Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Beta: MetalCloud

Chapter 3: In Which Good Things End

The morning sun shone in through the window, as Harry awoke to the sound of his dorm mates shuffling around getting ready. With a yawn, he prepared for the day ahead.

While he, Ron, and Hermione, made their way down to breakfast, they chatted about various classes. They made their way into the Great Hall and sat down. A few minutes later, Neville came bumbling in, and he squeezed in across from Harry. Harry and Neville made eye contact, before immediately looking away. A flush filled Harry's face.

Hermione and Ron looked at the two of them with a question in their eyes.

"What was that about?" Hermione questioned, as Ron asked, "What's with him?"

"Nothing," Harry lied. His friends exchanged exasperated glances, but they let the subject drop.

Harry knew it wasn't nothing, as he recalled his last encounter with Neville a few days before.

It was early as usual, as he was changed in the bathroom. He had twisted around to view the scars on his back before reapplying Dissimulo. The spell fell every few weeks, as he didn't have the power to hold the spell consistently without breaks. Suddenly, the bathroom door had opened with a creak. Neville's pudgy hand rubbed at his eyes with tiredness apparent. Suddenly, Neville noticed someone else in the room, and froze at the sight. Harry was frozen for a moment in horror as Neville caught sight of the scars on his back. Suddenly, time started again, as Harry quickly covered his back, pulling his shirt back over his head. Neville still stood in the doorway, shocked at what he had seen.

"Harry! What happened?"

Harry froze, knowing this was the closest he had ever come to being discovered. "I…got hurt over the summer in a car accident. I got a bunch of stitches. It's healing up nice, don't you think?"

Neville seemed perplexed at the Muggle references before saying, "But Madame Pomfrey could have healed the scars. And why didn't you tell anyone you got hurt?"

"Ah, Neville,, it's embarrassing. I didn't want more scars, and I didn't want people making a big deal out of it. Madame Pomfrey would just hold me hostage anyways."

"Oh," Neville said, as Harry headed out of the room.

"Please don't tell anyone."

Neville nodded.

It seemed Neville was more embarrassed than he was, judging by Neville's current expression. However, Harry was mortified that someone had seen his injuries. He resolved to be extra careful with the disguise spell. Only letting it fall when he was in the privacy of a stall, locked, of course. He had taken a risk, and it hadn't been worth it. All he had to do now was hope that Neville kept his word.

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The days passed with nothing of consequence happening. The nights, however, were cause for concern. It was late at night in the middle of November, and it was an ordinary night, if ever there was one in a magical school. It was around one o'clock in the morning when a scream filled the room - a heart-wrenching wail that woke them all within an instant.

Seamus reached, half-asleep, for his wand.

Dean jerked straight awake.

Neville tumbled out of bed.

Ron looked back and forth wildly.

Harry screamed.

Ron jumped over to the bed and tried to shake Harry awake. "C'mon, mate. It's just a dream."

Neville stood hesitantly, unsure of what to do.

Seamus and Dean held back, watching in concern.

And Harry screamed.

Minutes later, though it seemed like hours, his screams died down slightly. Then they became half-crazed mumbles under his breath. "No, don't. No, please!"

It took Ron a moment to realize, but Harry was pleading. "No, please, don't. Please, I'll be quiet."

And then he appeared to awake. He backed up frantically when he saw the shadows leering in front of him. His eyes were wild and crazed, as he muttered, pleas of "No, don't. Sorry, please. Don't. No." They all were looking at him with a mixture of horror and confusion.

He backed up so much, he rammed into the headboard of the bed. This seemed to jolt Harry from the throes of his hallucinatory nightmare, as he suddenly blinked at them, quite like an owl. His face was pale and flushed at the same time. His brow was drenched with sweat. He fought to calm his breathing, as he tried to remember his location. Suddenly, the world slipped into focus, as Ron put on his glasses for him.

Ah. It was better to be blind, then.

Seamus, Dean, Neville, and Ron were all staring at him with complete bewilderment and concern.

"Erm…Harry?"

"Yeah," he gasped back. 'Breathe, breathe.'

"You awake?" Ron queried.

"Yes," Harry said, hugging at his shivering legs. 'I haven't screamed during nightmares for ages. I thought it would be safe to stop using the silencing charms. With all the trouble I'm having with the glamour spell, I can't afford to use excess magic.'

"You, okay?"

"No," he whispered in a small voice, not thinking.

Concernedly, Ron asked, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No," Harry said.

"Are you sure?" Neville piped in.

"Yes." Harry glared.

"Okay," Ron and Neville both said.

And that was that. Neville, Seamus, Dean, and Ron all went back to bed. Harry on the other hand unfurled himself, and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. It seemed to be becoming a night-time habit of his.

He thought about his nightmare. He didn't want to share it with them all, especially them. Ron, maybe, but Seamus? Neville? Dean? No. It was awful just thinking about it. Though, sharing it with Ron would be equally awful. Harry just didn't want to see the look on their faces if he told them. If he told them what he had dreamt of, everything would change. Nothing would remain the same.

So the rest of the boys fell to sleep, slightly concerned, but none the worse. Harry, however, stared at the ceiling above his bed. And he remembered.

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He remembered pain. It had happened just the previous summer. Uncle Vernon had given him an enormous list of chores. He had worked all day, with no breaks, no water, and no food, nothing. He worked, and he worked. But when Uncle Vernon came home, he still hadn't finished in time. The dream had been a bit of a blur, because the memory was too. All he remembered was being shoved into his bedroom, slammed into the barred window. Uncle Vernon was purple in the face, filled with rage and fury. His meaty hands surrounded Harry's neck, to the point where he couldn't breathe. He was given a moment of reprieve, when Uncle Vernon took his hands off, only to be dropped to the ground. He crumpled at the feat of his uncle. Then, Uncle Vernon took off his long leather belt. And it began. Again.

His legs were attacked with a surprising fortitude. Again. And again. And again. And again. Smack. Crack. Smack. Crack. He rolled onto his stomach, trying to escape and crawl away, but that just gave Uncle Vernon a new place to injure. His back was whacked and hit without reprieve.

Eventually, a higher being granted him the mercy of passing out. He awoke hours later. He legs were welted and stung almost unbearably, and his back ached horribly. For the rest of the summer, they healed slightly, but he knew the spells would help him once he got to school. It was his light at the end of the tunnel. Now, he had finally made it to the end of the tunnel, only to find that the light had gone out.

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Harry arose early the next morning, and he made his way down to the common room. He read his Defense Against the Dark Arts text for a while. Time passed so quickly, that before he knew it, Hermione was staring over him. She chuckled at his expression, filled with shock, before commenting on "getting lost in a good book."

The day passed like any other, until it came time for Defense Against the Dark Arts. They all walked into the room, chattering excitedly, wondering what lesson Lupin would have in store for them. They all sat down, when suddenly, the door was swung open. In walked Professor Snape.

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An hour later, with much grumbling, the class left the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"I wonder where Professor Lupin was."

"I don't know."

"I hope he's back soon."

"I can't believe we have to do such a long essay."

"And on werewolves too!"

"We're nowhere near that far."

"It's so unfair."

The conversations washed over Harry as though he wasn't even there. He wondered where Professor Lupin was. He felt almost betrayed when he realized that the professor was gone. It was silly and stupid, and, logically, he knew that. However, he couldn't help but feel abandoned. They had shared something that Hogsmeade afternoon, and Harry didn't want to lose that.

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The next Defense Against the Dark Arts class came quickly. Too quickly. Harry glanced around in the classroom. When he saw Professor Lupin at the desk, he walked in hesitantly, and took a seat near the back.

"Class, I fell ill, and that's why Professor Snape covered for me. You won't have to do that essay however."

Harry couldn't decide how to feel. On one hand, he was glad to know that Professor Lupin had not simply abandoned them. On the other hand, he was worried about Professor Lupin having fallen ill. According to some older students, he had missed lessons last month too. He was also a bit worried that Professor Lupin wouldn't want to bother with him if he was worried about his own health. When Professor Lupin caught his eye, his hesitance must have shown, because the professor gave him a small smile.

"Today, we will be having a practical lesson. In the wardrobe behind me is our first magical creature that we will be studying."

With the introduction, all eyes turned to the cabinet. As though it was aware of the audience, it rattled ominously.

"Can anyone tell me what a boggart is?"

To no one's surprise, Hermione's hand raised instantly.

When Professor Lupin nodded in acknowledgement, she began to recite the text book definition.

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Before Harry knew it, it was his turn in front of the boggart. Professor Lupin was in the back of the room, trying to comfort one of the girls who had become overly frightened.

As Harry approached, his mind was running a mile a minute. He wasn't sure what his boggart would be, but he was afraid he knew. It couldn't be…. It wouldn't be? He wasn't afraid of… he wasn't. He went through his inner mantra trying to convince himself, but as he approached the wardrobe, he actually became more frightened.

Suddenly, Professor Lupin must have realized it was Harry's turn, as he hurried towards the front of the room and said, "No, Harry, you don't have to –"

It was too late. With a crack, the giant spider Ron had faced morphed into Harry's deepest fear. It wasn't what the class had expected.