Chapter Nineteen: Darkness Rising

The proper teaching is recognized with ease. You can know it without fail because it awakens within you that sensations which tells you this is something you've always known.

-Frank Herbert

The news was in the papers the next morning. Azkaban, the supposedly impenetrable fortress, had had not just one this time, but some thirty prisoners broken out, some former death eaters, others just common criminals who likely gave their loyalties in exchange for their freedom…Most students were oblivious. Some were shocked and horrified. A couple dozen of them, however, for various reasons, were not shocked at all. How many are the children of Death Eaters, and how many the children of ministry workers?

Harry hadn't told anyone what he'd learned before, and had instructed Ron to stay silent as well. He looked around now to take note of who had known. Down the table, Malfoy was acting like king of the world. Parkinson, Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, Bulstrode… they had all known. So had some of the older students, and a scattered number of students in other houses. And so had Theodore Nott, who now calmly met Harry's gaze. Yes, of course Nott knew. There was no exclamation, no argument, no question. They would continue for now as they always had, but there would be little trust there. Harry would see where the dividing line fell when the time came, and they would maintain at least surface ties until then.

Near by, a familiar face looked up from yet another copy of the Daily Prophet, looked around, then turned to glare at the both of them.

"How come no one ever tells anything?" exclaimed an annoyed Tracey Davis.

At least her attitude hadn't changed. It was almost comforting. Almost.

"I'm sure your teacher's will be distressed to hear you haven't noticed their efforts," Nott informed her solemnly.

"Don't be silly, Nott, I'm sure they've already realized. Pass the toast already."

Harry laughed in surprise. Everything's alright, really… for the moment… Yet somehow it seemed he could almost feel the time running through his fingers, sand through an hourglass… and his heart beat seemed to be chanting over and over; time's running short, time's running short, time's running short… time's running out… and he knew, even before he collapsed into the blankets to sleep that his dreams wouldn't be pleasant. There would be a little red-haired girl lying dead on the floor, and a little boy starving on the streets, and there would be a fire burning at Number 4, Privet Drive, while a child ran and ran run away as fast as you can, and don't look back because- because… time's running out.

Harry Potter hated fear. He hated foreboding. He hated feeling lost. Most of all, he hated feeling like he cared. He forced himself to climb out of bed. It was the first day of classes, and it was time to get it together. He focused The Sense around him. It was calming, and it informed him immediately that he was the only one awake. Keeping The Focus on, he walked up the stairs to the Slytherin common room. It was there Theodore Nott found him several minutes later, curled up with a book on hexes.

"There you are. Up early, as usual." The boy glanced at the book Harry was reading, one he'd given him for Christmas the year before. "Pity Lockhart never did teach us much about dueling. What would you say to a practice duel now? I'm feeling a bit restless. Harry nodded and got to his feet.

The spells flew. Harry quickly fell into a rhythm, assessing his opponent's abilities, blocking, dodging, sending off some spells. When he saw changes to get spells through, he sent ones that would not end the duel- tarantella, which forced Nott's feet into a crazy jig, the trip jinx, the twitchy ear hex… keeping the duel going, and gaining as much practice as possible dodging, shielding, and predicting another's attacks. The Sense was surprisingly helpful. Not only did Harry find calm awareness a good mindset, but also it allowed him to be more rapidly aware of the subtle movements which might signal an attack. It would take practice for this particular skill to be of any use against the rapid pace of an expert dueler, of course, but it might one day be a great help.

Someone was coming down the stairs behind Nott, who hadn't seemed to have noticed yet. Harry kept his eyes calmly on the other boy, dodging a spell and then-

"Petrificus Totalus! " murmured a voice firmly from behind Nott, who was taken by surprise.

Tracey Davis stepped calmly over the boy. "I'd like to go to breakfast now," she announced as if she hadn't just hexed someone. "Come on Potter, Nott."

"Finite Incantanum." Harry muttered.

"I guess that's it for now, then," commented Theodore, "up for another duel tomorrow?"

"You're on."

Defense Against the Dark Arts was always one of the most anticipated classes… among the first years. Everyone else had long ago become accustomed to disappointment. The third year slytherins showed little interest upon entering the classroom, which was still empty. They filed into their seats and sat down. Some students- Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, Greengrass, Parkinson, and Bulstrode- took out books and quills. The remaining few sat back and watched the door. When Lupin entered the room, he found all eyes watching him intently.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

"That and a new teacher, charity case," mutter Malfoy, then yelped. Harry looked over and saw Padfoot's jaws had gotten a hold on Malfoy's foot. Lupin was staring at the dog, seemingly torn between smiling and scolding. It seemed they were well on the way to convincing him.

"Can't you even control your own dog, Potter?" growled Malfoy.

"What dog? I don't see any dog," Harry replied, "What is it, the grim?"

Malfoy paled for a moment, then glared. "That's not funny, Potter."

"I beg to differ, Malfoy," said Tracey, grinning nastily. "That's a good dog. You can come back now, you can always bite him later if he misbehaves." Padfoot trotted over to be petted, wagging his tail. "Such a genius dog you've got, Potter."

"Right then,' said Professor Lupin, "If you'd follow me."

The class got to its feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner to the staffroom. It was a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs. Lupin beckoned the class to the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," said Professor Lupin calmly. "There's a boggart in there. Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Professor Lupin. Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks- I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock.

"So, the first quest we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?"

When no one else volunteered, Nott raised his hand lazily.

"It's a shape-shifter that aims to frighten."

"Correct," said Professor Lupin. "So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. 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 most fears.

"This means that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

Harry studied the man carefully, startled by the sudden attention.

"It wouldn't know what shape it should be, because there are so many of us."

"Precisely. It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. The charm that repels a boggart is 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 it to assume a shape that you find amusing.

"We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please…riddikulus!"

"This class is ridiculous." Malfoy muttered from the back of the class.

"We'll each face the boggart in turn," said Professor Lupin. "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. Mr. Malfoy, you'll be going first."

Malfoy looked much less confident now, but not wanting to loose face in front of his peers, he stepped up to the front.

"On the count of three, Mr. Malfoy," said Professor Lupin, who was pointing his want at the handle of the wardrobe. "One- two- three- now!"

The wardrobe burst open. At first, it was a banshee, then it shifted to the form of a giant spectral dog- the grim. Harry was sure Tracey would find ways to use that one.

"Riddikulus!" Malfoy shouted. Then the specter's head fell to the ground. The body fell next to it, and there was a pool of blood on the floor. A few of Malfoy's cronies laughed, but not Malfoy himself. The blond boy had gone even paler, and then he hurried to the back of the room. The next student stepped up, and the boggart changed again. At the back of the group, Malfoy's face relaxed in relief.

Only a few of the students boggarts were as memorable as Malfoy's. Pansy Parkinson's boggart was Tracey herself. As Parkinson raised her wand to use the charm, she was hit with a hex from behind, and dropped her wand. She hurried to pick it up and run to the back of the room. Beside Harry, the real Tracey was smirking. Nott raised a hand to high five her. Lupin looked as though he was about to say something, but then Tracey stepped forward.

For a brief moment, two Traceys stood facing each other. Then the boggart shifted. It was a lethifold.

Tracey stared at it for a moment, then raised her wand.

"Expecto Patronum!" It was not corporal, but it was enough to force the boggart back a little ways.

Only Harry and Theodore were left now. Harry was next in line. He started to step forward. Padfoot went up with him, but Lupin stepped between Harry and the boggart- but Padfoot was closer that them both.

Crack! There was a dead Harry-boggart lying on the floor. Then Crack! A dead Lupin-boggart. Then- Harry stepped around Lupin, who was watching the dog, and took his place before the boggart.

There was a rattled breath from under a dark hood, and then a deep cold filled the room. Harry anchored himself with the Sense, then took at deep breath and cast the patronus. A silver hawk flew from his wand, driving the boggart-dementor back into the wardrobe. Lupin used a hasty incantation to shut the doors behind it.

"That'll be it for today, class. Homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me… to be handed in on Monday. Harry, could you please stay behind for a moment?"

Harry nodded and sat down in an armchair while the rest of the class filed out of the room. When Lupin spoke, however, it was not to Harry. He turned to Padfoot, kneeling down to pet the dog's head, and whispered:

"I'm sorry for doubting you, old friend."

A/N: Many thanks to the people who reviewed last chapter:

TheSmallestGhost, Shadow Lighthawk, thsunami, Aqua Mage, MarauderinglyMagical, akunamatata, FroBoy, NamelessHeretic, Shiruba Fokkusu, Magic Crystal Rose, sambee, I-Y-T-Y, firmin, Shadow Eclipse, xkristy101, Nights Silhouette, The Sleeping Creature,