Perseus sat in the front of the DADA classroom, observing the ragged Professor who was once a friend of his father's. He looked healthier than he had at the opening feast, but the man still looked as though he may keel over.

Daphne sat to his right, and Blaise to his left. He'd grown closer to the two of them recently, and collectively they'd grown farther from Theo, who now frequently spent his time with Malfoy and his crew of apes. Perseus would be the first to say his absence was greatly appreciated. His arrogance was matched only by his bigotry and mediocrity, and his presence grated on his nerves.

"Have you done the assigned writing for Transfiguration yet?" Daphne said, leaning towards him.

Perseus shook his head.

"You, Blaise?"

Blaise was leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed his chest, his usual slick grin on his lips. "I'm sure I'll finish around the same time as Perseus."

Daphne rolled her eyes, and Perseus' lips twitched. Blaise had been copying his work for every class since his first year. He said (much to Daphne's amusement) that copying such an expert source was even better than studying his textbook.

"Well, look mine over when you get the chance, would you?"

Perseus nodded. Transfiguration was the only class Daphne struggled in, and the only class she ever asked his assistance in. He had no problem helping her however she wished; it was just additional practice to him.

Professor Lupin finally stood up, no longer leaning on his desk. The class grew quiet, except for the snickers of Malfoy. "Good afternoon," he said. "There will be no need for books today, wands only."

Several students exchanged looks. A practical lesson in DADA was rare, excluding the few disastrous classes with Lockhart.

"Follow me," he said, heading for the door.

Having been sitting in the front row, Perseus, Daphne and Blaise now found themselves at the back of the group.

"Where are we going?" Daphne whispered as they turned a corner.

"Hopefully a shortcut to the Great Hall, I'm starving," returned Blaise, rubbing his stomach. Daphne shot him a glare. Perseus ignored their byplay, too busy focusing on where they might possibly be going.

They came to a stop outside the staff room, which the teachers used for meetings and the occasional break. Professor Lupin opened the door and led them inside, pulling it shut behind them.

The room was long and wide, with what appeared to be an assortment of chairs sitting around the room at random. Directly ahead of them was a large, old wardrobe, that banged precariously against the wall as Lupin approached.

"Don't be alarmed," he said, looking towards the few Hufflepuff students who had jumped back. "There's nothing dangerous inside, only a Boggart."

The class at large clearly disagreed with him, the vast majority taking a step back, and the Slytherin's as a whole stared at the wardrobe with contempt. Ones greatest fear was not something to be put on display in front of their peers.

Perseus' skin prickled as he eyed the wardrobe. He should've known. He had given out no less than 15 calming draughts the previous evening, and a Boggart would certainly explain why.

"They enjoy dark, cramped spaces," he said. "Under your bed, in your closet — maybe even in your trunk. This particular Boggart moved in yesterday morning, and I thought it would be great practice for my third years."

He gazed at them expectantly, his amber eyes taking in all their reactions.

"So first things first, what is a Boggart?"

Many hands flew into the air, including Daphne's beside him.

"Alright, Miss Abbot."

"Well, it's a shapeshifter, right?" she said anxiously. "They become whatever they think will scare you away."

Professor Lupin gave her a smile. "Excellent, 5 points to Hufflepuff. That is exactly right. Hidden in the darkness, he has not taken a form yet. No one has ever seen the unchanged form of a Boggart. When I release him, he will become our biggest fear."

He turned to the wardrobe, ignoring the not-so-subtle cries of terror some of the Hufflepuffs gave. "Now, we have him at a bit of a disadvantage. Does anyone know what?"

Daphne was the only student to raise her hand this time.

"There are too many of us for him to become any one thing."

"Precisely," said the Professor. "Now, the way to finish off a Boggart is laughter. They absolutely hate the sound, and will disperse. So, what you need to do is force the Boggart to assume a shape you find amusing. The spell is called Riddikulus. Now, it would appear you are going to open for us, Miss Abbot, and I thank you for your bravery."

The girl did step forward bravely, her flaming red face clashing with her honey golden hair. She stared at the wardrobe in undisguised terror, and Perseus didn't blame her. Even if Boggarts were relatively harmless, no one wants to meet their worst nightmare.

"Tell me, Miss Abbot, what is your greatest fear?"

"Lizards," the girl blurted out, her face turning red once more. The class chuckled, though Perseus did not. He didn't see what humor there was to be had, mocking another's fear.

"Here we go, Miss Abbot." He yanked open the door, and out of the wardrobe came stumbling a large, green lizard. Abbot squeaked, taking a step back. The lizard hissed, flaring its hood, shaking its head back and forth.

Her eyes jammed shut, she jabbed her wand at the lizard with a shout of, "RIDDIKULUS!"

With a croaking sound, the lizard inflated like a balloon, and began to float.

"Susan!" said Lupin.

Susan Bones set forward, her expression determined. With a pop, the Boggart turned into a flickering fire. To his own amazement, Perseus could feel the wave of heat the Boggart gave off. She faltered, her eyes growing wide. Her Boggart gave him pause; the Lord and Lady Bones had been killed when Voldemort burned their home to the ground, Susan being the only survivor.

"RIDDIKULUS!" she cried in a mixture of fear and fury.

The boggart paused, before the fire fell, turning into flickering ropes of licorice.

"Mr. Nott!"

Nott stepped forward, his wand at the ready and his ratty face filled with discomfort. Another pop, and the room went silent. Lying on the floor, her neck bent at an awkward angle, was a woman; Perseus was as sure as he could be that it was Oddeysia Nott, Theo's mother.

Nott froze, his wand trembling in his hand as he stared at her. He took a single step backwards, before turning and fleeing from the room. Perseus just managed to pull Daphne out of the way as the boy came barreling through.

Perseus' gaze followed the boy. He knew what the boy faced was difficult, but fleeing had been his worst option. Word of the nature of Nott's Boggart would spread soon, and the boy would be lucky if he got a moment of peace. Perseus could hardly say he cared. Nott might not have deserved to see his deceased mother in such a state, but he certainly deserved every bit of torment he would receive. He was a bully and a bigot, after all.

"Mr. Black!"

Perseus approached the Boggart, more curious than cautious. He didn't have any clue what it would become. He had nothing he could pinpoint as his biggest fear, and few things he knew that truly scared him. Reaching the front of the room, the Boggart reformed with a pop.

He paused. It was himself. Standing across from him was a man he was sure that many would mistake as his father, but he would know his own face anywhere, even as different as he looked.

It was him, perhaps 10 years older. It was hard to tell with his gaunt face, waxy skin and listless violet eyes. He was dressed in expensive dress robes, all black with the Family sigil embroidered on the left breast pocket. Perseus owned several identical robes.

What is this? A sharp, blistering cold settled into his skin as he stared at himself, who stared back impassively. Looking into his own eyes was horrific; they were completely devoid of life, as though he were gazing into a massive chasm; a cavernous void so empty, without thought or emotion or humanity. There was no soul in that gaze. It was like a dementor—it was not just void of emotion —it consumed them entirely, leaving nothing but unending darkness. He could do nothing but stare, abject horror overtaking him.

He was staring at a version of himself that he hadn't known could exist—that it was even a possibility that he would become this. That it was his greatest fear scared him even more. It was a future he had to avoid at all costs—it simply could not come to be. He wouldn't allow it.

His older self opened his mouth. "As we were always meant to be." Perseus had to stop himself from flinching at the sound of the voice; it was inhuman and metallic, his usual hoarse rasp completely absent. What had he done? "Completely alone." Perseus glared at him, squeezing his wand in his fist. His fear was quickly being overtaken by ice cold fury. No. This was no older version of him; it was a complete stranger. There was nothing of him left in the husk standing across from him, nothing he could even recognize as himself. How could this happen?

His own face disappeared, the boggart transforming with a pop, a glowing silver disc floating where the doppelganger had once stood. Lupin had stepped in front of him, his own expression now haunted and haggard.

He swung his wand in a wide arc, and the boggart was banished back into the wardrobe with a snap.

Lupin turned around, took a deep breath, and swept his gaze across the classroom, never once stopping on Perseus' face.

The class looked bewildered, but Daphne and Blaise were looking at him with undisguised concern.

"Class dismissed."

Perseus didn't waste a single second before leaving the room, his pace so brisk his robes flapped about him. He ignored the calls of Daphne. He needed to be alone.


Perseus had thrown himself completely into studying magic, even more than he had before. If he wasn't with Madame Pomphrey in the infirmary, he was studying magic.

He knew his friends, namely Daphne, were concerned, but really there was no reason. Studying magic eased his mind. His father had broken into the castle, and the students were treating him as if he'd invited the man inside. Their glares and snide remarks hardly bothered him; it was the treatment his friends were receiving that was getting to him most.

Blaise appeared to take it in stride, his cocky grin and swaggering demeanor as present as ever; Daphne on the other hand was becoming more and more withdrawn, and Perseus could see her anger building up.

He wasn't sure how much more she could take before it became too much and she lashed out. He had no idea how to help her; telling the students off would have the opposite effect, and he knew he didn't have the words to ease her discomfort. He'd have to find a way.

He was walking through the halls, making his way to the Hospital Wing. It was one of his days to work with Poppy, and he was looking forward to it. Healing magic was different from the rest of the magic he was learning — had a different feel to it.

While it wasn't proving to be any more difficult to learn, it was certainly interesting, and the things he was learning were helping him advance in other areas.

He now had an in depth understanding of the body, something that had allowed him to complete his animagus transformation even sooner than his father. He was beginning to understand how certain spells worked, such as the stunning spell. It had opened his eyes to a world of possibilities.

Finally reaching the Hospital Wing, he pushed those thoughts out of his mind. Madame Pomphrey deserved his full attention, and she would have it.


Hermione was nibbling on the end of her quill as she stared at her DADA essay on Grindylow. She could hardly focus on the parchment in front of her; Hogsmeade weekend was approaching, and she just knew Harry was going to try to leave the castle. His aunt and uncle hadn't signed his paper, and as far as she was concerned he was better off that way.

There was surely nothing in Hogsmeade worth risking his life over; with Perseus' father on the loose — the thought sent a shock down her spine — the castle was the safest place for Harry.

She wanted to ask Perseus about his father, about why he was coming after Harry, but the last time she asked he interrupted her so abruptly there was no mistaking his intentions. He didn't want to speak about his father, but really what choice did she have? She had to know about his father, and what he wanted with Harry.

Making up her mind, she put her essay away and put her satchel on her shoulder, sagging under the weight. She headed for the entrance. It was around 6:45 now, by the time she got to the Hospital Wing he should be heading back to his common room.

"Oi," Ron called. "Where you headed?"

She was sorely tempted to ignore the boy in spite; he was being extremely rude to her lately for no good reason. Honestly, Crookshanks chasing Scabbers was just nature!

"The library."

He snorted. "Should've known."

She shot him a glare before turning and leaving; if only he knew where she was really going. It worried her some that she was finding it increasingly easier to lie to her friends. The boom Perseus had given her to read on Occlumency had changed her. Her thoughts were clearer and more organized, and she had a better grip on her emotions. It was not so easy for Ronald to provoke her, and she found herself feeling more relaxed than she had in perhaps her entire life.

It explained how Perseus was always so calm and collected. He was her best friend and still it was a struggle to know what he was thinking or how he was feeling. She wished he would open up to her more, to let her know his thoughts and his feelings — even his likes and dislikes. She didn't even know his favorite color, or his favorite food or even his favorite spell. And he didn't know her either. She would have to change that.

Hermione stopped outside the Hospital Wing, off to the side out of sight of the door. She would wait here, and surprise him.

It had been maybe five minutes when the door opened and Perseus stepped out.

"Be sure to practice that spell Perseus," Madame Pomphrey said. "Just because you can do it on the first attempt does not mean you've mastered it. Understood?"

Perseus nodded, and Madame Pomphrey smiled at him in a way Hermione had never seen her smile at anyone before. She closed the door, and Perseus started off down the hallway.

She decided to follow him and see if she could sneak—

"I know you're there, Hermione."

She came to stand beside him, glaring up at him. How could he have possibly known? "How did you know?"

He smiled at her cryptically, amusement dancing in his eyes. The bright violet of his eyes practically glowed in the dim corridor. He looked away and continued down the hall. She fell in beside him.

"What spell was Madame Pomphrey talking about?"

He glanced at her again, but she merely raised a brow. The familiar routine brought her joy, the simple give and take, the way they could talk without belittling the other or feeling the need to watch their every move — it was refreshing and something she loved about spending time with Perseus.

"The defibrillation charm," he said. "A simple tap on the chest, the incantation is Ignis Cordis."

Her mind spun at all the possibilities of such a spell. What are its origins? How effective is it? Is it dangerous?

"I'd advise you against trying it without practice first; I accidentally used too much power and blew a hole in the dummy's chest."

She swallowed, pushing thoughts of that spell out of her mind. Clearly it was absolutely a last resort, just like a defibrillator in the regular world.

They made idle small talk as they walked—though it was more Hermione talking and Perseus smiling and nodding, offering the occasional word here or there. She didn't mind. They had made it half way to the dungeons, and she knew it was now or never to ask him about his father.

She grasped his arm lightly, and tried not to squirm when he turned a questioning look on her, one thick, perfectly shaped brow raising over a pool of purple.

Taking a shallow breath that felt like it rattled around her lungs, she steeled herself. It wouldn't be any easy conversation, but she had to know, for Harry.

"Why is your father after Harry?"

His brow fell and his face went blank, but his eyes were lively as ever, flickering back and forth across her face, growing several shades darker. She had to resist reaching up and brushing one of his long twisting curls out of his face—anything to distract her from the anxiousness slowly creeping through her veins.

Finally he looked away from her and sighed, and Hermione took several breaths; it felt like she had been drowning under his heavy stare.

"I don't know." He stared off ahead of them.

She frowned, crossing her arms. "Surely you must know something — he's your father after all."

He pinned her again with his gaze, his eyes like purple glaciers. "I've never met the man, Hermione." His raspy voice cut straight to her core, but still, she needed to know. He had to know something, anything.

"I know you don't like speaking about him, Perseus, but please," she pleaded, squeezing his arm. "He's trying to kill one of my closest friends, I just want to know why."

Perseus snorted. "Why did he blow up an entire street? Why did Barnabas try to teach trolls ballet? Why did Grindelwald slaughter half a continent? Why did my cousin Bellatrix torture the Longbottoms into a coma?" He shook his head. "Insanity. Madness." He looked down at her. "These traits run in my family, and it seems my father got more than his fair share. Why did he kill his best friends and why is he hunting down Potter?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe he's a raving lunatic, or a Death Eater, or maybe he just thought it was fun. More has been done for less."

Hermione balled up her fists, trying to stave off the wave of horror, and the nausea it brought with it. How can anyone be so depraved, to commit such acts on a whim? She took a deep breath, imagining the beach she had visited in France, her emotions washing away with each roll of the waves.

"You read the book," he said, breaking her concentration.

She put her hands on her hips. "Of course I read the book. You told me to read it, did you not?"

He was smiling once more, his eyes already several shades lighter than they had been just seconds before. He was odd that way; slow to anger, but quick to give a smile, at least to her anyway. She saw him in classes and in the halls; he was not quick to smile, bordering on cold even.

"You've progressed quickly—"

He stopped speaking suddenly, his body growing still.

"What?" she said, looking around. It was just them in the empty corridor. They'd hear footsteps long before anyone would reach them. "What is it?"

He raised a finger to his lips. "Someone is coming."

She looked around once more, trying for the life of her to see or hear whoever it was Perseus was talking about.

His wand shot into his hand. "Stay here," he muttered. "You'll be fine." He tapped his wand on his head with another mutter, and his body rippled like he were a body of water hit by a stone; with each wave his body disappeared more and more. Her jaw dropped. The Disillusionment Charm? That's a NEWT level charm!

Where he was previously standing there was a faint ripple, before even that disappeared. She didn't know how, but she knew he was moving away from her.

No sooner than he had disappeared and moved away, Professor Lupin rounded the corner, levitating a box that rattled every few seconds.

He offered her a knowing smile and a nod. "Miss Granger," he said. "I'll escort you back to your common room. It's rather late for a young lady to be walking around unattended." He took off down the hall, his pace leisurely.

She followed after him, her mind stuck on Perseus. How did he know someone was coming?