Harry had always loved Hogwarts at night. There was a silence and murkiness to the building which might have been creepy to others, but which Harry found surprisingly comforting. Ever since his Christmas explorations in first year, Harry sometimes found himself wandering the corridors on nights he couldn't sleep. This particular Tuesday morning, Harry had awoken from a nightmare sweating and desperate to walk some of his nervous energy off. The dream hadn't been particularly graphic, but something about it had unnerved him. In the nightmare, Harry had been back at Privet Drive; he could tell it was the summer after first year from the bars on his windows and the cat flap on his door. He had been at the door, in his dream, speaking to someone through the flap. He can remember the feeling of hunger gnawing at his stomach, and, he thinks with a feeling of shame, that he might have been begging. After an indeterminable amount of time, his door had swung open, and of all people, Professor Lupin had been standing before him. The man hadn't said anything; just stared at the boy with contempt and shook his head, before turning away and slamming the door closed. Harry had woken up just as the door collided with his fingers, heart in his throat and eyes suspiciously stingy.
It was just a weird dream, the boy reminded himself as he wandered. He was currently wrapped in his invisibility cloak, somewhere in the lower area of the castle. It might have been the fact that that his dream featured the Defence Professor, out of everyone, that had unnerved him so much. The man was usually very kind to Harry. But it didn't take a genius to work out why he had appeared in his dream that night, Harry thought with a frown as he trudged mulishly down another corridor. They had had Defence the day before. Madame Pomfrey had been right in her prediction; almost all of the sick students were well again by the start of the week. After a very boring weekend sitting with Ron in their room and occasional flights to Hermione in the night, Harry was delighted to have his friends back properly.
During the lesson, though, Harry's good mood had taken a sharp turn. Professor Lupin had brought them to the staff base and had began a lesson on Boggarts. He had left it to this week, he explained, as it was very important, and he felt the sick students would be at a disadvantage without the chance to tackle one head-on. The lesson itself had been probably the most interesting Defence class he'd ever had, right up until the Professor swooped in and stopped Harry from facing the creature.
Harry felt a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over him at the memory. Hadn't he faced down Quirrell in his first year, saving the Philosopher's stone? And hadn't he just last year slayed a basilisk and saved Ginny Weasley's life down in the Chamber? He scowled at his feet. Out of all the students in his class, surely he had proved himself the most capable of facing down a creature which wasn't even all that dangerous? Harry had never enjoyed being treated like a child, of course, but for some reason Lupin believing him incapable of standing up to a Boggart rankled him more than usual.
Perhaps, he thought, turning down another corridor, it was because Defence had always been the one place (outside of quidditch, maybe) that he'd actually proven himself. It was one thing having everyone think him some hero for something he doesn't even remember, but that had been him in the chamber last year. He'd faced down Tom Riddle. He'd pulled the sword from the hat and killed the basilisk. He'd—
His thoughts were interrupted by a shadow moving out of the corner of his eye. Whipping his head around, Harry saw the flutter of a cloak disappearing around the corner. He froze. A teacher? Merlin forbid, Snape? After a second, common sense caught up to him: the cloak was the wrong height for a teacher. A student, then. Harry felt his curiosity prickle. They were moving carefully and slowly; definitely trying not to be caught. Harry hurried around the corner to follow, without any further thought.
The hallway stretched ahead of him, and Harry was just in time to hear the quiet snick of a heavy door being closed gently. It seemed to be coming from the middle of the corridor, and only one door was visible. Harry crept closer, keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible. The corridor was dark and unfamiliar; somewhere near the Dungeons, perhaps? He couldn't recall ever having classes here. He was suddenly reminded of last week, with Astoria, and forced himself to still and strain his ears for any sounds of crying.
Nothing.
Feeling even more curious, Harry crept the final few steps to the door. He paused to consider for a moment. What if it was a student just looking for privacy? The thought didn't seem very convincing. The student had crept down here silently and purposefully, as if they knew exactly where they were going and couldn't risk being caught. Perhaps if he'd been a normal student, he might have left them to it, but after the plots of the last two years - Quirrell sneaking around the castle, whispering to Voldemort in dark corners, and all the business with the Chamber - Harry didn't want to take any risks.
Taking a deep breath, he reached out to grasp the cold brass handle, and quickly swung the door open. Peering intently inside, he felt his mouth fall open.
Theodore Nott was standing at the far side of the room, clearly having jumped to his feet at the sudden noise of the door opening. His wand was out, and he was furiously scanning the doorway. Harry remembered with a jolt that he was invisible. He watched the other boy with pure shock for a moment more, before coming back to himself suddenly. Swallowing, he reached above him and slowly pulled off his cloak.
The look on Nott's face might have been funny in another situation, but Harry took in the dark shadows under the boy's eyes and his rigid posture and felt a sharp wave of guilt.
"Er," he said.
Nott simply blinked at him, looking bewildered for a moment more before a thunderous expression took over his face.
"Potter?" the boy asked, "what the hell are you doing here? And what – is that an Invisibility Cloak?" He sounded such a mix of incredulous and furious that Harry was immediately and bizarrely reminded of Professor McGonagall.
"Er," Harry said again, mentally cursing himself for always getting himself into these situations. "Yeah, it's – an invisibility cloak. It was my dad's."
Nott didn't react to this information. "What are you doing here?" he demanded again, frowning fiercely. "Are you stalking me now?" His face was white with anger and Harry felt himself taking an involuntary step back.
"No!" he said. "I swear! I saw someone come into this room and I was curious. I promise, I didn't know it was you." He hoped that Nott could read the truth in his voice.
The other boy's scowl didn't waver. "You expect me to believe that? Bit of a coincidence, isn't it?" He was sneering a little now. Harry felt a flush of indignation. It was an odd coincidence, sure, but Nott was completely overreacting.
Harry eyed the other boy warily and noticed that he had yet to put his wand away.
"Are you going to curse me? Just for interrupting your – whatever this is?" he asked, a little petulantly.
Nott blinked at him and looked at his wand as if noticing it for the first time. After a second his lips pursed and with a smooth motion he pocketed it. He was clearly still annoyed, but the rage had gone, Harry noted with an embarrassing amount of relief. Nott looked up at him like he was studying him.
"You seriously didn't know it was me?" Nott asked. His voice was wary, but not as disbelieving as before.
Harry nodded earnestly, before he could change his mind. "Yeah, I promise. Just saw your cloak." He tried to look as honest as possible. Nott stared intently at him, and Harry felt himself shift a little, uncomfortably. After a few seconds, Nott let out a resigned sounding sigh and nodded once.
"Well, now that your curiosity has been satisfied, you can carry on with whatever important thing you were doing in the halls at one am under an invisibility cloak." His voice was clipped and vaguely insulting, but Harry simply rolled his eyes at the boy and looked around the room. They were in yet another unused classroom, it seemed. This one appeared to be a little less dusty than the one he had found Astoria in, thankfully. Harry felt his curiosity being piqued once again. Was it a Slytherin thing, to hide out in empty classrooms at night for privacy?
"I was just walking," he responded eventually. "I just wear my Cloak so I'm not seen." Harry looked over at the other boy to find him studying him again. "What are you doing up? And in here?" Harry found himself asking before he could think better of it.
"None of your business, Potter," Nott replied, coolly.
Harry looked at him for a few seconds, then came to a decision. "Alright," he said, simply. "Mind if I join you?"
Ten minutes later, and Harry was wondering if maybe he was too curious for his own good. Nott had been decidedly less than happy at Harry's request, but after Harry had insisted that he'd be quiet and hadn't seemed deterred by the other boy's scathing remarks (really, he had nothing on Snape, or his Aunt Petunia for that matter), he had clearly decided that Harry wasn't leaving, and had jerkily nodded at a desk across the room from him.
Harry had belatedly realised that Nott might actually want to be alone for personal reasons, but his guilt was lessened after a few minutes of watching Nott simply read from a dusty looking book he'd pulled from his bag. He didn't appear to have sought out the room out to cry in, at least. Thank Merlin.
Harry had quickly become bored. His decision to stay with Nott had been rather spur of the moment, and as usual he had let his gut decide for him. As Harry hadn't brought a book to entertain himself on his walk, he was left with nothing to do except sneak furtive glances at the other boy every few minutes as he sat, trying to look like he wasn't about to levitate from boredom and curiosity.
After a torturous fifteen minutes had passed in which Harry longingly thought primarily of his bed up in the tower, Nott finally let out a longsuffering sigh, and said, "I can hear you thinking from here, Potter." He didn't look up from his book.
"Sorry," Harry said, not really meaning it. "Just didn't bring any books on my nigh-time stroll." The Unlike some was clearly implied.
"You're the one who insisted on sitting here," Nott reminded him, sharply. If he wasn't so posh Harry thought he might've rolled his eyes.
"Er, right. Yeah, sorry." Harry sighed. "What're you reading?" he tried, wondering if Nott was anything like Hermione and wouldn't be able to resist talking about his reading habits.
"A book," Nott responded tonelessly. Perhaps not, then. Harry rolled his eyes, but surprisingly didn't feel all that annoyed. Nott's strict adherence to being a bit of a dick was almost entertaining. Casting his mind around for something to do, he realised he'd yet to practice the Cheering charm they'd been set for homework last week. Eying Nott nervously, Harry figured the other boy wouldn't appreciate being his test subject, no matter how much he looked like he could use the Charm. He could at least practice the wand work and incantation, Harry decided.
Nott lasted a full minute of Harry waving his wand around and mumbling under his breath before closing his book with a snap and saying, utterly resigned, "Potter. What on earth are you doing?"
Harry looked over at him with his best innocent expression. "Homework," he told the other boy, before frowning down at his wand and trying the movement again.
A moment passed. "Do you always do your homework in the middle of the night? That would actually explain a lot," Nott mused, sarcastically thoughtful.
Harry maturely resisted sticking his tongue out at the other boy. "Nope," he said easily, "special circumstance." He tried the movement again and frowned when it still didn't seem right.
"Relax your wrist," Nott said quietly. Harry looked up. The other boy was turned toward him now, eyeing Harry's wand with his customary cool expression.
"Huh?" Harry asked.
"Your wrist. You're holding it too rigidly. Charms is all about fluidity. The movement needs to feel natural," Nott said. His voice was surprisingly even, as if he'd given this advice before. Remembering the study group, Harry realised he probably had. Figuring he could use any help that was going, Harry shifted and tried to picture the movement in his mind. Fluid. Right. He could do that. He loosened his wrist a little and tried to lighten his grip on his wand. He cleared his throat and studiously didn't look at Nott.
"Gaudium Pario," he intoned, waving his wand as with as much fluidity as he could manage. A weak yellow vapour flickered out of his wand a few feet, before fizzling quickly in front of him.
"Er," Harry said, frowning down at his wand. He'd had a better result last week in class.
A snort from across the room made him look up. "I said more fluidity, Potter. Not 'wave your wand around wildly like a flag and hope for the best'. You need to have a balance." Nott was smirking at him, not entirely unkindly, and Harry found himself smiling ruefully back.
"Right. That's a good point," he admitted.
He tried the spell again, focusing on the idea of balance and keeping his movements a little less erratic. He felt a little silly with Nott watching, but this time a stronger beam of yellow light shot out of his wand and collided harmlessly with the stone wall across from him. That was way better! Harry peered over at the wall, trying to judge if it might look a bit cheerier than before, but was brought back to himself by Nott saying in a thoughtful voice, "Better, Potter."
Harry looked up in surprise, and felt his cheeks begin to redden. "Ah, thanks," he said, shrugging a little. He eyed Nott and wracked his brain for something to say before he embarrassed himself further. "Is Charms your favourite subject, then?"
Nott considered him for a moment, and just when Harry thought he wasn't going to answer, he shrugged. "I enjoy most subjects, though I suppose I'm best at Charms."
Harry tried not to let his surprise show. He supposed, had he thought about it, he wouldn't have expected Nott to like Charms so much. The boy was so serious, and Harry thinks, a little chagrined, that he'd never really viewed Charms as a particularly serious subject.
"How come?" Harry asked, sitting back down in the rickety old desk chair Nott had angrily pointed to earlier. Nott quirked an eyebrow at him in reply. "I mean, how come Charms is your favourite? Or the one you're best at, I suppose. I would've thought you'd like something more… I don't know." Harry trailed off.
"What, darker?" Nott seemed amused. Harry smiled sheepishly and shrugged.
Nott seemed to think for a moment. "Charms is a very versatile subject," he said at last, idly picking up his book from where he'd placed it on a desk. "It can be used for almost anything, and it is used as the basis in so many other branches of magic. In Potions, for example: we use a Charm to light the flame which heats the cauldron; we use the self-stirring Charm to ensure our potions are stirred perfectly; we even use a Charm to keep track of the exact time a potion has been brewing…" Nott shrugged, and Harry noticed, a little resentfully, that even his shrugs were graceful. Every word out of Nott's mouth seemed deliberate. Harry had never met anyone like him before.
Nott continued after a moment. "The average witch or wizard uses Charms every day for almost everything they do. You can create flight, or completely change something's appearance, or clean a room with just the flick of your wrist. I don't see why anyone wouldn't be interested." The boy's eyes looked brighter than they had all night, and Harry could tell this was something important to him. He felt bizarrely embarrassed that he'd never really given the importance of Charms a second thought.
"You're right," he said, after a moment of thought. "I'd never really considered how much we actually use Charms."
Nott's lips twisted into what was almost a smile. "Most don't. They're happy to write it off as so much wand waving and dancing teacups."
Harry couldn't help but laugh. "I'm getting déjà vu of Zabini's speech on the importance of History the other day."
Harry felt his eyebrows hit his hairline as Nott let out what was unmistakeably a hastily smothered laugh. Harry had never heard the other boy laugh before, and all of a sudden he remembered they were both the same age. Nott had an air about him that made him seem older, but in the dark classroom, watching him scowl and try to smother the quirk of his lips, Harry felt his stomach swoop at how normal he suddenly looked.
Harry's sudden grin was irrepressible, and Nott rolled his eyes.
"Defence is your favourite, then?" It wasn't a particularly masterful subject change, but Harry cheerfully let it slide.
"Yeah," he said, picking up his wand to idly twirl it in his fingers. "It's not like we've had the best teachers, exactly, but I've always found it pretty interesting, I guess. And, well. I'm alright at it, I suppose, so that helps." He shrugged, not looking at the other boy.
"Hm. I've heard you're skilled at Defence," Nott said simply. Harry felt his face redden, and he cleared his throat. "Which is saying something," Nott continued, ignoring Harry's sudden interest in his feet, "considering the Professors we've had." Nott's look of disgust was enough to elicit a startled laugh from Harry, and the other boy frowned at him reproachfully. Harry suddenly wished that he had shared Defence with the Slytherins last year, if only to see Nott's face when Lockhart handed out that quiz on his personal life.
"Ah, thanks," Harry said, clearing his throat again. There was an uncomfortable pause. "Uh, what do you think of Professor Lupin?" Harry asked. He felt his cheeks redden at how awkward he sounded. He hoped Nott wouldn't think he was an idiot.
Harry was fine talking to Ron and Hermione and the other Gryffindors his age. They were all pretty easy-going, and he supposed it helped that he had had Ron from the start to ease any uncertainty. But during times like this, when Harry was faced with the task of making conversation with someone his age he didn't know very well on his own, he was forcibly reminded of the fact that he hadn't had a friendly conversation with anyone else his age until he was eleven years old. The children at primary school knew better than to try and talk to him. He'd get sympathetic looks, sometimes, from some of the kinder boys and girls, but no one was brave enough to make themselves a target for Dudley's bullying. Harry couldn't really blame them. Ever since coming to a Dudley-free Hogwarts, however, he'd found himself distinctly uncomfortable with the friendliness of the other students. He had wondered before if that's why he gets along with Ron and Hermione so much. The latter, especially. Harry had seen his own uncertainty mirrored on her face on many occasions. Perhaps she hadn't had a Dudley in her school, outlawing possible friendships, but Harry had been able to pick up from some of the rare comments she'd made on her primary school days that they probably hadn't been all that different to his.
Nott was watching him with a considering expression, and Harry wondered idly if Nott had had many friends before Hogwarts either. "He seems competent enough. Moreso than the others, at least. It's too early to tell, I suppose," the other boy said at length.
Harry suddenly regretted bringing their Professor up as the memory of his earlier nightmare came back to him. "Yeah," he said, scowling down at his wand, "early days." He looked around the room a little, hoping something would jump out to distract him from this topic, but the room remained cold and dusty. Harry let out a gusty sigh. "Did he have your class face Boggarts, too?" he asked at last.
Nott blinked, and raised his eyebrows at Harry knowingly. "He did. Did you not enjoy the lesson?" he asked, sounding a little amused. Harry scowled over at him.
"It was fine, I guess." He turned his scowl back to his wand. Several moments passed, and Harry snuck a look over to Nott. He was sitting, watching Harry, still with a slightly amused look to his eyes, and he was clearly waiting for Harry to continue.
Harry lasted five more seconds. "It's just, well, I didn't actually get to do anything. Guess he thought I couldn't handle the Boggart, or something." He tried to sound unconcerned but knew he had failed when he saw Nott roll his eyes in his peripheral vision. Maybe his poshness did have limits.
"Potter." Nott's voice was rather long-suffering for someone who hadn't spent all that much time with him, Harry thought moodily. "Have you ever considered looking beyond the length of your own nose?"
Harry blinked up at him. "Huh?" he said, completely bemused.
"Can you think of no other reason Lupin might've stopped you from facing the Boggart, other than him thinking you're uniquely weak?" His voice was dry.
Harry thought about it for a minute. "No?" he said, at last, not caring to hide his utter puzzlement.
Nott sighed again. "Potter. What would your Boggart have turned into?"
"Well," Harry said, shifting a little. "A Dementor, I think." He was a little embarrassed to admit this, but he'd given it some consideration after the class and thought it was most likely. There was little point in hiding his fear from the other boy - Nott shared a dorm and table with Malfoy, after all, so had probably been a direct witness to Malfoy's dramatic re-enactments of his encounter with the Dementor on the train.
Nott cocked his head to the side and looked rather thoughtful. "Hm," he said, after a moment. "Most people would assume – including, I'd bet, Professor Lupin – that your Boggart would take the form of the Dark Lord." He said this plainly, and Harry blinked.
"Well, I thought that at first, but… Well, I'm sure Malfoy's mentioned what happened on the train. A million times, probably," Harry grumbled with his own eye-roll.
"Malfoy does talk about things other than you, you know, Potter," Nott said, sounding amused.
"What, like his father?" Harry scoffed, "or how rich and Pure the Malfoys are?"
Nott let out another of those smothered laughs, and Harry's smirk turned into a full-on grin. Making Nott laugh felt almost like a victory, in a way it never had with his other friends. Maybe it was because of how grumpy the other boy always seemed.
There was a remarkably companionable moment of silence, before Harry sighed again. "So, he thought I wouldn't be able to handle it turning into Voldemort?"
Nott's flinch was full-body, and he scowled over at Harry fiercely. Harry blinked, and after a moment Nott simply rolled his eyes. "No, you idiot." Harry frowned. "How do you think it would've gone if an apparition of the Dark Lord had appeared in a class full of third years? Lupin didn't want to cause a panic, most likely."
Harry was a little gobsmacked. He hadn't even thought of that. He felt his cheeks redden again. Nott might've had a point about him being an idiot. "Oh," he mumbled.
Nott sighed again. "Did he let everyone bar you have a go?"
Harry nodded. "Even Longbottom?" Nott asked, sounding curious.
Harry frowned. "Yeah, his was Snape." He cut his eyes to Nott, suddenly wary that Nott would take offense, but the other boy simply looked thoughtful.
There was silence for another few seconds, and Harry found the question bursting out of him without consciously thinking it first. "What was your Boggart?"
He immediately regretted the question as Nott's open look shuttered. "None of your business, Potter." He sounded cold, and Harry felt a squirm of guilt.
"Er, sorry," he said, sheepishly. He supposed it might be a rather personal question, though Nott had had no issue asking him. Harry had brought it up in the first place, he supposed.
There was a distinctly uncomfortable silence. Harry eventually looked up from the dusty desk in front of him to see Nott watching him with an unreadable expression. "I didn't face it, either," the other boy said at last, startling Harry.
"Really?" he asked. Nott simply raised an eyebrow. "Did Lupin stop you too, or…" he trailed off.
Nott surprised Harry with a snort. "No," he said, sounding amused again. "I think he only tried that tactic with your class."
Harry didn't understand, and Nott could clearly read it on his face, as he continued. "Come on, Potter. Your deepest, darkest fear, on display for all your peers? That's a disaster waiting to happen." Harry frowned. He supposed he hadn't looked at it like that.
"Did anyone in your class do it?" he asked.
Nott nodded slowly. "A few volunteered when Lupin asked. But most weren't interested. He told us we didn't have to if we'd rather not at the start of the lesson, and most didn't." He shrugged.
"He never said that to us," Harry responded with a frown.
Nott snorted again. "I'd imagine he knew that if he'd offered to let some of you sit out, you'd all immediately demand to face the Boggart to prove you weren't cowards, or something similarly ridiculous."
Harry opened his mouth to argue, then slowly closed it, looking rather sheepish. "You're probably right," he admitted. "Did he offer that for every other class, do you think?"
"Probably," Nott said with a simple shrug. "I can't imagine the Ravenclaws caring all that much about being brave, and I'm sure the Hufflepuffs would pitch a fit if they were forced to reveal their greatest fears to the rest of their class." Harry snorted at this, imagining the outrage from the Hufflepuffs. Nott was probably right.
They fell into a companionable silence again, as Harry thought about what he'd learned. He had to admit he felt a lot lighter after realising Lupin hadn't really thought him weak. He wondered, if he had faced the Boggart and it had turned into a Dementor after all, if he would've been able to cast the counter. He remembered the chill that had went through him on the train, and the faint screaming, and was suddenly rather embarrassingly grateful to Lupin for having stopped him.
"D'you think there's a way to stop Dementors?" he mused aloud, after a few moments. "Like, a way to banish them, or something, like with a Boggart?"
Nott looked thoughtful. "I think there's a charm, but it's very advanced, if I remember right. NEWT level, probably."
"A charm, eh?" Harry said, with an easy grin. Nott rolled his eyes, but Harry noted that he didn't really look annoyed. "Think you could cast it?"
Nott gave him an unimpressed look. "Just because I enjoy Charms doesn't mean I'm a prodigy. If it's advanced, I'd imagine not."
Harry wasn't so easily swayed. "I bet you'd have a good shot at learning it, though. Definitely more likely than me," Harry said with a self-depreciating smile.
Nott smirked. "I'd imagine it'd be Defence, really, so who knows."
Harry smiled back at him, and felt a warmth spread through him at the unexpected compliment. Both boys fell into a thoughtful silence.
After a few moments, Nott straightened slowly in his chair and cast a tempus charm. Harry was shocked to see that it was almost half two.
"Shit," Harry said, sitting up suddenly. "Er, I should probably get back," he said. He had no idea why he felt disappointed. Nott simply nodded, and after a moment began picking up his own things. Harry suddenly wanted to ask the boy what he was doing up in the middle of the night, reading in an unused classroom. He opened his mouth to ask, but slowly closed it as he saw Nott pack his book gently into his satchel. The boy had dark shadows under his eyes and looked paler than usual. It was obvious, like Harry, that he hadn't slept much. He supposed the reason why was none of his business. Nott hadn't demanded it of Harry, so the least he could do was return the favour.
Soon both boys were outside the door to the classroom, and Harry felt himself pause uncertainly. He felt he should say something but had absolutely no idea what.
Nott put him out of his misery. "Go to bed, Potter," he said, slinging his satchel over his shoulder and rolling his eyes at the shorter boy. His voice sounded softer than usual in the stillness of the corridor.
"Er, goodnight!" he whispered after him, and Harry could have sworn he saw the corner of a smirk on the boy's face before he disappeared out of sight. Harry watched the space where he'd vanished for another moment, before donning his Invisibility Cloak and beginning the trek back up to the tower.
