Chapter 32

Fortunately, the remainder of their day at Diagon Alley passed with a bit less drama. Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger arrived with Hermione and the Weasley children just after noon, and Harry and Arthur met them in front of Gringotts as planned.

Books and supplies were purchased as they fought through the crowds of school children and their parents. While Harry recognized many of the younger faces, he was pleasantly surprised by the occasional smile or greeting from fellow Hogwarts students. He didn’t remember being that popular before, which made it rather odd. Was it the Quidditch victories, or had some hint of the events surrounding Draco’s expulsion made it onto the grapevine?

At least no one here seemed to be bent on avenging that loss. While he saw several Slytherin students, most of them maintained carefully neutral expressions. No one from the Quidditch team or Draco’s inner circle made an appearance, for which he was glad.

Another deviation for this trip was a quick errand Harry and Arthur ran to Chisam’s Captivating Cases to look at some magical luggage. He definitely didn’t want a repeat of last term’s burglary — he was just lucky Draco hadn’t found the Glock, or, if he had, didn’t know what it was.

Just thinking about that made him shudder.

Knowing that this was one area in which he mustn’t cut any corners, Harry made sure to withdraw a goodly sum from his vault after the interview. Arthur Weasley eyed the bulging sack of Galleons curiously, but didn’t say anything as they left the lobby of Gringotts.

Chisam’s shopfront looked a bit dusty and out of date, but it was the only one on the Alley that specialized in magical luggage. There were some businesses on the continent that did custom orders by Owl Post, but Harry didn’t really want to return to Hogwarts without secure storage for his belongings. He kicked himself for not thinking about this sooner, but they’d been so busy while on holiday this year…

He shook his head to clear it of regrets, lips twisting at the irony of such a sentiment, and pushed open the door.

The shop was dimly lit, the walls lined with shelves holding trunks, cases, and valises of all shapes and sizes. A bell attached to the door rang softly as they entered, and a dark-haired young wizard in his twenties stepped out of the back room. “Can I help you?” he asked in a pleasant voice.

“Mr. Chisam?” Arthur asked curiously.

“My father,” the younger man explained. “I’m standing in for him while he and Mum are on holiday. Can I help you with something?”

“Er, yes,” Mr. Weasley answered. “My ward here had his trunk broken into last term, and we’re looking for something a bit more secure.”

Harry barely followed the conversation, as his eyes drifted toward a dusty black trunk that had four identical combination latches holding the lid shut. A vague memory stirred at the back of his mind. “What kind of trunk is that?” he asked, pointing toward the one that had seized his interest.

“Ah,” Chisam the younger exclaimed, “I’m afraid that may be a bit out of your budget. That’s one of the smaller Auror models. Extremely secure, but a bit pricey you know. We have…”

“Why does it have four locks?” Harry asked suddenly, as he remembered a larger version that had belonged to a certain retired Auror.

The clerk seemed a bit taken aback by the question. “Well, it’s considerably larger on the inside than the outside, and depending on which lock is opened first, you can access four different coexisting storage spaces.”

Harry, his suspicions confirmed, nodded happily. “How much?” he asked.

Mr. Chisam sighed and quoted a figure. “As you can see,” he added reluctantly, “it’s not really priced for the student market.”

“If you can add a charm that will let me tell when someone’s been tampering with it, you have a deal.”

Arthur didn’t say or ask anything, other than looking vaguely amused, as Harry and Mr. Chisam haggled over the minor details. But as they left the shop, he asked in a low voice, “I assume there’s a purpose behind this?”

Harry nodded. “I still have a few things I need to keep secure,” he answered cryptically. “And with the extra spaces… well, I’m sure it will come in handy. We can move things forward a bit without revealing too much to our room-mates.”

Arthur nodded slowly, digesting this. “Well, I suppose this would be a good investment for the future, if you plan to travel when this is all over.”

Harry shrugged. “I’m not really thinking that far ahead, but you are right.”

Arthur frowned, but didn’t say anything.

In fact, they were both quiet until they rejoined the group led by Molly and the Grangers. The rest of their expedition passed as usual, though Harry did spend most of the remaining galleons at Flourish & Blotts. The manager also gave him a hefty discount after Harry showed him how to calm down the animated copies of the Monster Book of Monsters. Harry couldn’t help but smile as he stroked the spine of the copy a scared-looking Hufflepuff purchased, lulling it into somnolence. Hagrid had assigned this book, so it looked like their revelation of the true monster from the Chamber had cleared his name in this timeline as well.

At one point, Harry thought he saw Augusta Longbottom’s vulture hat sticking up from the press of people near Gringotts, but he didn’t say anything. Luna was with them, and seemed to be a bit cheerier than before, but the letters she exchanged with Neville had come less frequently as his grandmother seemed to monopolize more and more of his time. At least that’s what Neville implied in his last letter. In any case, Harry didn’t want another public confrontation with Neville’s gran until he had a better handle on things. They’d see their friend soon enough on the Express.

Of course, as soon as she got him semi-alone, Molly asked him how things had gone with Rita Skeeter. Unfortunately, Harry’s reply of “about how I expected,” wasn’t as reassuring a response as she seemed to be hoping for. Harry also noticed the concerned glance she shot at Arthur. He wasn’t that good at reading this byplay, but he got the impression she was now just as disturbed as her husband. He wondered if there would be another long conversation after dinner that evening.

OoOoO

Albus Dumbledore slowly put down his copy of the special edition of the Daily Prophet. His eyes stared off into space as he frowned and he opened his desk drawer and retrieved a light blue potion. Madam Pomfrey had presented him with a set of mild pain-relieving potions after Minerva had seen him rub at his temples one time too many during a staff meeting. Even with his glasses, he was occasionally subject to a touch of eyestrain, and reviewing the joint budget allocations seemed to be quite sufficient to present him with a pounding headache.

But his current migraine had nothing to do with finances.

He barely registered the taste as he drank the potion, his mind still trying to make sense of everything he’d just read. The boy’s statements were true, perhaps too much so. His bluntness, recorded with great glee by Ms. Skeeter’s quill, was going to cause all manner of problems, both for the boy and for himself.

But the Headmaster was forced to admit that Harry’s rage was more than understandable. He and his friends had been targeted quite deliberately last term, victims of a plot that nearly cost Harry and the Weasley girl their lives. His violent response to the ambush at the end of the term made even more sense in that context, and he began to wish he’d handled things differently.

Harry’s response to these attacks seemed somewhat childish… publicly calling out the Dark-aligned pure-blood families like the Malfoys, attacking those he blamed for not having done more in years past. While his anger was justifiable, Albus Dumbledore did not see what the boy hoped to gain in doing all this. When he returned to Hogwarts he’d be an even bigger target than before, and not only from Voldemort’s former servants. The Ministry would not take this lying down, by any means. He did not look forward to his next meeting with Cornelius — he had no doubt the man would suspect him of playing a role in this. He’d resented Albus not allowing Harry to become a ward of the Ministry after the deaths of his parents, and this interview would, to him, be a justification of his most paranoid fears.

There was little doubt in Professor Dumbledore’s mind that this would drive a wedge between Hogwarts and the Ministry. But what he couldn’t fathom was why this was happening.

OoOoO

Hermione stayed at The Burrow that night, sharing Ginny’s room. In the interests of both convenience and security, the Weasleys offered to bring the Muggle-born girl with them to catch the Hogwarts Express. Since they still had no idea who’d sent the Dementors, Harry could find no fault in their logic.

Molly Weasley was a bit old-fashioned in many ways, and seemed to feel more comfortable drafting the girls to pitch in for dinner. Since Luna had gone home for one last dinner with her father, this meant Hermione received an impromptu review on household charms. Harry was quietly amused, watching Hermione’s feminist sensibilities go to war with her desire to learn new things.

Dinner was prepared without too much drama and, as he expected, afterward he was asked to stay in the kitchen to discuss the interview. He knew Molly likely wouldn’t approve of some of the things he’d done, but he did catch her a little off balance when he asked that Percy be present for the discussion.

Harry was also inwardly pleased that Sirius was lingering around the kitchen as well. The Weasleys may be his legal guardians, but his godfather was taking his responsibility quite seriously.

By the time he was done explaining his reasons for the pre-emptive strike, Mrs. Weasley wasn’t completely convinced, but admitted she could see the sense of his plan. Percy was disturbed to hear of how far the Ministry had sunk in the future timeline, but he did ask a relevant question.

“Why didn’t you discuss this with us ahead of time, if you were planning to do it all along?” he asked in that fussy tone that seemed to drive his brothers wild.

Fortunately, Harry wasn’t his brother. “I wasn’t sure I would be able to do it, not at first. Rita was far more cooperative than I expected. This won’t work if she distorts or blunts my words — I made some very specific accusations that will be hard to directly refute. But if she wasn’t sincerely cooperative, well, it would have been wasted effort.”

Percy nodded slowly as he digested this. Sirius’s tight grin needed no explanation.

Eventually, Harry was off the hook and sent off to bed for the early start they had tomorrow. As he passed Ginny’s door, he thought he heard muted voices. Shaking his head, he continued on toward the room he shared with Ron.

Girl talk; he was probably better off not knowing.

OoOoO

When they arrived the next day at King’s Cross, Harry was a little surprised to see Aurors stationed all around the platform. A pair of very serious-looking men stared at them as they passed through the barrier, and Harry had to resist the urge to slip his wand into his hand.

Arthur, who’d taken the day off to drive them in to London, was grim-faced, but didn’t appear to be surprised. Harry caught his eye and raised an eyebrow.

“There’ve been rumours in the Daily Prophet,” he murmured as he bent down to straighten Harry’s new trunk. “Sirius Black has been reported to be skulking around Hogsmeade and was once seen near the train station.”

Harry frowned. He knew those sightings to be false — Sirius hadn’t stirred from The Burrow since his close call on Harry’s birthday, mostly at Harry’s insistence. Someone was planting those rumours for their own purposes. He just didn’t know why. What he did know was that he was very glad Arthur had talked Sirius into staying at The Burrow. Even as Padfoot, it would have been far too risky for him to accompany them.

Under the watchful eyes of the Aurors, their goodbyes were quieter and shorter than they might have been. Harry’s uneasiness seemed to be contagious.

By unspoken agreement, they all moved toward the train as a group. Even on the crowded platform, Harry noted with pride, they all stayed together. Aside from keeping an eye on the Aurors, Harry also tried to find Neville or Augusta in the crowd. But his search proved fruitless by the time they boarded.

To their surprise, the last compartment was already occupied. Professor Lupin was there, a new valise stowed in the overhead luggage shelf. Harry smiled at their mentor, but his grin grew even wider when he saw who Remus had been speaking to.

“Neville!” a mixture of voices exclaimed, making the stocky boy jump. Harry wondered fleetingly if being isolated all summer had affected their friend’s confidence.

Ron, of course, broke the ice in his usual manner.

“Good to see you, mate. Now give me a hand with the trunks.”

Harry stifled a snicker and Hermione sighed, but Ron’s demand seemed to snap Neville out of it. In short order, they had everyone’s luggage stowed… but then the compartment grew quiet as they all looked at each other.

Harry was about to open his mouth when Luna beat him to it.

“I’m sorry about your summer, Neville,” she said in a very small voice.

Neville frowned and his mouth dropped open for a moment before he spoke.

“Like I told you before,” he finally said, “it’s not your fault. This is just something I have to work out with my gran.”

“But if I hadn’t—” she began before Neville cut her off, something Harry ordinarily never saw the boy do.

“You had no way of knowing,” the dark-haired boy insisted. “I didn’t see this coming and I grew up with her. So, stop it,” he demanded. “Er, please?”

Harry was uncomfortably reminded of a conversation from summer of last year…

Luna bit her lip and looked down, nodding.

Harry guessed he was seeing a replay of their letters, but it was still somewhat painful to watch. Professor Lupin watched the whole thing with a slight smile, making Harry wonder how long Remus and Neville had talked before they arrived.

The train whistle blew again, signalling the last call for passengers. Everyone took a seat. Harry noticed Remus had today’s Daily Prophet, so he angled for the spot next to the man, wondering if the interview had been printed yet.

Ginny flounced down between him and the window, but it was her elbow that got his attention as he was turning toward Remus. Harry turned back and saw Neville softly pat the bench next to him as he looked at Luna with one eyebrow raised. The blond girl nodded and took her seat next to him.

Ginny sighed happily and Harry suppressed a grin of his own. Luna had been unusually apprehensive for most of the summer, so it was good to see that her fears seemed, for the most part, to be unfounded.

His good mood became a bit strained as he read the headlines over Remus’ elbow.

“Boy Who Lived Attacks Ministry, Pure-bloods.”

Harry suppressed his habitual annoyance at the title society seemed overjoyed to bestow upon him. He supposed it would rankle less if it had been based on something he’d actually done, or even remembered. At his snort of amusement, Remus folded the paper and Harry apologized for reading over his arm.

The professor gave him a tired grin. “Here,” he said, handing Harry the paper. “I’m a bit tired, as you can guess, so I’ll just take a nap.”

Harry nodded slowly. Last night had been a full moon, so he was wondering why Professor Lupin was riding the Express. Harry knew that Professor Dumbledore began supplying him with Wolfsbane Potion as soon as he had accepted the position at Hogwarts, but even when kept artificially calm, the transformation itself was physically draining. “Go ahead,” Harry said earnestly. “I’m surprised you didn’t go on ahead to the castle.”

“Normally I would,” Remus replied, cracking a wan smile. “But the Headmaster asked that a couple of professors ride with the Express, just in case.”

Harry frowned. “Is it these stories about Sirius Black that have him concerned?” he whispered. “Surely he doesn’t believe…”

Remus shook his head. “No, he doesn’t. But others do. And there is a lot of pressure being brought to bear. Some measures…” He shook his head as he yawned widely. “Pardon me. I’ll get up when the cart comes by and check in with Professor Sprout. In the meantime, I’d ask that you and your friends keep your eyes open. If anything, and I mean anything, odd occurs, please wake me immediately.”

Harry nodded firmly. He was touched when he realized why Remus had chosen to sit in their usual car. They’d be his eyes while he recovered from his monthly ordeal. “You can count on us,” Harry said.

“I know I can,” Remus said as he settled back in his seat and drifted off.

Out of deference for their tutor’s slumber, they decided to forgo their normal game of Exploding Snap. Instead, they either read quietly or gazed out the windows as the Express drove north under the increasingly overcast skies.

OoOoO

Harry tried not to think too much about the ‘some measures’ Remus had mentioned in passing. He had a feeling he’d find out all too soon.

Instead he tried to read ahead for his lessons, which was easier said than done. Ancient Runes Made Easy seemed anything but, and Numerology and Gramatica wasn’t exactly light reading either.

All the same, it was the first time he’d been exposed to something he didn’t at least half-remember from his older self’s memories. Learning something completely new would be a challenge, which was part of the reason why he’d been so interested in signing up for different electives this time around.

The other part was a little more practical. When they’d embarked on the ill-fated Horcrux Hunt, Hermione insisted on bringing a couple of her NEWT-level textbooks. He and Ron acquiesced, more out of deference to their friend’s bookish nature than anything else. It wasn’t until she began creating customized versions of different charms and spells that they realized that her wishes were rooted in wholly practical ground.

Being able to retrieve a Horcrux without losing a limb was more than enough to make a believer out of Harry.

Hermione was just a trifle smug as she explained how she used what she learned in two of her favourite classes to calculate the wand motions, incantations, and other configurations necessary to change a simple cutting charm into a spray of razor-sharp shards of magical energy. Her new version, though far more destructive, was also much more draining. But that was the trade-off, she’d explained to them. The real science of spell creation was to get the maximum effect for the least energy and effort. Harry thought it sounded more like an art, the way she described it, but he wasn’t about to argue with the smartest person he knew.

They still had a little time while Voldemort didn’t have a body… a little longer before the second war truly started. Harry hoped that he and the others, working with Hermione, might give them more of an edge before things came to a head.

OoOoO

Between trying to get a head start on Arithmancy, subtly watching Neville and Luna quietly converse, and occasionally dozing off, time passed quickly for Harry as the Hogwarts Express drove north.

The skies overhead grew steadily darker and more overcast, and he tried to suppress a shudder. He had an idea of the ‘measures’ the Ministry was taking, but he hoped he was wrong.

As the rain began and the late afternoon became as dark as twilight, Harry stared apprehensively at the windows. Still, the train continued moving, and his heart began to lighten. They were well past the point where the Dementors had stopped them the first time around when he let out a relieved sigh.

Ginny looked at him curiously, but didn’t ask.

The sight of familiar hills in the distance made Harry smile — they were near their destination.

At first, Harry thought they were slowing for the Hogsmeade station, but the train was braking too much, too early for that to be the case. The train came to a halt a little more than a mile away from Hogsmeade. He peered out the window, dreading what he would discover.

When dark-cloaked figures began to emerge from the misty gloom, Harry frantically reached for the wand strapped to his wrist. But a sudden thought stopped him. Conjuring a Patronus here and now would lead to far too many questions that he didn’t want to answer — even from Remus.

As the Dementors approached, a chill seemed to seep through the windows to find a home in Harry’s bones. Despite that, he tried to make himself relax. Professor Lupin and Professor Sprout were with the train for a reason. The Dementors were only supposed to be looking for Sirius Black.

Harry deliberately took his hand off his wand and began concentrating on reinforcing his Occlumency barriers. He hoped that would at least make it harder for the creatures to dredge up his worst memories.

But there were just so many for them to choose from…

Harry stumbled back to his seat. “I’m not feeling too well,” he murmured as the lights switched off. Faintly at first, but growing ever louder, he heard the murmur of voices wailing with grief and loss, punctuated by explosions. One of those voices, he knew, was his own. He tried to sink deeper and deeper within himself, isolating his mind, protecting it. But the sounds grew steadily louder.

He felt Ginny’s hand on his arm as a more personal darkness claimed him.

OoOoO

When he regained consciousness, the lights were on again and the train felt like it was just slowing to a stop. He blinked and heard Ginny let out a sigh of relief.

“He’s awake now,” she announced in a hoarse whisper.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Professor Lupin asked, leaning over him with a concerned expression on his face.

Harry nodded and slowly sat up.

“Here, eat all of this,” Lupin said in a no-nonsense tone of voice as he handed Harry a large bar of Honeydukes’ chocolate.

Harry accepted the bar without expression. He blinked and snapped his head up, glancing at his friends. All were present and accounted for within the car.

“They’re all right, Harry,” Professor Lupin assured him. “You had, by far, the worst reaction.”

Harry sighed. “Without the wards in the way… I heard them dying,” he whispered.

Lupin’s face went grey, but he just nodded as this seemed to confirm what he suspected. Hermione’s swift intake of breath was shockingly loud in the silence. Only the low murmur of passengers in neighbouring cars reminded them of where they were.

Ginny’s hand tightened on Harry’s and he wasn’t embarrassed to realize that she’d been holding it all this time. He squeezed back before letting go. His fingers mechanically tore open the paper on the chocolate. It wasn’t until the warmth began to spread from his stomach that he realized how cold he’d been.

He looked up when Hermione cleared her throat. Like the others, she was still looking a little washed out, but her jaw was set in a determined line. “I think we should all practice a bit more on the Patronus Charm,” she said firmly.

No one disagreed.

OoOoO

The Gryffindor Six, as they came to be known, were still a bit subdued when they parted company from Professor Lupin and made their way to one of the carriages for the short ride to the castle. Fortunately, no one insisted that Harry needed to visit Madam Pomfrey, or otherwise made a big deal about his passing out. Slipping into a sort of trance was a bit less embarrassing than collapsing in a fit, but the fact remained that, without his Patronus, he was much more susceptible to Dementors than his friends.

Most of their fellow students also seemed less than pleased at encountering the creatures. Several of the younger students were still visibly upset, or appeared afraid. Not that they didn’t have good reason.

Harry’s spirits didn’t completely revive until dinner, when Dumbledore’s announcements began. The Headmaster’s displeasure at having Dementors near his school was quite apparent to Harry. Dumbledore’s warnings about the foul creatures surrounding the grounds and patrolling Hogsmeade didn’t reassure the frightened students in the slightest. Harry could pick up a few faint flashes of anger in those twinkling blue eyes and knew he’d been forced to accept them, just as before. He hoped no one was foolish enough to try and sneak past the quartet guarding the gates in this timeline.

Harry wondered if he could see the Headmaster’s anger easier now or maybe it was because the old man knew the so-called ‘threat’ posed by Sirius Black was a fabrication.

In any event, Dumbledore had his professional demeanour firmly in place when he announced the new faculty members. The reactions to these announcements, however, varied widely.

When it was announced that Professor Emeritus Horace Slughorn was returning to teach Potions, there was scattered applause from all tables. Harry had no doubt that many students had parents who were protégés of Slughorn — the man’s contacts were scattered far and wide throughout Wizarding Society, and those parents no doubt alerted their children to the opportunities he represented. For his own part, Harry made a show of politely clapping his hands. For an instant, the round little man caught Harry’s eye, and the Boy That Lived knew he’d been marked. He chuckled. Smarminess aside, anything would be better than Snape.

That good mood improved further when Professor Dumbledore announced Hagrid’s appointment as professor for Care of Magical Creatures. Harry stood up as he applauded, followed by his friends, and soon most of the Gryffindor table had joined in. Hagrid’s face was red as a tomato by the time they’d quieted down.

The introduction of Remus Lupin was curiously mixed as well. As with Hagrid, the Slytherin table seemed determined to ignore him, while the Gryffindors acknowledged him as a former alumnus. Several of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who’d seen him handle the Dementors were likewise enthusiastic in their endorsement of the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

After the meal, they sought out Hagrid to congratulate him on his new position.

“It’s all thanks you,” he said thickly as he gently patted Harry’s shoulder, nearly driving him to his knees. “With you lot discoverin’ what really happen wit’ th’ Chamber and all…” He visibly caught himself before he said more than he should. “Well, Professor Dumbledore lobbied the Board of Governors to reverse my expulsion. Great man, he is! I can even get a wand now, if I want to.”

“Are you?” Harry asked quickly.

“I dunno,” Hagrid said, frowning uncertainly. “It’s been a long time since my last classes, I probably forgot everthin’…”

“Hagrid,” Hermione interjected. “That’s no reason not to try! It’s not your fault you were wrongfully accused, and it’s despicable how you were punished with no real proof… But it will be your fault if you don’t do something about it now. Don’t you want to learn magic?” she asked. Harry noticed Ron ducking his head down, refusing to meet the eyes of their classmates as they filed past them toward the dormitories.

Hermione was on a tear, but Harry knew she was right. “She’s got a point there, Hagrid. If you don’t learn magic now, then Tom Riddle will have won in the end, right?”

Hagrid’s eyes flashed darkly at the mention of his old classmate. “Yer righ’, both of ye. I’ll talk to Professor Dumbledore right now.”

Harry smiled widely as he watched Hagrid march back up to the head table. Though their words were inaudible, Harry noticed the Headmaster’s eyebrows lift slightly in surprise, and then a faint smile creased his face. He nodded slowly as he spoke, but his eyes wandered past the bulky form of his groundskeeper… and found Harry’s. Dumbledore’s face didn’t change expression, but he did make a fractional nod before Harry turned away.

Not for the first time, Harry wished his own Legilimency was up to the task of reading the old wizard’s thoughts. Did he understand? Was he finally getting with the program? Or was he just trying to draw Harry out? But there were no easy answers for the Boy Who Lived, so he was left frozen with indecision.

“You seem to have had quite an effect on him,” a quiet voice observed.

Harry flinched in spite of himself, spinning around to see Professor Slughorn standing right behind him. The old man’s gooseberry-coloured eyes seemed to bore into Harry’s, but he didn’t feel the slightest touch of Legilimency. Then a smile lifted the corners of the huge silvery moustache. “It’s odd to finally be meeting you at last,” Slughorn said in an unctuous tone.

“Er, yeah,” Harry stammered.

“Don’t worry,” the short little man assured him. “I’m over here to warn you off about pursuing any vendettas against members of my house, and threaten to have you removed from Hogwarts if there are any more incidents like last year.”

Harry’s uneasy smile froze in place as Ron began to sputter.

“Of course,” Slughorn continued, “that’s what I let them believe I was doing when I came over here. You know, line in the sand and all that. I taught that same technique to Madam Bagnold back before she became Minister. She didn’t forget it either — gave me advance notice on all kinds of things. Saved me a Galleon or two on my investments, let me tell you!”

Harry blinked. A ruse. He wondered if his mind was still foggy from the Dementors.

“Anyway, I’ve let it be known that I’m going to have it out with you, and when I hold the next House meeting, they’ll know that I got you to agree to suspend all hostilities, as long as they don’t start anything new. That is what Professor Dumbledore said you wanted, yes? To be left alone?” Slughorn waggled his eyebrows in such a comical fashion that Harry heard Ginny squeak beside him.

Harry nodded. “That’s all we’ve ever—”

“Good! Good!” Slughorn enthused. “Of course, after a couple of weeks, we’ll have to work on some social activities to thaw out relations between Slytherin and Gryffindor. You’ll work with me on that, right, Harry?” Slughorn asked in an innocently earnest tone.

Harry sighed. He knew from the moment he wrote the retired Potions Master that this would be a consequence. There was no escaping the Slug Club. “We’ll be happy to, Professor. All of us.”

“That’s the spirit, Harry!” Slughorn commended him. “People are already talking about you and your friends. ‘Gryffindor Six’, ‘top marks in their year’, I tell you, Harry, with my help, you’ll go far!” Then he cleared his throat and glanced back toward the Slytherin table. Harry could see several people watching this conversation with varying degrees of subtlety. “Right!” Slughorn continued in a louder voice. “See that it doesn’t!”

With chin raised, and moustache aquiver, the Head of Slytherin house returned to his table and led them out of the Great Hall.

“D’you think any of them fell for that?” Ron asked dubiously.

“They followed Draco, didn’t they?” Harry shot back. Ron shrugged.

Mindful of the milling crowds of students, they were quiet as they made their way up to the Gryffindor tower. Percy gave them a small nod as he concluded his lecture to the first-year students. Harry wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but the Head Boy didn’t seem to act nearly as pompous as he remembered from the original timeline. Had Harry’s revelations about corruption within the Ministry shaken the boy’s confidence, at least a little? If this was the effect, he wasn’t really sure he minded… he’d also have to keep an eye on Fred and George as well. He knew the estrangement between Percy and his family wasn’t entirely one-sided.

Harry shook his head as he almost stumbled going up the stairs. There would be time enough to think about that tomorrow, perhaps when he was feeling a bit sharper. He nodded hello to Seamus and Dean as they entered the third-years’ room, but made a bee-line for his new trunk. He was barely able to refrain from yawning as he dressed for bed and lay down. The low murmur of Ron and Seamus talking Quidditch as he pulled the curtains shut was almost soothing, in an odd way.

Harry soon discovered that there was at least one positive side to the ordeal he had undergone on the train… he was so exhausted, mentally and emotionally, that he was asleep the instant his head touched the pillow and had no dreams at all that he could remember. He’d wonder, later, if the Dementors had exhausted the nightmares, at least for a night.

OoOoO

Harry was still a little groggy the following morning as he made his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. For some reason he’d been unable to wake up early to work out, and Ron and the others decided to let him have a bit of a lie in. He knew they were just worried about him after his reaction to the Dementors, but he still felt a bit crabby about the whole thing. Still, there was nothing to do about it now. His class schedule said he had Arithmancy first thing in the morning, so he wanted to make sure he had a good start on the day.

Ron, of course, took this idea to ridiculous extremes, falling on his breakfast like a starving wolf. Hermione looked faintly nauseated as their friend quickly worked his way through a heavily-laden plate. Although her scolding was fairly mild, she rolled her eyes when Ron protested that he was ‘still a growing boy’.

Harry had to suppress a grin. Lame or not, Ron’s words were truer than anyone else knew. In time he’d be even taller than Bill, but with Charlie’s husky build — a born Keeper, as he’d said on more than one occasion. There was some irony in the youngest Weasley boy growing up to be the largest, not that any of his family had been around to appreciate the humour.

Harry scowled and bit off the end of a sausage. That was not a productive line of thought to be pursuing. He was so preoccupied trying to lighten his mood that he almost missed the glances exchanged by Hermione and Ginny.

Knowing he was barely fit to talk to, Harry occupied himself with his breakfast, letting his eyes roam around the hall. Most of the students seemed subdued as well, though whether the impending classes or the Dementors were to blame was anybody’s guess. At the head table, Slughorn was oddly jovial, sitting next to Dumbledore and holding forth about something. Harry guessed that his house meeting last night must have gone fairly well. The other professors seemed to be quietly talking amongst themselves as well, all except for Hagrid.

For some reason the new Care of Magical Creatures professor seemed preoccupied, almost… pensive? For the bluff and hearty groundskeeper that was a most unusual look. From what Harry remembered, he should have been very eager to begin his new teaching career, and had even lined up a special treat for his students… Buckbeak the hippogriff.

Harry blinked and set his fork down. “With Malfoy gone, that can’t happen again, right?” he mused. “Still, it can’t hurt to take precautions, can it?”

Harry hurriedly finished his food and was up and out of his seat as Hagrid left the Great Hall early, his breakfast half-eaten. Coming up behind the large man in the corridor, he coughed and asked, “Looking forward to your first class, Professor Hagrid?” he asked.

“Oh! Hello there, Harry,” Hagrid said, half-turning. “Yeah, got ever’thing lined up. Going ter give them a special surprise today too, get things started off with a bang.” He paused. “I kind of wish you lot were able to be there, seeing as how you made it possible,” he concluded sadly.

Harry felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. He hadn’t thought about it, in his enthusiasm to learn Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, but not taking Care of Magical Creatures would have its own effect on things. Evidently, their friendly presence at that first class had encouraged Hagrid more than they knew. “Sorry about that,” he muttered.

“Oh, don’ mind me,” Hagrid said. “Ye had no way of knowing.”

Harry silently cursed himself as he forced a smile onto his face. “I suppose,” he said. “So what is the big surprise?” he asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

Hagrid quickly looked left and right. “I got some hippogriffs from the school herd, including my favourite, Buckbeak. They got a real taste for rodents and after fumigating the dungeons right before start of term, I had enough rats and such to get them willing to meet my classes today.”

Harry blinked in surprise at the thought of Hagrid needing to bribe his subjects, and raised his estimation of Buckbeak’s intelligence a few more notches. “Er, that will be brilliant!” he enthused in what he hoped was a believable manner. “But… didn’t I read that hippogriffs are a bit ticklish if shown disrespect? It might be trouble if someone starts acting up, you know.”

Hagrid nodded. “I’ll explain to them before hand that y’ got ter show a hippogriff proper respect. Buckbeak’s a good lad, as long as they don’t insult him or the others…” his voice trailed off as Harry gave him an extremely dubious expression. “You don’t think someone would deliberately act out, do ye, Harry?”

Harry shrugged. “I’d just be careful, that’s all. Some people were raised to think that magical creatures are just stupid beasts, so showing proper respect to this Buckbeak will be well beyond them. And if one of them got hurt, even if it was their own fault, do you think the Ministry would give Buckbeak a fair hearing?”

It was slightly dirty pool, playing on Hagrid’s own mistreatment after he was falsely accused of opening the Chamber of Secrets, but it was effective. “Ye got a point there, Harry. I’ll keep a tight rein on things. Anyone acting up will get sent straight ter Filch, ye can count on that.” Then Hagrid smiled. “Ye say ye read about hippogriffs?”

“Yeah, someone got me the Monster Book of Monsters for my birthday,” Harry replied with a smile.

Hagrid reddened a bit. “Well, if you want, you can come down after classes and I’ll introduce ye,” he offered tentatively.

Harry nodded. “Do you mind if the others come?” he asked.

Hagrid looked a little surprised. “No, of course not. All of ye are welcome,” he assured Harry.

Harry grinned again as students began to fill the corridor from the Great Hall. “I need to get to class, but we’ll see you this afternoon,” he promised.

OoOoO

Even after lunch, Harry’s head was still spinning. There was a lot more to Arithmancy than he’d anticipated, and Professor Vector promised to be quite a taskmaster. She’d even assigned an essay the first class, asking them to fill two feet of parchment listing out the reasons why they wanted to study Arithmancy, and what they expected to do with what they’d learn.

Ron looked particularly dubious about this, as some of his major reasons he didn’t really care to discuss with a witch as formidable in her own way as Professor McGonagall. It wasn’t until Harry suggested discussing battlefield tactics and duelling strategies that his friend’s expression had gone from panicked to thoughtful.

Hermione, of course, was right in her element, and had apparently already composed most of her answer in her head before they finished eating. Neville was quiet, but didn’t seem overly perturbed about the assignment. Ginny and Luna, clearly not wanting to be completely left out, asked quite a few questions about the new class and its professor. Harry had little doubt that one or both of them would be taking it next year as well.

The third years had also had Transfiguration that morning, and while it was more familiar, Professor McGonagall was never what one would consider an ‘easy’ instructor. At least their summer practice had kept their wand-work sharp.

They made plans to get the study group together after dinner, all the better to start on their new assignments. However, before the evening meal, they all paid a visit to Hagrid. The early evening air was still quite raw from the previous day’s storms, leaving their breath misting in the damp.

Fortunately, when they arrived at the groundskeeper’s hut, he’d already had the kettle on. The strong hot tea he served was welcome after being outside, and Harry discovered, to his amazement, that Hagrid’s ubiquitous rock cakes were somewhat edible when you dipped a corner in one’s tea and nibbled carefully.

“I’m glad you said that this morning,” Hagrid said as he finished pouring.

“Oh?” Harry asked.

“Aye. Crabbe and Goyle started acting up this afternoon. One of them said something he shouldn’t have, and if I hadn’t gotten between them and old Bucky…” he said, plucking at a fresh rent in the sleeve of his moleskin coat, “Well, it might have been bad.”

Harry winced. “I always thought those two were lacking in good sense.”

Hagrid nodded. “Well, the two of them will spending their evenings with Filch for the next couple of weeks. Can’t have students not respectin’ the creatures they study. Ain’t safe for nobody when that happens.” He shook his head. “They even complained ter Professor Dumbledore about th’ detention, and we had a meetin’ about it.”

“What did he say?” Hermione asked, concerned.

Hagrid grinned suddenly, his great white teeth gleaming amidst the tangled black beard. “Great man, Professor Dumbledore is, great man. He told them they’d been very foolish to disregard my warnings, and since I got hurt protecting them from their own foolishness, then they might even owe me a life debt.”

Ron and Neville both let out strangled barks of laughter. Ginny held hers in, but her eyes were flashing with amusement in a way that was rather distracting.

“Of course,” Hagrid continued, “I knew Buckbeak wouldn’t really hurt anyone, so I couldn’t press a claim, but that shut them up right on the spot. And before we left, Professor Slughorn added another week of detention, on account of them embarrassing the Slytherin house.”

Most of his friends looked rather amazed at that, so Harry spoke up. “Professor Slughorn was Head of Slytherin before Professor Snape, and I think his policies were a bit different. He didn’t favour students from his own house quite so much. In fact, I found out that my mum was one of his favourites, and she was in Gryffindor.”

“Yer spot on about that, Harry,” Hagrid said, getting a little misty. “There was some folks who were a bit surprised at that, but yer mum had a way about her… People liked her in spite of themselves, an’ even those that didn’t, still respected her.”

Harry was caught completely off guard by Hagrid’s words, never having heard Lily Evans described in quite such a fashion before. He resolved on the spot that he would not let himself grow distant from the man who’d introduced him to the Wizarding world.

After tea, Hagrid led them out to the paddock and whistled for Buckbeak. After cautioning them again about showing respect, he led the reluctant hippogriff into the clearing. Harry stepped forward, somewhat confident, but still respectful. Cognizant that the poor creature had been stared at by Hogwarts students all day long, he dropped to one knee as he bowed, reasoning that a little extra respect couldn’t hurt. He knew all too well what it was like to be stared at all day.

Fortunately, everyone passed inspection and Buckbeak consented to a light currying. He might have been a little tired from the previous excitement, since he showed no desire to go flying this time around. Harry was just as relieved as he was disappointed. While it had been exciting enough in his borrowed memories, the air was growing chill and he had no desire to draw more attention onto himself if he could avoid it.

As they walked back to Hagrid’s hut, Hermione asked the large man what he had planned for his next class. Harry knew that being a professor was one potential career that the bushy-haired witch was considering, but after Hagrid’s remarks about Harry’s warning, he suspected that she had an ulterior motive.

Harry realized that Hermione must have read Hagrid’s textbook, or a similar book at some point, because she knew exactly what he was talking about when he mentioned bringing in a Niffler for the next class. Her motivations were a mystery, right up until she frowned.

“Hagrid?” she asked, “Nifflers are strongly attracted to shiny objects, aren’t they?”

“That’s right,” Hagrid nodded, pleased that she knew. “Should be quite a surprise when I show him digging up a Galleon I buried that morning.”

“What if some of the students are wearing jewellery? Won’t the Niffler become hard to control?” she asked, concerned. “There have been reports of them biting off rings and necklaces; someone could get hurt if you don’t warn them first.”

Hagrid frowned. “I hadn’t thought o’ that, Hermione,” he admitted. “It’s no wonder Professor McGonagall is always going on about how clever ye are.”

Hermione’s face went bright red, but Hagrid didn’t notice as he dug a grubby sheaf of parchments out of his pocket and carefully added notes with a quill that looked ridiculously small in his enormous fingers.

As they made their way back to the castle for dinner, Harry congratulated his friend. “That was a good thought there, Hermione,” he said.

She just shrugged. “I just don’t want to see Hagrid get into any trouble,” she said.

“Well, his students will be thanking you too,” Ron observed. “It’s kind of scary how things like that just never occurred to him.”

“Part of it isn’t his fault,” Harry insisted. “He’s just so… big… that things like an offended hippogriff just don’t seem like a problem to him.”

“That makes sense,” Neville said.

“Well,” Ginny added, “we have a standing invitation, so we can come out each week and ask him about what new creature he’s going to cover, and try to anticipate any problems like we did today.”

“We?” Ron asked weakly.

“Uhm,” Ginny temporized, “Hermione will. And we will keep her company while she does it,” she added with an impish grin.

Laughter trailed them back into the castle.

OoOoO

Potions class with Professor Slughorn was substantially different from what Harry’s friends had come to expect. Harry had already been thinking about teaching styles after their conversation with Hagrid, so he noticed a few things after they filed into the dungeon laboratory with the Slytherin third years.

Some things were the same, of course. The glares from Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle were just as venomous as Harry expected. What he didn’t expect was how Professor Slughorn segregated the two houses, pulled out his wand, and placed a magical barrier between the enemy camps.

“There have been reports,” he said in a serious tone at odds with his jovial features, “of rampant sabotage in this class. My predecessor’s notes were especially concerned with this year. As such, I will not tolerate any foolishness of that sort in my classroom. Some of the potions we will be brewing can be quite dangerous if tampered with, and I will not have any of my students reporting to the hospital wing if I can help it. Is that clear, Mr. Potter?”

Harry nodded gravely, as he struggled to keep a smile off of his face. In truth, most of the sabotaging was done by the Slytherins, though Draco and the others blamed the Gryffindors any time their potion came out less than perfect. Slughorn’s magical barrier would hinder Pansy and the rest far more than it would help them. But they couldn’t protest without revealing their previous lies. In short, it was brilliantly devious — aiding those Slughorn wished to curry favour with, and discreetly punishing those he didn’t wish to be seen as actively hindering.

No wonder he was head of Slytherin.

As the Slytherin students sat fuming, while most of the Gryffindors looked gobsmacked, the Potions master began lecturing. Or rather, he began chatting with them.

Instead of the demonstration potions Harry expected — perhaps he saved those for the N.E.W.T. level class — Professor Slughorn began by introducing himself and asking each member of the class a couple of questions about themselves. After each answer, he’d ask them a question or two regarding potion-making. Harry guessed that he was looking for potential contacts, as well as getting a feel for their general grasp of the subject matter. The interspersing of the academic with the personal also seemed to keep everyone slightly off-balance and, on the average, more attentive. In a way, Harry had to admire his style; Slughorn always seemed to keep a careful balance of self-interest with professional standards, never wholly discarding one for the other. It was almost artistic. Maybe his conduct was also a performance for the benefit of the young Slytherins he was responsible for…

If that was the case, Harry concluded, they could do far worse. Working to further one’s ambitions without harming the rest of society seemed to be beyond the capabilities of the Malfoys or the other dark pure-blood families… even if that lack of malignancy vastly improved their long-term prospects. Harry realized that Slughorn wanted to use him to further his own plans, but at the same time, the round little man would also do his best to manipulate things to Harry’s advantage. Mutually beneficial relationships were logically more viable in the long run. He didn’t necessarily trust the man to do anything that didn’t serve his own interests, but Harry would go out of his way to make sure that their interests remained congruent — which meant that Professor Slughorn would be looking out for them as much as himself.

Harry’s thoughts were cut off abruptly as his name was called. “So, Mister Potter,” Slughorn observed coolly, though his eyes seemed somewhat amused, “I understand you are quite active in the Duelling Association, yes?”

Harry nodded slowly.

“And I suppose you think potions are useless in such a venue?” Slughorn asked archly, causing several of the Slytherins, especially Pansy, to smirk as he put Harry on the spot.

“Absolutely not, sir,” Harry replied evenly. “Even Muggle soldiers have members of their combat units assigned to carry bandages and Muggle medicines. Potions are usually more reliable for curing burns and other types of spell-damage than medical charms, which can be quite tricky. If I was going into a situation where I was expecting a fight, I’d prefer to have a few common remedies and pain-relieving potions handy. Some potions can also be used in a more… direct… manner, if one can contrive an appropriate means of delivery. Even something as simple as Zonko’s Belching Powder can give you a decisive advantage — it’s hard to cast a spell when you are constantly belching.”

“I see,” Slughorn said, slightly nonplussed. “I understand you were raised by Muggles? What was that like?”

Harry frowned at the extremely personal question. “Rather unpleasant. My aunt and her family disliked my mother and hated the idea of magic. If it weren’t for meeting people like the Grangers, I might have ended up thinking rather poorly of Muggles as a whole.”

Slughorn blinked as he digested this, and then moved on to Ron. Harry had to suppress the urge to turn around and see who might be staring at him.

OoOoO

At lunch that day, Harry ate very little. Despite Ginny’s protests, he only picked at the small amount of food on his plate, and left early to go back to his room. Ron and Neville offered to take him to see Madam Pomfrey, but Harry just waved them off. “You go on to class,” he said, glancing over at Seamus. “If I’m not feeling better by dinner time, I’ll go see her myself.”

After they left, Harry stretched out on his bed. Unless something changed, the Boggart would be found in the staffroom again, inspiring Professor Lupin to use it for a demonstration. He had absolutely no desire to have any of his deepest fears paraded around for public display. The chances of revealing something disastrous were just too high. As much as he hated the idea of skiving off from Professor Lupin’s first class, it was really the only prudent thing to do, under the circumstances.

And so Harry occupied his time working on his Arithmancy homework until he actually dozed off. He awoke with a start at the sound of Ron’s voice.

“That was brilliant, mate,” the red-head enthused, “making that Death Eater’s mask slip down and cover his eyes, right before he fell on his arse!”

“She,” Neville corrected quietly.

“He, she, hard to tell under those robes,” Ron shrugged, frowning. “That Boggart looked so real, I almost lost my lunch when that spider appeared on my turn.”

“You still made its legs fall off,” Dean said. “I thought Lavender was going to scream when it rolled toward her,” he continued with a laugh.

“I suppose,” Ron agreed as he dumped his bag on his bed. “Harry, it’s too bad you missed Lupin’s first class. It was brilliant, he had a Boggart and showed us how to stop one and…”

Harry shrugged. “I wasn’t feeling too well earlier, probably wouldn’t have been a good idea,” he temporized. Neville gave him a quick look.

Ron frowned. “Oh, yeah. How’s your stomach now? You still look a little peaked. Do you need to…?”

Harry shook his head. “I think it was just something I ate. I’m actually a little hungry now.”

“Well good,” Ron said happily. “We’re just getting ready to go down to dinner now. We’ll get you fed up in a hurry.”

Harry shook his head ruefully as he got up and stretched. “You know, sometimes you sound so much like your mum that it’s scary.”

Ron’s indignant sputters continued all the way back down to the common room.

OoOoO

Professor Lupin seemed to accept Harry’s apologies for missing his class, and nothing more was said as they moved on to cover other Dark creatures. Examining his memories, it seemed to Harry that the Defence curriculum was covering a bit more spellwork than he originally remembered. Of course, Professor Lupin had some forewarning this time regarding the sad state of affairs left by his predecessors.

It was with great difficulty that Harry refrained from dwelling on the damage that affairs at Hogwarts had inflicted on Wizarding Britain. The curse on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position practically guaranteed that an entire generation had very little idea how to defend themselves against Voldemort’s followers or anyone else who came along. Snape’s policies regarding his N.E.W.T.-level Potions class also sharply limited the number of potential Aurors the Ministry could recruit.

Something General Hastings had once said stuck in Harry’s mind: “All real power flows from the end of a wand.” The weakness rotting away the core of society was concealed as long as Dumbledore was there to hold Voldemort in check — the only one he really feared. But once the Headmaster was gone, there wasn’t really anything to hold back the Darkness. The Order of the Phoenix tried, but they were more of an information-gathering auxiliary — they were better trained than most of the younger Aurors, but the same could be said of the students he trained in ‘Dumbledore’s Army’.

With Harry’s surety regarding Voldemort’s return, Professor Lupin also seemed to be aware of this danger. The snippets he overheard from Percy and the older students suggested that the genial-looking man was quite the taskmaster with the O.W.L.- and N.E.W.T.-preparation classes. They may have thought he was working solely to ensure they passed their exams, but Harry knew better. There was even a rumour that students sufficiently far behind on Defence were being strongly urged to join the Duelling Association to hone their practical skills.

With Professor Lupin’s attention focused on whipping the Defence classes into shape, Harry was a little surprised when he received a note at lunch the week after Hermione’s birthday.

            Please report to my quarters following your afternoon classes.

                                                 —R. J. Lupin

Harry showed up at the appointed time, though doing so did require reminding Ron that Lupin could be trusted, perhaps more than anyone else on staff. If he was going to write lines or serve detention for missing class, he didn’t want to do so with an audience, and he felt Professor Lupin would appreciate one even less.

But when Harry knocked, the man who opened the door didn’t seem angry or disappointed. “Ah, there you are,” he said with a genial smile. “Follow me and I will explain.” After locking his door, he led a confused Harry through the corridors to the Defence classroom.

Several of the student desks had been pushed aside, and a large packing case was sitting on top of the professor’s desk. It looked vaguely familiar and Harry felt his stomach drop.

“I’ll admit I was rather surprised when you were not in my first class,” Professor Lupin said quietly as he locked the door behind them. “From your records, you never missed a class unless forcibly restrained by Madam Pomfrey. It was then that I realized that you had somehow discovered, probably from Mr. Filch’s grumblings, that I was going to cover Boggarts.”

Harry opened his mouth, but was forestalled by Lupin’s dismissive gesture as he leaned against the doorframe.

“I can understand such a reaction,” Lupin continued. “In fact, I can appreciate your desire for some discretion. Some peoples’ deepest fears are worse than others, and perhaps shouldn’t be aired in public. If you’d faced a Boggart that turned into a representation of Voldemort, it might have caused a panic.” Lupin lightly placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “On the other hand, facing one’s fears can be therapeutic, in a way. I remember how you reacted to the training target, Harry, so I’m offering you a chance to do so in a private setting, and perhaps make up your class grade.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest. He really didn’t want to face a Boggart, even with an audience of one, but he didn’t know how to object without talking about… “Thank you, Professor Lupin,” he finally said in a low voice.

Lupin’s eyebrows knitted together, but Harry didn’t volunteer anything else. “Well, there’s another one in the case that we found in Mr. Filch’s office. You know the incantation is Riddikulus… Do you know what frightens you the most?”

Harry nodded slowly as he stepped forward into the area cleared of desks. But what form could a Boggart take to symbolize the immutability of fate? What colour was predestination? What hue futility?

He almost didn’t notice at first when Professor Lupin opened the case with a flick of his wand. He braced himself as something seemed to peer at him as the lid flew open…

Author Notes: Yes, it’s been a while. This story isn’t going away, but factors in the story, as well as outside situations have been holding it up a bit. I’m trying not to release any chapters smaller than 10,000 words, so it’s been a while. (My beta had a better idea for where to end this one, so I have a head start on chapter 33.) My blog has the progress meters for the chapters I’m currently working on, so you can check that if you are curious. The link is in my profile.

Regarding this chapter, I’ve been working on the pacing a bit. This chapter spans the time covered by chapters 4, 5, 6, & 7 of the Prisoner of Azkaban, with some groundwork laying, character development, and bit o’ magical action. Bit of a oops at the end there, eh?

And yes, I know magical trunks are a bit of a cliché, but really… Harry saw it used in book 4, he has a need for one and a lot of money… it would be stupid of him to ignore their existence, wouldn’t it? Sometimes a plot device becomes overused and clichéd simply because it makes sense. Hermione hitting the books to research a solution to a problem is just as much a cliché, isn’t it?