It was time for the Defense against the Dark Arts class, with the new ragged Professor Remus Lupin (something about the name struck a chord in Harry though he couldn't quite place the feeling). The staffroom, a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher. Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed in.

His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, "Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this."

He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him. At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains

Neville LongBottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Neville went scarlet. Harry glared at Snape; it was bad enough that he bullied Neville in his own classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers.

Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows.

"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."

Neville's face went, if possible, even redder. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.

"Now, then," said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," said Professor Lupin calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. "There's a boggart in there."

Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. Neville gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnegan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Professor Lupin.

"Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks —I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if

the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?"

Hermione put up her hand.

"It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed. "So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will

frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears."

Professor Lupin then proceeded to make everyone learn the Boggart-banishing spell. The spell could repel it by forcing it to assume an amusing form rather than a terrifying one. The trick was knowing what your biggest fear was, having an idea for how to make that fear into something funny, and being fast enough to do so before you fell completely under the boggart's sway. At the best of times, boggart exposure was often embarrassing, but if one's greatest fear stemmed from an actual traumatic event, the boggart could often force its victim to relieve the experience and the attendant trauma.

"Right then," said Lupin amiably. "I've watched you all demonstrate the Boggart-Banishing spell to my satisfaction. You all have the wand work and incantation down. The only question now is whether you can demonstrate both while maintaining the required mental framework. Now, you may have noticed that there were a number of chairs out in the hall. I'll ask you all to step outside and wait until I call you in. I have prepared you all to face your boggart-fears as much as possible short of direct exposure. However, some of you may still find the experience disturbing, possibly even traumatic, especially if your greatest fear turns out to be something other than what you were expecting and you are unable to use the defensive charm properly. In any case, it would be the height of irresponsibility for me to let any of you face a boggart untested with all your classmates watching, to say nothing of a breach of your privacy and trust. Mr. LongBottom, you're first. Everyone else, outside."

After five minutes, Neville returned from the class room, holding a chocolate piece in his hand, sweating profusely.

"You okay?" Harry asked. Neville nodded and returned back to the Gryffindor dorms.

"Miss Patil, you are next!" Lupin's voice boomed from inside.

Soon enough, it was Harry's turn. "Alright, Mr. Potter. Do you feel confident that you know your fear? And how to transform it into something amusing?" Harry answered yes to both questions. "Very good. Now draw your wand, move to within a few feet of the trunk, and nod when you're ready for me to open it."

Harry wondered what his fear was. First he thought of Voldemort's face sticking out of Quirrel's head, but he remembered that he had burnt it to a crisp. He thought of the wraith in the Forbidden Forest, but Firenze had driven that off before it could hurt Harry. He thought of the Dementor but then...

The door of the wardrobe opened and a black mist floated out. A rattling breath issued out of the mist as it took the shape of a Dementor. Harry was just about to cast the spell when the Dementor pounced on him, about to suck his soul out. Harry tried to hold back, but it wasn't possible. His mind was filled with screams, his mother begging for his life, the dark shadow about to cast the green killing curse...

"Riddiculus!" Lupin intoned.

He pulled Harry up to his feet, and gave him chocolate.

"I'm sorry Harry, I didn't expect that the boggart would pounce upon you. Dementors must have a greater than normal effect on you. Please, go back to your dorms and rest, I will send a note saying that you are to be excused for the rest of the day. Send Miss Brown in as you leave."

Harry was shocked, embarrassed, frightened, anxious and suffering from a variety of emotions including a deep reminiscing fear of dread. The words of the mist had shaken him to the core, and the presence of Dementors' aura hadn't done it any better. He ran all the way back to the Chamber, not stopping until he reached Salazar's chamber.

"Why are you out of breath Harrison?" Salazar inquired, a bit concerned.

Harry narrated the happenings to him, right from when he had entered to face the boggart. Salazar listened in silence, only speaking when he felt Harry was done with his story.

"I have a theory. Although I'm afraid you will not like the implications of it if my theory serves right!"

"Tell me!" harry deadpanned.

"Family magick is esoteric, and as is with all esoteric forms of magick, is highly dependent on the importance of emotion. Your positive emotions and vibes strengthens your connection on your family magick, and the opposite also the reverse is true. It appears that the dementor's aura somehow strengthens the soul piece, or at least weakens your connection to your family magick, letting the soul piece in you get a bit closer to latching on your core. So that presents us a two-way problem."

At Harry's nod, he continued, "Your esteemed ministry has put Dementors to protect the school as you had put it. Given how you react to their aura, the Dementors will try to attack you again and again. Your childhood contains memories significantly worse than most, which is basically the Dementors' idea of a feast. It goes without saying you need to avoid them completely. However, should they attack you, you need to defend yourself."

"Is there a spell to ward off against Dementors?"

"There is, it's called the Patronus Charm. An esoteric spell so the wand motion doesn't really matter. The incantation is "Expecto Patronum" and given what I know of your magical potential, you should have no problem casting it, at least after a couple of practice sessions. The real problem is, however on a different level."

Salazar paused for a while and then continued, "To master the Patronus truly, you need to practice it before a Dementor, or a boggart that takes the form of a Dementor. However, you cannot afford to do that."

Harry lowered his head, disappointed, had another question, "isn't there any other alternatives?"

"Well, there is another alternative, though I'm not sure if you will be able to do it, yet. Dementors being a derivative of the essence of shadows, has its roots in soul magic. Like any other applications of soul magic, it is vulnerable to fire."

"So will a simple Incendio work against the Dementors?"

"No. Only stronger forms of fire. Shadow magic is vulnerable to only four kinds of fire, namely Fiendfyre, Phoenix fire, Dragon Breath, and elemental fire. You being a fire elemental, could use your elemental ability to spew flames and defend yourself against Dementors. Although remember, emotion is everything. Your elemental core is tuned to your emotions. Believe it, and you can do it. I know you can."

It was Friday. The next day was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the season. Students, especially the third years were anticipating in wonder about it, it being their first time that they had been allowed to visit Hogsmeade. Even Daphne, whose icy countenance betrayed any emotion, was feeling excited about visiting some place out of the gray castle.

Harry Potter came out, amiably chatting up to Neville about Herbology, which was Neville's area of expertise.; quickly followed by Hermione and Ron who were once again bickering about Crookshanks and Scabbers. Crookshanks was Hermione's pet, a fluffy kneazle, and as could be heard, Ron was trying hard to convince Hermione to get rid of her "monster of a pet."

"So do you think you will be able to convince McGonagall to let you go to Hogsmeade? I know the situation is different what with Sirius Black being in the open and all." Hermione asked harry, who was busy sipping his drink. "Don't worry Hermione, I can make McGonagall fall to my charms!" harry tried to tease. Hermione huffed.

"Professor, could I request a moment of your time in private?"

Minerva McGonagall was a stern witch and a follower of rules. No matter what anyone would say, she believed in fair play and was always unbiased towards all houses and fair in her dealings with the students. We will just ignore her feelings and actions when it came to Quidditch in this case. It wasn't that she is obsessed with winning it for the Gryffindor, she was just interested and happy for the students. Well, not like Severus at least, in any case.

She turned to her left to see Potter asking her a question.

"Yes Potter. Come to my office after breakfast then. Although I wish you would not ask me again to reconsider my decision to allow you to Hogsmeade."

"Sure thing Professor."

Harry had previously tried twice to convince her to allow him to go to Hogsmeade but it was futile. In fact, he well remembered her words the last time they had spoken about it.

"I'm sorry Potter but because your muggle guardians did not provide you with their permission slip, allowing you to visit Hogsmeade on weekends, I cannot in any conscience allow you to go there. Especially in the current conditions, what with Sirius Black on the loose."

"But you know about my relatives, madam. You know they hate me. If you would just sign for me..."

"You know Professor Dumbledore, doesn't believe in your accusations Potter. Sorry, I can't do that."

Entering into McGonagall's office, harry sat on the chair. He had wanted to keep his headship of familia Potter a secret, but well, desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Say Potter, how can I help you."

Harry shook his right arm and pointed his fist in front of her eyes, the large signet Potter ring reappeared in all its glory. The griffin depicted in it silently roared.

"I didn't know you were emancipated, Lord Potter."

"Not Lord yet Professor, just the Head of Family yet. I will be the Lord when I reach seventeen. However, I would prefer it if you could give this matter a bit of discretion. I would appreciate people, and especially Professor Dumbledore, not knowing about it, at this moment."

McGonagall wanted to ask the reason but the expression on Harry's face stopped her midway.

"As you wish, Mr. Potter."

Hermione was in a somber mood. Things were so different this year. And most of all was Harry. Since first year, she and Ron and Harry were almost attached to the hips. All the adventures, the happenings and the life-death situations, they were together every time. But now, things had changed. Harry was getting better and better. At first, she was happy to see that he was taking interest in his studies. But after some days, the situation was something else. While she was having difficulty in managing to finish off assignments and classwork, Harry was practically sailing through class. McGonagall was positively raving about his accomplishments. Even Flitwick, who was a rather impartial and laid-back kind of professor, now brought harr up for mock duels and demonstrations. Even Snape could hardly complain much about him ever. At first, she thought that it was just interest or that he was provided with the time-turner she had asked for, but was denied by Professor McGonagall. How else could he have gone so much better? She was the brightest witch of her age, even McGonagall said so. And then let's not forget about his random vanishing off to merlin-knows-where. The previous harry she knew and was comfortable with was completely different, he was timid and would let her convince and show them how to do stuff. He hated his fame and stuck to the shadows. The new Harry however, was different. He was as if, almost embracing his fame and using it to make new connections. Last year, he was almost staying hidden throughout the year, while his year, he seemed to have built a joint group comprising of students from all houses. This Harry wore his fame like one of the stylish robes he now wore. Had something happened to him in the chamber? Was he under some sort of mental influence?

She looked at Harry sitting at the HufflePuff table. He was sitting between Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott on one side and Neville and Blaise Zabini on the other. Daphne Greengrass (how she hated that girl) sat on his opposite with Tracy Davis and Theodore Nott. All of them seemed to have fun together. Somehow Hermione didn't think Harry even noticed her absence in the group. It hurt her that he no longer needed her as he once did. Now he had other friends to study with and help him on his homework. If his recent improved performance in class was anything to go by, she secretly figured they were doing his homework for him. To her, it was no longer a far fetch that Harry would cheat on school.

Harry Potter was having fun. Being with a new and wider group of friends suited him better than before. Before this, he only had Ron and his obsession with chess and Chuddley Cannons, and Hermione and her obsession with knowing secrets and studies. Now however, his friends were very different. Susan and Hannah were very bubby and outgoing, with Hannah a bit more teasing while Susan would just be a little silent from time to time. Tracy was a tease, plain and simple. Neville was silent and an introvert, but he could be a good friend and knew what he said, whenever he contributed to the discussion that is. Blaise was an enigma. He would simply float along the edges of everyone's consciousness until he would suddenly nail someone with a sarcastic remark. Theo was more outgoing, though he preferred philosophical and intellectual discussions. He would quote different philosophical quotes on the fly. And Daphne was, well... Daphne.

Harry had been planning to ask Daphne out for Hogsmeade. He decided to call on his Gryffindor courage and suddenly asked her in presence of everyone, "Hey Daphne, would you like to accompany me to Hogsmeade tomorrow as my date?"

Daphne's cheeks reddened. Susan and Hannah were completely gob smacked. Blaise smirked. Tracy grinned at him. Theo looked a bit confused. Neville smiled weakly. Daphne blushed and replied. "yes"

"Great then!" harry said, wiping off an imaginary sweat off his face," tomorrow morning at eleven then?"

"Sure." Daphne grinned.