Harry wasn't sure what he had been expecting after pacing in front of the Room of Requirement and desperately thinking, I need practice—no, I need real experience in fighting! In combat with actual dangerous situations!

He certainly had not expected to see dozens of towering statues lined up in front of him: some were three meters in height and made of stone, others intricately carved and made of metal, all of them sculpted in the form of different magical creatures. Harry recognized a few like the Acromantula or the Cerberus or the—was that centaur pointing an arrow right at him? Something about them reminded him of the chess pieces from the tasks for the Philosopher's Stone—motionless yet intimidating, as if they would come alive at any moment.

"Look," Hermione pointed at the painted lines on the floor that squared in each statue. "Try and see what happens when you cross that line! Don't worry, I'm right here with you."

"I'm not scared," Harry protested as he stepped over the boxed line containing the centaur and instantly regretted his words when three arrows whizzed towards his face in rapid succession. He had barely raised his wand to cast a defensive shield when he felt Hermione unceremoniously yanking him behind the line and watched with awe as the arrows stopped in midair, as if they had hit a wall. Harry looked towards the statue and was unnerved to find the centaur frozen in the action of pulling back his bow.

"What are they?" He marvelled, his head swirling around to study the dozens of other creatures, trapped in their mini arenas.

"An advanced enchantment, I'm guessing." Hermione warned: "Though you shouldn't underestimate them just because they aren't real. Did you see how fast that thing reacted? I think we should enter those spaces, but keep as close to the line as possible before we gain enough confidence to face them further in. We'll also take turns so that someone else can watch for anything going wrong."

Harry looked down the massive hall and spotted a statue he swore had come straight from the last chapters of The Monster Book of Monsters, feeling a strange mixture of apprehension and excitement wash over him.

The more he and Hermione practiced, the more his excitement dwindled and his apprehension grew. The statues not only had the advantage of size, weight and raw power, but paradoxically moved so swiftly and sharply that he had trouble believing they were just enchanted imitations. Too many times he took a wrong step, responded too slowly, and let panic overtake him before he stumbled back over the line or relied on Hermione to interfere and save him.

Still, every day he and Hermione would find time to battle the stone monstrosities. The more he practiced and the less time it took for him to get in and out of the outlined arenas, the more he could feel himself improving. Harry had always been quick on his feet, but now he was learning to strategize and make the most of what he had, instead of acting recklessly. His responses grew faster, his movements turned sharper and more fluid, and he no longer felt wary of using more 'dangerous' spells on the statues if it meant he could get out in one piece.

Sirius' eagerness to make use of the Black Library had helped grow the 'Potential Offensive Spells' list by quite a bit, but Harry wasn't satisfied just yet.

_____

Harry knew that he could probably just go to McGonagall about getting a pass into the restricted section of the library, but he felt hesitant to do so when he had another option. It wasn't that he disliked his Head of House, it was just that he sometimes felt like he was under interrogation in her presence—as if she was always silently measuring his worth. He also couldn't shake the feeling that whatever he did tell her would find its way to the Headmaster eventually and after this year where almost all of the Hogwarts staff had turned a blind eye to his situation, he didn't feel very charitable in letting any of them be privy to his thoughts.

Flitwick was different, somehow. Harry had been unsure about taking the small, cheerful professor up on his offer to 'talk' at first, but the allure of learning more about his parents had led him back eventually. One thing he liked about the visits was that he never felt pressured to talk; Flitwick was more than happy to chatter on about silly anecdotes and random musings while Harry relaxed on a chair opposite him with a cup of tea and pitched in here and there. Hermione had come along with him for the first few visits, but later decided it was best for him to go alone.

He had a feeling that she knew how hungry he was for the stories Flitwick told, the small crumbs of knowledge about his family, of how his parents used to act when they were his age, how they spent their days, how they performed in their classes, even the little phrases Flitwick happened to remember them saying...they were like pieces of a puzzle that he eagerly held onto and clumsily tried to put together.

Of course, there were other matters brought up during their little chats as well. For one, Flitwick was ecstatic about how much Harry had improved in Charms and was always ready to delve into the subject or encourage Harry to ask him questions.

"Such a pity," Flitwick sighed that day. "The gillyweed you used for the second task was very practical and I wholeheartedly congratulate you on your excellent results, but I was so hoping you would try another charm."

Harry smiled into his teacup, wondering if the professor would once again break into praise over how 'wonderfully' the Accio charm had been cast, with 'no holes in the enchantment whatsoever!'

"The gillyweed was the best option in the end, but I did experiment with the bubble-head charm as well."

"Oho!" Flitwick clapped his hands. "Let's see it then."