Happy New Year, everyone!
Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban Timeline
"I Hold the Moon"
ooo
"Sometimes, all you can do is lie in bed,
and hope to fall asleep before you fall apart."
- William C. Hannan
DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTSThe first days of school seemed to fly by. Malfoy didn't show up in class until late Thursday morning when he waltzed into the dungeon room halfway through Potions. His right arm was wrapped in bandages and up in a sling, but by the swagger in his step Tristan could tell it was all an act.
Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with a face like a pug who often followed Malfoy around, made a show of fussing over him. "How is it, Draco? Does it hurt much?"
He put on a brave sort of grimace, then turned and sent Crabbe and Goyle a wink when she wasn't looking.
"Settle down, settle down," Professor Snape said idly.
"What a joke," Tristan whispered bitterly to Harry and Ron. "He walks in late when there's obviously nothing wrong with his arm, and Snape just lets it go."
When Malfoy set up his cauldron at their table and announced that he would be needing help cutting up daisy roots, Tristan had to bite his tongue not to tell him where he should stick his daisy roots into. Snape, on the other hand, ate the little act right up. He ordered Ron to do the work for Malfoy, then told him to switch the roots because he had chopped Malfoy's too roughly. Begrudgingly, Ron shoved his beautifully cut roots across the table.
"And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," Malfoy drawled in a voice full of malicious laughter.
At once, Snape gave Harry a look of pure, unadulterated loathing. "Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig."
While Harry worked on Malfoy's shrivelfig, Tristan gave Ron a hand with his daisy roots, trying to salvage the damage.
"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" Malfoy asked them with a broad smirk.
"None of your business," Ron fired without looking up.
"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," Malfoy continued in a tone of mock sorrow. "Father's not very happy about my injury—"
Tristan's temper flared. "You better shut up before I give you a real injury."
"You remember Father, right Cavanaugh?" Malfoy bared his teeth in a mean grin. "You know he's got a lot of influence, knows a lot of very important people..."
"I remember him having a mug just as ugly as yours."
Malfoy was unperturbed. "Yes yes, very witty. Well, you should know he's complained to the school governors and to the Ministry of Magic. With a lasting injury like this…" He heaved a long sigh. "Who knows if my arm'll ever be the same?"
"So that's why you're putting on an act." Harry's hands shook with anger. "To try to get Hagrid fired."
"Well..." Malfoy lowered his voice to a whisper, "Partly, Potter. But there are other benefits too. Cavanaugh, you slice my caterpillars now."
"How about I slice your fingers?"
A few cauldrons away, Neville was having trouble with his potion. It was a usual occurrence in Potions as it was his worst subject and he was greatly terrified of Snape.
"Orange, Longbottom," Snape said as he ladled some of Neville's potion that should've been bright green and spilled it back into the cauldron. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"
Poor Neville, Tristan thought. He looked on the verge of bursting into tears. When Hermione offered to give him a hand, Snape shot her down without even a moment's deliberation. Instead he informed the whole class that he would be feeding a few drops of Neville's potion to his toad as an encouragement for the boy to do a proper job.
"Hey, Harry," Seamus called as he whirled around from his workstation to borrow Harry's brass scales. "Have you heard? Daily Prophet this morning — they reckon Sirius Black's been sighted?"
"Where?" Harry asked eagerly.
"Not too far from here," Seamus said. "It was a muggle who saw him. 'Course, she didn't really understand. The muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she phoned the telephone hot line. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone."
"Blimey…" Ron sent Harry a significant look. "Not too far from here…"
On the other side of the table, Tristan noticed Malfoy lean in to eavesdrop. "What now, Malfoy? Need something else skinned, do you?"
Malfoy ignored him. "Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?"
"Yeah, that's right," Harry replied offhandedly.
Malfoy's thin mouth curved in a mean smile. "Of course if it was me, I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy, I'd be out there looking for him."
"You?" Tristan barked a sarcastic laugh. "You can't even deal with a hippogriff properly, never mind a mass murderer."
"No one's talking to you, Cavanaugh," Malfoy spat through gritted teeth. He narrowed his eyes at Tristan first, then at Harry. "Don't you know, Potter?"
"Know what, Malfoy?"
"Oh this is too good!" Malfoy laughed as though he couldn't quite believe his ears. "Are you really that clueless? Or maybe you'd rather not risk your neck. Want to leave it to the dementors, do you? If it was me, I'd want revenge. I'd hunt him down myself."
"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded impatiently.
Unfortunately they never did get an answer from Malfoy because, as class was almost over, they had to clear their stations while their potions finished stewing. While packing away the ingredients he ended up not using, Tristan saw that Hermione was furiously muttering instructions to Neville out of the corner of her mouth. It made him smile a little. Her Gryffindor qualities really shone through in moments like these.
"What did Malfoy mean?" Harry muttered as they were washing their hands in the basin. "Why would I want revenge on Black? He hasn't done anything to me… yet."
"He's probably making it up," Tristan said dismissively.
"Yeah," Ron agreed. "He's trying to make you do something stupid. Just ignore him."
With five minutes to spare until the end, Snape made justice of his promise of feeding Neville's potion to his toad. The whole class waited with batted breath for the disastrous outcome. However, thanks to Hermione's guidance, and much to Snape's dismay, the only thing that happened to Trevor was shrinking with a small pop. Snape deducted five points off Gryffindor simply because of that.
Ron was still seething when they climbed the steps to the entrance hall. "Five points because the potion was all right! Why didn't you lie, Hermione? You should've said Neville did it all by himself!"
When there was no smart reply, Tristan glanced over his shoulder only to find Hermione gone. "Where did she go? She was right behind us."
All of their other classmates were already walking past them toward the Great Hall, yet there was no sign of her.
"Look—" Harry pointed to the bottom of the stairs. There she was, one hand clutching at her bag, the other tucking something down the front of her shirt. Tristan narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"How did you do that?" Ron was baffled. "One minute you were right behind us, the next you were back there again."
Trying to catch her breath, Hermione looked a bit distracted and out of sorts. Just as she reached them a seam split open on her bag and all her books were spat onto the floor. She scrambled to pick everything up.
No wonder the bag had split, Tristan thought, giving her a hand and inspecting an Ancient Runes manual that honestly seemed to weigh as much as a brick. He opened his mouth to comment on it, but she was already dumping several other heavy manuals on him. "Do you mind holding those for me? Sorry. Just while I get my bag fixed."
"Not like I have a choice," Tristan muttered under his breath.
Ron grabbed one of the books so he could turn it over. "Why are you carrying all this around? You haven't got any of these subjects today. We only have Defence Against the Dark Arts left."
"Oh yes," Hermione replied vaguely, working on fixing her bag with a quick mending charm before taking back the books and cramming them all back inside. "I do hope there's something good for lunch, I'm starving."
All three boys blinked, effectively lost as she walked away.
Tristan picked up the pace to match hers. "I'm onto you, you know. You're hiding something."
She wouldn't look at him. "No idea what you mean."
"Right…" He rolled his eyes, not believing her for a second.
They made their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts after lunch. Tristan was very excited about this class. He'd gotten a great impression of Professor Lupin when he chased away the dementor on the train. He had also heard Nora talk about him quite a good deal, and if Nora liked him, he had to be worth something.
Professor Lupin wasn't in the classroom when they got there, so they sat down and pulled out their books, quills and parchment. They talked quietly while they waited. A few minutes later, Lupin finally came in. His clothes were still faded and shabby, but Tristan thought he looked a bit better than he had on the train, as though he'd had a few good meals and plenty of rest.
"Good afternoon." He smiled warmly at the class. "I would like you to please put all your books back in your bags. This will be a practical lesson, you're only going to need your wands."
A few curious looks were exchanged as everyone put away their books. Tristan sent Harry and Ron an excited grin. They hadn't had a practical Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson since last year's disaster when Lockhart had the brilliant idea of unleashing a cage full of Cornish pixies and then leave his young students to deal with them. Even with his gift for creatures, Tristan had immense trouble coaxing the little devils back in their cage. Pixies were absurdly stubborn.
Once everyone was ready, Professor Lupin instructed them to follow him. Puzzled but interested, they trudged after him as he guided them out into the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing they stumbled onto was Peeves, the Poltergeist, who was floating upside down stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum. He wiggled his curly-toed feet at them, cackling in a sing-song voice — "Loony, loopy Lupin! Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin!"
It was incredibly odd for Peeves to show such blatant disrespect for a teacher, Tristan thought, even if he was rude to everyone on a regular note. But Lupin was unfazed, his smile never even faltered.
"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves. Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms."
Peeves paid no mind, except to blow a loud, wet raspberry.
Lupin sighed and pulled out his wand. "This is a useful little spell. Please watch closely," he told the class over the shoulder, lifting his wand so it was pointing straight at the rude poltergeist. "Waddiwasi!"
With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole, went down Peeves's left nostril. He whirled upright with a shriek, fleeing the scene at full speed, muttering nasty curses and rude insults that were very improper for young ears.
Tristan was in awe. "That was brilliant!"
"Thank you, Tristan." Smugly, Lupin stashed his wand away. "Shall we proceed?"
The whole class now stared at shabby Professor Lupin in an entirely new light. Tristan turned to Hermione, who was walking next to him, and mouthed, "so cool!". She shook her head with an amused smile, but he could tell she was thinking the same.
They ended up inside a long, panelled staffroom cluttered with mismatched chairs, all of which were empty except for one. Tristan groaned inwardly; hadn't they had enough of Snape for one day?
As Professor Lupin was about to close the door behind him, Snape got to his feet.
"Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this." He strode past the nervous class, black robes billowing behind him. At the doorway, he paused, eyes shining darkly and mouth twisted into a nasty sneer that fiercely reminded Tristan of Malfoy. "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."
Neville turned scarlet. Tristan was ready to defend his friend, but Hermione elbowed him sharply to shut him up. It wouldn't have been the first time he talked back to Snape and cost them house points. Tristan had a terrible habit of letting his big mouth run the best of him.
"Oh?" Professor Lupin raised his eyebrows. "Well, I was actually hoping Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation. I'm sure he will perform admirably."
If possible, Neville's face turned even redder.
Snape's lip curled. It seemed for a moment as though he was going to add something else just as unpleasant. But he didn't. He simply swivelled on his heels and left, shutting the door behind him with a snap.
Finally alone, Lupin beckoned the class towards the end of the room where there was an old wardrobe. As he came to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall. A few students jumped back in alarm.
"Nothing to worry about," Professor Lupin hurried to calm them down. "There's a boggart in there."
Tristan's excitement vanished at once, and he felt himself go a bit pale in the face.
"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces. Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, cupboards under the sinks… I've even met one that lodged itself inside a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to me to give my students some practice. Now, the first question we must ask ourselves is — what is a boggart?"
Hermione put her hand up. "It's a shape-shifter. It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."
"Excellent answer," Professor Lupin smiled, making her all but glow with pride. "So, the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form because he does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out he will immediately become whatever each of us fears most."
Neville released a small sputter of terror, which Lupin chose to ignore.
"This means we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"
"Err…" Harry spared Hermione an uncertain glance as she bobbed up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand up in the air. "Because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?"
"Precisely," Lupin said brightly. Disappointed, Hermione put her hand down. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a boggart as he becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a boggart make that very mistake, tried to frighten two people at once and turned itself into half a slug. Not even remotely frightening."
Tristan pictured a half slug and had to fight back the urge to laugh. Maybe facing a boggart wouldn't be so bad, he thought, feeling a tiny bit relieved.
"The charm that repels a boggart is quite simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force him to assume a shape you find amusing. We'll practice the charm without wands first. After me, please… Riddikulus!"
"Riddikulus!" the class echoed together.
"Good. Very good. But that was the easy part. I'm afraid the word alone is not enough. This is where you come in, Neville—" Lupin motioned a scared Neville forward. "First things first, what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?" As if on cue, the wardrobe gave a violent rattle. Neville's lips moved, although no sound came out. "Didn't quite catch that, Neville, sorry."
Neville looked around the room like he was begging someone to save him. Then, in barely more than a whisper, he said, "Professor Snape."
Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville himself grinned sheepishly.
"Yes, he frightens all," Professor Lupin chuckled. "And, Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"
"Err… yes," Neville answered nervously. "But I don't want the boggart to turn into her either!"
Tristan snorted loudly.
Lupin's eyes twinkled with mirth. "No, nothing like that, Neville. I was only wondering if you could describe to us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"
"Well… always the same hat — a tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress… green, normally… and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."
"And a handbag?"
"A big, red one, yes."
"Right then, can you imagine those clothes very clearly? Can you see them in your mind's eye?" Neville nodded uncertainly. "Good. So, when the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, and sees you, Neville, it will assume the form of Professor Snape. And then you, Neville, will raise your wand and cry Riddikulus while concentrating very hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat and that green dress, with that big, red handbag."
There was a great shout of laughter that caused the wardrobe to rattle more raucously.
Professor Lupin tucked his hands in his pockets with a bright smile. "If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift its attention to each of us in turn. I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most and imagine how you might force it to look comical."
Tristan didn't have to think twice about what he feared the most. When Nora started coming to Hogwarts, he was left alone at their house and Maximus would often lock him up in an old shed in the garden if he thought he was being a nuisance. Tristan would stay in there for hours and hours, in the pitch darkness, where it was cold and damp… and there were snakes, hissing in his ear, crawling all over him... No matter how many times he swatted them off, they would always come back. Sometimes they would bite him too.
He'd never told his sister about it. Mostly because he knew exactly why their father hardly even bothered with him when Nora was home. Maximus took special pleasure in tormenting Nora, and as such she made a point of getting his attention whenever it seemed like he was about to take it out on Tristan. Nora endured so much for him, he felt it was only fair he did the same for her by not adding to her burdens.
Professor Lupin instructed everyone to back away so Neville could have room to work with. They all stood against the wall, watching expectantly as Neville, pale and frightened, stood in front of the wardrobe with his wand ready. As soon as the doors opened, Professor Snape stepped out and lunged straight for him. Neville faltered for a minute before finally finding his voice and uttering the charm. There was a quick pop. Then Snape was suddenly dressed in a long, lace-trimmed dress, wearing on his head a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, an ugly crimson bag hooked around his arm.
The room burst with a loud roar of laughter and the boggart paused, looking confused. Seizing the opportunity, Professor Lupin instructed Parvati to step forward.
It turned out, Parvati was terrified of mummies. As she shouted the spell, a bandage unravelled at the mummy's feet and the thing toppled over, its head rolling off. Seamus had a go next. Soon an orderly line began to form so that everyone could have their chance at facing the boggart.
When an upbeat music started playing from somewhere in the room, Tristan glanced over his shoulder at Professor Lupin, who was fumbling with an old record player. Lupin caught his eye and winked, making Tristan grin broadly. Defence Against the Dark Arts was officially his favourite subject this year.
News about Professor Lupin bringing a real boggart to his third year class spread fast around the castle. By Friday morning everyone had heard. In Nora's case, it reached her ears during Transfiguration right after lunch.
"Today we'll be delving into human transfiguration," Professor McGonagall said as she paced in front of the blackboard. "We shall start first with small things. Hair, ears, nose, mouth — these should do for now. Once you've mastered them, we'll move on to full body transfiguration. I advise you all to pay close attention as I explain the proper formula. Human transfiguration is extremely difficult and highly dangerous if performed incorrectly. And remember, you're also going to be evaluated on your skill during your NEWT exam this year. Now, first off…"
As McGonagall went about explaining how to calculate the ratios required for the formulas to work, Nora focused on writing down as many notes as possible. Eventually, they were told to pair up with their desk partners and practice on each other. She was working on conjuring a rabbit's nose and some whiskers on Julia's face while Julia was trying to give her a pair of wolf ears when the conversation taking place behind them caught her attention.
"Did you hear about Defence Against the Dark Arts? Professor Lupin is using a real boggart in class," Penelope was saying to Percy.
"Ah yes, my brother mentioned it to me yesterday. Apparently it was a lot of fun."
"Fifth years said the same. Think we'll have a go at it too?"
A violent shudder shot down Nora's spine. She stared at the portable mirror McGonagall had handed out for the exercise and saw panic reflected back at her. She'd never faced a boggart before, but she had a very good idea what it would turn into if she did. There was only one thing she was terrified of and she wasn't eager to share it with the whole school.
"I think my whiskers are uneven," Julia mused while admiring her reflection. Looking up, she saw Nora's pale face and dropped the compact mirror. "What? What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost!"
"It's nothing," Nora said, shaking her head.
Julia eyed her skeptically. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah. C'mon — let me try the spell again..." One thing at a time, Nora told herself, one thing at a time.
After class was dismissed, she trailed behind her friends like in a daze. Because she wasn't paying attention to where she was going, she ended up walking straight into someone who was exiting the classroom at the same time. Nora stumbled back with an apology.
"No problem." Her head came up at the familiar voice. Caito's brown eyes met hers as he shifted nervously on his feet. "Hullo..."
Taken aback, Nora hesitated. She was strongly aware of Julia and the twins behind them, watching everything enfold. It did nothing to ease her nerves. "How've you been?"
"Good," he said, then added uncertainly, "you?"
"Oh err, good too..."
She had to stop herself from physically cringing at how painfully awkward they both sounded. Caito seemed to be thinking the same. He ran his fingers nervously through his sun-kissed curls, rubbed the back of his neck, stuffed his hands in his pockets as though it was the only way to stop them.
Emma rolled her eyes. "Oh for Merlin's sake, it's unbearable to watch you two. Just make up already."
"We're not fighting," replied both Nora and Caito at the same time. They glanced at each other, embarrassed.
Nora squared her shoulders with determination. "I wrote to you this summer. Numerous times... You never wrote back."
Caito swallowed dryly, looking away. "I moved out in July."
"Moved out?" Julia echoed, coming to stand beside Nora. "Why?"
"No particular reason."
Nora frowned. "Where did you go?"
Caito opened his mouth, possibly to give another short and crisp answer, but Andrew Darling beat him to it. "He moved in with me."
Much like Caito, Andrew was tall and broad-shouldered. He had dark eyes and hair shaved into a buzz cut. Known for his aggressiveness on the Quidditch field, most students found him more than a little intimidating, but Nora knew he was actually very friendly and sweet. They partnered for a Potions assignment last year and he'd made her laugh every single time they met up to work on it. But even so, as nice and funny as Andrew was, it still hurt Nora that Caito had gone to him for help instead of any of his oldest friends.
"My parents were more than happy to take him in," Andrew explained, probably because her thoughts must've been written all over her face.
"I'm sure they were," Nora said politely, turning to Caito. "You should've told us. We could've helped."
Caito shrugged in a cold and detached manner, "What would you've done?"
Liam, who had deliberately stayed out of the conversation until then, made a disparaging noise. "Wise up, Dearborn. You're acting like a raging prat to someone who doesn't deserve it."
They held each other's glare for a tense moment. Caito was the first to falter, dropping his gaze to Nora and softening sadly. He blew out a weak breath of air as he chose to ignore Liam all together and brushed past him, disappearing down the hallway without another word. Andrew gave them all an apologetic sort of grimace before running after him.
Nora felt like someone had plunged a knife in her heart. She'd shared with Caito more than she'd ever shared with any of her friends, and now he wouldn't even face her properly. He gave her the cold shoulder and ran off like she had some sort of contagious ailment. It was like the past ten years of their lives had never even happened.
"Give him time," Liam said, squeezing her shoulder. "He'll come around eventually."
Nora struggled to contain the tears pooling behind her eyes. "What if he doesn't? What if I've lost him for good? If only I'd just—"
"Just what? Lied? Gone along with it? Pretended you felt the same when you didn't?"
Behind Liam, his sister cleared her throat. "Take it down a notch, Liam."
"Why should I?" He rounded on Emma with an angry scowl on his face. "He's acting like we're the ones in the wrong when he was dumb enough to come forward with his feelings knowing very well it would ruin everything."
"I don't think it was dumb at all," Julia butted in. "Takes guts to confess to someone you know doesn't reciprocate your feelings, doesn't it?"
Liam's scowl didn't drop. "Or great stupidity. If he liked her so much, he wouldn't have risked losing her."
"That's your opinion," Emma fired back sharply.
Nora had never once thought Caito was dumb. In fact, she agreed with Julia; she thought it was really brave of him to come forward with his feelings. And she wasn't in a position to blame him for doing so. In a way, several in fact, she'd led him on without meaning to. She would give anything to erase all of it, correct all her previous mistakes before it was too late. Everything had been fine the way it was. They were friends. Why couldn't that have been enough?
But, as it happens, Nora didn't have much time to mull over her brief encounter with Caito. The possibility of facing a boggart took up each and every one of her thoughts. All through Friday night and over the weekend, she did nothing but worry. She hardly slept. Barely even ate. Liam tried to reassure her by saying Lupin might not bother with showing a boggart to older students. However, as every class had its turn to face it, Nora knew luck wasn't on her side this time. They were reviewing the entire curriculum and boggarts were, after all, part of the final exams.
No one was surprised to find a rattling wardrobe in the middle of the classroom when they walked in for Defence Against the Dark Arts the next Tuesday.
