"We- that is to say, the professors- have thoroughly searched the castle. Twice. It was concluded, by Dumbledore, that The Rat Bastard has gone back to whatever hole he crawled out of," Remus informed his office full of students.
"Didn't he 'crawl out of' Azkaban? Is Professor Dumbledore suggesting that he went back to a prison that uses literal soul-sucking demons as guards? On purpose?" Hermione asked, incredulous.
"Of course not, that would be ridiculous. Speaking of, this is your official warning that boggarts are in the next module. Be prepared, as there is a practical suggested due to them being a common household pest," Remus said, trying to steer the conversation away from the weekend's excitement.
"Good try, Moony. We know what you're doing. Do you think The Rat Bastard went 'crawling' back to Voldemort?" Harry asked.
"Are second years doing the boggarts as well?" Ginny asked, nervously.
"Yes there will be. You, however, are one of the few that will be completing it in private lessons," Moony said compassionately, knowing the horrors that could come from a boggart, especially for students like Ginny Weasley.
"Thank you," Ginny said, barely above a whisper. If any of the others noticed, no one said anything.
"Moony! Please, just answer the question. Did he go back to Voldemort?" Harry pleaded, not wanting Ginny to dwell on last year.
"I'm sure he did for the time being. I wouldn't be surprised, however, if he comes back. Miss Granger, have you been made aware of what to look for now?" Remus asked, turning to his most studious pupil.
"Yes, Sir," Hermione ducked her head, ashamed that she hadn't known before.
"Hermione, look at me. This wasn't your fault. You didn't know. Harry, Ron, Neville, or Draco should have made sure you knew about Peter. You are so good at magic, and keeping up with other aspects of wizarding society, that they forget you didn't grow up with them," Remus said, taking Hermione's hands and drawing her attention to him.
"Yeah, 'Mione, it's easy to forget that you need a guidebook sometimes," Ron shrugged.
"In any event, you are all to be more aware from now on. And, if a similar situation arises, you are allowed out of your common room to find Minerva or myself after hours. No more sleepovers. Got that? You're getting too old for boy-girl slumber parties," Remus said, a bit of humor in his eyes.
"What if we promise to keep Ginny and Hermione in the morning? Doesn't that make it alright?" Harry asked, mischievously.
"You, Harry James Potter, are old enough to know better. And to know what was going on during those sleepovers. Do I need to tell Sirius to remind you over Christmas hols?" Remus quirked an eyebrow.
"No! No! Never again! Please! I'll scrub dishes! I'll scrub my own mouth! No more sleepovers, we promise!" Harry pleaded, not wanting to relive the horror that was the birds and the bees. Remus laughed, knowing that his godson was safe and happy. That was all that mattered that Sunday afternoon.
Professor Snape billowed into the Defense classroom. Harry knew, knew, why Professor Snape was here, but that didn't stop him from commenting on it to Ron. Professor Snape, catching said whispering, walked behind the two and shoved their heads apart. Neville would have snickered, if he hadn't felt fear unfurl in his chest.
"Turn to page 394," Professor Snape intoned. "Werewolves."
"Professor, we're on hinkypunks," Pavarti exclaimed, forgetting which professor was in front of her.
"As dangerous as those are, I can assure you that werewolves are much… more… dangerous. Page 394," Professor Snape said dully, closing his eyes to hide the fact that he was rolling them. "Now, who can tell me the difference between werewolves and animagi?"
"One prefers ice cream covered in chocolate sauce and other prefers Hestia covered in chocolate sauce," Harry whispered to Ron.
"Care to share with the class, Mister Potter," Snape asked, ignoring Hermione's hand in the air.
"Um… one changes at will while the other is forced into the transformation, Sir," Harry answered from a lifetime of knowledge.
"Correct. I'll also let you believe that I won't tell your guardians what you were whispering under your breath," Snape said. Harry paled, contemplating Hestia's wrath. Hermione huffed, realizing that raising her hand wouldn't work here. He was only waiting to humiliate students. It really was a good thing, to her mind, that students averaged A's on his O. . Otherwise, his flagrant disregard for students and their personal feelings would have gotten him fired long ago.
The lesson continued much this way. Snape would ask a question, find the least engaged student, then make them answer satisfactorily before moving onto his next victim. As a teaching method, it was quite brilliant. They were conditioned to pay attention to his every word, lest the embarrassment be theirs and the scrolls of homework ridiculously long. In the end, he assigned 18 inches over werewolves, their characteristics, and how to identify one.
Classes came to an end and the Gryffindor team trooped down to the locker rooms.
"This is horrid weather. We can't actually be expected to play in this," Angelina Johnson asked.
"Yeah, we are. Only way out of this is to forfeit. Those badgers don't just give up and roll over and we all know that. So we'll have to win this fair and square. Besides, we'd be forever waiting for it to not be raining in Scotland," Oliver Wood replied, taking up his place as captain.
Game plans were made and the two teams met in the middle of the pitch. The stand were packed, even with the horrid weather, and the two teams took to the sky. Rain was coming down in buckets and Harry was having a hard time keeping his glasses clean and free of water. He couldn't see the quaffle, let alone the snitch.
Wood finally noticed Harry's problem and called a time-out so that his players could warm up.
"Harry, you've got to catch that snitch as soon as possible. Otherwise we'll all get pneumonia before the game's over," Wood said, seriously. "Granger, what are you doing down here?"
"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, groping blindly for his glasses.
"Oh, hush. Imperivus. Here, put them on and see what you think," Hermione said, ignoring Wood and handing Harry his glasses back.
"I can see again! That's the spell Hes always uses on my glasses! Thank 'Mione!" Harry gushed. Hermione nodded her head and went back to the stands.
"End this quick, Potter. I'm freezing and it's your Weasley jumper I'm stealing to warm up later, got it?" Hermione threw over her shoulder as she ascended the steps.
"I'm going to marry her," Wood said, awed at the little witch.
Game play continued and Harry was on even playing field with Cedric Diggory now that his glasses were clear. Harry stuck to his routine of hovering over the playing field well out of reach of the bludgers. Finally, he caught sight of the snitch and gave chase, alerting Diggory to it's position. Harry was closer, but he didn't notice the patch of fog headed his way. He lost sight of the snitch as dementors swooped in and started going for his soul. He heard the awful sound of his mother dying for him over and over again. He tried to keep hold of his broom, but that proved ineffective after the fourth dementor swooped over him.
Finally, he quit struggling. Blackness surrounded him and he fell from his broom, welcoming death with open arms, just as long as it made the misery end. Sirius, who had, of course, been in attendance, felt his heart wrench as Harry was free falling through the air. He and Remus performed simultaneous cushioning charms, breaking Harry's fall. Now all that was left was to get him into the hospital wing… and file a complaint with the ministry.
"Let's walk you off the astronomy tower and see how you fair," was the first thing that Harry was aware of when he came to.
He opened his eyes, only to find his friends surrounding him.
"What happened?" He asked.
"It was terrible, Harry! You were surrounded by dementors!" Hermione informed him. You fell from over 50 feet in the air! If Mr. Black and Professor Lupin hadn't been so quick with their wands, you would have died!"
"Not what I meant, 'Mione. How'd the game go?" Harry asked, focused on important things.
"Uh….." The group said at the same time.
"Oh, no, Harry Potter. You will not act like that game is more important to your health!" Harry winced as Hestia moved students aside to get to him. "You almost died! Died! How can you be more concerned about Quidditch than your own health? I raised you better than this, Harry James Potter."
"Yes, Aunt Hes," Harry said automatically.
"Oh, Harry," She grabbed him into a hug, not caring that the teen was embarrassed. "We almost lost you today. I don't want to think what Siri would do if he lost you, after all this time."
"I didn't mean to almost die, I promise," Harry said, trying to lighten her mood.
"I know you didn't, Harry," She gave a watery laugh, moving to hold his face between her hands.
"If it helps any, Wood's trying to drown himself in the locker room," Ron said, effectively releasing the tension from the room. "Diggory caught the snitch just before you fell out of the fog. He argued that it wasn't a fair fight, but even Wood says it was a fair catch. He said they won fair and square."
"Are you kidding me! I lost to that wanker!" Harry shouted, throwing himself dramatically against his pillows.
"That's exactly how you looked falling out of the sky, Harry," Draco smirked, taking his friend's mind off his failure.
"Oh, stuff it, Malfoy," Harry pouted, crossing his arms.
"Excellent retort, as always," Fred smirked, leaning to his left.
"The thrilling wit of the second generation of Marauders," George mirrored, leaning to his right.
"What would we do without your thrilling theatrics?" They asked in unison.
"Wait a year for Ginny to try out as Seeker, then forget completely about him," Hermione suggested.
"A brilliant witch with a brilliant plan!" George exalted.
"What would we ever do without that brain, 'Mione?" Fred asked, eyes twinkling with mischief, causing the young witch to blush, and her friend to gag.
"Really, 'Mione? The twins. Take Draco or Harry. Then at least they wouldn't be having the best friend escapades over me. I'm exhausted," Ginny offered, setting off the whole room in laughter.
As November turned into December, and the full moon waned, Lupin decided it was time. He had been putting off this lesson for as long as he could. He remembered the chills he got when the full moon appeared before him his third year. He did not want to do this. He argued with Albus that, perhaps, there were darker things for thirteen year olds to be afraid of that spiders. Full moons, mind possessing dark lords, shrieking mothers, and dead classmates came to mind. Albus, in true Dumbledore style, waved these concerns off. Students first through third years were unlikely to have such fears. Debating with Dumbledore was too tedious, so he was forced to test students fears in front of their peers.
"Now, we have all learned about boggarts," Professor Lupin said, addressing the room full of third year Gryffindor and Slytherin. He wasn't fond of having the Lions and Snakes share a class where learning to hex was common, but he wasn't in charge of scheduling. "What is the spell needed to defeat these creatures?"
No one was surprised when Hermione's hand shot straight into the air.
"Yes, Miss Granger?" Professor Lupin signaled.
"Riddikulus, Sir," Hermione answered.
"Very good, Miss Granger. Five points for Gryffindor. Now, everyone, repeat with me: Riddikulus!" Professor Lupin prompted. The class repeated the spell, with wand movements, several times before Lupin added. "It's important to remember that the spell alone is not enough. You have to conquer that fear by turning whatever you see into something funny. What advantage do we have, as a large class? Mr. Potter, care to answer?"
Harry, who had been chatting quietly with Ron, jumped a foot into the air. "Um…. Too many people?"
"Is that a question or an answer, Mr. Potter?" Professor Lupin asked, keeping it clear in his tone that Harry was expected to behave himself.
"An answer, Moo- Professor Lupin. There's too many people in the room. If it faces all of us, it won't know what to be. Should it be Professor McGonagall telling Hermione she failed? Or maybe it should be a world without hair gel, just to make Draco panic. That means it'll turn into Aun- Professor McGonagall covered in hair gel; which is not as scary as one would think. Probably. Wouldn't know, I'm not suicidal," Harry answered, this time more sure of himself.
"Very good. Although, let's keep that bit about Professor McGonagall amongst ourselves. It wouldn't do for Voldemort to fail at killing Mr. Potter, only for his guardian to do it for him," Professor Lupin winked at the class. If several third year girls, including the horrid Romilda Vane, swooned, no one said anything. Lupin went to one corner and started an old phonograph, jaunty music coming from the horn. "A little bit of mood music, to help keep the atmosphere light."
The students lined up at their professor's prompting, Neville having to go first.
"Now, Mr. Longbottom, do you have any idea what will come out of that wardrobe?" Lupin asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. Neville looked at the floor, embarrassed, and muttered too low for anyone to hear. "Repeat that, please?"
"Professor Snape," Neville repeated, barely louder than a whisper. The admission caused Lupin to swing his head around and stare hard at Neville.
"Are you quite sure, Mr. Longbottom?" Lupin asked, concern evident. Neville nodded miserably.
"If that's the case, can you picture your grandmother, please?" Lupin said, unable to help himself.
"Yes… but, Professor, I don't want her coming out of there, either!" Neville said, slightly panicked.
"No, no," Lupin reassured. "Just, picture Professor Snape… wearing her clothes," he suggested, simultaneously kicking himself and laughing inside.
Neville nodded his understanding. Lupin flicked his wand and unleashed the boggart, begging anyone who was listening that anyone, or anything, other than Severus came out of the wardrobe. His prayers fell on deaf ears as Severus Snape stepped out. Neville looked terrified and was frozen, unable to move. Lupin shook his head. He would have to have a long talk with both Severus and Alice over the Christmas Hols.
"Neville, your grandmother," Lupin prompted, forgetting formality.
It was enough to snap Neville out of his daze. "Ri- Rid- Riddikulus!" He said, waving his wand. With that, Snape was suddenly wearing Augusta Longbottom's green robes and horrid, buzzard hat. The class, and Neville, was reduced to fits of uncontrollable laughter, especially the corner of the room that housed Harry, Draco, and Ron. Hermione rolled her eyes, unable to fathom anyone afraid of professors. That was all it took for everyone else to be ready to face their own fears.
Pavarti Patil turned a snake into a clown. That same clown was turned into daisy by Pansy Parkinson. Draco did not, in fact, face a world without hair gel, but instead an inexplicable fear of babies. Crying, screaming, black haired babies. Babies he turned into puppies, because who doesn't love puppies. Ron's fear of spiders was well known by everyone, but the huge acromantula was unexpected. As it danced around on skates, Lupin made a mental note to talk with Hagrid about Aragog. Seamus Finnigan was faced with a fear of a dark haze, meant to be dark in general, but the resourceful Gryffindor set the haze on fire, a la potions class.
Finally, there were two students left. Hermione walked forward, hands shaking. She subconsciously grasped at a locket around her neck. The boggart stuttered, switching forms rapidly for several seconds before settling. It morphed into a large snake, a basilisk, bearing down on the young Gryffindor. She immediately turned her back and flicked the locket open, revealing a mirror hidden inside, just as the eyes were filling in.
She couldn't stop shaking, trying to come up with something to change the basilisk into. There was nothing, only blankness and impending fear. She panicked and froze, looking at the giant snake and waiting for it to petrify her again. No one had asked her what being petrified was like; Ginny was their concern at the time. Being possessed trumped being petrified, everyone could attest to that.
Harry, noting his friend's inability to face this fear, shoved her violently out of the way and watched as the boggart turned into a dementor. He knew this would happen, had resigned himself shortly after Halloween that this was the thing he feared most. Having been prepared, he flicked his wand, shouted 'Riddikulus,' and watched as the shadowy figure's black robes turned magenta, then laughed as those magenta robes went lavender. Ron, near the back, couldn't help but laugh either, knowing that lavender was the color that Lockhart wore the day he hexed himself daft.
Lupin dismissed the class shortly after, assigning an easy four inches over steps for improved reaction times. As the classroom cleared out, he realized that Neville was crouched over something huddled against the cabinets along one of the classroom's walls.
"Hermione, come on, it's okay. It's gone, it's okay," Neville was saying, stroking Hermione's hand. Hermione, for her part, had curled herself into a ball and was rocking and staring into space.
"Shh, shh, it'll be okay, it'll be okay," Neville continued, sitting down next to her and holding her like he did Marly or Olivia when they were hurt or scared. "Hush, now."
Lupin was brought to the sudden realization that he had no idea was it was like to be petrified by a basilisk. In fact, in all of his research on the subject following the news of Hermione's situation, he hadn't found a single account of what happened while one was petrified. As the few victims in previous history refused to speak of it, most scholars assumed that it was like death, suspended animation. Judging from Hermione's visceral reaction, that was not the case.
"Miss Granger, would you care to join me for tea? It seems there are somethings you and I need to discuss," Professor Lupin said. Hermione's eyes darted to his, then she suddenly jumped up and ran as fast as she could from the classroom.
"She doesn't mean anything by it, Professor, I'm sure," Neville said, sheepishly.
"I fear that not only are you wrong, but that Miss Weasley wasn't the only one affected by last terms events. Could you remind me who the other victims were?"
Gabs: I'm supposed to say something witty.
Kat: I'll take responsibility for all grammar mistakes. I've been passing kidney stones for the past two days and may not be all withit. We own nothing. Thanks to our lovely reviewers.
Gabs: We love you all.
XOXO
Gabs & Kat
