8 November 1993

The bell sounded shrilly, dismissing Remus's third year Gryffindors for lunch. As students began packing their bags and gathering up their things, Remus raised his voice over the din.

"By our next class, I would like everyone to write a short procedure—just four to five inches of parchment—for what you would do to escape a hinkypunk if one tried to lure you into a body of water," he called. "Alternatively, you may submit a detailed drawing or diagram of your escape plan," he added, and Dean Thomas flashed him a grin as he scampered out the door after Seamus Finnigan.

Remus smiled back at Dean. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Ron, Hermione, and Harry had just collected their bags and made their way to the door as well.

"Wait a moment, Harry," Remus told him. "I'd like a word."

Harry doubled back, looking surprised. But then, with a small wave to his friends, he made his way to the front of the classroom, waiting for a few moments as Remus found an old sheet to cover the hinkypunk's glass box with.

"I heard about the match," Remus said finally, glancing up at Harry as he walked back to his desk to gather his books and briefcase. That Harry had fallen nearly fifty feet from the sky was not the news Remus would have liked to be greeted with after a physically and emotionally draining full moon. "And I'm sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?"

"No," Harry said gloomily. "The tree smashed it to bits."

Remus sighed and shook his head. "They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts," he told Harry in a low voice. "People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance…"

Remus trailed off, lost in the old memory. It was Black, he recalled, who had practically tumbled into the Gryffindor common room to relay Davey's near-death experience to Remus, James, and Peter during their first year. Remus remembered his friends pondering, that day, why on Earth Dumbledore could have chosen to plant such a violent, volatile tree on the grounds. This was still months before they'd managed to piece together the facts of Remus's condition; as a result, the conversation had made him extraordinarily nervous and uncomfortable…

Harry's voice brought Remus out of his reverie. "Did you hear about the dementors too?" he asked heavily.

Remus looked at him. Harry's mouth was set in a stubborn line, but his green eyes betrayed the despair and frustration that he had plainly been battling since the unfortunate Quidditch match on Saturday.

"Yes, I did," Remus said softly. "I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time…furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds." He paused for a moment, then sighed. "I suppose they were the reason you fell?"

"Yes," Harry said, his voice tight. He appeared to struggle with himself for a moment, but then he burst out desperately, "Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just—?"

"It has nothing to do with weakness," Remus said sharply. Remembering the conversation they'd had on Halloween about the boggart, he was certain he knew exactly where Harry's thoughts had been headed. "The dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don't have."

Harry stared at Remus, looking unconvinced. Releasing a short breath, Remus took a step toward Harry, shaking his graying hair out of his eyes.

"Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth," he told Harry in a steely voice. "They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair—they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you." Remus closed his eyes for a moment, then continued, "If it can, the dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself…soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to you, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of."

Harry listened to all of this, staring up at Remus with an expression that made Remus's heart feel heavy in his chest. Then, swallowing deeply, Harry turned his gaze down to Remus's desk.

"When they get near me—" Harry clenched his jaw, still determinedly staring down at the desk. "I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum."

Remus could feel his stomach falling, falling away from him; his vision swam for a moment. Without thinking, he made a sudden movement toward Harry—to pull the poor, tormented boy in front of him into an embrace—but, thankfully, he stopped himself just in time. Remus's heart twisted painfully in his chest; he couldn't speak. All he could do was watch helplessly as Harry continued to glower down at his desk.

"Why did they have to come to the match?" Harry asked bitterly.

"They're getting hungry," Remus explained, his tone icy but slightly hoarse. The enormous weight of Harry's revelation about hearing Lily was still burning in the back of his throat; his hands shook slightly as he shut his briefcase with a snap. "Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up. I don't think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement…emotions running high…it was their idea of a feast."

Harry blinked at him, mouth slightly open. Then— "Azkaban must be terrible," he muttered.

Remus nodded grimly. "The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea—but they don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad within weeks."

Harry's grimace melted into a rather thoughtful frown. "But Sirius Black escaped from them," Harry said slowly—more to himself, it seemed, than to Remus. "He got away…"

Remus's hand fumbled with his briefcase, and it slipped off his desk. Heart pounding against his ribcage, he bent quickly to catch it before it fell to the ground.

"Yes," he told Harry tersely, straightening up and clutching his briefcase so tightly that his fingers hurt. "Black must have found a way to fight them. I—I wouldn't have believed it possible. Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long—"

"You made that dementor on the train back off," Harry said abruptly, looking up at Remus as though he'd never seen him properly before. There was a glimmer of something new in his bright green eyes—determination, and hope, and resolve—and suddenly, Remus saw Lily and James more clearly in their son than he had ever seen them before…

"There are—certain defenses one can use," Remus said finally, his throat dry. "But there was only one dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist…"

Remus trailed off, looking at Harry, whose eyes were now blazing. And in that moment, Remus knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"What defenses?" Harry asked keenly. "Can you teach me?"

"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Harry," Remus shook his head, averting his eyes from Harry's and deliberately latching every button on his briefcase. He thought of his incorporeal Patronus and realized with a heavy pang that he couldn't even remember the last time he had conjured his dazzling, silver wolf, so ashamed had he always been of it. "Quite the contrary…"

"But if the dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them!" Harry exclaimed earnestly, stepping toward Remus's desk.

Against his better judgment, Remus looked into Harry's steadfast expression, feeling the last crumbles of his resolve melt instantly as he did. He swallowed heavily, shaking his head.

"Well…all right. I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid," Remus qualified. "I have a lot to do before the holidays—I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill."

For the beaming grin spreading across Harry's face, Remus might as well have just told him that he was to be the next Minister for Magic. A smile began to spread across Remus's face before he could stop it, and by the time Harry had scampered out the door, his heart was feeling twelve times lighter.