Chapter 317

Ron showed a stubborn indifference to Harry's comfort, and just as Harry was about to pay closer attention to his friend's progress, a series of events piled up one after another, forcing him to temporarily shift his focus away from gossip.

"Harry, I know you're busy, but I sincerely hope you'll join the Quidditch training." The next morning, before he even left, Angelina blocked him in the common room.

"Ginny's still too inexperienced; she can bully the frail Greengrass, but the Hufflepuff Seeker—he's shown at least sixty percent of Cedric's level from past matches."

"Seventy percent," Ginny said timidly. "I don't think I can beat him… I mean, unless he catches a cold."

"In any case, we still hope you'll step in," Angelina said politely. "Or at least help Ginny."

"I'll remember. When's our match again?" Harry felt the pressure but answered without hesitation.

"February. We still have time," Angelina glanced at Ron. "But honestly, with the current state, I have little confidence."

"I'll work hard too," Ron said, sounding guilty.

Harry added a significant task to his to-do list, then headed to the Great Hall for breakfast, slightly preoccupied.

After a lethargic History of Magic class, they faced Slughorn's first Potions lesson. The little man clearly had rich teaching experience; though he'd taken over mid-term, he controlled the pace perfectly—even Ron looked like he understood.

"I never realized Potions could be this simple," Ron praised the new professor while still taking a dig. "Snape really did us a disservice."

"Don't say that," Harry said. "Professor Slughorn is clearly Snape's friend—or at least on the same side. He just happens to be an excellent teacher, and Snape happened to recruit a master."

"Harry, my boy," Slughorn quickly approached them, his large belly nearly bursting his robe buttons. "This must be Mr. Weasley? Delighted to meet you both."

"Uh, yes, Professor," Harry unconsciously froze his movements.

Slughorn bent slightly, as if about to offer advice—but in truth, he merely left two thin invitations on the table.

"Harry: I would be delighted if you joined the gathering tonight at six in the westernmost room on the first-floor corridor."

Ron naturally opened his own invitation and frowned in confusion.

"No matter what he's planning," Harry watched Slughorn's retreating back as he paused briefly beside Hermione, seemingly handing out another invitation, "I think I should go."

After lunch, Harry received a new message: Snape was looking for him.

Before entering the Headmaster's office, Harry checked his watch—lunch break had just begun.

"I need to ask you, Potter," Snape said calmly. "Are you planning to keep watching, or are you going to do something?"

"Ah, you mean—"

"I suspect Bigfoot is getting impatient too. He's barely accomplished anything useful in half a year." He deliberately emphasized "useful."

Harry lowered his head, embarrassed—he knew Snape was right.

"If doing something requires waiting for the right moment, perhaps you've already planned it?" He offered a faint, cold smile. "Do you have contingency plans for possible crises? What if Bellatrix ambushes and seizes the ring? Or if William uncovers Greymain's true identity?"

Harry's heart clenched—he had to admit he'd never seriously considered these terrifying possibilities.

"Even more urgent—if Slughorn happens to know the real Regulus, and I need to bring him to a Death Eater meeting—" Snape paused deliberately, watching Harry's expression.

"I might…" Harry weakly tried to recover.

"It doesn't matter, Harry. It's not too late," Snape said coolly. "Though your performance in the first half hasn't been impressive, I can at least confirm your learning ability is strong."

"So if you want to keep sitting at that table, you must learn Occlumency."

"Uh, is it necessary?" Harry hesitated. "Didn't you say I just need to stay calm…?"

"For what we're doing, you must stay calm—and learn Occlumency," Snape cut him off without room for argument.

"Fine, I'll learn," Harry agreed. He didn't need long to decide—clearly, on the matter of "eradicating Death Eaters," Snape was progressing better, so Harry was willing to follow his lead. Besides, Occlumency was likely a practical skill—as the saying goes, more skills never weigh you down.

"Let's schedule it for six p. . every Tuesday and Thursday," Snape said. "Wait for me in the Potions classroom—pretend it's remedial Potions. Many know you perform well in Potions; it's a perfect cover."

"Huh?" Harry was momentarily confused. "But in Bellatrix's or Lucius's eyes, even Potions class is something we shouldn't be close in."

"You asked that?" Snape sneered. He didn't answer, only waved his hand.

Harry was slightly annoyed by his attitude, but obeyed and left. After all, lingering longer would only eat into his own lunch break.

On the way back to his dorm, Harry still couldn't figure out how being seen near Snape would hurt him. He didn't think he was stupid—he blamed the short distance from the Headmaster's office to Gryffindor Tower.

"Get some sleep," Neville said.

"Even if you oversleep, it doesn't matter—Muggle Studies is useless," Ron mumbled.

As Harry lay on his bed, eyes closed, hoping to regain some energy before afternoon classes, he suddenly understood the earlier question.

At first, he recalled last year at this time, using his nap to spy on Voldemort's meetings. Then he remembered Voldemort's constant emphasis: "Do not harm Harry. Instead, try to be kind to him."

Now it seemed clear—Voldemort had already discovered Harry was a Horcrux, hence that order. But for the Death Eaters, even if they knew Voldemort made Horcruxes, they'd never guess Harry was one, and thus could never understand why Voldemort favored him. Nor had Voldemort ever explained it.

With this context, Snape's "suspicion that Harry has something unusual" and his attempts to get close to him could be seen as an alternative form of loyalty to the Dark Lord. Given the current situation—with peace talks imminent—the Death Eaters might even think Snape planned to use Harry for personal gain. In short, the "remedial Potions" was merely a cover for the public, but the Death Eaters wouldn't deduce Snape's true allegiance from seeing through it; instead, they'd cling to their own imagined conclusions and drift further from the truth.

After waking, Harry added another task to his to-do list: weekly Tuesday and Thursday sessions with Snape to learn Occlumency.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Arnold introduced his plan to form a club and hold mock trials, scheduled for Wednesday afternoons. Students who excelled in the mock trials would earn a Friday afternoon internship visit to the Ministry of Magic—he'd even persuaded Professor Flitwick to move Friday's Charms class to the morning.

Harry originally thought this childish nonsense had nothing to do with him—until Arnold privately told him he could freely join the Friday Ministry visits, and then he saw the new Education Order at dinner.

Education Order No. 24: Every Hogwarts student must have participated in at least three distinct clubs before fifth year, or their OWL certificates will be withheld.

"Is that hard?" Luna chirped as she read the order. "The Tiresias Mystics, Torchwood, and Dumbledore's Army—"

"Shh!" Harry silenced her. "No, we can't count Torchwood or Dumbledore's Army as clubs. And the Tiresias Mystics were formed by Ravenclaw students to prepare for dueling competitions—they're part of the Dueling Club."

"Oh." Luna's voice sounded disappointed, but she quickly brightened again. "We still have SPEW. I just need one more gathering—maybe the mock trial."

"Yeah, three clubs—easy enough to gather," Ron dismissed it.

"We're not in the Dueling Club," Harry sighed. "You forgot? We spent last year in Beauxbatons."

"Then SPEW… uh, right, that's a girls' club," Ron looked slightly flustered. "But we're on the team, aren't we?"

"So we've only joined one club," Harry sighed. He knew Occlumency lessons couldn't count as a club, nor could the Order of the Phoenix. "We'd better find two quickly—like the mock trial. I even suspect this order is just Arnold's trick to lure us to him."

"You've got no choice but to fall for it, mate," Ron sighed too. "OWL certificates—you can't ignore those."