Chapter summary:

A couple of things come out of the closet.

Word count:

About 5000.

Author's note:

Welcome to DADA. I regret nothing.

Next chapter should be up between 15 to 17 November.

As usual I dedicate this story to all of you, my readers, for sticking with me for so long in spite of my shortcomings.

I adore seeing your reactions and answering your questions. They motivate me, and yes, sometimes an innocent question will make me go out of my way to write a nearly 100k words spin-off that I will integrate into the story.

Your comments and kudos are and always will be welcome here because they're my motivation.

Secrets & Keepers –Contentions

Chapter fourteen: Out of the Closet

Harry Potter, September 1993, Hogwarts.

He made it through Tuesday and Wednesday without a problem. He even successfully managed to convince Oliver that it would be prudent to hold out try outs for reserve players, just in case something could happen to one of the players. Angelina eagerly supported Harry's suggestion, reminding Oliver that as a captain he was supposed to have a foresight that reached beyond winning the Quidditch cup. It turned into a brief pissing contest over next year's Quidditch team not being Oliver's responsibility but Angelina's. Angelina gave as well as she got and told Oliver that with that approach he would never be made a captain of a professional team. Then the rest of the team chimed in with their opinions on the matter and Oliver had lost the argument, six to one. He conceded to holding out try outs for all students and all positions but warned them that if he will find better players then he would replace people with no regards to the protests of the current team members. Which curiously enough was fine with everyone.

"How they're supposed to be better than us when they aren't actively training," said Fred simply when they were heading up to their dormitories.

"Besides teaching reserves now will improve the odds of them actually knowing what to do on the field rather than grasping at straws during the match," added George. "And we need to train our replacements, being a beater isn't just swinging the bat around like everyone believes."

"But don't worry, Harry, your seeker arse is totally safe," offered Fred.

I wouldn't be so sure, Harry allowed himself to think, not if Regulus will decide to make a run for the position. Which he might, considering that he was supposed to pass as a student and once was both an experienced Seeker and a Quidditch captain. Adult-sized Regulus he would have no problems with beating because his height would be working against him in a competition with Harry but a pint-sized first year in so far had given Harry a good run for his money in the days leading to the beginning of the term.

On Tuesday, mindful of the promise to Snape to give him an excuse to put him in detention Harry called him Madam instead of Sir, which earned him both a detention and a gasp of mortification mixed with a hint of awe from the rest of the class. It also earned him an earful from Hermione over not give Snape an excuse to punish him and a comment from Nott that his comment was brilliant, stupid but brilliant. Harry accepted both with a sheepish look and a shrug of his shoulders and headed off to the oddball Astronomy class with the rest. He also managed to catch Hagrid while he was leaving the Great Hall after breakfast and found everything was indeed fine. He wasn't in trouble and neither was Buckbeak the hippogriff.

His detention ran from dinner until curfew and ended with results that satisfied both Snape and Harry. As it turned out he was very mildly allergic to a particular mix of components and allergy itself manifested when he consumed too much fat and a particular protein that could be find in undercooked eggs. Snape promised him that he would work on the alternative version of the potion over the weekend and suggested that until Monday Harry should avoid food with too much fat in it and eggs.

On Wednesday after breakfast and before Charms Harry managed to catch up on some of his homework to Hermione's brief delight before she ran off to one of her classes. Then during History of Magic he managed to piss her off by doing his Ancient Runes homework during the lecture. He barely managed to convince her that he was only taking an advice from Professor Babbling (he wasn't, the suggestion was sorely Regulus's) that tuning out Binns outside of the first three minutes and last five of the lesson and reading the chapters of the book on your own was actually better than listening to his droning. He also pointed out that the chapter itself was short and it was full of references to other books, that Binns never called on them during the class and after being for so long at Hogwarts, both when he was alive and after his death he was the most predictable teacher at school.

Hermione didn't look particularly happy about it but conceded that if this approach was going to help Harry get better then he should give it a try. Then she ran off again, presumably to another class that wasn't in Harry's schedule.

The rest of the day Harry spent with Neville, Regulus, Astoria and Wendy, mostly working on Potions, homework as much as reading ahead. He was mostly helping Neville while Regulus was focused on helping the girls.

Ron since Monday had been avoiding Harry as much as he avoided Hermione, to the point of not even looking Harry's way even though they both spent some time in the common room. Ginny had no issues with interrupting Harry's studying with a comment that she managed to gather a group of students from other houses that were eager to participate in an impromptu football match. They briefly discussed time and place, weekend and one of the courtyards, preferably between lunch and dinner before Ginny ran off too.

Thursday came around and with Thursday came Potions. Which went as well as usual, Neville's potion almost exploded in spite of (or because of, Harry couldn't be sure) help from him, Hermione and Daphne.

After lunch which passed like a blur they headed off to their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson with Lupin. Harry didn't know what to expect from it, other than Lupin would be far more practical than Lockhart and Quirrel had been. He also hadn't manage to find out from other students what Lupin in so far had been up to in their lessons. Not that he devoted much time to asking.

Lupin wasn't there when they arrived at his first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat down and all took out their books, quills and parchment. Harry did too, not because he believed that he was going to need them but in order to not stand out. There was only eight of them in here.

It was one of the things about the schedule that he couldn't understand and couldn't make the sense of it. The number of students changed from class to class, aside of the rigidly fixed Gryffindor/Slytherin and presumably Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff one in Potions and History of Magic which they always had as a whole class. He hadn't seen or heard about different teachers for the same subjects and neither now or in the past because he would have bailed out of Snape's potions right away if he could find an alternative.

But he decided finally that it wasn't exactly his problem to worry about and gave into watching Hermione furiously page through a thick book just as Lupin entered the class.

He wasn't looking too shabby, like he used to look at 12 Grimmauld Place, thanks to Sirius and Kreacher's vendetta against his clothing. He also looked healthier than he had been looking during the welcome feast and was smiling at them broadly, giving every single one of them the same level of attention.

"Good afternoon," he said eagerly. "Would you please put all your stuff away. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

A few curious looks were exchanged around. They all had to remember how Lockhart's first and last practical lesson had ended. Quirrel was as big on practical lessons as Lockhart had been but to give him some justice he actually devoted his time to teaching them something about Defence Against the Dark Arts and not Defence Against Gilderoy Lockhart.

Once all of their stuff was put away Lupin beckoned for them to approach him which they did, mostly gingerly and with a couple of flicks of his wand he rearranged the desks to be pushed away towards the walls.

"That's better," he said, mostly to himself. "Now, then," he added as he turned towards them. "I have something for you in here," he waved his hand towards the giant wardrobe that suddenly appeared behind his back.

It gave a sudden wobble that prompted the entire class to step back. Well, all except Harry, who allowed himself a passing thought of 'Gryffindors' and allowed his shoulders to relax.

Most likely given the size of the wardrobe the violent occupant of it was a boggart. Harry came in contact with those during his summer at 12 Grimmauld Place, too many times for his liking but he eagerly accepted Lupin, Sirius, Regulus and Snape's pointers on the subject of dealing with one. He even managed to successfully force one from the shape of a dementor, into which the boggart turned at the sight of Harry into Aunt Marge. Not that boggart-Marge lasted long in that state before she changed back into a dementor.

On the plus side the experiments with boggarts helped him out with maintaining the standing position and consciousness when boggart was in the dementor form. He was still pants on turning it into something worth laughing at though.

"What's in there?" squeaked out Lavender.

"Most likely a boggart," answered Harry simply.

That got most of the class another excuse to step even further away.

"And what is a boggart?" asked Lupin

Hermione put up her hand and said, "It's a shape-shifter. It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Lupin, and Hermione glowed. "Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," he added. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, unused nightstands, the cupboards under sinks. Although I once met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock and one particularly brazen one had taken a residence in a tiny bathroom."

Harry knew that, he saw the same boggart that Lupin did.

"This particular one had moved into the staff room yesterday and I extracted from Professor McGonagall permission to use it for today's lesson," he explained. "Originally I planned to take you for a little walk but Professor McGonagall was particularly adamant about temporarily removing this offensive piece of furniture from the staff room."

"Wonder why," mumbled Seamus.

Harry smiled at that.

"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. This means that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you… Harry?"

Trying to answer a question with Hermione that had her hand in the air wasn't particularly easy on most days. And Harry knew almost for certain that Lupin would try to keep him from participating in a practical demonstration. Not that Harry himself was keen to summon a dementor in the classroom.

"The sheer number of us in close proximity is confusing it," replied Harry. "It cannot decide which shape we will find most frightening. That's why it's easier to deal with them in a company, preferably of people of vastly differing fears."

"Precisely," Lupin agreed. "A confused boggart and one that made a mistake of trying to frighten two people at once is nothing frightening. Often times it finishes itself off without involvement of magic," he paused briefly. "The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. The hard part is trying to force it to assume a shape that you find amusing. We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please… Riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!" said the class together.

"Good," said Lupin. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this where…" he seemed to hesitate for a moment, "Neville," he decided. "Come here," he gestured to the spot by his side.

Neville gulped and shrunk slightly in himself. The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward with the look of someone heading for the gallows.

"Right, Neville," said Lupin. "First things first: What would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"

Neville's lips moved, but no noise came out.

"Didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," said Lupin cheerfully.

Neville looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely more than a whisper, "Professor Snape."

The rest of the class, aside of Harry and Hermione laughed at that. Lupin, however, looked thoughtful.

"Professor Snape… hmmm.. Neville I believe you live with your grandmother?" he asked.

"Er… yes," said Neville nervously. "But… I don't want the boggart to turn into her either."

"No, no, you misunderstand me," said Lupin, he was smiling now and Harry could practically see the shithead that teenage Lupin had to be, just as Sirius described him. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

And there was the shithead, Harry smiled to himself, regretting that Sirius had chosen to accompany grumpy Regulus to Charms instead of Harry or that for once Colin wasn't around to capture the moment. Sirius would have been beside himself at that, Snape probably less so, he realised. On a good day Snape was never particular tolerable towards Neville and this…

Maybe the bloody dementor would have been better, he thought to himself. Well, Lupin was a big boy and he could handle Snape's strop like a champion. Unlike Neville.

Fuck, what he should do. Save Neville from almost guaranteed Snape's wrath by exposing himself to a dementor? Or should he allow Lupin to handle that?

What Sirius or his Mum would have done in his place. What his dad would have done in his place he was certain. He would have allowed the lesson to continue without disturbance, for nothing else but a good laugh. Mum would definitely try to intervene. And Sirius?

Teenage Sirius would surely react the same way his father would have had. But the adult one… Adult Sirius got himself between Harry and a boggart-dementor with little regard to his own well-being and continuously had failed to force any boggart into any other form. He just chased offending shape-shifter back into its hiding place with his Patronus and allowed Lupin to sort it out.

Harry couldn't force the boggart into any other shape either, aside from one brief hiccup. He continuously failed at that and he was definitely going to fail now and by doing so he would expose the class to a dementor. Bad idea. And Snape would have been as much of an arse to Neville with a reason as he was without one.

"Well… she always wears the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top," said Neville nervously. "And a long dress… green, normally… and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."

"And a handbag?" Lupin prompted.

"A big red one," added Neville.

"Right then," said Lupin before he bent over to whisper something to Neville's ear. Then he turned to the rest of the class and added, "If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn. I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical."

The room went very, very quiet all of the sudden. Harry, recognising the warning for what it was, slowly inched away from the rest of the class. Many people had their eyes shut. Ron was muttering something to himself that sounded like 'take its legs off'.

"Everyone ready?" asked Lupin and Harry found the everyone else nodding slowly and rolling up their sleeves. "Neville, we're going to back away a bit, to give you a clear field. I'll call the next person forward… Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot…"

They all retreated, mostly backing against the walls and Harry took it as an excuse to shift even further away from the wardrobe.

Neville stood alone in front of the wardrobe, he looked pale and frightened, but he pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready.

"On the count of three, Neville," said Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "One… two… three.. now!"

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open and almost life-like Snape stepped out of it, his eyes flashing at Neville.

Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly as boggart-Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes.

"R.. R.. Riddikulus!" squeaked Neville.

There was a noise like a whip crack and Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag.

There was a roar of laughter; the boggart paused, confused and Lupin shouted, "Parvati! Forward."

Parvati walked forward, her face set. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a blood-stained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising…

"Riddikulus!" cried Parvati and a bandage unravelled at the mummy's feet.

It became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off.

"Seamus," roared Lupin.

Seamus darted past Parvati. Crack! Where the mummy had been was a woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face. A banshee, Harry recognised it from one of the books he found at Grimmauld Place. She opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek that made the hair on Harry's head stand on end…

"Riddikulus!" shouted Seamus and the banshee made a rasping noise and clutched at her throat, her voice was gone.

"Dean!" called out Lupin.

Dean hurried forward. Crack! The banshee became a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab.

"Riddikulus!" yelled Dean and a snap later the hand was trapped in a mousetrap.

"Excellent! Ron, you next."

Ron leapt forward. Crack! A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, was advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly. For a moment he seemed frozen and then.

"Riddikulus!" bellowed Ron, and the spider's legs vanished, it rolled over and over until it came to a halt at Hermione's feet.

Crack!

Harry recognised which form Hermione's fear had taken before it even properly materialised itself. The shift in the air was instantaneous before a rotting, glistening hand extended itself towards Hermione as the creature beneath a black cloak took a long, rattling breath from an unseen mouth.

Intense chill swept through Harry, going deep into his bones. Rushing filled his ears and he found himself being pulled down under water. Again. Except this time he wasn't prepared for it, wasn't ready for the dementor in the room.

Someone screamed his name. It could have been his Mum, whose voice he heard in presence of boggart-dementors but it could as well be Lavender who was standing a couple of feet away from him. Not that it mattered. Not that he cared. He was drowning and his last conscious thought was, 'Sirius, help me!'

He had no idea how much time had passed before his consciousness started to return. The first feeling that had was that of a stone floor under his body which for a brief moment made him feel grateful for some reason.

I'm not in the hospital wing, he realised a moment later. But how I got there?

Then everything returned to him. The boggart and dementor he tried to avoid summoning. But it wasn't exactly his dementor, was it?

"Thank God," he heard a relieved whisper. "He's coming around."

The voice sounded like Hermione's and sure enough when he pried his eyes open he found her kneeling on the floor in front of him, with one hand on his arm and another absent-mindedly stroking onto Sirius's fur.

How did he got there? Wasn't he supposed to be with Re… Harry's gaze slid past Hermione and he found Regulus standing behind her, along with Lupin. They were both discussing something animatedly and didn't appear to hear her, nor Harry could hear them.

Sirius whined softly and thumped his tail loudly against the floor. That got their attention and Lupin quickly waved his wand.

"Harry," he breathed out in evident relief. "How are you feeling?"

"I…" started Harry paused to lick his lips and swallow. "I used to be better."

He did. This was new. He hadn't fainted since the first and second encounter with a boggart-dementor.

"We should get you to the hospital wing," said Hermione.

"No!" objected Harry. "I'm not going!"

"Harry!" Hermione huffed in exasperation.

"I'm fine," Harry protested as he struggled to push himself into a sitting position. "Professor!" he whined at Lupin.

"He's conscious, objecting and definitely not bleeding," said Lupin as he knelt by Harry. "I can't make him if he doesn't want to go," he added to Hermione before he helped Harry shift into a full sitting position and slid him over towards the wall. "But you will have to eat that," he added as he pulled out a bar of chocolate from his pocket. "All of it or I will carry you to hospital wing myself."

Harry gapped and mumbled, "You wouldn't," then he chanced a look at Sirius.

The look on Sirius's face promised that he could and he would and that Sirius had half a mind to do so himself, damn the consequences of doing that. Harry scoffed and with shaking fingers tore into the chocolate. He stuffed a big piece of chocolate into his mouth and immediately found himself feeling a bit better.

"It was my fault," whispered Hermione.

"No, Hermione," objected Lupin with a shake of his head. "If it was anyone's fault, it was mine. I should have waited for all of you and asked you all about your fears before unleashing a boggart at the class."

Sirius huffed in agreement and only a mouth full of chocolate stopped Harry from smiling at that. Lupin was in trouble with overprotective mother hen and would surely get an earful from Sirius. The look on Regulus's face showed that he agreed with Harry.

"How did you get here?" asked Hermione as she turned towards Regulus.

Regulus instead of answering gestured animatedly at the dog, who lied himself over Harry's legs and kept his eyes fixed on Harry's chocolate bar. He also huffed when Harry dallied with putting another piece of chocolate into his mouth.

Yes, mother, Harry thought fondly as he scratched Sirius's ear with one hand and put a piece of chocolate in his mouth with the other.

"He's your dog," said Hermione simply.

"He is," agreed Regulus. "But he bonded with Harry right away. I don't really have a problem with sharing him. Because clearly Harry needs a guard dog more than I do," he added pointedly.

"Bugger off," Harry mumbled over a piece of chocolate. "And aren't you late for a class or something?" he asked Hermione after he managed to swallow.

In reply Hermione shrugged and muttered, "They will survive without me, Professor Burbage is extremely understanding."

Secrets & Keepers – Contentions

Hermione Granger, Thursday, Hogwarts

Harry refused a visit to the hospital wing and the longer he was conscious the more adamantly he refused. So after a couple of attempts she stopped trying to convince him otherwise. She still felt extremely guilty for unleashing that thing on the class.

She had no idea how it came to her, this kind of boggart. Not that it was better than the alternatives that flashed briefly through her mind when she started thinking about what terrified her the most.

Her first thought, ridiculously childish all things considered, was the primal fear of being deemed a Muggle and not worthy of magic. That briefly gave way to the image of her father telling her that he was pulling her out of Hogwarts. Then it was her Mum dying and after that Snape opening his arms to her in a familiar paternal gesture. All were bloody terrifying and she had no idea how she could counter them.

That's why she didn't try to deliberately place herself in the boggart's path. But Ron's spider decided for her.

From where this creature, this faux dementor had come she had no idea. But when it had it brought with it the feeling of overwhelming hopelessness and paralysing fear. She didn't cry out for Mum but it was a near thing and then Harry fainted. Lupin intervened, banished it back into the wardrobe and dismissed the class.

She was the only one that remained by Harry's side. Less out of fear and more out of guilt. It was her boggart that done that to Harry. He fainted because of her.

They eventually returned to the common room, after Lupin pilled both of them with chocolate. Harry settled himself on the couch with Aaron's dog in his lap while the younger boy pushed into Harry's hands his transfiguration book and made Harry quiz him on the subject.

She was sitting next to them, in the armchair that was the closest to Harry and trying to read ahead to compensate for her absence in Muggle Studies. And although her gaze was fixed on the book she could hardly comprehend a single sentence.

Harry was doing better, that was evident from the quick, occasional smiles bestowed at Aaron or the dog. One or two of them were also bestowed on Hermione when he caught her staring at him and prompted Hermione to smile back at him.

Something was going on in here and she was nowhere near to figuring out that mystery than she had been able to find her biological mother's name.

She chanced a look at the dog over the top of her book. Aaron's dog looked eerily similar to Grim whom Arcturus turned over to Mum to guard them during the trip to Diagon Alley. They looked so similar that if Hermione didn't know better she could have sworn that they were the same dog.

If that was actually a dog.

From where that thought came out she had no idea other than when it did it lodged itself into her brain and refused to be shaken off. It was just a bloody dog, never mind the extreme likeness to Grim (Arcturus's dog and not Trelawney's death omen).

After all Sirius looked quite similar to Arcturus…

Wait. Could it be?

She didn't gasp in shock but the book she was holding slid out of her hands and had fallen to the floor with a loud thud. That startled Harry, Aaron and the dog enough to look at her.

Green, brown and grey eyes turned to her.

Arcturus had grey eyes, as did Sirius. So did Grim and this dog.

"I forgot about Arithmancy," she breathed out as she bent over to pick up the book. She absentmindedly scooped it and grabbed her bag. "I will see you at dinner."

Then she bolted out of the common room. It was a lie but one that Harry couldn't discover without taking a look at her schedule. The only class she had after Defence was Muggle Studies and she missed it entirely, Arithmancy she had before Potions.

She needed an empty room. A classroom or an unused bathroom.

She rushed past a couple of rooms that seemed to be occupied by older students, mostly Gryffindors accompanied by a Ravenclaw and she found herself pacing in front of a stretch of wall trying to remember where else she could find an empty room. Because she really needed to make a very urgent call.

When the door suddenly appeared on her right she frowned at it but pressed the handle. Blessedly it she found it empty and she dropped her bag to the floor.

She crouched over it and pulled from the confines of it a small rectangular make up mirror.

It arrived yesterday as she was getting ready for bed, delivered by one of the inconspicuous owls that Arcturus kept at the manor with a short, accompanying note. The note explained that the make-up mirror was an early birthday gift for her and her mother. It also stated that although it could serve as a normal mirror it wasn't only that. Arcturus referred to it as a two way mirror that could serve as a Muggle phone so Hermione could talk with her mother whenever she pleased. He also stated that he made another for himself and that he would keep it on himself if Hermione needed his immediate assistance.

Not knowing if Mum was already asleep, she put it away in her bag but promised herself to try it out tomorrow at an earlier hour.

Except now she didn't need to talk to her. She needed Arcturus.

She opened the mirror and whispered, "Arcturus. Arcturus Black."

For a moment all that she could see was reflection of her own face but then her reflection distorted itself and changed into Arcturus's face.

"Are you alone?" she whispered.

He nodded quickly.

"You're an Animagus," she whispered quickly. "An unregistered Animagus! So is Sirius!"

"And a good afternoon to you too, Hermione," replied Arcturus with a sigh.

TBC

Next: Hermione's conversation with Arcturus.