Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Chapter 8: Autophobia

The realization that Harry had heard his mother’s dying moments didn’t hit him quite as hard as he might have thought it would. It was, after all, not the first time he had heard them. For years as a young child, he’d suffered through nightmares of the night that Voldemort had murdered his parents. Still, there was something deep within Harry, some embedded instinctual horror at hearing his mother screams before she was murdered. Harry shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold.

Ginny and Hermione didn’t appear completely recovered from the Dementor either. Both were staring straight ahead, likely replaying their frightful memories in their minds. He placed a hand on Ginny’s shoulder, but she didn’t jump, as he had expected. Finally, she turned her head to look at him. “Are you alright?” he asked her quietly. She nodded energetically.

“Just a bit shaken up…I hadn’t really thought about last year that much in a while. It was kind of a shock,” she admitted. “I’m just glad that it’s over and you’re healed.” She smiled weakly at him. He smiled back.

Ginny leaned against him for a moment, then shifted uncomfortably, moving away. There was a slight blush on her cheeks, and Harry’s were a bit warm as well. Both continued to move slightly farther apart from each other. Harry glanced up, but saw that Hermione hadn’t noticed anything. Harry let it drop from his mind and closed his eyes, trying to fight back the surging tide of memories.

The carriages made the uphill climb to one of the entrances of the castle. They stopped, and the students began to debark, still chattering excitedly. Hermione was looking into the night, searching for something.

“Are the Dementors here to watch for Sirius Black?” she asked abruptly. She was still trembling.

“I think so,” Harry said. “Why else would Dumbledore permit them to be here?”

Ginny shivered. “Aren’t they usually accompanied by Aurors?” she asked. “To keep them from losing control and attacking people?”

Harry frowned. She was right; normally, Aurors who had mastery of the Patronus Charm acted as controllers for the Dementors. While they certainly didn’t care for the prisoners in Azkaban, they also didn’t want them to lose control and Kiss every last one of them. That fate was reserved for very few. Certainly at a school Fudge would station Aurors around the grounds to keep an eye on the creatures and protect the students.

“Maybe he thinks the teachers are sufficient,” Hermione offered. “I suppose a few of them must know how to fight Dementors. We’ve got to find out how.” The burning look in her eyes was that of the research-monster unleashed. Once Hermione decided she wanted to know something, she was as determined as a bloodhound that had spotted prey.

Harry gave her a grim smile. “I already know how,” he said. “It’s called the-”

“Potter. Weasley. Granger.”

Harry turned to see his Head of House emerging from the shadows. He beckoned the three of them over, and they left the stream of students making their way into the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast. “Yes, Professor?” Harry replied politely.

“I hear each of you had…a bit of an issue with a Dementor. Madam Pomfrey wants me to take the three of you to her for an examination. Come,” he ordered gruffly. He was clearly quite irritated. Harry was hardly surprised by the fact that his heart’s desire was not to nursemaid students. Still shivering from the cold and remnants of the adrenaline that had flooded their systems, the trio obediently followed.

Madam Pomfrey took one glance at Harry as he entered the Hospital Wing and immediately began to fuss over him. He assured the Mediwitch that he was fine, but she didn’t believe it until she’d taken his temperature twice, fed him a large slab of chocolate, and given him instructions to ‘not do anything stressful for a bit.’ She repeated the process with Hermione and Ginny, as Snape watched in detached amusement from the entrance to the Hospital Wing.

Once they were finished, Snape informed them that they had enough time to attend the Feast. He sent Hermione off in the direction of the Gryffindor table, then left for his spot at the Head table. Ginny and Harry made their way over to the Slytherin table and sat down next to Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass. Harry noticed Theodore Nott studying him intently, as if probing for weaknesses. It was nothing new for the secretive boy, who kept to himself most the time.

“Something hold you up?” Blaise asked as Harry began to load up his plate. Despite the horrific memories he’d been forced to relieve by the Dementor, his appetite was ravenous.

Harry gave him a questioning glance, but responded, “A Dementor entered our cabin, so Madam Pomfrey wanted to look us over. Nothing wrong with us, not that that matters to her.”

Zabini smirked, but Ginny gave Harry a disapproving glance, as if she wasn’t happy that he was treating what had happened so lightly. Harry did think it was a matter for concern, but he wasn’t about to indicate that in front of his peers. “I’ve never been up close and personal with a Dementor,” Blaise admitted. “Probably not an enjoyable experience.”

Harry simply nodded, and began to enjoy the feast. Ginny sat beside him, and she was looking at her empty plate, still a bit out of it. Harry leaned over. “Are you alright?” he whispered. She jumped, glanced strangely at him, and then began to load her plate with food. She was soon engrossed in a conversation with a brown-haired girl that Harry recognized at Anne Grunitch, one of Ginny’s housemates.

“How was your summer, Potter?” Daphne Greengrass asked, not actually looking at him.

“Could have been better,” he admitted. “I’m doing well now, though.” Daphne nodded, eyeing him critically. Harry was about to say something when the Headmaster stood up. Harry suddenly forgot what he was about to say, and the hall quieted.

Dumbledore wore long purple robes with a matching wizard’s hat. His white beard was actually tucked into his belt. His eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. “Welcome all of you to a new year at Hogwarts. To those of you joining us for the first time, I wish you luck in your new classes and hope that you have just begun the most enjoyable seven years of your young lives.”

He paused. “However, I must also warn you. As most of you know, Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban two weeks ago. The man is unbalanced and quite dangerous, and the Ministry is frantically attempting to apprehend him. However, to protect the student body, we have taken a measure of which I am not in favor. I’m sure a number of you encountered a Dementor for the first time.” Harry noticed his eyes fall on him, Hermione, and Ginny. “These creatures have been stationed around the Grounds, and are on loan from Azkaban. Their task is to find and recapture Sirius Black.”

He looked over the assembled students once more. “I cannot impress upon you enough the danger that Dementors represent. You must neither approach them, nor get in their way. Some of you are aware of the capabilities of these creatures, capabilities which I will not discuss.” Dumbledore looked disgusted by the mere thought of those abilities. Harry knew he was specifically referring to the Dementor’s Kiss. “Those who are not aware need only to know that to run afoul of a Dementor is among the worst fates than can befall a wizard. Stay away from them, and I and the staff shall insure that they stay away from you. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to be forgiving.” He smiled. “Now that that dreadfully grim announcement has been made, I urge you to enjoy the remainder of your feast. I believe that the House-Elves outdid themselves in providing us with these scrumptious meals. My sources tell me that the chicken is exquisite.”

Slowly, the Great Hall began to come back to life. A few bangs and a scream from the Gryffindor table, a commotion that Harry would bet an arm and a leg on the fact that it was caused by Fred and George Weasley, seemed to complete the school-wide resurrection. Soon all one could hear was the clink of silverware and the pleasant chatter of the students.

As Harry began eating, he glanced over at the students near him. Daphne was speaking to Blaise now, and Harry listened intently. It was almost as if Blaise was giving him an interactive tutorial on acceptable Slytherin behavior.

“My father spoke of the possibility of making me his Magical Heir,” the blond girl said, with an air of haughtiness. “I’m sure you know that that honor was to be given to my older sister, but…”

Zabini nodded, indicating that he did indeed know what she was speaking of. Harry began to dig through his memory, but he could remember no mention of a Greengrass in all his studies of the First War. It was evident from the way that Daphne spoke that her sister was dead. It was possible that her mother was as well.

Blaise gave her a polite smile. “Congratulations then. Has a date been set for your Confirmation?”

Daphne shook her head, and Harry tried to remember the details of the ceremony Blaise was referring to. A witch or wizard’s Confirmation of Magical Inheritance was a tremendously important event in a child’s life. Some families eliminated the need for the rite by naming their Magical Heirs at their birth. A few lines of Latin insured that the once the wizard or witch came of age, they would not merely inherit responsibility for any property or riches of a family, but also would take on the remnants of the magic of each of the witch or wizard’s predecessors. When a witch or wizard died, they took most of their magic with them, but left behind a trace that over the centuries could accumulate to a sizable reservoir. That transfer of that power to the Magical Heir of the family was the most important part of the ritual.

That said, Harry knew that gifting a newborn with that power was a calculated gamble. It was the reason that most families waited until they could judge the character and strengths of their children, and best determine if they could bear the burden. Even so, many young witches and wizards were not up to the task, the reason why the majority of the wizarding world considered the entire practice more symbolic than anything else. Daphne’s case was the rare exception: she had first manifested her family’s magic at the age of twelve after she became Aurelis O’Connor’s Heir at birth.

Harry was drawn out of his thoughts by Daphne’s dull blue eyes staring right at him; Greengrass had apparently noticed that he was listening to the conversation. He wasn’t surprised; he wasn’t as practiced at eavesdropping as Nott was. The aforementioned amateur spy was currently leaning in on a conversation between Millicent Bullstrode and Elisha Moon. The Black girl appeared to be describing some kind of complicated potion of some sort. “Potter?” Greengrass asked, leaning towards him. “Care to explain why you were eavesdropping on a private conversation? Had I wished you to participate, I would have invited you to join.”

Harry managed to keep himself from flinching. “I wasn’t eavesdropping.” He was lying, and she knew it. Still, he managed to keep a straight face, and Greengrass appeared not to care that much anyway. However, if he had not lied so smoothly, the situation would likely be different. What mattered was that he would have been convincing if not for Greengrass’s foreknowledge.

The girl looked at him intently, studying him. Harry returned her gaze.

Daphne Greengrass carried a regal air about her; she was tall, gifted aristocratic looks. Her straight blond hair was neither beautiful nor unattractive. Her clear blue eyes betrayed no emotion, yet her gaze was searing. Slim with a deceivingly delicate build, she was a typical pureblood in both appearance and behavior. She was condescending to Muggleborns and those she considered beneath her, her manners were refined and proper among those she considered equals, and she had come to Hogwarts with a fine pureblood education in all the fields of magic. Harry knew that the girl was quite intelligent, but the most remarkable thing about her was her ability to appear completely apathetic. She was adept at making her face an emotionless mask and keeping any feeling out of her voice. It was quite unnerving at times. I made the mistake of believing she really didn’t care about anything the last two years. I forgot how unlikely that would be for a girl her age. She’s still a human being.

“You’re lying,” she said matter-of-factly. It was impossible to tell if she was upset, angry, or even amused. She scrutinized him as if he was a particularly dense textbook, seeking hidden meanings to every word. Her eyes flicked to his scar, but remained there for only an instant. That’s interesting. Harry had been surprised to learn that while the Slytherins would almost unconsciously search for his scar, the symbol that represented his identity, they would not linger there. Others would simply stare as if it was the most incredible thing they’d ever seen.

Harry mustered his most mysterious smile. “Perhaps. I daresay I didn’t hear anything important. Though, I’m sure you are quite pleased to be receiving such a gift from your father.”

Zabini blinked in confusion, then smiled at Harry. Greengrass didn’t react in any way. Her eyes locked with his. “Yes, I am quite pleased. I certainly wish it had been under…different circumstances. I would give it back if I might have my mother and sister returned to me. But, alas, such is not possible.” It was a demonstration of her skill at feigned apathy. She spoke of her dead family as they had been a pair of ants she had just stepped on.

Harry nodded slowly. He wanted to break eye contact; he was unnerved by the strange look in the girl’s eyes. But this was a battle, a kind of verbal and mental dance. Daphne was testing him. Should he retreat, he would fail that test. But he needed to say something. It came to him, and Harry realized that it was what Greengrass wanted him to say. “Of course. I too would willingly surrender my fame if in exchange I could have a peaceful childhood. But it is not healthy to dwell on what might have been.” He somehow managed to keep his voice steady, matching Daphne’s tone perfectly.

“Quite,” she responded crisply. To his surprise, after a few seconds, she broke eye contact, glancing down at her nails absently. It was as if the conversation had never taken place. Harry leaned back, knowing that he had passed that part of the test. It was a strange exchange, but Harry was almost certain that he knew exactly why she had done it. She wanted to see if he could speak of his deceased parents without showing the pain that he still felt. He was sure that it pained her as well to speak of her late mother and sister. He was also convinced that there was more to that than she had revealed.

He felt Zabini tap him on the shoulder. Harry turned to face him. Blaise smiled, but Harry could almost see the gears turning in the boy’s mind as he reassessed his opinion of his new friend. His face split into a wide grin. “Nice job mate,” he said, sounding impressed. “I doubt that was easy for you.”

Harry shrugged. “It wasn’t that difficult.” He spoke with a great deal more confidence that he felt. If it had been anything, trying would be the best way to describe his conversation with Greengrass. “A bit awkward, to be sure, but certainly not a struggle.”

Zabini let out a breath, and was staring at him almost in awe. “You made her break off first. That is impressive.”

Harry blinked. “What?” Blaise was acting as if he’d just slain a mythical dragon. He was missing something, that was for sure.

Zabini looked at him like he’d grown another head, clearly baffled by his lack of understanding. “Boy, you don’t know anything, do you?” Harry was starting to understand what he meant. He really didn’t know much about his housemates, simply because he didn’t spend any time around them. He was now certain of exactly what Blaise wanted.

“And you would be happy to help me with that problem?” Harry asked innocently. Zabini’s lips curled upward.

He extended his hand. “What are friends for, Potter?” he asked rhetorically. Harry took it and shook firmly.

He smiled back, his expression betraying nothing of the anxiety he felt of extending his trust to this boy he barely knew. Thoughts of Riddle, of how he’d played upon what remained of his innocence and naivety swirled through Harry’s mind. He remembered how Riddle had presented himself as a kindred soul, gained his sympathy and finally, his confidence. Still, he had no choice. This was, quite simply, an offer that he couldn’t refuse. And somehow, he knew that Blaise actually sought his companionship, that he wasn’t serving some more devious end.

He paused for an instant, and Blaise raised an eyebrow. Harry shrugged, still smirking. “Indeed, Blaise, what are friends for?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny staring at him. He wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Harry was examining his new timetable when he glanced up and saw his best friend entering the Great Hall. Or rather, stalking into the Great Hall.

Blaise sat beside him, eating quietly. He hadn’t seen Ginny that morning. Hermione’s expression grew even more irritated when she noticed both the absence of her friend and the presence of the boy that had offended her sensibilities. Her movements were stiff, her eyes narrowed, and her politeness when she asked Millicent Bullstrode if she could sit next to her obviously forced.. Her mood was not improved when Millicent looked at her like she was a gutted mouse that her cat had dragged to her, expecting praise. Her dark eyes immediately shot to Harry, who returned her glare with equal intensity.

Hermione apparently was not pleased by Millicent’s implication that Harry was her keeper either. “If you don’t like me, then say it to my face and don’t look at him for an explanation,” she snapped at the larger Slytherin girl.

Millicent didn’t respond, she simply moved about a foot away from where she had been sitting, leaving a sizable gap between herself and the seat that Hermione now occupied. Harry watched his grumpy friend give a passable impression of a sneer as she turned to face him, she plastered a blatantly false smile on her face. Blaise looked her up and down, frowning, and she glared at him. “What?”

“Just wondering what put you in such a foul mood,” Blaise admitted. He whistled. “You certainly don’t seem to like me very much, do you?”

Hermione didn’t respond to that, instead she roughly grabbed her timetable which Harry had offered to take from Professor McGonagall. “Where’s Ginny?” she asked him, loading up her plate with sausages. Harry saw Nott watching the unwelcome Muggleborn out of the corner of his eye, but both ignored him. Merlin knew what he was up to.

Harry shrugged in response to her question. “Haven’t seen her,” he said. “I last saw her chatting with Melissa by the fire before I turned in.”

“Who?” Hermione asked.

Harry frowned. “Melissa Quinn,” he explained. “One of the Slytherin girls in her year.” He wouldn’t have expected Hermione to remember the girl; after all, she knew very few of the Slytherins outside of those in her year. Still, the accusing tone in her voice made him wonder if something was seriously wrong. He knew she didn’t like Blaise much, but he suspected that there was something else eating at her. He’d have to find out later.

Nonetheless, Hermione seemed to either remember who the girl was or simply did not care. She ate in silence. As she cut her sausage with more violence than necessary, Harry made up his mind. Something is definitely wrong, he thought. Even Weasley doesn’t upset her this much…

Blaise broke into his thoughts. “What electives are you taking?” he asked casually. Harry turned back to him.

“Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes,” Harry said, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. “You?”

Blaise frowned slightly. “Divination and Arithmacy,” he said. Hermione stiffened noticeably when she realized she’d be alone with Blaise in Arithmacy. This is getting ridiculous, Harry thought. Blaise is as harmless as Slytherins get, and she’s still obsessing over the fact that his family considers Muggleborns below them. I understand that she hates it when people discriminate, and that she dislikes injustice of any kind, but for Merlin’s sake, Millicent just treated her like something unpleasant on her shoe and she’s still focusing on Blaise!

“Why’d you chose those two?” Blaise asked.

“Why’d you?” Harry countered.

Blaise shrugged. “Well, there is some history of Seers in my family; Mum’s a Songstress, and they are kind of related; more importantly, Dad says there were a couple of people that had the Sight in some capacity in his family…As for Arithmacy? Well, I’ve always been good with numbers.”

“It’s isn’t just about numbers,” Hermione said with a bit of uncharacteristic arrogance. “That’s just math, what Muggles do. Arithmacy is the study of the Magical properties of numbers,” she explained, sounding very much like she swallowed a textbook. Still, her emphasis on the word ‘Muggles’ said volumes about how she felt about Harry’s new friend.

Blaise smirked, and Harry winced. “Apparently you didn’t read the course description. The first thing we’re going to do is learn basic math. About halfway through Fourth Year, we’ll start studying the history and properties of numbers. Honestly,” huffed, doing a perfect impression of Hermione. Harry glared at him, and he smiled. It was clear he was doing this entirely for his own enjoyment.

Hermione was bright red, and her normally warm brown eyes were searing into Blaise like a pair of daggers. Her hand was in her robes, her fingers likely wrapped tightly around her wand. Blaise smirked back at her triumphantly.

Harry had had enough of both of them. “Hermione, calm down. Blaise, stop provoking her. Honestly, you two are behaving like a pair of cranky five year olds.”

He was not going to fall into Blaise’s trap and be pressured to take a side. He was going to stop this ridiculous verbal sparring (most of which was instigated by Hermione, strangely enough) and if he couldn’t make them get along, he would at least ensure that they behaved with something resembling civility.

Blaise threw his hands up in a gesture of innocence, while Hermione huffed and turned away, crossing her arms across her chest. Harry blew out a long breath. He glanced upward, and saw Luna Lovegood’s dirty blonde hair disappearing out of the Great Hall. “I’ll see you later, Hermione, Blaise,” he said, getting to his feet.

“Harry, what are you-” Hermione began sharply.

“Later,” Harry cut her off, hurrying towards the massive oak doors which were only slightly askew. He ignored the stares and whispers and bolted out of the Great Hall. He needed to speak to Luna, to thank her, to find out more about her. There was something, well…something he found intriguing, as if she could give him some piece of forbidden knowledge that explained the existence of mankind. Or something like that.

He glanced around as he exited, and saw her vanish down one of the corridors. He hurried after her. Strangely, every time he rounded a corner, he saw her disappearing around the next corner. Finally, he tracked her down, skidding to a stop as he saw her sitting idly next to one of the windows on the Fourth Floor. She stared curiously at him, mouth slightly agape. “Hello Harry Potter. You seem to have been chasing me.”

“I need to talk to you,” Harry explained, panting heavily. Abruptly, the urgency vanished. He started to wonder exactly why he was here. He frowned, knowing that Luna must have something to do with it. “How did you do what you just did? How did you keep staying just out of sight and leading me on this wild chase?”

Luna smiled strangely. “I didn’t,” she said simply. “I’ve been sitting here the entire time. I wondered if you might come to visit me, and you did.” She frowned. “That’s never happened before.”

“What, that someone has visited you?” Harry asked, still trying to catch his breath. He abruptly realized how cruel and stupid that question was. Characteristically, Luna didn’t take offense.

Instead, she shook her head, her necklace of butterbeer corks jingling. “No, that I managed to call someone far away to me.” She looked pensive. “Or maybe it’s just the Jula-Jumpas.” She looked up at him, a serious expression on her face. “They sing strange songs, and people follow them. It’s very odd, really.”

Harry frowned, and made the mistake of trying to reason with her statements about a non-existent animal her father had taught her about. “Don’t you mean Sirens?” he asked, thinking of the creatures that were closest to what she had described.

Luna shook her head again. “No. Sirens are extinct; they got Nargles in their hair and drowned. And their singing was beautiful. The Jula-Jumpas have very level voices; they aren’t high or low. They sing about people running from dragons in strawberry patches.”

Harry simply tuned out her last statement. “So what happened?” he asked nervously. He liked Luna…sort of. She was nice enough and meant well, but she made him rather uncomfortable with the amount she seemed to know. The idea that she could compel him and even cause him to hallucinate was alarming to say the least. After Riddle, Harry was wary of being controlled in any way. He needed to be in control at all times.

Luna shrugged, oblivious to his concerns. “I should write Father. First I healed you, and now this happens…odd.”

It was rather bizarre for Luna of all people to call something odd, but Harry had to agree with her. Still, he might have used a much stronger term. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He spun around, wand flying into his hand. The corridor was empty, except for a small rat that scuttled by. Harry figured it would end up as Mrs. Norris’s dinner.

“Wrackspurts,” Luna said with conviction. “They sneak up on you and take you over, then make you sing and dance and do things you don’t want to. It’s very frightening.” She shivered. “I do have charms and amulets I could give you,” she offered, reaching into the pocket of her robes. She pulled out a ball of twine adored with a pair of small bat wings.

“No thanks, Luna,” Harry said. “Why did I want to come here?...It’s not that I’m repulsed by the idea, but the urge was…unnatural…”

Luna smiled. “I wanted you to come…I didn’t do it intentionally, of course. Free will is the most important gift of all. That’s why Wrackspurts are so evil; they steal our free will from us.” She gazed at him with something resembling awe, her bright blue eyes gazing into his own. “You know what I speak of. You lost your free will last year. Tom took it away from you.”

Harry jerked back as if he’d been struck. His composure shattered, his nerves taking the better of him. “How do you know that?” he demanded. “How?”

Luna smiled. “I can see things, Harry. I told you that.”

“Are you a Legillimens?” he asked. It was impossible at her age that she’d been trained in the art. He had heard of individuals being born with the ability to see into the minds of others, though it was extraordinarily rare… Maybe that’s it. I suppose that being able to read other people’s minds, to see their deepest thoughts, would make her this…odd. And perhaps the death of her mother unbalanced her slightly…

Luna shook her head, blowing that theory out of the water. “I’m different. I just…know things,” she explained. “I don’t have to try to see into their minds, I just think it and…I know,” she whispered. “Everyone would think I was crazy if I told them, so I don’t. Father is the only one that knows…and now you. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else. I’ve told you things that no one but Father and I know.”

“But wouldn’t it be a good idea to let Dumbledore know?” Harry asked her. “He might be able to train you to control your…ability. Wouldn’t you like to only know things you wanted to know?”

Luna frowned at him. “What are you talking about?” she demanded. It was the first time he’d ever heard anger in her voice. “I’m perfectly happy. I like knowing things, thank you very much.” She sniffed, and Harry could see her eyes glistening with tears. He immediately felt terrible remorse.

“Luna, I’m sorry-”

“I thought you understood me…” she said miserably. “I was wrong. I was stupid. I should have seen it in your head.” She shook her own head violently. “No…go, now. I don’t want to speak to you anymore.”

Harry wanted to leave, but something deep within him would not allow him to go without addressing something first. “I will. But first you need to promise me that you won’t…trick me again.”

Luna glanced up at him, brushing away a few stray tears. He felt guilty, but mostly, he wanted this conversation to end. His mind was spinning. “Why should I?” she snapped. “You said that I was foolish.”

“No I didn’t,” Harry protested. “I made a stupid assumption. I shouldn’t have just assumed that you didn’t like the way that you were. I understand, really, I do. And I’m sorry for upsetting you…but you must understand, I’m afraid of being controlled.” He wasn’t sure why he was telling her this, but something told him he needed to. Nor was he completely sure he believed what he just said, but it was working. “It scares me that someone was able to control me that easily, that he was able to hurt my friends. I need to be in control, don’t you understand? Please, don’t do it again.” He knew it sounded like he was begging, but strong-arm tactics weren’t going to work with this girl.

Luna looked at him again, her eyes cloudy with an indiscernible emotion. “Alright, I won’t do it anymore. I didn’t mean what I said…well, I did, but you understand what you said was hurtful.” She looked at him strangely, then smiled. “You’re very odd, Harry Potter, for a boy. Most boys are stupid and focused on sports and being ‘manly.’ You understand girls. That’s very strange, Harry Potter. You are very lucky.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to that. As it turned out, he didn’t have to. Luna hopped off the windowsill and disappeared down the corridor, skipping jovially. Harry was left standing alone, staring after her. He sat down and placed his head in his hands, trying to comprehend the very strange exchange he had just had with Luna Lovegood.

“Where have you been?” Hermione hissed as he hurried towards the Transfiguration Classroom. She was standing with her arms crossed over her chest, tapping her toe impatiently.

Harry hurried towards her, shaking his head. “I was talking to Luna…something strange happened…”

Hermione frowned and opened her mouth to ask something, but then the bell rang. “We’ll talk about it later,” she said, grabbing Harry by the sleeve of his robes and hauling him inside the classroom. Harry glanced up and saw Professor McGonagall taking attendance. Harry walked over towards where Nott, Blaise, and Greengrass sat, despite Hermione’s nonverbal protests. She glared at the Black boy as she sat down, turning her attention to Professor McGonagall. Blaise smirked back at her.

Harry sighed dramatically and sat down between Blaise and Hermione. Professor McGonagall called out the names of the rest of the class, then began the lesson. “Well, normally I would be going over our aims for this upcoming term, but as this class is composed of Third Years, I would like to see just how much you recall from the past year. Thus, we will be doing a number of review exercises.”

She explained they would be reviewing inanimate object to living being Transfiguration. She gave each of them a white rabbit and told them to turn them into a pair of fuzzy slippers. Harry found Transfiguring animals into objects to be the easiest type of Transfiguration. In general, it was tougher to Transfigure an inanimate physical object into a living creature, and more difficult to Transfigure one living creature into a creature of a different phyla or class; Transfiguring mammals into reptiles, avians into mammals, etc. By far the most difficult form of Transfiguration was Conjuring. Anything could be conjured, from small animals to food. Most of the time, the conjured objects faded, but more powerful wizards could make the Conjured objects or animals permanent. Harry had heard of extraordinarily powerful wizards having the capacity to Conjure powerful magical creatures such as dragons and phoenixes, but no one had succeeded in making these creatures permanent.

Harry found the procedure they were practicing to be so simple that he actually wasn’t paying enough attention, and ended up creating slippers with whiskers, ears, and a twitching nose. If anything, it at least improved Hermione’s mood as she laughed at the stunned look on his face. Blushing madly, he glared at her, refocused and completed his task. Two dead rabbits (and a great number of spilled tears) later, Lavender Brown beat Seamus Finnegan in the Great Slipper Race, and McGonagall collected the slippers, effortlessly Transfigured them back into rabbits, and put them back a large cage. Harry figured they would either be used in other classes or given to one of Hagrid’s pets as dinner. Next, she gave them a slightly greater challenge, and handed out a number of water goblets, with the instruction to turn them into rats. They’d practiced it the previous year, but it still took four tries for Harry to get rid of the shiny, glass-like shine on the rat’s fur. Hermione got hers on the first try, and got the ten points from McGonagall. She stuck her tongue out at him, and it was obvious that she was feeling a great deal more cheerful. Harry could only be so happy with that as her good mood was coming at his expense.

With Ron Weasley and a number of other students still struggling, including, surprisingly, Elisha Moon, the bell finally rang. McGonagall collected the rats, turned the half-Transfigured rodents back into goblets, and assigned those who had failed to complete the assignment to do it for homework.

Their next class would be Defense Against the Dark Arts. Most of the students were eagerly awaiting the first class, hoping that Lupin could at least teach them more than Lockhart ever had. Harry was simply interested to see how his father’s friend went about teaching the class. Harry knew that Third Year was devoted to learning about various Dark creatures, while Fourth Year was an introduction to curses. The first two years were supposed to have covered general defensive theory and basic defensive spells, but the teachers had accomplished neither. All they’d learned from Lockhart was a bunch of inaccurate information about creatures and non-existent spells. Quirrell had somehow managed to teach them absolutely nothing. You’d think that even with Voldemort in his head, he might manage to teach something by accident…

“Alright, that’s all for today,” Remus told his First Year class of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. “I want you all to read pages 13-17 of Chapter One and write a brief paragraph on the basic differences between Dark and Light spells. Keep in mind that the distinctions that I’m teaching you are certainly not complete. They are a basic set of criteria to be used to introduce you to the important differences. Thank you for a very enjoyable first class.”

The students began to file out, many of them whispering excitedly. Remus felt a surge of pride and happiness as he heard many of them saying that he was the best professor that they’d ever had. It was truly the most gratifying job he’d ever taken. Most of the young students were eager to learn and appreciated his hands-on approach. He’d put the students into small groups and asked them to come up with a list of differences between Light and Dark magic. Some of the lists were very inaccurate, but simply getting each student involved in the discussion was worth something. Remus personally believed that the Ministry guidelines involving what was Dark magic were rather strict, but he wasn’t going to get into the finer differences with a bunch of eleven-year olds.

As they filed out, Remus headed into his office. He glanced at his schedule and saw that he had his Third Year Slytherin and Gryffindor class, the one that he’d been looking forward to since the first day he’d arrived at Hogwarts. He’d been casually observing Harry at meals and in the corridors, and while he still knew relatively little about the boy, he could tell that he was certainly not his father’s son. The differences extended far beyond his green and silver Slytherin robes.

He had something very special planned. He had decided that he wanted to immediately contrast himself to the poor teachers of the past two years. He’d heard that all they did was have the students read from the text books and that they had done very little practical work. He intended to change that.

The idea had come to him by sheer chance.

He’d gone to visit Argus Filch that first day he had arrived, searching for a relic of his past: the Marauder’s Map. He knew that James had been caught stealing food from the kitchens near the end of Seventh Year, and Filch had confiscated it, though he had no idea what it was. Filch had been suspicious when he had come looking for it, but he explained to the Squib just how useful it might be in tracking down Sirius Black. That had been all it had taken; Filch hated Sirius for how the boy had tormented him during his school days.

Unfortunately, when Remus searched Filch’s filing cabinet, he’d been shocked to discover the Map missing. He’d been quite puzzled by that, and a bit alarmed that it had apparently vanished into thin air. He knew that Filch could not have burned it; James had put so many charms onto the paper that nothing short of Phoenix fire could scratch it. So that meant one thing: it was in the hands of a student. That was not a very pleasant thought.

He had suspects, of course. One thing Minerva had told him about was the legendary Weasley twins, whom she claimed were the most troubling pair of youngsters she’d been forced to deal with since the Marauders themselves. The two were extremely intelligent, seemed to have the capacity to read each other’s minds, and appeared to be rather powerful as well. Remus would get to know them personally tomorrow, along with the rest of the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Fifth Years.

Of course, the most important thing he’d found in Filch’s cabinet was the Boggart that would be the object of his first class. The Squib had been pleased to be rid of it.

Remus replaced his copy of the First Year textbook, Defense Against the Dark Arts: The Essentials for Beginners, and picked up his new attendance list. He scanned it briefly, and frowned when he recognized several sons or daughters of known Death Eaters: Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Parkinson. And Harry shares a dormitory with almost all of them. Quite remarkable.

He re-entered his classroom and saw that a number of people in the class had already taken their seats. A few glanced up at him, and Remus noticed a boy with combed silver-blonde hair, clearly a Malfoy, staring at his teacher’s worn robes with disgust. Two Slytherins sat on either side of Malfoy, large boys whom Remus guessed were Vincent Crabbe Jr. and Gregory Goyle Jr. How appropriate, he thought. Their fathers followed Lucius around like a pair of lost puppies during the war as well. Remus smiled back at Lucius’s son, which seemed to irritate him, then stood at the front of the class. He spotted a boy he instantly realized was Neville Longbottom, looking rather dejected and lonely. Sitting a few seats away from him, chatting away, was a redhead, likely a Weasley, a Black boy and a boy speaking with a noticeable Irish accent. All four were Gryffindors.

After a pair of Gryffindor girls who were gossiping loudly walked in, the group Remus was waiting for finally arrived. Harry led them; Remus could spot his untamable hair and bright green eyes a mile away. Just behind them was Hermione and a Slytherin boy that Remus didn’t recognize. Hermione looked quite displeased to be standing next to him, and hurried up to Harry’s side. Remus was sure there was a story there.

When the last student, a girl that Remus immediately recognized as Pansy Parkinson entered, he cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the class. “Hello class, I’m Remus Lupin, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” He paused, making sure they were paying attention. When the two gossipy Gryffindors stopped speaking and gave him pretty smiles in apology, he cleared his throat and continued. “I’ll take attendance, and then we’ll do something that should be a great deal more interesting than anything your previous instructors assigned.” The excitedly whispers and murmurs that this pronouncement led to told Remus he finally had their full attention. He took attendance quickly, then clapped his hands in excitement. “Alright, today’s will be a practical lesson, so you may put away your books. All you’ll require is your wands. Please follow me.”

He led them down the corridor towards the classroom where he’d placed the chest with the Boggart (Filch wasn’t going to let him have the filing cabinet.) He actually knew of another one, apparently located in the Staffroom, but thought he’d save that one for his other Third Year class. As they turned a corner, Remus heard a voice he hadn’t heard for over a decade. A dreadfully irritating sing-song voice, likely honed to perfection over centuries. It was a voice that was often a harbinger of water balloons, falling objects, trip jinxes, and other minor annoyances.

Peeves.

“Loony, Loopy, Lupin! Loony, Loopy, Lupin!”

He glanced up to see Peeves the Poltergeist sitting cross-legged in the air, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth, his revolting orange bow tie waggling back and forth. He began bellowing at the top of his lungs, and Remus had an idea. He noticed that Peeves had been in the process of stuffing a wad of gum into the doorknob of a broom closet. “I recommend you remove that, Peeves. Mr. Filch will not be able to access his brooms.”

As he expected, Peeves ignored him, and continued singing, adding in a number of profanities and wet raspberries as sound effects. Remus sighed, aimed his wand at the door, and murmured. “This is a useful little spell.” I’ve always wanted to do this…

He snapped his wrist up so that it was pointed at Peeves as he yelled, “Waddiwassi!” As he hoped, the gum shot out of the keyhole and flew straight at Peeves. It went up his left nostril, instead of his mouth, as Remus had expected, but nonetheless, the mischievous poltergeist swore and flew away, banging into the walls. Many of the students laughed outright, and Remus saw that Harry was smiling. His spirits were lifted instantly. “That is how to deal with a Poltergeist. If you are well-behaved, I might teach you that little spell.”

At least among the Gryffindors, Remus knew that he was making a very good impression. Some of the Slytherins thought his behavior childish, and others, such as Malfoy, were so determined to hate him that there wasn’t anything he could do to gain their approval. And that’s why I can’t bother to try to impress them. Dumbledore gave me this wonderful opportunity, and not only am I going to take advantage of it, I’m going to damn well enjoy it.

He led them into the deserted classroom, the desks and chairs shoved up against the wall. In the center was a battered old trunk. The class stared at it. “What, is this charity case going to teach us to fight baggage?” Draco Malfoy sneered, speaking just loudly enough so that everyone heard him. Remus ignored him, but noticed that a few of the Gryffindors looked murderous. Remus decided to introduce the lesson before a brawl or duel broke out.

He smiled at them. “As amusing as such a lesson would be, Mr. Malfoy, I don’t want any of you to get hurt.” There was scattered snickers from the Gryffindors, and Malfoy blushed as he glared at him. “No, today we will learning to fight the creature in that chest.” As he spoke, the chest shook violently. “Would anyone like to guess what is inside?”

Several hands went up. Remus pointed to the excitedly bouncing limb of Hermione Granger. “Miss Granger?”

“A Boggart,” she said simply.

Remus smiled. “Exactly. Two points to Gryffindor. Now, would anyone care to tell me exactly what a Boggart is?”

Hermione’s hand shot up again, but Remus decided to pick elsewhere. “Yes, Mr..?”

“Nott,” the dark-haired boy replied shortly. “A Boggart is also known as a shape-shifter. They are unique in that they transform into whatever a witch or wizard fears most.” Remus nodded, impressed.

“Good. Five points to Slytherin.” A few groans and looks of disbelief came from several of the Gryffindors. Remus felt the urge to shake his head. Surely they didn’t think I’d be the anti-Snape? Just because I was Gryffindor doesn’t mean I’ll favor them.

“Alright, now, we have an advantage, being in a large group. Has anyone spotted it? Mr. Potter?” he called.

“Boggart are least effective facing large groups of wizards because they cannot mimic more than one fear at once…well, they can, but not very well. Often, the combination of fears is rather humorous, which is what a Boggart seeks to avoid,” Harry said, answering with a kind of smug self-confidence that Remus was accustomed to seeing from his father at this age. Of course, there was a difference: Harry seemed to be aware of his limitations, James was unaware that they existed.

“Excellent. Five more points to Slytherin.” More groans. “Mr. Weasley, as you seem quite unhappy with my awarding of points to Slytherin House, I’ll invite you to answer this next question.” The boy swallowed thickly, obviously feeling unprepared. “As Mr. Potter said, Boggarts seek to avoid appearing in any way humorous. What does that imply about the techniques to defeat them?”

The boy was clearly caught off guard, and glanced at his friends, at the walls, at anything that might give him the answer. Malfoy and few others snickered, and Remus was surprised to see Harry smirking triumphantly. That was not behavior he would have expected. “Well…um…you try to make them funny?” he guessed, looking hopeful.

Remus smiled. Often, the best way to find an answer was to simply go with what sounded right. “Exactly, Mr. Weasley. Five points to Gryffindor.”

The boy beamed and glared pointedly at Harry. Remus was disappointed to see him mouth something at the boy. Whatever it was, Ron immediately paled and stopped looking at him. What the devil is going on there?

He pulled himself back to his class. “Well, we know what a Boggart is and how to defeat it, but does anyone know the incantation?” Hermione’s hand shot up again. Harry’s did not.

Faced with only one choice, he pointed to her. “Yes, Miss Granger?”

“It’s a special spell that only works on Boggarts,” she said matter-of-factly. “The incantation is Riddikulus.”

Remus was impressed. She had obviously read through her textbooks. A few of the purebloods sneered at the Muggleborn girl, and Ron whispered something that sounded suspiciously like, “bloody know-it-all.” Perhaps Remus had made a mistake by allowing her to answer twice. It was clear her reputation was well-known. He knew what it felt like to be called a bookworm. Of course, he much preferred being called that over being called what really distinguished himself from everyone else. “Excellent, Hermione. Ten points to Gryffindor.” The girl beamed at him.

“Alright, everyone repeat the incantation a few times.” They did. “Now, what Miss Granger did not mention is that simply saying the spell is not enough. What each of you must do is visualize the thing that frightens you the most, and try to imagine a way to make it appear humorous. It isn’t always easy, especially if you aren’t sure of what you are most frightened of. If anyone wishes to refrain from participating, I understand completely.” No one did, as he’d expected. Appearing too frightened to face a Boggart was not a way to impress a student’s peers. Remus looked over the class, and had to admit he was interested to see what a number of them would encounter. Then his eyes rested on Harry, and he abruptly realized there might be a problem. “Mr. Potter, if I could see you for a moment,” he said softly.

Harry approached him, looking a bit puzzled. “Yes, Professor?”

“Harry,” he whispered quietly, “I need to know what you think you will see. Unlike most of the students here, you have seen a great deal of true horrors in your life, and one thing I simply do not need on my first day in Lord Voldemort materializing in the classroom.”

Harry cocked his head to the side, staring at Remus with a strangely cold and calculated expression, mixed with a bit of…amusement? “Professor, I assure you that won’t be a problem.” He paused for a moment. “I’m not completely certain what I’ll see, but he is not the person that frightens me the most.” To his surprise, and intense discomfort, Harry shivered.

“Are you sure you want to participate?” he asked again, truly concerned. Harry blinked.

“I’m fine, trust me. It won’t be a problem,” he said in a slightly distracted-sounding voice. Remus wasn’t sure if he believed him. It didn’t look like Harry was sure that he believed himself.

“Alright then,” Remus conceded. “I’ll trust you.”

Harry retreated to his friends near the middle of the line. The students were pushing and jostling each other, some trying to get close to the front, others making for the back. At the front of the line was Theodore Nott. Behind him, looking quite anxious, was Neville Longbottom. Remus remembered that Minerva had said that the boy was very lacking in self-confidence, fears reinforced by his Potions professor. “Neville, if you could start us off?” he said. Nott grudgingly moved back. “Now, Mr. Longbottom, if you might tell us what you fear the most?”

Neville mumbled something, and Nott’s eyebrows rose. “Could you be a bit louder?”

“Professor Snape…” the boy mumbled. A few students laughed, and Neville gave a forced smile. Remus nodded, frowning. How to make Severus less frightening… “Well, Neville…hmm…I believe you live with Augusta, your grandmother?” Remus knew of the imposing woman. He also remembered her favorite attire, and the mental image of the two combined was stunningly amusing.

“Yes sir,” Neville said. “But I don’t want it to turn into her either,” he said quickly. They were a few snickers, obviously from children who had never met Augusta Longbottom. It wasn’t in the least bit shocking that Neville was frightened of her.

“Hmmm…can you picture her clothing, Neville? What does she wear?” Remus asked, smiling encouragingly.

The boy looked up at him, confused. “She wears green robes with a red handbag…oh, and a red hat with a vulture.” Apparently, Augusta hadn’t changed her favorite outfit since Remus had known Frank. Oh this is going to be good…

“Excellent. Now, I want you to concentrate on those clothes, then on Professor Snape…do you see where I am going with this?” The boy nodded, a faint smile on his face. Then he frowned.

“You want me to imagine Professor Snape…in Gran’s clothing?” he asked in disbelief. A few Gryffindors snickered. Remus nodded, urging him forward. “Alright. I’m ready,” he said, drawing himself up to his full height. Remus gave him another reassuring smile, then waved his wand and opened the chest.

First the head, then the torso, then the full body of Severus Snape, cape flapping around him, a vicious sneer on his face, rose out of the chest. Neville took a step back, and Remus put a hand on his shoulder. Several Slytherins were laughing at Neville’s fright. “Go on, Neville, you can do it,” he coaxed.

The boy took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Snape advanced quickly. “Riddikulus!” Neville cried, opening his eyes. There was a loud CRACK, and the Boggart staggered. Remus was confronted with one of the most amusing sights he’d ever seen. Boggart-Snape was now looking at himself in confusion, specifically, the green dress, the battered red handbag, and the red hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture. Harry and Hermione were laughing hard.

Remus chuckled jovially. “Excellent, Neville! Alright, the rest of you now! Nott!” he cried. The boy marched up towards the Boggart. There was a CRACK, and standing before him was something that cause quite a few gasps and screams. It was a tall, zombie-like figure, its flesh decomposed and quite a bit of muscle and bone showing. Remus recognized the gruesome creature immediately. They only question is how Theodore knows what an Inferi looks like…

If the boy was frightened, Remus couldn’t tell. He hesitated for a second, than raised his wand and cried, “Riddikulus!” The Inferi began to fall apart, its legs liquefying as it collapsed to the floor. The flesh continued to decompose, exposing more gore, and as Nott watched, a growing grin on his face, the remaining pieces of the Inferi crumbled into dust. The Slytherin boy laughed, a harsh, cold bark. Remus felt the urge to be sick. Nott turned away, striding towards the back of the classroom. Remus couldn’t understand for the life of him how anyone could find that amusing.

Parvati Patil was pushed forward by the line, and the pile of dust transformed into a towering Egyptian Mummy, pieces of cloth hanging off it. It raised its arms as it advanced. Parvati cast the spell, and the wrapping began to unwind, spinning the body around in circles. Parvati laughed, along with most of the class. It was much less gruesome Boggart than her predecessor’s.

Next up was Dean Thomas, whose Boggart was a severed hand. It flapped along the ground towards Dean, who was sweating noticeably. Then he cried the incantation, and Remus watched as the hand became caught in a mousetrap. Ron Weasley was next, and his Boggart was a giant arachnid. Ron looked absolutely terrified, but weakly said, “Ri-ridikulus!” and the legs of the creature vanished. Ron laughed weakly, and fled. Obviously, his fear of spiders ran rather deep. Seamus Finnegan silenced his Banshee. Daphne Greengrass stepped forward next. Her greatest fear was something that Remus had only seen in books. A massive creature with the tail of a dragon, the body of a goat, and the head of a lion. A Chimaera.

Daphne narrowed her eyes, then said in a level voice, “Riddikulus.” The creature vanished for a moment in a cloud of smoke, then with a CRACK, reappeared. The mane was shaved, a pair of intertwined goat horns were sticking out of its skull, and the horned tail had become a white and fluffy rabbit’s tail. Daphne giggled slightly at the sight, and retreated, causing a number of Slytherins to stare at her in confusion. Remus was impressed by the multiple changes. Daphne Greengrass was obviously a girl of great focus and skill.

Draco Malfoy was next, but as he stepped forward, Remus could see the sweat shining on his forehead. He was clearly extremely nervous. Remus stepped forward, but before the distorted Chimaera could catch sight of Draco, he fled. In his haste, he knocked the two students standing behind him to the floor. They fell forward. It was Harry and Hermione.

Remus, at first, was somewhat pleased. Even if Harry’s Boggart was Voldemort or something equally disturbing, perhaps even his guardian attacking him, (it sounded possible from Albus’s description of what had transpired in the Chamber of Secrets,) it would combine with Hermione’s Boggart, and be either too distorted for the class to figure out what it was or not in the least bit frightening.

What Remus had not been expecting was that the Boggarts of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger would be identical.

With a CRACK, the worst fear of the two friends materialized. Remus sucked in a breath, his eyes wide. Harry and Hermione, struggling to untangle themselves and get off the floor, froze in shock. Harry paled dramatically as he caught sight of it.

Standing over the Harry and Hermione was a figure of medium height, with jet-black hair that Remus had seen in two consecutive generations. He was dressed in black robes, and in his left hand was the same wand that Harry currently clutched tightly in his own fist. But as Remus stared, the reasons why this…creature haunted the memories of both students because painfully apparent. Instead of the bright emerald green eyes of Lily Potter, twin crimson slits glared down at the two on the floor. The face was contorted into a mocking sneer, and the figure laughed chillingly at the terrified thirteen-year olds.

The Boggart raised his wand and incanted two words. As the burst of green light exploded from the end of his wand, his sleeve slid down his left arm, revealing a patch of charred flesh that depicted a serpent slithering out the mouth of a skull.

The Dark Mark.

A number of people screamed. The rest seemed absolutely terrified. Even Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott looked somewhat alarmed.

Remus burst into action, flinging himself in front of his two stricken students, who were obviously in no state to defend themselves. The Boggart vanished with a CRACK, replaced by a silver orb. Remus actually didn’t mind the sight; it was the only time he could see a full moon without transforming. Before anyone could get a good look, he bellowed, “RIDDIKULUS!” and the orb became a punctured balloon. Remus guided it back to the chest, and stepped forward in front of the two students on the floor. “Alright, good job,” he said, his voice shaking somewhat. “Ten points to each of you that faced the Boggart. No homework.”

The class got the message, and most of the girls scampered from the room. Many gave Harry and Hermione, who were slowly getting to their feet, a strange or frightened look. As they turned to go, Remus took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, please stay.” No sooner had he said it than he heard a gasp and a frantic scurrying of feet.

Remus opened his eyes just in time to see Hermione flee from the classroom. Harry made to follow her, but Remus walked forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. Harry jumped in surprise, and glanced up at him. “Harry, I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’s frightened, but I’m sure she’s just gone somewhere to calm down. In the meantime…” He paused, lost for words, then finally found his voice. “I need you to tell what exactly that was.”

Harry stiffened, glanced out the door, then sighed, defeated. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes were tired and lifeless. “Alright.”