XXXVII

"I was thinking about a book," Ron said thoughtfully.

"A book?" Harry rolled his eyes. He couldn't mean it. But Ron looked utterly serious. "Okay, a book." After all, what else would they buy for Hermione's birthday? "What kind of book?"

Ron shrugged. "A very thick book. Like a thousand pages."

Harry was about to give up. This was ridiculous. Leaning back on the bench, he stared at the ceiling of the Great Hall. The sky was cloudy over their heads. "I guess we still have a week to decide."

"Yes, no stress." Ron glowered. Harry was half-convinced, if he hadn't asked Ron, his best friend would've just ignored Hermione's birthday as revenge for her murderous tomcat. "I'll just ask Mom for a suggestion." But then he grimaced. "Ugh, she'll probably suggest some of those old Lockhart books."

"Your mom still reads them?" Lockhart hadn't done any of the heroic deeds in his books. They'd learned that the hard way last year.

"They're still good books," Ron said in a tone resembling his mother. He huffed. Then he was distracted by a noise behind them. Charlie was talking to one of the other Hufflepuffs there. "Charlie!" Ron waved him over. "Charlie, do you know any good South African books?"

For a moment, Harry wondered if this was just another attempt to get some information about Charlie, but when he glowered at Ron, the Weasley just shrugged. "Eh," he whispered, as Charlie came walking over to them, "at least she probably wouldn't have read them yet."

At least, the logic was sound, Harry thought. It got increasingly difficult finding books Hermione hadn't read already.

"A South African book?" Charlie asked. He settled on the bench next to Ron glimpsing at Ron's Charms homework, that they had set out to do this evening. Not that they had gotten very far yet. The school year was barely two weeks along, and Harry and Ron were almost swamped in homework. Harry had no idea how Hermione with all her electives or Charlie with his extra Potions essays were able to handle it. Strangely, he rarely if ever saw Charlie study.

"What do you need that for?" Charlie looked from Ron's barely started Charms essay to Harry's equally unfinished version.

"Hermione's birthday," Ron answered. "On the 19th."

"Her birthday?" Charlie looked quizzically as if he didn't make the connection. "You want to give her a book for her birthday?"

Ron shrugged. "Any other ideas?"

But it seemed as if Charlie didn't even understand the question.

"What would you give her?" Harry asked a bit exasperated. He'd never seen Charlie look so clueless.

"Give her?" He shook his head. "For her birthday?" Then his eyes lit up. "Ah, right." As if it only occurred to him now, that birthday presents were a thing. "I'm sure she likes books, yes."

Ron had apparently missed Charlie's odd reaction because he nodded in agreement. "Yeah. So, do you know any books?"

"No," Charlie shook his head. At Ron's disappointed glare he added, "I was never a big reader."

Harry didn't believe it. Neither did Ron, he was sure. After all, Charlie was almost as much a nerd as Hermione. "Yeah, sure," Ron scoffed. "Come on, help a friend out."

"Maybe ask Nitin?" Charlie suggested. "I think he reads a lot."

Nitin was one of the Hufflepuffs in their year. A short, dark-skinned boy, with a bowl-cut that reminded Harry of old pictures of the Beatles. He'd never exchanged a word with him beyond a simple greeting. Ron apparently thought similarly, because he only glimpsed shortly at the Hufflepuff table, before turning back to Charlie.

"I don't really know Nitin," he admitted.

Charlie seemed surprised at that, but then he only shrugged. "I'm sure he'd love talking about books with you." It was obvious from Ron's grimace, that he had no interest talking to anybody about books. Charlie smiled amused. "Or try Kafka? Nitin likes him, I think."

"Kafka?" Ron repeated, testing the sound of the name. He turned toward Harry. "What do you think?" But Harry only shrugged.

He'd never read Kafka, after all. Hopefully, Hermione hadn't either. "Worth a shot?"

"Is that all?" Charlie asked and already stood up, before Harry could stop him.

"Wait! When's yours?" Because Charlie's initial reaction to the idea of birthday presents wasn't normal, Harry thought.

Harry had never received much for birthdays as long as he lived with the Dursleys. They'd made it a habit to give him Dudley's or Vernon's old socks. Even now that he was in Hogwarts, they still made it a point to send him socks every year for Christmas. Once, he remembered, Dumbledore told him, that he liked socks for Christmas, but that just wasn't the same. Still, Harry had never balked at the idea of presents. He knew that normally, people got presents for special occasions. After all, he'd witnessed it often enough with Dudley. During his first year in Hogwarts, it had still been an exciting novelty when there were presents waiting for him on Christmas Morning, and then when he received them for his birthday in the holidays.

Didn't Charlie get any presents?

He could hit himself! So stupid of him. Of course, he didn't! From what Charlie told him, he'd left his family years ago and lived alone ever since. Who would give him anything? Yet, the way he reacted now, it seemed, like he didn't even get anything for special occasions when he'd still lived with his family.

"My?" Charlie asked with raised eyebrows. "My what?"

"Your birthday." Harry didn't even know his new friend's birthday.

"The fifteenth."

Ron frowned. "The fifteenth what?"

"September."

"What!?" Ron hit the table so hard, his inkpot jumped. Thankfully, it didn't fall over, though a bit of black ink spilled over the first few words of the essay. "That's next week! Why didn't you say anything?"

Harry felt genuinely upset too, but Charlie just looked back at them in surprise. "You didn't ask." He spoke so nonchalantly as if it wasn't important at all. As if his birthday was just a random day on the calendar. His eyes roamed over Harry and Ron shortly, but when none of them spoke, he sighed and waved at them. "Alright, I've got things to do."

"Charlie," Neville spoke up from opposite Harry. He'd clearly listened in on the conversation. "Uhm… I—What do you want for your birthday?"

Charlie seemed to blush at the question. "For my birthday?" he repeated as if the concept was entirely foreign to him. "I don't… You mean as a present?" Neville nodded. Both he and Ron looked as worried as Harry felt. "I don't think I need anything." Charlie shook his head. "And I really wanted to…" He drew himself up to his full height. "Mah, I really wanted to talk to Professor Lupin. You'll excuse me?" And then he was gone. He just turned and left, ignoring Ron's call to wait.

"You think…?" Neville started when the door of the Great Hall fell shut behind Charlie.

"Yeah," Ron grumbled unhappily. "So, what do we do?" He answered Neville's unspoken question, but he was looking at Harry as if Harry was supposed to know what to do. Just because Harry had been in a similar situation once, didn't mean he knew how to handle it.

None of them had a solution to the problem until Hermione arrived. "What about the long faces?" she asked with a heavy sigh, as she put her bag full of books down on the bench beside Harry. She rolled her shoulder in relief. "You look as if somebody died."

"It's Charlie's birthday next week," Ron answered as if that explained anything at all.

Hermione looked surprised. "Oh?" She blinked clearly still confused about the sorrowful mood. "Okay, so…?"

"We need to prepare something!" Harry declared grabbed by a sudden frenzy and motivation to do something. "The best birthday present he ever had!" Neville and Ron agreed, serious and determined.

Hermione still had no idea what was going on, as she nodded along. "Sure, if you want to…"

"We need something good," Neville said.

"So, what does he like?" Ron asked scratching his head.

Harry thought back to the days he had spent living in a room next door to Charlie in the Leaky Cauldron. "He does Calligraphy," he remembered.

Ron didn't look convinced. "What? You want to give him quills, parchment, and ink?" He snorted, and Harry had to agree it was a bad idea.

Hermione didn't seem to agree. "What's wrong with that?" She pouted, but she was clearly not expecting an answer. "I could need a new quill. And I'm running low on ink too." Harry gave Ron a long stare, silently begging him to remember that for her birthday. It would be much easier than finding a book she hadn't read yet.

"He said he likes toads." Neville's voice was almost inaudible.

Harry huffed. "We can't just give him a toad."

"Why not?" Ron asked bluntly. "He doesn't have a pet yet, right?"

Hermione looked as if she wanted to slap him over the head. "You can't just give somebody a pet!" Hermione sounded exasperated. "That's a commitment you can't just force on anybody."

"Why not?" Ron asked. "Percy just gave me Scabbers when he got his owl. I didn't ask for it either. I wanted an owl!" He nodded at Harry. "And Hagrid gave Harry an owl too."

"Well, he allowed me to choose it." It wasn't the same, Harry thought.

"Why?" Ron disagreed. "You said he told you to get an owl. That he didn't like cats. And it was a present, so even if you got to choose the owl, it wasn't like you could just say 'You know what, Hagrid, I'd rather have a broom.'"

Harry chuckled.

"He's good with Trevor," Neville supplied thoughtfully. "He's better with him than me."

"He's better with Crookshanks too," Ron huffed with a glare at Hermione.

Hermione reciprocated in kind. "And he protects you rat better than you do!"

Ron growled. "I shouldn't need to protect him!"

"Can we not?" Harry was getting tired of this. If this continued the whole year, he'd go and drown both rat and cat in the great lake only to have a moment of peace. He didn't support animal cruelty, but at this point, he'd do them all a favor—Of course, he wouldn't do that, but it was annoying!

"Let's get him a toad," Ron decided. "He said he likes toads. So, if he doesn't want it, we can still feed it to your orange monster."

"RON!" Neville and Hermione exclaimed between shock and anger.

"A joke!" He laughed. "No, if he doesn't like it, I'll just give it to Ginny. She wants a pet too. And if I can't have an owl, why should she?"

"I still think it's a bad idea," Hermione grumbled, but she didn't argue anymore.

"Well, you can give him a quill and ink," Ron said almost a bit dismissively.

Professor Lupin's office was on the second floor close to the staircase. Even before he knocked, Kakashi caught Lupin's scent inside the office. There was something else. An itchy scent tickled in his nose, which was foreign to him. Ignoring the scent, for now, he wrapped twice against the heavy wood of the door.

"Come in." Lupin sounded a bit distracted as he called him inside.

When Kakashi entered, he found the man sitting at a cluttered desk, correcting papers. He looked well put together, hair a bit ruffled but mostly in place. It was a stark contrast to his appearance when Kakashi first saw him after arriving at Hogwarts. Since then, Lupin was rapidly getting better. Whatever had him so sickly in the first few days, he was clearly getting over it. Even his scent normalized, turned more and more human.

A few stray hairs fell over his forehead as he looked up. "Charlie?" There was clear surprise on his face. "I didn't expect you." But he smiled as he spoke, scarred face lighting up kindly. "I'm glad you came, though. I'd hoped you would seek me out, eventually."

Kakashi knew. Of course, he knew. He'd have to be blind not to notice, that Professor Lupin was only waiting all too eagerly for his chance to talk to Kakashi. If Kakashi had waited any longer, he feared, Lupin might not have waited for him to make the first move. But it wasn't the Boggart, Kakashi wanted to talk about.

"Please sit," Lupin pointed at the chair on the other side of the desk. Then he quickly shuffled his papers together and put them in a drawer. "I hope you excuse the chaos," he added with a mirthful sigh. "I'm still moving in."

Odd, Kakashi thought. The school year had started almost two weeks ago. Had he been so sick, he couldn't be bothered with the moving process? He hadn't looked that sick.

Kakashi eyed the rest of the office. There was a shelf with books on it, a wardrobe, that he couldn't begin to guess what was inside, and under the window, there was a cage of the same size as Harry's birdcage. Inside were three small blue fairy-like creatures. Wings like insects and long pointy ears. When he entered, they started to chitter and chatter in a very high-frequent voice, that Kakashi found immediately annoying.

Lupin followed his line of sight. "Pixies," he said unprompted. "For my second years. Mostly harmless little creatures, full of mischief." He had a distant, almost fond look on his face, then he took his wand and waved at them. Kakashi wasn't sure, if he'd hexed them silent or if the noise just didn't reach Kakashi anymore. It got quiet again. "They turn into a plague if there are too many." Lupin turned back at him.

Kakashi nodded. He hadn't said anything yet, and now Lupin was waiting expectantly. Sighing, Kakashi leaned back in his chair. "I wanted to ask for help."

"That's good," Lupin replied easily. "I like to help. I assume it's about your Boggart?"

"No."

Lupin looked as if Kakashi had dowsed him in icy water. "No?"

Kakashi shook his head. "No, I want to know how you fought the Dementor."

Lupin's eyes widened in bafflement. "The Dementor?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Charlie. Why would you want to know this? You're not supposed to fight it, and unless you give them a reason, they will stay away from you too."

"As they did on the train?" Kakashi asked in a sharp tone. He didn't much care about the attack now, but it was a good enough excuse for why he wanted to learn how to defend against them. "It attacked me on the train."

Lupin looked sorrowful. "I know." For a moment, he avoided Kakashi's gaze staring out of the window. "I know they did." His lips quirked into a sad smile. "Though, the ministry described the incident a little different. You attacked it, they say."

Kakashi scoffed. "I was defending myself. It was…creepy." He shuddered at the memory. "Cold, unsettling…"

"Cold and unsettling?" Lupin asked, curious. "Is that how you would describe it?"

Kakashi glared back at him. If Lupin wanted him to elaborate on the sort of despair, he'd felt at his encounter with the Dementors, he'd be disappointed. "Cold and unsettling," he repeated more forcefully. "Will you tell me how you fought them?"

Lupin sighed. "There's no reason why you'd need to know. They won't harm you again. What happened on the train… I'm terribly sorry for it, but it won't happen again. The minister guaranteed, they'll stay away from the school now."

"They are just outside the grounds," Kakashi insisted. He was frustrated. Technically, Lupin was right. Since he'd arrived here, the Dementors had stayed away. At worst, one of them flew past a window a little too closely, leaving a chill. But for the most part, they stayed away. He didn't even see any of them during his Care for Magical Creatures classes outside.

"And they will remain outside grounds." Lupin shook his head. "Didn't you listen to Professor Dumbledore at the ceremony? These creatures… They are not to be trifled with."

Kakashi huffed. "I don't intend to trifle with them." He spat the words out. If necessary and at all possible, he meant to kill them. "Last time I fought it off with a knife. It barely even flinched. You know how to rout them out."

"Charlie, you cannot fight them again. Do you hear me?" Lupin stared at him insistently, waiting for Kakashi to agree. Knowing, that he wouldn't get anywhere if he didn't do Lupin the favor, Kakashi nodded stiffly. "I cannot help you. It will just cause false confidence. And I can't have you run off to fight them."

"Why would I do that?" But he saw that he wasn't getting anywhere.

Lupin sighed. "I don't know. But the way you are sitting here, I can't shake the feeling that you would."

He came on too aggressive, Kakashi realized. His shoulders slumped a bit in resignation. "You say they won't come to the castle again?" There was still a last chance. "What if they do? What if something happens?"

Lupin eyed him suspiciously. "You won't enrage them, just to force my hand, would you?" His eyes narrowed.

Innocently, Kakashi raised his hands. "I wouldn't. Why should I?"

But Lupin didn't seem convinced. "Alright. If it should happen… If they come on school grounds and attack you again, I will tell you what I know. I can't promise that I'll teach you how to fight them. That's an exceptionally difficult spell. It might be too complicated for you, yet. But I will tell you how it's done. However, should I find out, that you provoked them, I won't teach you. Instead, I'll make sure, that you spend the rest of the term scrubbing pots and pans." He glared at Kakashi, waiting for his acknowledgment.

Kakashi nodded somewhat meekly. He was disappointed by this meeting, yet at least there was still a door open to him. Sooner or later, he hoped, the Dementors would slip up and make a mistake. All he'd have to do was be there when it happened. Knowing, this was all he'd get out of Lupin for now, Kakashi stood to leave.

"I had hoped to talk to you about your Boggart." Lupin called him back.

Kakashi halted in his steps. He stared straight into Professor Lupin's eyes. Green, but a more muted and dark shad compared to Harry's.

"I guess, we both had different expectations for this conversation." He kept his tone mild, almost blank.

Lupin looked both surprised and a bit ashamed. "Your Boggart," he continued anyway, "it was a boy. Who was Obito?"

Kakashi bristled. "No," he hissed, not sure what he was referring to himself.

"Please, sit down. I think it would be good if you could talk about this. The things that hurt us—" He hunched in a bit, as if not entirely comfortable in his own office. "Sometimes, it's best to speak about them."

Kakashi had spoken about them. About Obito at least. He'd spoken a lot about him. Only the people he'd spoken to were all dead and buried, now. And he barely knew Remus Lupin. Neither did he want to talk to him, nor did he want to invite him into the small circle of people he could empty his heart to. And if Lupin knew, if he knew the death Kakashi inevitably brought to those he let into his circle, he wouldn't want to be a part of it either.

"There's nothing to talk about," Kakashi replied. Truthfully, talking about Obito's death with Rin and Minato-sensei… It hadn't made bearing Obito's death any easier. But he was convinced it had made Rin's and Minato's deaths more difficult. "And nobody to talk to."

Lupin was searching his eye contact, Kakashi knew, but he was avoiding it now. "I would listen," he said. "I hope you know, that I would listen."

"Do you speak from experience," Kakashi asked in return, suddenly changing the topic.

Lupin was taken aback. He almost physically reeled back. "Excuse me?"

"When you say it's good to talk about the things that hurt us," Kakashi specified. "Do you speak from experience?"

Lupin slumped a little. Tired. "I have my fair share of demons," he said vaguely.

Kakashi could've said as much without even having to ask. It stood in every line of Lupin's face. In the long and thin scars, the wrinkles too deep for his age, the already greying hair. And in his eyes. More muted than Harry's and much more haunted. There was regret there, sorrow and rage. Neatly hidden under a kind smile.

"Do you," Kakashi asked curiously, "care to share?"

Lupin stayed quiet.

"It's not that easy, is it? You want me to trust you with my issues, while you don't reciprocate." Kakashi shrugged. "You want me to trust you, to bare my soul to you. Yet, you aren't willing to do the same."

Lupin looked guilty, but he didn't start talking. Fine, it wasn't Kakashi's issue. He wasn't particularly eager to learn about Lupin's issues. He didn't want to force him into baring his soul to him. In many ways, Kakashi just wanted him to stop asking questions. If Lupin thought, Kakashi would tell his story to a man he barely knew, clearly, Lupin still didn't have an inkling about the kind of story, Kakashi had to tell. It wasn't meant for just anybody's ears. Surely not for the ears of a virtual stranger.

He was certain, Lupin had his own story to tell. A tragic tale, full of regret and pain. And yet, if he had expected Kakashi to just tell his story, either he underestimated Kakashi's story and was entirely unprepared for it, or maybe he was just parroting something that was told to him years ago.

Tell your story. It will make things easier.

Had Lupin ever heeded the advice himself, Kakashi wondered. Did he even believe it? The way Lupin shrunk at the mere suggestion of telling his story, Kakashi thought, he'd never told it to anybody. He had less experience telling it, than Kakashi himself.

Such a man, Kakashi thought, could not bear his story. Such a man would only be burdened further by his suffering.

"I'm sorry," Lupin said quietly.

"No need," Kakashi shoved his hands into his pockets. "There's nothing to apologize for. You don't know me. I don't know you. There's nothing to tell."

Lupin stared as if in wonder, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing with his own ears. "What happened to you?" he asked clearly unintentional. He held a hand in front of his mouth when he realized he'd spoken out loud.

Kakashi smiled vaguely. "I'll get back to you about the Dementors."

This seemed to snap Lupin out of it.

"Don't provoke them!" he called after Kakashi, just as he left.