CHAPTER EIGHT: Lupin's First Lesson
When Monday morning came around the situation with Ron and Hermione had not improved. But Harry figured that was what happened when you were too stubborn for your own good. Ron refused to apologize and it didn't look like Hermione would accept it even if he did. The one thing Harry never understood about them was how they could fight so much, even over the littlest things, and yet still manage to maintain a strong, lasting relationship.
Harry had really thought that once the weekend was over they would bury the hatchet and make up, but that seemed to be the furthest thing on either one of their minds. Hermione was trying to prove some point that Harry didn't understand – at least Ginny had said he wouldn't understand. She probably thought it was because he was a guy, and maybe she was right, but Hermione was one of his best friends so he would have at least tried to.
He had learned move then he ever needed to know about their relationship when Fred and George had decided it would be fun to take their youngest brother out for his seventeenth birthday and get him drunk. They had gone to The Burrow for Easter, and since the twins no longer lived there, they had left Harry with the job of sneaking their completely smashed brother into the house. While Harry had walked him home, Ron had divulged an enormous amount of private information concerning his and Hermione's relationship. For days afterwards, Hermione had kept giving him strange looks because Harry had been unable to look her straight in the face. He would never be able to look at her and see the same innocent, and uncorrupted schoolgirl ever again. He knew that the fight she and Ron were having now would be nothing compared to the all out row they would have if she ever found out what Ron had told him. Not that Harry would ever say anything. He was perfectly content to keep his mouth shut and play dumb concerning all areas of his friend's sex lives.
He was on his way to his first early morning Dark Arts class, practically dragging Ron with him, wondering when his best friend would realize that the reason he wasn't apologizing was because he liked how Hermione looked, he just didn't want to admit it. Then that would lead to admitting he liked looking at the witches in Modern Teen Witch. Hermione didn't look like the models in the magazine – and Harry hated to admit it, even if only to himself – but Hermione's minor changes looked good on herself. She hadn't even done that much in the first place. Whatever point she was trying to make, it was working by the way she wore her skirt a little higher and walked through the halls with more confidence then he had ever seen her. Though if he valued his life, he would never mention those things to Ron.
He and Ron were near the last of the students to arrive out on the green grass surrounding the castle. Hermione was there already, standing beside Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff. She said hi to Harry when they came over, while she and Ron just glared at each other.
When everyone was present, Remus Lupin stood in the middle of the assembled students.
"I hope everyone had a good weekend," he said smiling at them. "Now, if you would please take out your essays on traditional defense tactics."
Smirking at Ron, Hermione pulled hers proudly out of her bag. Of course it was almost three feet longer then what Lupin had asked for. Ron just rolled his eyes while he pulled out his own assignment, which was barely long enough – and that was with large writing.
When everybody had theirs out, Lupin said, "now, tear them up."
Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs started looking at each other in confusion. Surely, they had heard him wrong.
"You heard me right," said Lupin, seeing their confused faces. "I want you to rip those pieces of parchment until there's nothing left. Can anyone tell me why?"
No one had an answer. Hermione looked like he had just told them they would be receiving no further homework for the rest of the term.
"Because if these are commonly used defensive techniques," Lupin began when no one raised their hand, "chances are your opponent will already know what you're trying to do, and come up with a counter attack. What I'm going to teach you are far less traditional methods, but are just as effective, if not more. So, go on, tear them right up. I want you to forget every word you wrote about."
Still somewhat unsure, the class began tearing up their essays. For those who had put little effort into theirs, like Ron, he did it with a triumphant grin on his face. He turned to Hermione, who was still looking as though someone had died. She was holding out her essay in front of her, but made no attempts to rip it up.
Ron grinned widely at her. "Want some help with that?"
She gave him a nasty look in return.
"I reckon this was actually worth getting up early for," Ron said to Harry, watching Hermione carefully rip up her parchments.
"Oh, shut up, Ron," she snapped. All her hours of research, gone….
"Now that we have that piece of housekeeping out of the way, it's time for our first practical lesson to begin," Lupin announced, taking out his wand. "Today will simply be a review of the hexes and attack methods you learned last year, since I believe we're all in need of removing the cobwebs that have grown in our brains over the summer. While we're doing that, I will come around to each pair and show you one of the more simpler defense shields. On Wednesday, we will begin advanced fighting techniques. Now, everyone partner up."
Harry partnered up with Ron since Hermione already seemed to have partnered herself with Hannah.
They took turns throwing hexes and curses at one another, using the defensive techniques they already knew, until Professor Lupin came around to demonstrate a new one to each pair.
By eight o'clock, they were sweaty and achy. The defensive moves Lupin had showed them were not easy. It was only near the end of the class that Harry was finally able to perfectly block Ron's cruses. In a few hours time he would have the bruises to show the ones he had been unsuccessful in blocking.
They had just enough time to go to the Great Hall and grab something to eat before Potions started. For once, Harry was actually looking forward to it. He'd be able to sit down and work at his cauldron, and the worst that could happen would be Snape's resentful insults directed at him. But after the exhausting Dark Arts class he had just had, he found that treatment preferable.
Panicked and scared, Harry raced from corridor to corridor. He didn't know why it was so dark. There should have at least been some light coming from the torches set up in each hallway. He took out his wand and muttered "lumos", but the tip of it refused to glow, which only served to increase the feeling of dread growing inside him. His only source of light was what little managed to sneak through the windows, and the ever increasing occurrence of lightning striking somewhere in the distance. He was constantly having to skid to a halt to keep himself from running into statues and suits of armor.
He didn't understand the anxiety he was feeling as he continued to propel himself forward. It was almost as if he were waiting for an attacker to jump out from the shadows at any second. He didn't know what he was running to – or perhaps running from. What he did know was that he had to get to Gryffindor Tower. For what reason, it did not matter. He just knew he needed to be there.
Harry forced himself to run harder, ignoring the aches in his side. He took all the familiar staircases and hallways. He was almost there when he become aware that something was terribly wrong. His scar started throbbing, but even doubled over in pain he forced his way towards the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.
But blocking the portrait of the Fat Lady was a towering figure wrapped in a dark cloak. If that wasn't terrifying enough, two bodies were lying on the floor beside it. Harry was still too far away to see who they were, but the sense of dread in the pit of his stomach increased tenfold with each step he took.
A mocking, almost evil laughter came from the cloaked figure. Harry still couldn't see its face, but the hissing, cruel laughter gave away what was hiding underneath.
"What a foolish boy," the eerie voice spoke. "How long did you think you could protect them from me?"
Lightning flashed, and Harry was now close enough to see the two bodies sprawled on the ground belonged to Hermione and Ron. Their eyes were shut and dark pools of something he couldn't see covered the floor around them. He didn't need to get any closer to confirm what he already knew.
He felt nauseous and lightheaded and angry all at the same time. No one should have to see their two best friends, lying in their own blood, dead. He fought to get a hold of his emotions, but it wasn't working. Without giving it conscious thought, his wand was out and pointed at the thing wearing a cloak. The thing that had murdered his friends without a second thought.
The creature laughed, a much more crueler laughter than before. "You will learn your place, Harry Potter," it said. A scaly hand snaked out from underneath and a crackling energy shot out from it, hitting Harry with full force and knocking him onto his back on the stone floor. The pain from his scar was beyond any excruciating agony Harry had ever known.
"You failed, like always," the voice hissed. "This time your failure will mean your death,"
The hood came off, revealing a grotesque and, deeply disfigured face with grayish skin. Paralyzed with pain, Harry was powerless to get out of the way as the hideous snake-like creature advanced on him at an inhuman speed…
Gasping, Harry's eyes snapped open and he bolted up in his bed. It was a full minute before he realized he was in the seventh year boys' dorm and it had only been a nightmare.
Shaking, he fell back against his pillows, wishing he had cast a silencing charm around his four-poster before he had gone to bed. His fear that his roommates had overheard his nightmare vanished after a quick look around the room revealed everyone was sleeping soundly, no one even stirred. The only sounds that could be heard were Ron's snores along with Neville's heavy breathing.
He sat up again and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Still breathing hard, he ran his hands through his sweat-tangled hair. He knew from past experiences it would be quite awhile before he calmed down enough to go back to sleep. His clock on the nightstand read two-oh-five. It would be safe to go down to the common room – no one would be down there at this hour. He thought about bringing his Transfiguration textbook with him and doing the reading he was supposed to have done before he had gone to bed, but he wasn't in the frame of mind to concentrate on schoolwork, so he nicked the idea.
Putting on his glasses, he made as little noise as possible leaving the dorm and quietly made his way down to the common room.
His earlier assumption that no one would still be up turned out to be wrong.
Even with him only being able to see just the top of the head over the back of the couch, he knew it was Ginny who was still up. Her long, red hair was clearly visible over the top of the couch. He considered just going back upstairs but he didn't want to chance waking Ron or someone else up and have them wanting to know what he was doing up at this time of night.
He walked around to the front of the couch, where she had several books opened up on the coffee table in front of her. A creak from the floorboards made her jump in alarm.
"Harry! What are you doing up?"
"I'm not the only one who should be in bed," he remarked, flopping wearily onto the couch beside her.
After rubbing the sleep out of her eyes she could see how worn out he looked.
"Are you okay?" She asked him.
"Just trouble sleeping," he said, keeping his eyes locked on the dying fire. "Nothing new."
She closed the book she was reading and put it with the others in front of her. "Do you want to talk about what's keeping you awake?"
He didn't want to burden her with his insomnia, and regretted not taking the stairs back up to the dormitories when he had the chance. "No, that's okay. I didn't mean to interrupt whatever you were doing down here. I think I'll go back upstairs now."
He was off the couch, desperately wanting to get back upstairs, and would have, if Ginny had not said what she had.
"You had a dream about Tom,"
He stopped halfway between the stairs and the couch. It wasn't because she had guessed his dream correctly, but because of how she had referred to Voldermort as Tom Riddle. He found it almost impossible to think of his enemy as the boy he had once been. It sent a chill up his spine to have Ginny refer to him back when he was still human.
Within moments, he was back on the couch beside her. He didn't know what to say so he was quiet.
"I know you have nightmares about him," she said slowly. "If I had them, then obviously you would too."
"You have nightmares too?" He said, somewhat in shock, even though a part of him knew he shouldn't have been.
"Not anymore," she told him. "But I used to have terrible ones about Tom Riddle after everything that happened with the Chamber of Secrets," she admitted.
He felt like a fool for not knowing that. She had been through a terrible ordeal, much like the ones he had gone through but he had never considered how much she had suffered.
There was something he needed to know. Something that had been bothering him since he had decided to stay in the common room with her. "Why do you keep referring to him as Tom?"
"Because everything that happened with the Chamber of Secrets was with Tom before he became the Dark Lord. He had obviously already started down that path, but he was still human. Unlike you, Harry, I've never faced him as anything but a teenager. Our nightmares are about the same person, but they're two different people."
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" He was pretty sure she hadn't because Ron would have told him if she had been having nightmares.
She shrugged and looked down at her lap. "I was already in enough trouble. Everybody was watching me so closely for about a year after, that I didn't want them to know I was still being bothered by it – that he still had a hold on me. My mum wouldn't have let me come back here if she knew that. I just wanted everyone to trust me again."
"I'm sorry," he said. It was about five years too late, but he didn't know what else to say. He gave her leg an awkward pat, but she seemed to appreciate the gesture because she put her hand on his and gave it a squeeze.
"I wish you would have said something," he said after several moments of silence, his hand still on her leg with hers resting on top.
"It was my secret to keep," she said. "You're doing the exact same thing, aren't you?"
"It's different," he said, moving his hand out from underneath hers. The moment had passed and he was starting to feel awkward again.
"How is it different?"
"It just is," he insisted.
She didn't like that answer. "You think everyone expects you to be unbreakable, that you've even started believing it yourself. Well, you're not, Harry, and the more you try and keep yourself devoid of emotion and feelings, the less human you are and the more like Voldemort you become."
Not bothering with her books, Ginny left for the girl's dormitory, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.