. While he had been writing them before to say things like, 'Make this paper float,' he was now learning how to talk about his day in perfect grammar.

This is both difficult and dull.

By the end of class, Harry promised himself that he would find a place to independently study the subject, in an effort to save his floundering interest. So after eating a quick lunch, he began to look for an appropriate place to set up shop, since you couldn't really make any of the truly interesting magical objects in the library.

The first idea he had was to find an empty classroom, but he quickly learned that was a lost cause. There weren't many unused classes in the first place, and all of the existing ones were highly coveted by older students as hang out spots; Harry wanted a place that he could leave his work and come back to it later, so having a bunch of student's trash it really didn't fit his idea of prime real estate. Plus, after his near beating by Malfoy and Crabbe, he would probably use the area to practice spells, which would require privacy.

Unfortunately, Harry's search wasn't turning up any other results. Hidden alcoves were too easy to find, old broom closets too small, and everything else was too public. With a sigh of dejection, Harry figured that he would have to ask the twins if they knew a place; they were always concocting something insidious, and that kind of stuff couldn't be made in plain sight. So, it stood to reason that they knew some private areas to work.

Seeing as there was still twenty minutes before the end of lunch, Harry rushed to the Great Hall in an effort to find the twins before they left for class. He found them in a whispered discussion with Lee Jordan, a fifth year student they were close friends with. "Fred, George, think I could talk to you for second?"

"Why of course, young Harry." They muttered a few quick final words to Lee, and then followed him out the doors of the Great Hall.

"Now," Fred began with a clap of excitement, "To what do we owe the honour?"

Harry leaned against the wall behind him, trying to look casual. "I need a favour."

"And may this have to do with yesterday's offer?" George inquired, "If so, then you ask at a most opportune moment; Lee thinks he might be able to get his hands on a rather large stockpile of unsavoury devices, as per our request."

"No, nothing big, I just wanted to know if you knew of any private places I could get some 'extracurricular activities' done." Harry tried to say it in a way that, while keeping their interest, wouldn't garner many questions. "After all, there are some things that require a little… discretion."

Taking his words in the worst meaning possible, they immediately approved.

"Oh, we've got plenty of places you could use--"

"--Of course," George cut in, "you'll have to use them responsibly." Their mischievous grins made it quite clear about what they considered responsible. "Meet us in the Common Room after classes; we'll show you around then."

With a quick wave goodbye, they set off down the corridor at a brisk pace.

'Quite frankly, I think they'll be insulted if they ever find out I'm using the room to study.' Harry chuckled at the irony of the situation, and then made his way to Charms.

XXX

A few hours later, Harry was setting up shop in his new domain. The room Fred and George had found him was technically not a room at all, and instead was caved in secret passage; apparently it had used to travel into Hogsmeade, which told Harry he may be able to go after all. Filing the info away for later use, he begged off the twins so he could start redecorating.

The most glaring problem was that one of his 'walls' were simply a pile of dusty rubble, which wasn't exactly the best environment for brewing potions and such.

A common misconception with Transfiguration is that objects you transfigure won't last forever, which is incorrect… for the most part. What Harry had learned was that when you transfigured an object into something else, it would stay in that form indefinitely, most likely until someone countered the spell. But the reason wizards still required raw materials like wood and metal is because if you transfigured the objects they could not be affected by Enchantments or Runes.

The reason behind this was fairly complex, but it boiled down to one fact; if you turned a desk into a pig, then it would look like a pig, smell like a pig, and act like a pig, but the fact of the matter was that it is still a desk. On a base level, magic knew this, and so when scribing a Runic System it is impossible to define the object, because while it may look like a pig, it isn't, and while it was truly a desk, it didn't look like it; this in between definition was indefinable by current magical theory.

So, because of this, one had to be careful with what you transfigured; if you ate transfigured food, then one day it would be cancelled, and all the nutrients and fats your body absorbed from it would suddenly turn into its original form. This would obviously be incredibly painful, if not fatal.

But, for now, Transfiguration would suit Harry's purposes for decorating his new room; he didn't need magical furniture, so using magic to create it was perfectly fine, as long as he kept the furniture simple and easy to visualize.

He quickly levitated some of the rubble into another corner, transfiguring some of it into a large white sheet that spanned from floor to ceiling. Then, using a quick sticking charm he'd found in a book called Common Household Spells, he sealed off the remaining rubble with the sheet.

'Sometimes,' he thought with a wry smile, 'the simplest solutions are the best.'

The room was fairly large, if narrow, for obvious reasons, and he estimated it to be roughly eight meters by four meters. The walls were made of the same old yet sturdy stones as the rest of the school, with white marble floors. It was plain and simple, and Harry liked it.

Using some of the rubble he'd set aside, Harry transfigured it into a long wooden table that could be used as a work bench or desk. He shimmied it into place against one of the longer walls, satisfied with his creation. Next he made a set of two wooden shelves roughly two meters high and placed them opposite of the work bench; if he was planning to keep his projects here, he would need a place to put them.

Taking a quick break, Harry surveyed the room. 'Something's missing…'

In a moment of inspiration he transfigured the last of the rubble into a large target board with a stand. If he was going to practice spells, he'd need something to shoot at. For now, he tucked it into a corner and would bring it out when he needed it.

'Well, I guess now all I have to do is smuggle my supplies in here.'

He needed to bring one of his potion sets, ingredients, rune carving tools, and books before he could really get any practical work done. There was also the issue of lighting, as the room was normally pitch black; he was currently using another Lumos Ball to see, but it was like working with a flashlight.

Satisfied with his work so far, Harry tapped his wand on the trick mirror, which was the entrance to his workshop, and set off towards the library for project inspiration.

XXX

A bead of sweat ran down Harry's face as he flew through well practiced wand movements. It didn't matter that he was only casting weak cutting curses; strength wasn't the purpose of his practice. No, today he was working on something much more difficult… trying to hit the damn target.

One thing that isn't mentioned enough, in Harry's opinion, is how difficult it is to aim spells properly.

If spells were like guns, meaning just 'point and shoot,' then things would be much easier. But no, aiming spells made wave your 'gun' around in random patterns before you even took aim, and then you had a short amount of time to aim while you said the incantation. On top of that, most spells had very different Binding combinations, so you couldn't simply practice a certain set until you were proficient; you had to grow used to the frantic style.

At this point he was hitting the target board fairly consistently, but not with any great deal of accuracy, and he had yet to get a bulls eye.

"Diffindo! … Diffindo! … Diffindo!"

With his frustration boiling over, Harry was overcharging his spells, destabilizing the spell net and causing his accuracy to be even lower. Realising this, he stopped for a breath; there was no point in tiring himself out on a pointless endeavour.

A loud ringing noise signalled his timer had gone off, and that he had to begin the next stage of his potion. It was a variation of your typical Energizing Draught, but instead of it being the equivalent of coffee on steroids, his version was like a well balanced meal in a single gulp; it was a large chore to go get lunch while in his workshop, so he made this instead. Of course, like most potions of this nature, it had the risk of dependency if you used it too often, so Harry had to limit his use of it.

As he stirred in the next batch of ingredients, he looked over at his current Ancient Runes project; so far it was just theory, but it was quickly becoming a reality. All of his old devices had a common limitation in that they could only cast one spell, and only that spell. Because of this, his goal for the new project was to create a device capable of multiple spells, but it had proved much more difficult that he'd imagined.

It made him realise he owed Professor Rubin an apology for criticizing his teaching style; the only reason he was nearing completion on this project was because of his more developed knowledge of Ancient Runes sentence structure. When scribing a Runic System there can't be any unclear parts, and writing out commands in halting broken sentences simply would not work. While simple systems like his Lumos Ball could get away with single sentence commands, a complex variable Runic System like this would require much more precise ones; this obviously required a more accurate sentence structure.

Harry had considered many possible designs, but had settled on a touchpad system. In the design there were certain areas that, when pressed on, would change the spell being cast. The Runic System was fairly complex, about on the level of modern day brooms, and when translated it essentially meant, 'If Area One is being touched, cast Lumos. If Area Two is being touched, cast…'

Now he was just working out the kinks in his system; if there were any contradicting commands, then it would not function properly.

His potion finished, Harry set it aside to cool.

In his first week back to Hogwarts, he had quickly realised how much he needed these private study sessions. Although he hadn't known it at first, he now appreciated the simple bliss of exploring his own interests, and because of that he hadn't shown Ron or Hermione his workshop yet.

It wasn't that he didn't want them there, but he felt like their presence would change the purpose of his room; Hermione would want to do school work, and use it for extra study time, while Ron would simply want to hang out, and try to get him to 'put away all this rubbish.'

Harry never really made excuses about where he was going; he simply said he was going to go work on a few things, which they naturally thought meant the library. Last year this may have come across as unusual, and inspire curiosity in them, but his recent change in attitude made it seem perfectly normal.

Maybe he would tell them at some point, but, for now, he would enjoy it while he could. With that in mind, Harry drank his lunch and continued to fire cutting curses at the mangled target.

XXX

"… Now, who can tell me what a Boggart is?"

Harry was currently attending his first Defence class, and it was already shaping up to be very interesting; for the first time in memory, they were having a practical lesson. After telling the class to leave their books behind and bring their wands, Professor Lupin led them to the teachers lounge to confront a nefarious looking closet.

Predictably, Hermione had her hand in the air first. "It's a shape-shifter," she said. "One that will change into the form of what it thinks will frighten us the most."

"Excellent! Five points to Gryffindor."

After a somewhat hilarious demonstration of the Riddikulus spell by Neville and a Snape-Boggart dressed in his grand mother's clothes, Lupin told them to line up and take turns trying the spell.

To Harry, this seemed like a fairly personal thing to expose to the world; what if one of the kids had a shitty home life, or was sexually abused? Would the Boggart come out as the offender? It seemed, to him at least, that there were a lot of fears you wouldn't want a class of thirteen year olds to know about.

At first he thought of Voldemort when he was at his full power, but then his mind thought of the cold dead hands and rattling breath of the Dementors; which did he really fear the most? Harry's palms began to sweat as the line began to dwindle, and despite being near the back, his turn was fast approaching.

Just as he was about to step up to the reeling Boggart, Professor Lupin called him, "Ah, Harry, could I speak to you for a moment?"

"Yes, sir?"

A look of consideration flashed across his face before he answered, "I just wanted to make sure that, if you were to confront the Boggart, we weren't going to have any Dark Lords running around the room?"

Harry visibly tensed at the question.

"I don't know, to be honest." Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "At first, I thought it would be him, but… after the train ride, I'm not so sure, you know?" He could feel his face heating up in embarrassment; why was he so afraid of them when they affected others far less?

"That is very wise, Harry, it means the thing you fear the greatest is fear itself." Lupin gestured to the class. "Regardless though, I don't think that is something I want to expose to the class, which I'm sure you can understand."

Harry nodded numbly; if he didn't want to be around one, what right did he have to force the others to? No, Lupin was right, even if it hurt his pride.

What Harry needed, now more than ever with Black after him, was a place he could hone his skills, and learn to defend himself; a target board was great to improve your accuracy, but it wouldn't teach him how to duel. With this in mind, Harry tentatively approached the Professor with his idea.

"Professor, I was thinking, and some of the other students agree," This was a small lie, as he hadn't talked to anyone about this. "Well, you see, last year we had this Duelling Club -- which was a complete failure, don't get me wrong, but that had more to do with the teachers running it." Lupin's face melted into a look of comprehension. "And I just though that, with everything going on this year, a lot of students would appreciate the chance to learn to defend themselves."

Lupin considered it for a moment. "I think your idea has merit, and I'll talk to the Headmaster about it."

"Thank you, sir."

XXX

Harry tied the laces to his running shoes, mentally preparing himself for the morning. After a particularly vigorous practice in his workshop, which left him completely winded, he officially knew he was out of shape. He wasn't really interested in resistance training, but could definitely increase his stamina with cardio. So, he decided that he would go running every other morning to get in shape.

This of course meant waking up at six in the morning, which was not pleasant.

Also, with Quidditch practices starting soon, it would be a good idea to prepare before hand; it had worked wonders with his summer studying, so it stood to reason that it could work here.

As he stepped out into the cold morning air, he couldn't help but shiver. The weather was grey and uninviting, with wind that cut straight through the old t-shirt and basketball shorts he was wearing.

Oh well, he'd set himself to the task and he was going to stick to it.

He set himself a sedate pace around the lake, which was about a kilometre around. After a while, the cold air began to bother him less, as his body heated up from the physical work. Then, he began to appreciate the cold weather even more, realising that it was actually a blessing in disguise that helped him keep cool during his jog.

After only one lap he was huffing and puffing obscenely; was he really that out of shape? Having played Quidditch the last three years, he thought he'd be able to handle more than this.

His embarrassment only increased as other students began to pass him in droves, as he wasn't the only one out this morning. It was mostly older students looking to be fifth year and above, but he was also passed by a Hufflepuff in his year.

Just as he thought the most of the school had already passed him by -- in which he began to hate the sentence 'On your left!' -- He heard the familiar crunching sound of a final lone runner about to pass him. Harry's pride got the better of him, and he picked up his speed to stay ahead of his unknown combatant.

Not that they knew Harry was racing them.

He managed to stay ahead of the mystery racer for a few minutes, but they were constantly gaining, always closing the distance between them a little more. With a final desperate burst of speed, Harry pulled ahead for a final few metres before slowing to a walk, gasping; his unknowing opponent trotted by in complete nonchalance, which annoyed him in its innocence. Cheeky bitch!

His eyes did a double take as he realised that not only was the victor a girl, Harry knew her; her unmistakable black hair was tied up in a high pony tail reaching the middle of her back, but it was definitely the same girl -- Daphne.

Clad in a very tight pair of green running shorts, which only reached half way down her thighs, and an equally tight white tank top, a small part of his brain acknowledged that she looked quite fetching. Hell, with an ass like that she could make garbage bags look fashionable!

Apparently she had not recognized him, because she ran by without a second glance. Not exactly sure why, but most likely very relevant to the color green and spandex, he called out to her. "Daphne!"

The Slytherin girl spun around in surprise mid stride, and in doing so tripped over her own feet, falling painfully onto her bottom. She picked herself up and glared at him, only to belatedly realise who he was. "Potter? What are you doing here?"

He chuckled lightly. "Same thing as you, I'd imagine, minus the whole falling on my ass deal, which doesn't look too fun."

Dusting her backside off, she sent him a glare. "Oh, is that why you were going so slow, making sure you put the right foot in front of the other?"

Harry put up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, point taken." They began to walk around the lake at a moderate pace. "Do you run often?"

"Ever since first year -- Helps clear my head when I can't work, if that makes any sense." She took a moment to retie her pony tail, which was apparently coming loose. "What about you?"

"Actually, I just started today; Quidditch practice starts soon, and I want to be ready." He failed to mention that it was also for his spell practice, but it wasn't really something he was comfortable talking to her about. "Although, with Malfoy as your Seeker, I don't have much competition."

"Oh, don't even get me started with that! You should have heard the common room in our second year when his father bought him a spot on the team, completely ruining our chances at the cup. If his father hadn't bought the whole team a Nimbus Two-Thousand and One he wouldn't have survived the year."

"Interesting," He started to jog at a slow pace, which Daphne joined him in. "I thought you said Malfoy practically had Slytherin in his pocket?"

"At that point, no." She seemed to consider for a moment. "It was actually soon after that that he started to throw his father's political weight around, using it to get his way."

So Malfoy had only been in power for a year? That would most likely make it easier to overthrow him, as his dictatorship was relatively new.

"So, keeping up with your Arithmancy assignments?" Harry asked, changing the topic.

Her face immediately put on a sour expression.

"I'm trying to, but every time I feel like I understand the material, she throws something at us entirely over my head; it's so damn frustrating!"

Their conversation degenerated into school matters, and Harry found that he was able to run farther with someone to distract him. After four laps, they headed inside to get ready for class; much to his annoyance, she wasn't even winded.

XXX

The weeks leading up to October had been uneventful. Harry still spent time in his workshop, jogging every other morning, and had been keeping up with his homework. He had finished his Multi-Spell Runic System design and was currently working on applying it to a practical design; he had several ideas in mind, but hadn't picked a particular one yet.

Harry's work in his classes had continued to improve, and while he never went out of his way to answer questions in class, his professors were taking notice. They often left comments on his graded assignments saying how they were impressed with his intimate knowledge of the subject, surprised with the level of detail in his work. And, although this pleased him on some level, he could tell that Hermione was beginning to resent the brain power shift.

When there was an obscure question regarding some fact about Hogwarts, Hermione was the one you wanted to find, but increasingly Ron had come to Harry with his assignments instead of her. For all the time she spent telling them to do their own work and stop copying off her, she wasn't too excited when they finally did. Harry didn't know if it was entirely his fault, but Hermione had been looking quite stressed with her massive workload, and had taken on a fanatical edge in the classes she had with him.

Needless to say, he was beginning to worry.

But now that October had rolled around, Harry had a new mistress vying for his time: Quidditch.

After his run, Harry had taken to flying a few practice laps around the Quidditch Pitch on his Nimbus Two-thousand; he was approaching the skill he had at the end of his second year, but a summer completely grounded had dampened his flying.

At their first practice, Oliver Wood had given them a heartfelt pep talk, reminding them that they had the best team this year, and were a shoe in for the Cup. Everyone could sense the desperate edge to his voice; this was Oliver's last year at Hogwarts, and thus his last chance to win.

Unfortunately, Harry's suggestion to Professor Lupin didn't appear that it was going to happen, as no Duelling Club had been announced yet. He was slightly disappointed, as he had honed his aim to the point that he deemed acceptable; no matter the spell, he managed to hit the target fairly accurately, and he wanted to test his skill at a moving, intelligent target.

There was one thing that had managed to put a damper on his spirits, though; the first trip to Hogsmeade had been announced, and was on the Halloween. Harry had yet to talk to the twins about finding a way out of the castle, but he planned to soon.

If all went well, he'd be joining Ron and Hermione.

XXX

It was Halloween day and Harry had never seen his classmates so excited; everyone babbled on endlessly about the many fantastic and interesting things in Hogsmeade, and all the shops they were going to visit. Since Harry technically not supposed to be going, he acted very sad and dejected.

Good thing he had talked to the twins.

After explaining his predicament, and throwing in a few choice words about his 'Rotten muggle relatives,' to garner their sympathy, Fred and George had readily agreed to help him. As Harry had reasoned, his private workshop was not the only way into Hogsmeade, and they had given him instructions on how to use another, which was located behind the statue of the one eyed witch.

Harry glanced around to make sure no one was nearby before tapping the statue with his wand, and then said quietly, "Descendium."

Immediately the witch's hump opened up, allowing room for a person to slip through. Harry was surprised, as his secret passage made secret workshop was far easier to enter. Oh well, beggars can't be choosers. He slipped in head first and slid down what felt like a large stone slide, then landed on cold, damp earth. The corridor was pitch black, so Harry muttered a quick Lumos.

Harry walked for what felt like ages in an endless corridor full of twists and turns, making it seem more like something an animal would dig than a human being. Eventually though, he came to a set of stairs.

He lost count at one hundred steps, and the only thing that made him keep walking was the thought of Dervish and Banges; the wizarding equipment shop was apparently full of all kinds of magical objects.

Eventually Harry hit his head on some kind of trap door, and he could hear the sounds of people above. Slowly pushing it open, he found himself in the backroom of Honeydukes, and using as much stealth as possible, he slipped out unnoticed.

As soon as Harry made his way into the front of the shop, his mind began to reel from the sheer magnitude of the shops selection; there must have been thousands of things to choose from! Chocolate Bats with a cherry filling center, which would try to bite you back; every single Berty Botts Every Flavour Bean, and a catalogue to find that elusive one you've always wanted to try; and an odd assortment of chocolates shaped as famous wizards and witches, which he was pretty sure he recognized himself in the selection.

Harry resisted the temptation to start buying candies, and instead made his way out into the crowded streets; his target was far less delicious, but far more interesting.

The hustle and bustle of Hogsmeade didn't let up on his trips to Dervish and Banges -- which had taken quite some time, as he didn't know where it was, so he was quite relieved when he found himself in front of the correct shop.

"Ah, hello there, young man; what can I help you with?"

The shopkeeper was an aging man of mild description; he had brown hair and eyes, with plain but well kept robes.

"Just browsing for now, I'll ask you if I need anything."

As Harry's eyes scanned the shop he saw a large selection of small trinkets, which he figured was a good a place as any to start looking. He quickly realised that while the selection was vast, the useful items were few; there were cooking pots proclaiming that they would self heat, but that was a relatively simple Rune that heated the metal. To his disappointment, the other items were no more complicated; clearly the witch or wizard producing them didn't have much of an imagination.

Figuring it would be rude to not buy at least one thing, Harry picked up a self heating cauldron -- which was, admittedly, very useful -- and purchased it quickly before leaving. Even though he was understandably disappointed, Harry soldiered on to the next shop on his list; he had other things to do today, and wouldn't let an unimaginative shop bring his spirits down.

Harry's next stop was a tailor, where he needed to pick up a special set of robes for a project he was working on, one that he didn't want ruining his every day clothes. After wandering for a short period of time, Harry found himself in front of a small shop, 'Madam Hilda's Fine Robes for the Everyday Witch and Wizard.'

"Hello there, anything I can help you with?"

The girl running the store was surprisingly young, no older than twenty-five, and Harry doubted this was 'Madam Hilda,' and was more likely an employee. He cleared his throat quickly before speaking, "Yeah, um, I was looking for a particular type of cloak, and I'm wondering if you have it in stock." Seeing he had her interest, he continued, "Nothing special, really, just a simple black traveling cloak, with a hood, if possible."

The blond haired witch seemed to consider for a moment. "Well, we have a few things, let me get a few examples." The girl efficiently went around the shop and collected several different pieces, before beckoning him to the front counter. "Now this," she said while holding an extravagant silk wizarding cloak, "Is fairly expensive, but comes with a lot of extra features--"

Harry tried to stop the full bore sales pitch. "Sorry, I'm looking for something much cheaper; the wallet's tight, you know?" That wasn't entirely true, as Harry had a fair amount of gold in his vault, but after paying for his schooling there wouldn't be much for expensive leisure items, and Harry wasn't going to waste it on a cloak he may destroy.

From the look of disappointment on her face, Harry could tell she was paid on commission.

"Oh, ok then take a look at these…" She showed him a plain black wizarding cloak made of a simple type of cloth, but with it easily reaching to the floor it seemed very impractical. Also, it had to be put on over the head, which didn't suit Harry's purposes.

"Do you have something that reaches to about my knees and opens up in the front?"

"Oh, I may have what you're looking for, but it doesn't have a hood," Noticing his flash of disappointment, she tried to save the sale. "But we can easily add one afterwards… for a small fee, of course." She quickly led him to another section. "Now this is a new product, very popular in Eastern Europe and North America, but hasn't really caught on here."

The 'new product' seemed almost like a trench coat, with three large silver buckles on the chest to hold the coat shut; it definitely had a very muggle look to it, and even had a stylish collar that was not found on most wizarding robes. Plus, it seemed to be made of light but durable leather.

"This one is really good for winter days, 'cause it would take one hell of a bloody storm to soak through, and protects fairly well against the wind. It would also be easy to add in the hood at the bottom of the collar."

"Sounds perfect." Harry considered for a moment, "Also, I need a pair of gloves -- ones that won't interfere with hand movement."

"Oh, you'll be wanting a pair of duellers gloves then; very light leather, lots of freedom of movement, and won't get in the way of casting spells."

The gloves were a simple white with a black design on the back of the hands, which Harry liked.

"How long will it take to sew in the hood?" He asked curiously.

"Oh, not long, about ten minutes."

Harry watched as she flew into well practiced spells, quickly measuring, cutting, and sewing a hood out of some thick fabric, which seemed similar to most muggle sweaters, and in no time at all, she was finished.

"Ok," She said from the front counter to gain his attention, "That's fourteen Galleons and seven sickles for the coat, with a three galleon fee for the custom job, and five galleons and four sickles for the gloves, totalling… ninteen galleons and eleven sickles total."

He paid her quickly, almost wincing at the lighter feeling to his wallet. "Thanks a lot."

"No problem, have a good day!" She waved goodbye cheerily, happy about a good sale and therefore a good commission.

XXX

Harry adjusted the many bags he was holding for what felt like the millionth time.

After leaving Madam Hilda's he had frequented many other stores, picking up everything from potions supplies to raw materials like metal and wood, all meant to be used in his private study sessions at some point. It was after he found himself tempted to buy an expansive and unnecessary set of carving tools that he forced himself to stop buying things, and begin to look for his friends, which he eventually found at the Three Broomsticks.

Apparently Crookshanks had tried it eat Scabbers again, because his two best friends were glaring daggers at one another over mugs of Butterbeer.

"Now now," he said in a voice of mock disapproval, "Play nice, children, or you'll get no treats."

"Harry, what are you doing here?" Hermione said in surprise. "Oh, you're going to be in so much trouble if you're caught!"

Whether by the teachers or Black, she was right in both situations. Oh well, he had needed supplies.

"Oh come on, aren't you at least happy to see me?" He asked in a hurt voice.

"Bloody hell, Harry, what are you carrying?" Ron was eying his many bags with curiosity.

"A little bit of a lot of different crap; its been a long morning." Harry pulled up a seat to their table and made himself comfortable. "What's good here?"

"Try the Butterbeer," Ron suggested after taking a sip of his drink, "Damn amazing stuff, if you ask me."

Quickly walking to the counter and buying a Butterbeer for himself, he settled back down at his friends table.

Hermione's concern got the better of her. "Honestly Harry, how did you sneak out of the Castle? I hope you didn't do anything stupid."

Harry just grinned over his mug. "Magic, of course."

Ron snorted behind his cup while Hermione shot him a look of disapproval.

"So," Harry said during a lull of conversation, "What did you guys do today?"

"Oh, lots of stuff,' Ron began, "Checked out the Honeydukes, the Shrieking Shack, and the Quidditch shop-- they're all pretty cool, I guess."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron's mind has a very selective memory; we also went to the Post Office and the book store."

"Oh, and what were those like?" Harry asked in mild interest.

"Amazing! I don't think I've ever seen so many owls in one place-- there were hundreds." She went on to explain all the interesting books she had seen, their authors, and every little factoid about their creation.

Harry quickly lost his mild interest.

"I should head back," Harry interrupted while checking his watch, "The feast is starting in thirty minutes, and my route back takes a long ass time." They all picked up their assorted bags and made their way out, "I'll see you guys inside."

XXX

The Halloween Feast had been predictably delicious, with treats practically overflowing from the table in between the main courses, and Ron had been practically salivating with all the different choices. Oh well, growing boys and all that.

Just as the food disappeared and everyone prepared to leave, Dumbledore stood up at the staff table, gaining the attention of every gathered. "Now, I know we are all quite satisfied and wish to crawl into a comfortable bed for the night, but I have a very special announcement." He paused for a moment to let the murmurs of curiosity buzz through the crowd.

"It has been brought to my attention that some of the student body is interested in reinstating last years Duelling Club--" Dumbledore once again paused for the excited whispers; Harry himself felt his pulse quicken at his words. "So, due to popular demand, starting this Monday the newly refurbished room three-oh-one will be open from four pm until nine pm, and third years and above are invited to participate. A group effort has been made by the staff, and several teachers will be overseeing the Club and its activities." Dumbledore paused once again to let the new information sink in. "Now, I'm sure you're all very tired, so if you'll follow your prefects to your dorms… I bid you all goodnight!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed the long queue of Gryffindors up to the common room, but stopped in surprise when they saw the long line of people in front of the portrait, with no one entering. Eventually though, a deathly silence spread through the crowd. His curiosity getting the better of them, Harry pushed past a few students to see what was wrong, and what he saw made his blood run cold; where the Fat Lady had once sat there was now only ripped canvas and startled students.

After a time, Dumbledore came rushing through the crowd to investigate. With one look at the painting, he turned to McGonagall, Snape, and Lupin. "We need to find her. Minerva, I want you to find Mr Filch and tell him to search every painting in the castle--"

A high pitched cackling filled the area, and everyone turned to see Peeves floating nearby. "Oh, it won't do you any good; she ran off in tears, saying she'd never come back to guard the stupid painting."

"Did she say who did this?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh, yes, Professorhead," said Peeves, with an air of someone cradling a large Bombshell in their hands. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see," Peeves grinned at Dumbledore, "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

XXX

Author's Note:

Well, it appears I have disappointed my readers once again, and taken forever to update. Despite there being many reasons for this, I will not list them, and instead apologize profusely.

Now, as for this chapter, I reserve the right to say it is full of fail and should die in a fire. Despite spending a very long time trying to fix it, I still feel it is sub par and will offend all of you. Plus, it was a little bit shorter than usual, a fact which annoys me greatly.

As for the shopping scene, I didn't want to put that in there, but it felt needed; Harry needs to get supplies from somewhere, and thus has to shop. I promise he won't go on some pointless and extravagant splurge, buying magical trunks with every feature in existence, a magical tattoo, a master potions set, or any other pointless crap meant to make him look rich.

Never.

Anyway, same rules as last chapter apply; rate out of 10 and point out anything that sticks out to you, whether bad or good.