Dementors and Quiddich don't Mix

The weather worsened in inverse proportion to the time remaining until the first Quiddich match: Slytherin v. Gryffindor. Team Gryffindor trained hard despite the wet and cold. On the last practice day before Saturday's inaugural match to kick off the season, Oliver Wood gave his team some bad news.

"We're not playing Slytherin", he announced to grumbling. "We're playing Hufflepuff instead".

"What's that all about?", Fred called out.

"I just spoke with Team Slytherin's captain. Flint claims they can't play their Seeker, due to injuries. The Headmaster agreed to the rescheduling".

"That's bullshit!", Harry called out. "Malfoy's faking it!"

"You know it, and I know it, but neither of us can prove it. Of course they'd pull something like this. Team Slytherin gets to sit this one out while waiting for better weather", Wood said. The wind had been blowing strong with heavy rain all day. They heard the sound of thunder.

"The moves we've been practicing up till now have become useless. Team Hufflepuff has a completely different style…"

"House of Losers", George interrupted, "don't know now why you're so worried…"

"That's the attitude that loses matches! For your information, Team Hufflepuff has a new captain and Seeker: Cedric Diggory…"

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie giggled.

"What?", he said, disapproving of this light hearted behavior and/or their sexual attraction.

"He's the tall, handsome one, isn't he?", Alicia said.

"The strong, silent type", Katie added.

"He's silent because he's such a moron: can't put together two coherent sentences", Fred objected.

"No he is not!", Wood called out. "He's put together a strong side, and he's an excellent Seeker".

"I don't know why you're so worried", Fred continued, "Hufflepuff's a push-over. Remember last match? Harry caught the Snitch in under five minutes…"

"LISTEN UP! When you get to thinking your opponent's a 'push-over' (finger quotes) you've already lost before the Snitch even goes up. That last match was under different conditions, before Diggory began rebuilding their team. We must not lose focus! Slytherin's fucked us over. We have to win this match!"

"Oliver, calm down", Fred called out, somewhat alarmed. "Believe me, I – we – are taking Hufflepuff seriously. Very seriously.

The day before the match, the winds had become howling. The rain lashed at the windows. The halls and classrooms so dark that extra torches and lanterns were lit. Harry was totally preoccupied with tomorrow's match. Oliver Wood kept intercepting him between classes to give last minute strategy tips. The last time it happened, Wood delayed him for so long he realized he was already ten minutes late for DADA.

"Diggory has a fast swerve, so you might try looping him…", Wood called after him as he dashed down the hall. Skidding to a stop just outside the classroom, he took a deep breathe before opening the door.

"Sorry I'm late Professor Lupin…"

It wasn't Lupin behind the desk, but rather Severus Snape, who looked up to glare menacingly at him.

"Pot-ter, the lesson began ten minutes ago, so I'll have ten points from Gryffindor. Take your seat".

Harry didn't move: "Where's Professor Lupin?", he asked instead.

"As if it's any of your business, he asked to be excused as he's not feeling up to teaching today".

"What's the matter?", Harry asked concern growing.

"Nothing life threatening. Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to take your seat again, it will be fifty. Now sit down!"

Harry took his seat; Snape continued surveying his class.

"As I was saying before Pot-ter interrupted, Professor Lupin didn't leave any record of the topics he discussed…"

"Please, Sir, we've done boggarts, red caps, grindylows, kappas…", Hermione called out.

"Be quiet! I wasn't asking for a rehash. I was merely pointing out Professor Lupin's lack of organization".

"He's the best Defense instructor we've ever had!", Dean Thomas defended.

"Then your standards are quite low, Mr Thomas. I would expect first years to know about red caps and grindylows. Lupin is hardly over working you. Today we shall discuss…"

He paused to flick through the text to near the end, so Harry knew it would be something they hadn't gotten to yet.

"… Werewolves"

"But, Sir, we haven't done werewolves yet", Hermione objected, "we were scheduled to begin hinkypunks…"

"Miss Granger, I was under the impression I was teaching this lesson, not you. I am telling you will turn to page 394…", he said with a menacing calm.

He waited…

"Now! All of you!", he snapped.

All the students turned to the page that began a chapter on werewolves.

"Which one of you can tell us how to distinguish the werewolf from the true wolf?", he asked.

Two hands went up right away, one belonging to Ginny, the other to Hermione. He ignored both of them.

"Anyone?", he asked. That twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't discussed even the most basic distinction…"

"Sir, we told you. We haven't done werewolves yet", Parvatti suddenly called out.

"SILENCE!", Snape snarled.

"Well, well, well, I never thought I'd ever meet third year students who couldn't tell a werewolf from a real wolf when they saw one. I shall inform Headmaster Dumbledore about just how far behind you are".

"Please, Sir", said Hermione, hand still up. "The werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf…"

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger", he said coolly. "That's another five points from Gryffindor for speaking before being called on, and another five points for being an insufferable know-it-all".

Hermione was turning quite red. Head down, her eyes began filling with tears. The whole rest of the class glared with anger at Snape. It was a testimony as to just how much the students disliked Snape. There wasn't a single one of them who hadn't called Hermione a know-it-all at least once; Ron, once every other day.

"You asked a question and they knew the answer!", Ron called out and everyone knew he was treading very thin ice here. "Why ask if you don't want to hear the answer?!"

The class held its collective breathe as Snape approached Ron slowly. Face just inches from Ron's nose: "Detention, Weasley, and if I ever hear you criticize how I teach a class again you will be very sorry indeed".

The rest of the lesson passed in silence, the students taking notes from the werewolf chapter. All the while, Snape prowled between the desks, criticizing the work they'd done with Professor Lupin.

"Very poorly explained…"

"That is incorrect, the kappa is most commonly found in Mongolia…"

"Lupin gave you eight out of ten? I wouldn't've given you three…"

It was obvious that nothing Lupin could do would ever satisfy Snape. Finally, mercifully, the bell rang to end the ordeal. It wasn't just over quite yet, as he held the class back.

"Your assignment to be turned in next Monday is an essay on the ways to detect and kill werewolves. I expect two rolls of parchment. Oh and Weasley? We will need to see about arranging your detention".

Once far away enough not to be overheard:

"What's he got against Professor Lupin?", Hermione asked. "Is it because of Neville's boggart? What's he got against me?"

"As for Lupin, I suppose Neville's boggart didn't help. I don't know, exactly, but I have a real good idea. As for you and Ginny, he knows Ginny's an AP student and he'd expect her to know the answer. As for you, he has a point…"

"Har-ry!"

"You do tend to monopolize the Q&A and that's not fair to the rest of the class. You can't deny it".

"Let's hope Professor Lupin gets better, and fast. So what do you know?"

"No argument there, 'Mione… Later".

Ron was catching up: "Know what that cocksucker has me doing?! I have to scrub every bed pan in the infirmary… without magick!"

"Count your blessings", Harry told him, "after the way you mouthed off, I'd expect worse… a lot worse".

"So what were you saying about Snape and Lupin?", Hermione asked after they'd ditched Ron.

"You know Lupin was in school with James, Sirius, and Wormtail, and Snape?"

"I didn't".

"James, Lupin, Sirius, and Pettigrew had themselves a gang, of sorts: the Marauders, they called themselves. Their nicks were Prongs for James, Padfoot for Sirius, Wormtail for Pettigrew, and Lupin was Mooney. That's three nicks after animals: their animagi forms. Mooney isn't an animal nick is it? I was in his office when you were at Hogsmeade, and Snape arrived with a potion. Lupin was saying he felt a 'bit off colour'. He also told me that sugar makes this potion useless".

"And?", she encouraged.

"He was also a bit off colour when we were on the Express. It happens once a month…"

"You think…"

"Our DADA prof is a werewolf. Look up wolfsbane potion when you have some free time, and see what it says about adding anything extra to it. His Marauder nick was after the moon, the full moon. The same as his boggart".

"So what are we going to do about it, assuming it's true?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing. I'm telling you this in the strictest confidence. Not a word to anyone, especially not Ron. Maybe Snape was right, and he isn't the best DADA teacher, but he's a damn sight better than what we've seen so far, and I don't want to see him lose the position".

"But, Professor Snape…"

"They were in school together, and Snape was singled out for their most malicious pranks. That's reason enough for him to have it in for Professor Lupin. I'm sure there's more to the story of what happened back then".

"How do you know?"

"Aunt Petunia was Lily's sister…"

"From everything you said about them, I didn't think she'd tell you anything about your mother".

"Recently. Besides, everything else fits: the potion, the periodic illnesses, the thing that scares him the most, he's definitely a were".

0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

The day of the first match hadn't improved at all. Harry and the rest of the team had to stagger sideways onto the pitch against the wind and rain. Cedric, a Fifth year, was taller and heavier, more like a Chaser or Beater than a Seeker. Seekers tended to be light and speedy, but under these conditions, his extra weight would help him keep his broom heading in the direction he wanted.

The stands were filling, the audience under Ever Dry Charms and Warming Charms. That the match was so well attended was a testimony to the popularity of Quiddich.

As for Harry, it was a wretched situation, soaked to the skin through his team robes and the civvies he wore underneath, feeling like he was freezing although it wasn't that cold. During the game, a flash of lightning revealed what looked like a large black dog sitting at one of the highest seats. Then he spotted Cedric spotting the Snitch…

Harry heard voices as off in a distance,

"Never thought I'd hear myself saying it, but thank Merlin for the rain…"

"Softened the impact, that's for sure..."

"Thought he was a gonner…"

"His glasses didn't even break…"

So far, he hadn't a clue as to what was going on, where he was, what he was doing before he got to wherever he found himself. All he knew was everything hurt, like being flattened by a lorry.

"That's the scariest thing I've ever seen…"

Scary… things… tall figures in black robes… Harry's eyes snapped open. He realized that, once again, he was back in Madam Pomphrey's infirmary. He must've done something dangerous again…

All of Team Gryffindor stood around, covered in mud, dripping all over Poppy's floor. Ron and Hermione were also there.

"Harry!", Fred called out. He was looking unusually white under all that mud, "How're you feeling?"

"What… happened?", Harry asked.

"You don't know? You fell off… must've been fifty feet…"

"We thought you were dead!", Alicia called out.

"The match!", Harry suddenly recalled. They couldn't still be playing unless there was an extended time-out. "Has the replay been scheduled?"

No one said anything, just looked miserable.

"We didn't… lose?"

"Cedric caught the Snitch", George explained. "It was just before you fell. He didn't know what happened until he looked back, saw you on the ground. He offered a rematch, but Madam Hooch ruled that he caught the Snitch legally… They won, fair and square. Even Wood admits it".

Harry looked around.

"Where is Oliver anyway?"

"Still in the showers...", George said.

"… Looking for a stray razor blade to slit his wrists", Fred finished that thought.

"FRED!", Hermione reprimanded. "At a time like this?!"

"They've always been insensitive prats", Harry reminded.

"You wound us…", Fred began.

"… To the very quick of our souls", George finished.

"It's not over yet", Fred explained. "so we lost by a hundred points. "So if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw, and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin…"

"No good", George disagreed. "Ravenclaw's too good this year, no way Hufflepuff will take them".

Harry wasn't paying them any attention. He'd lost the match. For the first time, he missed the Snitch. After ten minutes – more or less – Madam Pomphrey shooed Harry's team mates from the infirmary. They left, tracking mud all over the floor, to Madam's disapproval.

"See you later", Fred said.

"Don't beat yourself up over it", George reminded, "you're still the best Seeker we've ever had".

"So what happened?", Harry asked as Hermione and Ron stayed behind.

"Dementors", Hermione began.

"ESSSSS-loads of 'em", Ron added.

"That's when Dumbledore arrived just in time", Hermione continued. "He cast some sort of spell that broke your fall… I've never seen him so furious. Then he made more of that silver stuff that ran them off".

"Then he conjured a stretcher, levitated you on it and brought you here, walked you here himself", Ron said.

"Still, everyone feared the worst…"

Harry drifted off once again, not paying any attention. He remembered the screaming… He looked up, and they seemed so concerned, he decided to ask something innocuous to change the subject.

"Anyone get my broom?", he asked.

"Oh Harry", Hermione said, and Harry didn't like the sound of her voice. "After you fell, the wind took it and it… and it… Oh Harry, it hit the Whomping Willow".

"The Whomping Willow really doesn't like things hitting it", Ron pointed out the obvious.

"Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came around", Hermione said in a tiny voice. She took out a bag at her feet, and emptied its contents onto the bed: a dozen wood fragments and bits of broomtail. That was all that was left of his faithful, never beaten, Nimbus 2000.

Madam Pomphrey insisted on keeping him in the infirmary for the rest of the weekend. He refused to allow her to throw out the shattered remains of his Nimbus. It was silly, no chance of ever repairing it, but just to unceremoniously discard it didn't feel right: like throwing away an old friend.

He had a stream of well wishers, all trying to cheer him up. Hagrid sent an earwiggy flower that looked like a canary yellow cabbage and his famous rock cakes. Ginny, blushing furiously, gave him a self made get well card that sang shrilly unless he kept it under a basket of fruit.

His team mates, including Oliver Wood, dropped by on Sunday morning. Wood told him in a hollow voice that said he did, that he didn't blame Harry for the loss. Ron and Hermione didn't leave him until evening.

They all meant well, but none of them understood what was really bothering Harry. Part of it was, once again, going to pieces when the dementors came. That humiliation wasn't half of it. Unlike on the Express, this time, the screaming only he heard was all too clear.

"Not Harry! Not Harry, please not Harry!"
"Stand aside, you silly little girl… stand aside… Now!"
"Please, not Harry! Take me… take me instead… have mercy… have mercy. Please, not Harry!"

He knew now what the dementors were feeding on: he was reliving the last moments of his mother's life. Up till now, he recalled nothing. He didn't think it was possible to even remember back that far, as his earliest memories dated back to when he was three or so.

This is what kept him up late into the night, as he lay in bed, watching the slow progress of moon light across the ceiling. If he wasn't going to get any sleep, there was something he needed to take care of.

"Dobby", he called.

"Yes Mas… Harry, you'se be needing Dobby's help?"

"Sorry for the late call…"

"Think nothing of it. Dobby always ready for… Harry Potter".

"Two things: first of all, do you know anywhere in the castle that's private? I mean really private where I can have a discussion without worrying I'd be found?"

"Dobby knows just the place. We elves call it the 'Come and Go Room'. It's up there, on the seventh floor. Right opposite that tapestry of Barnabas the Balmy".

"How does this work?"

"That's easy: you pass back and forth, saying what you want the room to be, and it becomes that".

"Good. Now can you find my godfather, Sirius, and bring him there? Let's say, day after tomorrow, after supper?"

"Dobby can do that, Harry Potter, Sir".

"Thanks again, Dobby".

Monday morning, Harry was glad to be out of the infirmary, and back to business that didn't allow him to dwell on the memories the dementors awakened. Even if that meant putting up with Malfoy's grief. Draco was beside himself with joy over Team Gryffindor's loss.

He celebrated by finally taking off his bandages, and doing imitations of Harry's nearly fatal fall. During Potions, he taunted Harry with dementor impersonations from across the room. Ron got so incensed that he threw a crocodile heart at Malfoy, hitting him in the face. That cost Gryffindor fifty points, and Ron another detention.

"If Snape's teaching Defense, I'm skiving off", Ron declared as they were on their way to DADA. "You mind checking?", he asked Hermione.

"Coast is clear", Hermione informed Ron.

Professor Lupin was behind the desk, and he definitely looked as though he'd taken ill. His robes seemed to hang more loosely, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. His face lit up with a smile as his students took their places at the desks.

The students broke out in complaints about Snape's handling of the class.

"It's not fair", one student called out, "going off the schedule. Assigning us homework when he was just subbing for a day!"

"We don't know anything about werewolves…"

"Two rolls of parchment…"

"Didn't you inform Professor Snape that we haven't covered that subject yet?", Lupin asked.

More complaints.

"Of course we did!", Dean Thomas called out.

"He wouldn't listen!", Alicia confirmed. "He complained about how far behind we all were".

"Two rolls of parchment…"

"Don't worry", Lupin announced, "I'll have a word with Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay".

"Oh no", Hermione called out, "I've finished it already".

Lupin found excuses to award Gryffindor the points that Snape had docked them.

This was a much more pleasant lesson. Professor Lupin brought in an aquarium containing a hinkypunk. This was a one-legged beast that looked more like smoke than anything solid. It looked too fragile to be dangerous.

"They lure the unwary traveler into bogs. Notice the lantern dangling from his hand? They use that, hop ahead, and hope someone follows the light. Once the traveler is good and lost, they extinguish the lantern, stranding the unwary victim".

The hinkypunk made a hideous squelching noise as it rubbed against the glass.

"May I have a word?", he said to Harry as the students were filing out.

"Professor?"

"I heard about the match. Sorry your team lost through no fault of your own".

"Wood said the same".

"I hope you were listening. I also heard about your Nimbus. Any chance of getting it repaired?"

"I'm afraid not: that tree really did a number on it. Unless you're needing tooth picks, nothing else can be done".

"The Whomping Willow was planted the same year I began here at Hogwarts. Some of the braver – or more fool hearty – used to play a game, to see who could get close enough to touch the trunk and get away unharmed. That ended when a boy, Davey Gudgeon, nearly lost an eye. After that incident, the Headmaster made a new rule forbidding anyone to go near it. A broomstick wouldn't've stood a chance".

"You heard about the dementors?"

"I have never seen the Headmaster so angry. They have been growing increasingly restless, furious over being prohibited from crossing the Perimeter… I assume they are the reason you fell?"

"Yes…", he hesitated. The question just had to be asked, even if he feared the answer. "Why? Why do they affect me that way? Am I just…"

"No, absolutely not. It has nothing to do with being weak. The dementors affect you more severely than the other students because they don't have the horrors in their past that you do.

A ray of wintery sunlight crossed the room, illuminating Lupin's prematurely graying hair, and emphasizing the premature lines on a too young face.

"Dementors are the foulest beings to ever draw breathe. They like the dark, filth, decay, and they glory in that decay and despair. They drain peace, joy, and hope out of their immediate surroundings. Even muggles feel their presence even if they can't see them. Get too close to a dementor and every good feeling, every pleasant memory, will be sucked right out of you. If they are able, they will continue to feed until there is nothing left but the most unpleasant memories, until the unfortunate victim is turned into something a lot like themselves: soulless and evil. You'll have nothing to live with other than your worst experiences. Considering your worst experience would make anyone fall off their brooms. You have nothing to be ashamed of".

"When they get near me…", Harry said through a tightening throat, "...I can hear it… I can hear Voldemort's killing my mother…"

After a few awkward moments: "You made that dementor back off when we were on the Express. Hermione said Dumbledore did something that drove them out of the stadium".

"There is a defense, but the more of them there are, the harder it is to resist".

"What defense? Can you show me?"

"I can't pretend to be an expert at dementor fighting… quite the contrary, Harry".

"If they come to another Quiddich match, I'd like to know I have other options besides falling".

He considered for a minute: "All right. I'll see what I can do, but I'm afraid it'll have to wait until after the holidays. I chose a particularly bad time to fall ill".

0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

"I need to see Sirius… I need to see Sirius… I need to see Sirius", Harry paced back and forth across an apparantly solid, blank wall. The double doors to the Come and Go Room appeared. Sirius was waiting, and he looked much improved since their last meeting.

"Can't thank you enough for sending Dobby. He's been bringing Hogwarts food…"

"You're welcome", Harry said flatly.

"Harry?", Sirius started.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"I don't…"

"The school grounds are lousy with dementors, the aurors, the normie cops, are all after you, and you decide to sneak into the school to take in a Quiddich match?"

"Just wanted to see you play. See if you are as good as James…"

"Let's get one thing straight: I am not James. Here I am, doing my best to get your name cleared, and this is how you thank me? I have a good mind to turn you over to the dementors right now…"

"Don't lecture me like I was a kid…"

"Then stop, just stop. Act your age for once".

A crooked smile appeared on Sirius' face: "Sorry, but I can't do that: I've never been this age before".

"You know perfectly well what I mean. You put yourself at risk, and you risk my life as well".

"What do you mean?"

"The dementors come and I have to relive the last moments of Mother's life. They came when I was some fifty feet off the ground. I fell. If the rain hadn't softened the ground, if Dumbledore had been just seconds later, I could very well have died".

"I… didn't know… Sorry"

"Stop doing dumbassed things like you did last Saturday. There are a lot of people who are going the extra length to help you. The best way to repay their efforts is to stop taking unnecessary chances! There will be plenty of chances to see Quiddich, but first things first".

London: Ministry of Magick

A tall, slender figure appeared in Wormtail's holding cell. He was wearing a black robe with silver mask. He clamped a hand over Wormtail's mouth, startling him awake. He struggled. The figure put a finger to the mask's lips.

"Do you understand, Wormtail?", he asked. Wormtail nodded.

"Who…", Wormtail started.

"That's not important. Take a firm hold on my robes, and close your eyes".

Wormtail hesitated.

"Do it!"

As soon as his eyes closed, they disapparated.

"Where are we?", Wormtail asked.

"This is outside Little Hangleton", his companion told him. "Use this chance wisely. Get out of the country. You may not have another".