Angel Laugher: Year Three
Books at Hogwarts
Despite how Harry has ended up in his situation, he is very glad to spend his summer holidays the way he does. He can go to Diagon Alley every day, spend his time observing other witches and wizards, sleep in, practice his eavesdropping skills, do his homework without having to hide his work, stare at the Firebolt…
Occasionally he sees people from school. Neville for one, for another he sees Professor Sprout one day carrying a strangely colored plant in her arms. Last year, he remembers, he has met Professor Allen and creepy Rhode Campbell. With that in mind, he avoids the sweets shop.
Again, he is never that lucky.
"Mr. Potter?"
Harry turns around. Professor Allen comes out of Flourish and Blots, arms full of thick books in different languages and vaguely historic titles. The white haired young man looks at Harry, smiling, but seeming surprised to see him here.
Harry politely returns the greeting.
Dirty cursing interrupts any conversation of smalltalk before it can begin. It is with a vague sense of déjà vu that he watches the calm professor's expression fade into something very deliberately blank and still somehow very annoyed as he turns to the source.
A tall man dressed in muggle clothes, with dark curls and the same pale skin as Rhode Campbell and Allen Walker, has followed the teacher out of the shop. In his hands he holds a book – or rather one of his hands is getting eaten by a book - while the other hand tries fruitlessly to save its counterpart. The Monster Book of Monsters…
"Hey boy," the man gets out between curses, "what is this thing?"
"A book, Tyki," the teacher says, looking on with something close to irritation. "Surely you have seen one of them before."
The man looks away from his fight, staring at the younger man. "Very funny," he returns just as flatly, seemingly forgetting about his probably already bloody hand. "It's eating me alive. Show some concern."
Professor Allen shifts the heavy load in his arms. "Hopefully it won't throw its food back up. Do think of the nuisance it would be to the citizens."
The man stares, then sighs, sounding depressed, and the monster book falls to the ground with a hole through its middle. Professor Allen looks at the book, then glares at his companion and the startling familiar butterfly in said man's hand.
"You wanted the thing. Now look at what you have done." The politeness seems to be gone from the teacher, replaced with frank accusation.
"I didn't want it. I just thought it looked like a good present for Rhode." The man pulls out a cigarette and a lighter, glancing at the book at his feet.
"And now you don't have that."
The man shrugs. "She'll live."
Professor Allen glares. Harry stares.
"No thanks. You know better than that." With that the teacher dumps his books in the other's arms and stomps right back into the shop without as much as a word or glance as Harry.
Dazedly, Harry thinks this man must be at least like family to be able to disturb the collected teacher's composure like that. Where has the politeness gone? Which, he thinks distantly, should also not really be the most important thing to notice.
The man, maybe in his mid-twenties puffs on his cigarette and looks at Harry for a moment, exhaling smoke.
"You one of his students?"
Harry nods, slowly gathering himself.
"Do you like your school?"
This time Harry manages to find his voice. "Yes. Why?"
The man pulls his lips in what Harry thinks is supposed to be a smirk or grin, but comes more off like the smile he has seen on the professor and the previously mentioned young slytherin girl. "Things often get destroyed in Cheating Boy's association."
While Harry in no way sees how 'Cheating Boy' is even vaguely descriptive of Professor Allen, there is no question in who is referred to. Still, Harry jumps at the chance to find out more, particularly since this feels like a warning. "What do you mean?"
"It's like a karma thing, if you wizards know what that is," the man says with an unconcerned shrug and Harry wonders if the man might be a muggle even if that can't be. He says nothing more and Harry frowns at Flourish and Blots.
.
Much to Harry, Ron and Hermione's surprise and mild displeasure Professor Allen is on the train, sitting in one of the empty compartments, sharing it with a strange man they have never seen before, talking and falling silent as Hermione slides the doors open.
The stranger's face, agitated, latches on to Harry even before he is introduced and his eyes round, searching, but not flashing upward to the scar.
Introducing himself as the new Defense Professor, Remus Lupin seems like a pleasant man, mild mannered and actually capable as he gets needled by Hermione about the upcoming material.
Harry meanwhile asks what Professor Allen is doing on the train.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he notices Professor Lupin's expression sour, Professor Allen's eyes curve with his lips. "I have read much about Dementors, but have never quite had the misfortune to encounter one in person yet, which is an experience I don't want to lack."
Ron splutters, Hermione draws in a shaky breath and Harry blinks. "What are dementors," he asks, innocent to the dark subject.
.
"Oh," says the young professor, sitting a bit straighter in his seat. "This is…"
The rain is spattering against the windows as the train gets slower and slower. Harry, just about to check outside looks curiously as the teacher hides his eyes once behind his hands. Professor Lupin seems unable to do anything but stare at Professor Allen with growing expression.
The last thing Harry sees before everything turns dark is that the teacher's skin seems darker from its usual white in the flickering lights and something sits in the pit of his stomach that makes him feel unbelievable small and fragile.
.
When Harry comes to, he is greeted by worried faces and gets chocolate handed to him by Professor Lupin. Professor Allen is nowhere in sight and when he finally is in a sound enough state of mind to ask, he is told the teacher went to tour the train for other students in need of help and scouring it for remaining Dementors.
Professor Allen comes back soon and Harry can't quite stop himself from asking rudely if he enjoyed the experience. Hermione glares at him for taking such speech at a teacher and the man in question looks rebukingly at him, which Harry feels somehow has more to do with him being impolite than anything else.
"Actually," says Professor Allen, giving a smile that makes Harry want to look away, "I did not. However likes and dislikes are most often not of relevance in this world. Consequently the experience is still valued." He is smiling, smiling, smiling…
…before he finally turns away, discussing matters with Professor Lupin.
.
A first year comes up to them in the common room. The boy glances over Harry and Ron, setting his eyes on Hermione, books and papers in his hands.
"Are you Hermione Granger?" He asks, lacking the usual first-year wide-eyed curiosity and amazement, instead distracted and almost businesslike. He only waits for Hermione to nod before he introduces himself. "My name is Lavi Bookman and Professor Allen told me that if I had questions I didn't want to bother him with, I'm supposed to come to you."
Redish brown hair falling in his face and completely hiding one eye, he flops down on a couch opposite from them, spreading his armful of school material, not even waiting for an invitation. "We are working on the founding era at the moment and the textbook-"
Despite the fact that Hermione has her own mountain of homework to complete -for all classes, Harry still isn't quite sure if she isn't a bit crazy- she can't seem to send the boy away, like she has tried to do with Harry and Ron before.
The two boys leave them to it and Harry decides it is just as well. For one, Harry has his own work to complete, for another he really doesn't need to listen to another rant about the uselessness of Divination, prophesies and Professor Trelawney, however relieving they have been the first few times.
.
Entertainment comes in form of Professor Lupin's classes. Harry will remember Snape in a dress and vulture hat till the end of his days, which might or might not come soon, and the sickly looking teacher becomes his favorite with no trouble at all.
Professors McGonagall and Allen might be good teachers, mildly pleasant even and making their classes more than just bearable, but that is it. He hasn't laughed as much in all his lessons together as he has during that one hour. He is also closer to the students, if only thanks to calling them by their names.
Though it does annoy him terribly that all and everyone seem to think he is made of glass and will shatter; be it from outside or from inside.
.
Oliver Wood pushes them hard, hardly lets anyone catch their breath and the whole thing three times a week. On the field nothing like invisible death omens and crazed mass murders matter and really, Harry wants to win the cup, too. Also, that isn't to forget, when Fred and Gorge hit the bludgers at him they do not pull any punches. He appreciates their casualness very much.
Like in the past few years, his Halloween is not a happy occasion. At last to him. The students are allowed to Hogsmeade except Harry, but unlike the past few years terrible things don't happen. He drinks tea with Professor Lupin, learns that he is not thought too weak to handle a bogart and that he isn't the only one who thinks Professor Allen to be a bit creepy.
Professor Lupin doesn't seem to trust, or maybe like, Professor Allen for some unfathomable reason, since Harry would have expected them to get along quite fabulously, with both being polite and generally pleasant people.
.
While camping in the Great Hall is fun, having Black break in is decidedly less so, even less when Professor McGonagall suggests it might be better not to train for Quidditch.
Harry cannot stand being defenseless against the Dementors, he cannot stand fainting from their mere presence. It is him alone, and he cannot stand it.
He wonders if there is anything he can do about it, but with Professor Lupin ill and not teaching he goes to ask the next best person who he believes to be able to tell him something helpful about them, having wanted to meet them in person.
He tells Ron and Hermione to go ahead to Divination and stays behind, searching for words.
"Professor Allen, sir," begins Harry, waiting until the teacher looks at him from his notes seeming vaguely surprised Harry is still there. Harry isn't sure he believes it, but moves on. "On the train you said seeing a Dementor was a valued experience. What exactly did you mean by that?" At this point Harry will take what he can get.
The white haired staff gives him an understanding look, bordering on pity and gestures for Harry to take a seat. Harry's quidditch game is the talk of the school; he does not appreciate the pity.
"Well, Mr. Potter," says the teacher, taking out a deck of cards. "Ignorance is a danger and I sought to cure my lack of knowledge concerning Dementors by meeting one." Seemingly at random he pulls one card from the pack and looks at it, before twirling it around for Harry to see. The Joker.
"More personally," he continues, "by setting an encounter and being prepared for it, in the trusted presence of someone hired to teach how to deal with them, I succeeded in discovering my reaction to said creatures with the least amount of fallout. I dare say it is the same for you, is it not? You know you cannot endure their presence and know to avoid them."
Harry considers it for a moment and can see the point the teacher is trying to make. Harry might have tried sneaking out to Hogsmade if he hadn't known he couldn't get past the dementors. The conditions for a first meeting could hardly be worse than being caught rule breaking. True, but not particularly helpful.
Professor Allen is not finished yet. "I also find that they have a very useful ability."
Harry stares. The teacher hums, drawing some more cards.
The more the words sink in, the more he finds disbelief edging into his expression. Not even remotely can he see anything good at all about being forced to relive the worst memories of one's life. He doubts anyone, be it Snape, Malfoy or even Voldemort himself would have anything positive to say about them when faced with their abilities.
He doubts any sane person would.
Whatever is on his face, Professor Allen smiles in spite of it, but at least sees it fit to elaborate. "People's worst memories often tend to be a drive. Good and precious memories as well, of course, but the darkness of one's heart has much power. Rather than forgetting, being forcefully reminded is the better choice." He says this all in a pleasantly kind voice, as if thinking he will scare Harry otherwise or Harry might not understand, like a child who is being told the mechanics of the world.
Honestly, Harry thinks, it is far too late to not scare him. The seeds of fear have been planted in first year and now he is reminded of them. Of something he has tried to forget.
And ironically enough, that is exactly the point the professor has tried to make.
.
The next week Harry tries to stay very far away from Professor Allen, avoiding to think about the teacher at all for the tickle of unease he can no longer deny exists, with mixed results and he is pleasantly surprised when it is Professor Lupin teaching Defense against the Dark Arts again. He promptly uses the opportunity to ask why he is affected so much by the creatures and requests private lessons as he has no intention at all to hear his mother dying every time they come near him.
He overlooks that it, the darkness of his heart, is a motivator in his decision as Professor Allen has said. Even when he is sitting in History, Harry, all his focus on his notes for once instead of the teacher, does his best to forget the existence of the white-haired enigma.
AN: The first part of Year Three.
Thank you for reading and please be so kind as to leave your thoughts on the way out.
TBC.
