Chapter 78: Integration, Learning
After a brief welcome ceremony, Harry felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation as he said, “Um… actually, this is my first time joining a group, so I’m not quite sure… What are the rules of the SSC? Is there anything I’m supposed to do?”
The group exchanged puzzled glances.
“—A group?” Theo asked, bewildered. “Are we even a group?”
Neville blinked in surprise. “Isn’t SSC a group? I thought we’d been one for ages!”
“If students form a group,” Liam said hesitantly, “don’t we have to report it to a Professor?”
Michael frowned. “I thought we were just a club?”
“Clubs usually require membership fees,” Liam added, drawing from what little he’d learned from Muggle relatives. “We’ve never paid anything.”
Neville scratched his head. “Wait—what’s the difference between a club and a group, anyway?”
Silence fell over the room. That was the question—what was the difference, aside from the name?
They couldn’t answer.
Harry hadn’t expected this at all. He paused, mentally retracing how things had gotten this far, then quietly turned to look at Hermione beside him.
Wade noticed Hermione’s stifled laughter and sighed. “Hermione, what exactly did you tell Harry?”
Hermione burst into a sudden giggle. She waved a hand at Harry. “I didn’t say a thing. It was all you and Ron making up wild guesses, wasn’t it?”
Harry stared. “…”
Yeah. She hadn’t said a word—just kept stressing how important it was, that they had to be careful, prepare thoroughly, and definitely bring their wands. Then she watched, with that tight-lipped expression, as they spiraled into increasingly absurd theories about what the “initiation” might involve.
Ron had even suggested something utterly ridiculous: “Maybe they’ll make you sneak into Snape’s office and steal something of his—like his underwear or socks. Or set off a Dung Bomb in the corridor right in front of Professor McGonagall, just to prove your bravery!”
At the time, Ron had looked at Harry with such solemn, tragic resolve, as if he were about to be torn apart by an enraged professor.
Now, Harry realized—Hermione’s grimace wasn’t distress. It was suppressed laughter. Was that it? Had she said nothing because their wild imaginations were already so entertaining?
“Well,” Wade finally chuckled, “here’s the truth: we’re really just an after-school study group. Nothing formal. We gather to practice spells, help each other with assignments, or borrow notes. Most evenings, we come here for study sessions, but attendance is completely optional—no need to report, no strict schedule. As for rules… well, they’re posted right behind you.”
Harry turned. On the wall hung a single sheet of parchment, bearing a few simple guidelines: help one another, be kind and united, don’t touch others’ belongings without permission, and—most notably—no one can bring a new person into the Umbrella Room without everyone’s consent.
At first, Harry felt relieved. These weren’t real rules—no real consequences, no strict enforcement. Their entire earlier speculation had been nonsense. But then he read the last line.
He was new, too. Could he really bring Ron in?
“Harry, your seat is here,” Neville said warmly, guiding him to a spot beside his own.
A table had already been set up—empty, but with a small independent bookshelf and cabinet on the side. Wooden panels on three sides formed a semi-enclosed space, offering privacy. The panels could be lowered for easy conversation.
Nearby stood a few tea tables, a food cabinet, and a soft old sofa piled with fluffy pillows. Everything had been arranged by Wade, with help from Zoe and the others. The Room of Requirement had provided a whole collection of old furniture—some of it barely usable, but they’d repaired and refitted what they could, making it look nearly brand new.
Inside the food cabinet, there was always a generous supply of cake, biscuits, pudding, and candy. Dark silver tin pots held beverages and fresh water—gifts from the house-elves, who freely provided for them.
And when they had time, the little creatures would quietly spruce up the room. Every time the group walked through the door, they’d find some small change—a quirky new decoration on the wall, a few wildflowers blooming in a corner, or a new piece of useful furniture added.
Slowly, the once-empty, abandoned classroom had transformed into a warm, lived-in space—filled with the quiet traces of their daily lives. The room now carried a cozy, vibrant atmosphere.
Harry fell in love with it at first sight.
He was also handed a second parchment—the Book of Friends, a tool now nearly universal among students. Though Harry had money, he’d never been able to buy one while staying at school during the holidays.
Hermione had one, and she’d given Harry a copy to use. But since they were always together, he rarely needed it. Ron had two—one from Hermione, the other sent by Mrs. Weasley after the holidays. The Weasley children each got one.
Ron often used his before bed to chat—or argue—with his older brothers. Mrs. Weasley would then scold them sternly and demand they go to sleep immediately.
Ron would grumble about his mother’s strictness, but Harry envied him.
Now, he had his own second Book of Friends.
He tucked both parchments into his textbooks and slipped them into his backpack. Then he glanced around.
Everyone else was already immersed in their work—writing assignments, reading, even Neville carefully copying notes from Transfiguration class.
This was different from the usual chaos of the Gryffindor Common Room, where noise and distractions were constant. There were always students shouting, begging for copies of assignments, or trying to sneak a peek at someone else’s work.
To study seriously, they’d have to go to the library—but Madam Pince was strict. No food, no talking. It was quiet, yes, but inconvenient.
Harry settled in and pulled out his Charms assignment. But after writing just the title, he froze.
He should probably go to the library and borrow some reference books… but everyone was working. Would it look odd if he suddenly left?
Maybe Hermione had some books…
As Harry sat there, fidgeting and glancing nervously around, Theo noticed his hesitation.
“Having trouble?” Theo asked, understanding.
Harry instinctively covered his textbook with his hand, hiding the messy notes and sketches beneath.
“Yeah… kind of.”
“Don’t worry,” Theo said gently. “We all felt the same when we started. You can ask Wade—he’ll show you how to write an essay and tell you exactly which reference books you need. Just go to the library before tomorrow and borrow them. Follow his method, and you’ll see—assignments aren’t as hard as they seem.”
In truth, Hermione read the most—but she took notes on everything she read, seeing every lesson as a key point. Wade, on the other hand, could cut straight to the heart of the issue. He’d instantly identify what they were missing, what concepts needed reinforcement, and hand-pick the most valuable book for them to read.
After reading just one of his recommended books, even the most confusing topics suddenly clicked—like a switch flipping in their minds.
As Theo leaned closer, he noticed the disarray of notes on Harry’s book.
He hesitated, then pointed at the pages. “If you don’t mind… can I take a look?”
(End of Chapter)
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