The following morning, Harry nearly fell asleep face-first into his porridge. He was saved only by the kindness of Neville, who had gingerly blocked his forehead from its dangerous descent, before nudging Harry to wakefulness.
"Alright, Harry?" the other boy asked, somewhat alarmed. He pulled his hand back quickly as Harry blinked over at him.
"Mmm?" Harry responded, sleepily. The other boy was watching him carefully and Harry made an effort to look awake. "Oh, yeah, thanks, Neville," he managed around a yawn.
"You went to bed at the same time as me, mate. How're you so tired?" Ron asked from where he sat across from him, digging into his breakfast with enthusiasm. At least his recent illness hadn't dampened his appetite.
"Oh, I, er, woke up early. Went for a walk and couldn't get back to sleep," Harry said with a shrug, taking a long sip of his pumpkin juice in case Ron asked any more questions. Hermione was frowning up at him from where she was reading under the table. She was still hectic about 'catching up', despite quite clearly already being ahead of all the Gryffindors in their year.
Thankfully neither Hermione nor Ron decided to question his story. He hoped to tell them about his late-night meeting with Nott later, after he'd had a chance to think about it properly. It wasn't exactly a secret, he reasoned, but at the same time he couldn't imagine the other boy would want Harry banding about the fact that he sometimes snuck off to read in unused classrooms when he couldn't sleep. It seemed a little private for the Gryffindor breakfast table - and Harry got the impression that privacy was something the other boy might value greatly.
Their first class that day was Care of Magical Creatures, and Harry couldn't wait for Ron and Hermione to finally have Hagrid for a teacher. After a hasty breakfast, the Gryffindors trooped down towards Hagrid's hut as a group. It had come to light the morning before that almost their entire House year had taken the elective combination of Divination and Care. As these were widely considered the slightly less academic choices, this was met with a little chagrin amongst their peers. The only exceptions were Hermione, who rather cagily refused to answer how she could have possibly signed up for every class, and Dean, who was taking Arithmancy instead of Divination, much to Seamus' dismay.
By the time they arrived, most of the class seemed to be present. Harry's good mood took a dive when he noticed Malfoy standing haughtily at the side of the group, with his usual hangers-on in tow. The class was almost double in size of last week's, with the return of the sick students, and Harry desperately hoped it wouldn't put Hagrid off.
Harry just had time to notice the approach of Nott's group from the corner of his eye, before Hagrid appeared and began the lesson.
"That went well," Hermione mused as they trudged back across the Grounds towards the castle an hour later. Harry had to agree.
They had been studying Bowtruckles today. Not quite as exciting as giant horse-bird hybrids, he had to admit, but still miles better than most of his other classes. They had followed Hagrid a few dozen feet into the Forest as he explained the history of the creatures. Ron had looked distinctly unimpressed with the location of their class, and kept nervously scanning the ground and squinting between the trees, despite both Harry and Hermione assuring him that they weren't far enough in to meet any Acromantula.
They had been led to a copse of several trees which, Hagrid explained, were home to a family of Bowtruckles. This near the forest edge, the light took on a greenish tinge from where it infiltrated the canopy. The air was cooler in here, and Harry had the unpleasant sensation of being watched. Branches snapped under their feet as the students gathered round Hagrid, and soft animal sounds could be heard in the distance. Harry felt the presence of magic so strongly here that he could almost taste it on his tongue.
The lesson had initially gone smoothly: Hagrid had explained the theory first, managing to make it somewhat interesting, before coaxing several of the tiny creatures into the light with the promise of woodlice. Both Ron and Lavender let out equally disgusted noises at the appearance of the bugs, to the delight of Malfoy, who snickered loudly from where he was standing at the edge of the group. Harry shot him a poisonous glare, which he returned in full measure. Quite soon, however, they were split into groups, given a small container of woodlice (Ron and Lavender weren't the only students to balk at this) and were given strict instructions on how to lure the creatures out of hiding. Harry had happily taken custody of the insects (his cupboard had had its fair share of woodlice), and they set to work. Hagrid had been quite clear about what to do, and especially what not to do. Bowtruckles were rather sweet-looking creatures, resembling a bundle of entwined branches and twigs with eyes, but they were apparently fiercely territorial of their habitats. If their tree was threatened, they would become vicious, and would apparently go straight for the eyes, Hagrid had cheerfully warned them. Woodlice were their favourite food, and the only things which would placate them if they became stressed.
Most of the class took in this information gravely, but Harry noticed, with a sinking feeling, that Malfoy was smirking to his cronies. Harry also noticed, with a sudden smirk of his own, that Malfoy was casually standing as far as possible from the jar of insects.
Harry's group worked well, and soon the Bowtruckles were happily darting from branch to branch, snacking cheerfully on the proffered woodlice. They were enthralling to watch. Huge oak-brown eyes peered at them suspiciously from their heads, which Harry was sure looked exactly like tiny logs. They moved effortlessly from branch to bow, reminding Harry of the monkeys he had seen at the zoo on Dudley's eleventh birthday. With a casual glance around, Harry tried to spot Nott's group through the dim green light. He eventually found them a few trees over. Unsurprisingly, Davis was in her element, and seemed to be in the process of trying to entice a nervous-looking Bowtruckle to eat from her hand. Nott was standing to the side with Bullstrode, but seemed to be watching Davis' attempts with a surprisingly amused expression. Just as Harry was about to turn back to his own group, Nott glanced up, and their eyes met. Harry felt his face flush as he quickly turned back to his task. He only had a few moments to feel embarrassed, however, before the peaceful scene was shattered by a sudden loud shriek from somewhere behind him.
The class whirled round as one, only to see Draco Malfoy wrestling with what looked to be an outraged bundle of twigs. Harry exchanged a look with Ron, who's shock had quickly morphed into delight.
Hagrid began lumbering in their direction with a look of alarm. "The woodlice, Parkinson!" he yelled, gesturing wildly at the container in Parkinson's hands. The girl had a look of utter panic on her face to rival Hagrid's, and she seemed to be rooted to the spot, watching Malfoy wrestle with the tiny creature in shock. The little Bowtruckle seemed to be putting up a fight; Malfoy already seemed to have a scratch across his nose, and his pallid face was flushed red. The blonde boy let out a squeaked, "Pansy!" and the girl came to life with a sudden jerk. She scrambled to open the container, and with a flourish she pulled the lid free and swung her arm out, flinging the wriggling contents all over the boy, the majority landing in his hair and down his front, scuttering over his thin body in alarm.
Malfoy froze. The class stared in horror at the sight. His eyes were wide and completely still on his normally uptight face. No one breathed in the clearing, and the only sound which could be heard were the gentle squeaks from the agitated creatures grouped in the tree above Malfoy. The previously-enraged Bowtruckle, meanwhile, seemed rather delighted by its change of fortune, and quickly abandoned Malfoy entirely to scurry around the forest floor for the scattering insects which had fallen.
"Er," said a slightly distressed looking Hagrid, after a moment of silence. Malfoy had yet to move. Harry noted with a touch of revulsion that he could see at least one of the insects begin to crawl under his collar and out of sight. One was crawling steadily across the frozen boy's forehead. Parkinson was looking at her friend in complete horror, with her hands covering her mouth. It might've been funny if the class weren't frozen to the spot. The moment was finally broken by Ron, next to Harry, suddenly bending over and retching into a nearby bush.
"Righ'," said Hagrid, decisively, as half the class turned repulsed looks onto Ron. "Mr. Malfoy, if yeh're not hurt, head on up ter the castle ter get cleaned up, there's a lad. Migh' wan' to nip into see Madame Pomfrey, jus' in case. Miss Parkinson, bes' go with 'im," he added, gently, to the still frozen girl. Parkinson blinked, and slowly reached out to hesitantly take Malfoy's arm. The blonde boy's eyes were still wide, but he jerked into motion without more than a blink. The two slowly left the clearing without looking back, as the other students watched on with open mouths. Once they had gone, they looked round at each other.
Hagrid cleared his throat. "Righ', well, back ter work, you lot," he said, with a soft clap of his giant hands. The students blinked back to the moment, and slowly began picking up where they'd left off. Harry noticed more than one expression morphing slowly into delight.
Harry was brought back to present by Ron's snort from his side, as they finally reached the doors to the castle. "It went 'well'?" Ron asked, shooting Hermione a disbelieving look. He still looked rather pale, but his expression was dreamy. "That was bloody fantastic."
That afternoon, before dinner, Harry made his way slowly towards the Defence classroom. Their last class of the day had just let out, and dinner wasn't for another half hour at least, so Harry figured Professor Lupin probably wasn't busy. Since breakfast, his mind had kept returning to his conversation with Nott the night before. He still felt a little embarrassed at how quickly he'd assumed the worst of his teacher. Nott was probably right about him not looking at the big picture, he thought, rather miserably. It was just that Harry hadn't really had much reason to put a lot of faith into adults, exactly. He knew objectively that they weren't all necessarily out to get him, of course, but he also knew that at the end of the day, the adults around him couldn't be trusted to do what was best.
His Aunt and Uncle were obvious – they were happy to treat him horribly just because he had been born with magic. Had he ever went to them for advice, or because he was upset, he imagined they'd be so bewildered they'd send him to his Cupboard out of sheer shock. Some of his teachers at Primary school had been kind, but none were willing to do anything serious about Dudley, or about how obviously unkempt and miserable Harry was. The teachers at Hogwarts were hardly better. Harry respected several of them – the Heads, minus Snape, were all kindly and intelligent people. But Harry didn't truthfully know Flitwick or Spout all that well, and as fond as he was of McGonagall, he couldn't help but remember how easily she had dismissed him back in first year when he had warned her about the Stone. Hagrid might have been Harry's favourite adult, but even he had to admit that the man's judgement wasn't always the best. And Dumbledore was wise, but Harry knew the man had to put the school first – he had already admitted that there were things he couldn't tell Harry, and Harry understood that, even if he didn't like it. Even the Weasleys, kind as they were, had seven other children to worry about. They had let him stay, the summer after first year, but Harry still remembered how Ron had complained of his parents not believing his worries about Harry.
No, Harry knew he was on his own when it came to adults. So, although he felt a little guilty for thinking so poorly of his Defence Professor, he couldn't help but feel it was a little bit justified. Nevertheless, Harry found himself with the bizarre urge to speak with the man. He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say, but he knew he'd feel better if he at least confronted him.
Before Harry could get too lost in his thoughts, he had arrived at the door to Lupin's office. Here, Harry hesitated. He wasn't exactly the type of student to pay unprompted visits to his teachers. Would Lupin be mad? Would he think Harry was being odd for seeking him out? Harry was saved from talking himself out of his plan when a soft voice spoke from down the hall.
"Harry?"
He turned to see his Professor walking towards him, with a pleasantly surprised look on his face.
"What can I do for you?" Professor Lupin asked, moving forward to unlock the door.
"Er," Harry said, suddenly at a loss. Lupin saved him by gesturing ahead of him into the office.
"Please, come in. Take a seat." He nodded distractedly at the chair across from his desk. Lupin was carrying what looked to be a stack of essays, which he deposited on his desk with a relieved sigh.
Not knowing what else to do, Harry followed. The office itself took Harry by surprise; the teacher's offices he'd been in previously - namely, McGonagall's and Snape's - had been stiflingly formal and eerie, respectively. Professor Lupin's office, however, was immediately appealing. The window let in enough light that the posters depicting magical creatures looked cool, rather than creepy; and Harry spotted a few interesting-looking framed photographs of what appeared to be wizarding duels. The most striking thing about the room, however, was the number of books littering every surface; there were books in piles across the desk and books stacked on top of filing cabinets; Harry even noticed, bizarrely, a book balancing on the window ledge, left half open. Harry was forcibly reminded of Hermione when he spotted several that didn't even look related to Defence at all. Harry dragged himself out of his investigation to find that Professor Lupin was watching him with a small smile. Feeling himself redden, Harry hastily took a seat.
"Right," Lupin said. "Would you like a cup of tea, Harry? I was about to make one for myself." He turned and began busying himself with a kettle on the counter behind his desk, looking over his shoulder to catch Harry's answer.
"Er, alright," Harry mumbled. "Thanks," he added hastily, picturing Hermione's frowning face at his lack of manners.
"It's no trouble," Professor Lupin replied, cheerfully.
The man seemed to be placing his wand against the kettle. He tapped it once along the spout, and the kettle immediately started to boil. Harry was forcibly reminded of Nott's comment the night before about Charms being used for everything. Without quite meaning to, he blurted, "Was that a Charm, sir? To heat the kettle?"
Lupin turned around with two steaming cups and a look of mild surprise. He watched Harry with an unreadable expression for a moment, before his face smoothed out into polite curiosity, and he sat down.
"Yes, Harry. That was a variant of the Heating Charm, which is mostly used specifically for boiling water. It's mainly used for boiling kettles and other domestic chores involving small quantities of water. Do you have an interest in Charms?" he asked, placing one mug in front of Harry. He gestured towards the packets of sugar and a tiny bowl of milk he'd brought with him. Harry quickly scooped the condiments into his cup with another mumbled "Thanks," and hastily took a sip.
"Er, not especially," he answered after a moment, with a shrug. "I have a, er, friend, who is though, and he mentioned that they're used for everything domestic, pretty much."
Professor Lupin smiled. "I dare say your friend knows what he's talking about. Charms is a tremendously useful subject." Lupin paused, and Harry looked up from his tea. He seemed to be deciding something. After a moment, he said, would-be casually, "You know, Charms was your mother's favourite subject in school. She was very fond of it." He took a long sip of his tea, his amber eyes staring fixedly at the table.
Harry felt a thrill go through him – one he felt whenever someone surprised him by mentioning his parents. "Really?" he blurted, leaning forward. "Did you know her, sir?" He tried to study the Professor across from him. Was he around the same age as Harry's parents? Harry wasn't sure, but Lupin did look rather old, judging by the grey in his hair and lines on his face.
Lupin paused again, before setting his cup down, eyes flickering to Harry briefly before turning away. "I did, as a matter of fact. I was friends with your parents in school. Especially your father." He seemed to swallow and turned to fiddle with the sugar on the desk. "I'm sure you've heard this before, Harry," he said, not looking up, "but you do look remarkably like them."
Harry was surprised by a slight sting in his eyes. He cleared his throat, and mumbled, "Thanks, sir." He'd never met anyone who knew his parents from school, he realised. Hagrid and the other teachers knew them as pupils, but this was the first person he'd met who knew them closely as peers, beyond, he supposed, Snape, who didn't really count. He felt a thrill of excitement go through him at the things Lupin might be able to tell him.
Before he could completely lose himself to his imagination, Lupin cleared his throat. "So, Harry. Now that we've got our tea, what brings you by my office today?"
"Oh, er," Harry said. After the surprise revelation about his parents, he had to forcibly drag his mind back to the task at hand. "Right," he said. He sat up straighter and placed his tea gingerly on the desk, gently nudging a stray book out of the way to make room.
"I just wanted to ask, about the other day… with the Boggarts…" This was harder than Harry had expected. Lupin was frowning now and seemed to be watching Harry carefully. The air felt a little cool in here, reminding him of a cheerier version of the dungeons, and he couldn't help but fiddle with the empty sugar packet as he spoke.
"It's just…" he started, staring at the desk in front of him. "I was worried at first when you didn't let me face the Boggart that you thought I wouldn't be able to manage," he said, in a bit of a rush. "But, uh, you just thought it would turn into Voldemort, didn't you?" Harry added quickly, as he'd noticed Lupin open his mouth to speak.
Lupin closed his mouth, and gave Harry a surprised look, before smiling at him, gently. "Oh, Harry," he said, kindly. "It wasn't that I didn't think you'd manage. You seem like a very capable young man, from what I've seen – and heard." Harry shifted uncomfortably under the praise. "Yes," he continued after a pause. "I assumed your Boggart would take that form."
Lupin continued after a moment's pause. "I take it I was incorrect?" he asked, eyebrows raised. Harry cast a nervous look up at him. In his experience, adults didn't enjoy being told they were wrong, but Lupin simply looked back calmly, waiting for his response.
"Er, well. I think it would've been a Dementor, actually," he said at last, a little sheepish.
Lupin's eyes widened, before a thoughtful look came over his face. "A Dementor? Yes, I suppose that makes sense. I must commend you, Harry," he said, smiling at the boy. Harry just blinked back at him.
"Sir?" he said, unsure.
"Your greatest fear is fear itself," he said. "That's rather wise of you, I think."
Harry had no idea how to take that. It seemed a little silly to commend him for being scared. "Er, thanks, sir."
There was an uncomfortable silence, and Harry took a sip of his tea so he wouldn't have to break it.
"Did you just want to ask about your Boggart, Harry? Or was there something else?" Lupin asked at length, sounding a little amused at his awkwardness.
Harry shifted again. "Well, it's just, I was thinking… If you hadn't stopped me, if the Boggart had turned into a Dementor, I might've, well…" He shrugged, feeling suddenly very warm, and cleared his throat.
Lupin took pity on him.
"Harry," he said, gentle but firm. Harry looked up automatically at his tone. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I don't know a single adult witch or wizard who enjoys the company of Dementors. They're horrid creatures, and it's no sign of weakness to be affected by them." Lupin's voice was steady and resolute. Despite everything, Harry found himself nodding along.
Another silence fell. He took another sip of his tea without looking up. It was actually pretty good, with an unusually mild flavour.
Lupin sighed. "You're friends with Hagrid, aren't you?" he asked, sounding like he already knew the answer. Harry blinked at the non-sequitur.
"Yeah, he delivered my Hogwarts letter," he responded after a pause. Where was Lupin going with this?
"Well," Lupin continued. "I seem to recall that Hagrid spent some time in Azkaban last year. Have you talked to him about his experience with the Dementors?" he asked.
Harry had to think back. Hagrid never really discussed his brief stint in Azkaban. At the time Harry had been so happy to have the half-giant back, and afterwards, well - it seemed so personal.
Harry shook his head. Lupin seemed unsurprised. "It might do you some good to talk to him, Harry. I expect he has a strong reaction to them, too. And I'm sure he wouldn't mind you asking."
Harry took this in with a slow nod. Lupin might actually be right. Perhaps he'd been remiss in never asking Hagrid about Azkaban. It was personal, sure, and Harry was only a student, but maybe Hagrid would appreciate the chance to talk about it? And Harry could admit, after this brief talk with Lupin, that it might do him some good, too.
"Now, was there anything else?" Lupin asked. The man was remarkably patient, Harry thought with surprise. He knew the Professor probably had other things to attend to, but he simply watched Harry like he didn't mind the intrusion at all. Harry felt his cheeks begin to redden, and he realised he'd torn up the sugar packet into several small pieces. Flushing properly now, he hastily swept the pieces into his hand and thrust it in his pocket, hoping desperately that the Professor hadn't noticed the mess he'd made.
"Er," Harry said, after the silence had stretched a little too long. "Just one more thing, Professor, if you don't mind…". He tried to smile a little sheepishly.
Lupin simply returned his smile. "Not at all, Harry. Go ahead."
Harry paused as he thought of how to broach the subject.
"My, er, friend," he began. "The one who likes Charms? Well, he said that he thought there was a Charm for banishing Dementors. He said it was really advanced, though. I was wondering, maybe, if you knew it?" Harry looked up at him keenly. Lupin had a thoughtful expression on his face.
"I do," he said, slowly. "Your friend wasn't wrong, though, Harry. It's an extremely advanced piece of magic. It isn't even taught until NEWT level, and even then, only for students with an aptitude for Charms and Defence. Many wizards and witches never get the hang of it."
Harry continued to look at him eagerly, undeterred, and the Professor sighed. "It's called the Patronus Charm. When cast, it conjures a Patronus, which is a sort of shield that protects the caster. It takes the form of an animal, one which, it's said, reflects the caster's nature."
Harry was transfixed. An animal shield? That sounded incredible. It would definitely come in handy if he had to come face-to-face with a Dementor again. Could he possibly learn something so advanced, though? It seemed rather doubtful, but not even trying seemed wrong.
"Sir," he began, but was interrupted by the faint ringing of the bell which signalled dinner. Lupin seemed as surprised as Harry was, blinking quickly and casting a Tempus.
"Ah, it seems it's time for dinner," the professor said, rising from his seat. "Shall we?" Seeing Harry's expression, he smiled. "We can continue our conversation on the way."
Harry smiled at the man, relieved, and they headed for the door, which Lupin locked behind him. Once they had started walking, Harry turned to the man, who, he noticed with a little embarrassment, was slowing his walk to match with Harry's shorter stride. "Sir, do you think there's any chance I'd be able to learn the Patronus Charm?" he asked, hesitantly. "I know it's advanced, but…" he trailed off. He hoped desperately that the man might say yes, but if it was as hard as he and Nott had said…
Lupin smiled sympathetically down at him, looking unsurprised at his question, and Harry's stomach sank. "I couldn't honestly say, Harry. I think it would be extremely difficult for someone of your age to master the Charm, but…" he grimaced at Harry's hastily covered look of dismay. "Well, who's to say? I hear you have a gift for Defence."
Harry knew the man was only being kind, but he couldn't help the blush that was rising on his face. Quickly, he said, "Do you think… is there any chance you might help me to learn it? Or just point me in the right direction, maybe?" He tried to hide the hope in his voice, but knew he was unsuccessful by the look on the man's face.
Lupin frowned thoughtfully for a moment. They were getting closer to the Great Hall, now, and Harry could hear the sounds of hundreds of children sitting down to eat.
"Let me think about it, Harry," Lupin said at last. "It would take some preparation. We can't exactly ask a Dementor to sit with us to practice," he said, reasonably. Harry nodded quickly, trying to hide his excitement. He didn't want to push his luck.
"In the meantime," Lupin said, with a bizarrely mischievous smile, "Why don't you start researching the Patronus Charm. Any advanced knowledge would be beneficial. I'm sure the Library ought to have something." He saw Harry's face at this and let out a chuckle. After a moment, Harry couldn't help but smile back at the man, ruefully.
They had reached the doors to the Great Hall at last, and Harry shifted nervously on his feet.
"Alright, sir. I'll look into it. Er, thanks for, you know…" he said, shrugging as he fiddled with the strap of his satchel.
"Any time, Harry," Lupin said, kindly. "My door is always open to you, if you fancy a chat. Now, go on and enjoy your dinner. I'll see you in class."
Harry smiled at the man. "Thanks, Professor. See you tomorrow!" he said, before disappearing into the crowd, heading for the Gryffindor table. As he spotted Ron and Hermione bickering cheerfully with a Harry-sized space between them, Harry had to admit that he felt a lot better than he had earlier.
