In the last chapter: Harry is on 'house arrest' for the rest of the summer and finds the Locket in Regulus' room. The Wizarding world is on edge from the Azkaban-escapee. Harry and Remus take the Hogwarts Express and the dementors board halfway. Harry finds out he can speak to dementors and Remus definitely goes all 'mama-bear' on them.


Despite Harry's undeniable curiosity he felt soft dread coating the inside of his stomach and throat once he spotted the wraith Dementors swirling through the night sky like they had at Azkaban. The occasional flitting shadow across the bright moon's visage was a chilling reminder of what patrolled those dark skies. If the Ministry was going to guard Hogwarts with those creatures, it would be a rather harrowing year for the other students.

The first feast was kicked off in a rather somber, subdued mood from the students and was then followed by the announcement that Lockhart would be replaced this year by one Remus Lupin. Though, most of the student body seemed curious and excited to possibly have an actually competent professor this time around and one with known ties to their very own little resident Ice Prince, the incident on the train had put aside any doubts about his character because of his lycanthropy.

Harry was glad to see the rather fast acceptance of his guardian among his peers. Not to mention, the look on Severus' face was amazing! Harry would need to invest in a pensive just so he could look at it again and again. The imposing potions professor was once again miffed at being passed over as a replacement for the DADA position, and by a werewolf none the less!

As the first week settled in, Harry already began to feel the weight of his schedule and extracurricular activities. Added to Harry's classes that year was Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Astronomy, and Care of Magical Creatures—Harry had been convinced to take the last course with Draco because the blonde didn't want to have to pair up with Crabbe or Goyle since the pair could 'barely function as it is!'

Hermione was also taking more courses than recommended, but in true form, neither Ravenclaws broke a sweat in the face of the challenge. Harry wouldn't have blinked at the extra class load if it weren't for the fact that on top of his studies of Death's language, secret late-night dueling practices in the Chamber of Secrets, and frequent visits to Remus' office late at night to sneak in a floo call home to Sirius, his quidditch captain Roger Davies was nearly doubling their practice regimens because Oliver Wood—the Gryffindor quidditch captain—was graduating at the end of the year and the Gryffindors wanted to win every match to give their beloved lion a good sendoff.

Harry cared little for winning the brutal game, but as seeker, he couldn't sit a single practice out. Davies had been trying to push Harry extra hard during practice, subtly—or perhaps not subtly at all—the sixth year had been asking Harry to try maneuvers that were quite dangerous. During Harry's second year, Harry had been wicked fast on a broom, but he played relatively safe if only to keep up appearances. However, at the request of the captain, Harry transitioned easily into more dangerous and death-defying stunts that got him to the snitch far quicker.

Davies had been on cloud-9 for the rest of practice and all throughout dinner, occasionally sending Harry utterly enraptured gazes that made him entire uncomfortable and sent Draco into vicious fits of laughter at his expense. Anthony, on the other hand, had nearly had a stroke every time Harry took a vertical dive towards the pitch or weaved through players and stands alike at a break-neck speed. Like the mother-hen Anthony truly was on the inside, the blonde had gone off on Davies and stayed glued to Harry's side all practice and throughout the rest of the day.

Through the light-hearted banter and exhausting drills of practice, nobody could quite forget the chill in their bones from the ominous floating guards in the thick cloud cover.

The nightly trips to the chamber always cut into Harry's time to sleep, leaving him exhausted some days and pushing him to seek out small times during the day to either nap or go to the chamber so he wouldn't have to later. The resident Basilisk had found him on his second trip to the chamber. Harry had been disconcerted at the sight, but otherwise he remained unaffected. The enormous serpent had obviously been making a point of slipping out to hunt on Hogwarts ground to satiate its appetite for other prey, which made the beast far more lucid.

The snake had wasted no time in telling Harry he wouldn't be bitten again, apparently his blood and flesh had made the creature incredibly ill and tasted of 'death magic' which was a rather interesting revelation. The Basilisk had taken to referring to Harry as 'Little Necromancer' and Harry hadn't bothered correcting the snake, seeing as how he technically was one. After that, the two came to an understanding that they would stay out of each other's way; the Basilisk wouldn't kill any humans or let itself be seen, and Harry would keep his word to protect the creature's master.

Regrettably, Harry had elected to leaving both Horcruxes at Grimmauld Place, as he couldn't guarantee their safety at Hogwarts, where his privacy began and ended at his mediocre trunk. Harry could certainly ward with the best of them, but he knew his peers were crafty and so much misguided, errant magic flying around was treacherous at best.

True to his word, Harry kept a close eye on a certain doe-eyed second year, Luna Lovegood and the malicious Morag MacDougal. When nearly three weeks passed with Hermione watching them within the dorms like a hawk and Harry tracking their every move outside, Harry thought that Morag might have hopefully moved on after last year's spat with Hermione. His hope had been short lived.

One morning, as Harry's dorm room emptied of grumbling, tired boys, he was startled while trying to find a certain book in his trunk when Hermione burst into the room. Her face was twisted in fury and her thick curls seemed to move around her head more like snakes than the soft brown locks that they were. Anthony nearly flinched at the violent nature of her magic. Both boys quickly met the irate girl halfway across the room, Harry demanded she tell them what happened, voice cutting with a dangerous edge.

"Those . . . dreadful hags!" Hermione exploded before taking a deep breath and trying again, anger still sizzling in her tone when she spoke. "Morag and Mandy jinxed Lovegood's clothes into appearing transparent to everyone but her. The poor girl had made it all the way out into the halls before Padma saw her and told her what had happened." Hermione shook her head and grimaced. "Luna had been completely unfazed by everything they'd done last year, but this time . . . she'd been inconsolable! I had to lend her my own clothes while Padma fixed hers. Those retched girls had the audacity to laugh when Padma brought her back through, covered with her own outer robe."

The atmosphere in the room was suddenly an overwhelming, oppressive, dangerous force as Harry's concerned face slipped into a cold mask. Anthony would have cringed had such malicious magic been focused on him.

"Is she still in the common room?" Harry's voice was a little lower, the deceptively calm tone sending shivers down both of their spines. Hermione quickly nodded. She and Anthony followed Harry when he headed towards the door without another word.

Harry descended the stairs quietly, already hearing the loud chatter coming from the common room. It was still early enough that most Ravenclaws were gathered there, chatting with their friends before heading down to breakfast together. The common room would be crowded at that point. Good.

The room fell silent the moment Harry entered, the power that filled the room demanded it. As cold verdant eyes swept the room, heads quickly dropped away, not wishing to catch such a gaze. Harry spotted Morag and Mandy on a couch across the room, surrounded by others close to, or in their year who had gone slightly pale when Harry focused on them. Morag had her back to Harry, but he could see a satisfied smirk twisting the corners of her thin, glossed lips.

As Harry strode over, he didn't let up on the intimidating magic swirling around him, but he did adopt a pleasant expression. When he stopped beside the chair sat directly across from the couch, Harry barely glanced down at the fifth-year girl sitting there before she jumped up and hurried away to the other side of the room to watch the proceedings with the same morbid curiosity as everyone else.

Harry elegantly sank into the chair, sinking fulling into the dazzling Slytherin charm he usually only half-dawned in the presence of adults and strangers. Morag had hidden her smile behind her own polite mask before Harry came into view. Ah, pureblood training at its best!

"Morag MacDougal, I believe we have not had a proper conversation yet. Unfortunately, our circles don't often mingle enough to allow such an encounter." Harry's voice was smooth and polite. Like the languid notes on a piano, his words flowed out without any hesitation, in perfect cadence. As he spoke, Hermione and Anthony flanked his chair on either side. Mandy shifted in her spot next to Morag, looking far less prepared for the high-societal warfare taking place between Morag and Harry.

"Unfortunately." Morag repeated with a hint of annoyance slipping into her tone as she raised her chin, crossed her legs, and folded her arms in what was probably meant to look superior, but turned out looking a little defensive.

Unimpressed, Harry's smile faded a little into a smooth and impassive expression. The air began to fill with magic, spreading through the entire room until all around, students began to shift uncomfortably in their seats and where they stood. Harry was still fighting to hold back most of it, he didn't want to traumatize or hurt anyone, just wanted get his warning across loud and clear.

"I've heard that you've taken a special interest in one of our own." Harry leaned forward a bit and caught the slight twitch in the other girl's body as she fought her instincts to lean back or lower her head, even though Harry was a meter and a half away.

"What's it mater to you? It's my business what I do, and half-bloods have no bloody place questioning someone of my stature." Her façade disintegrated and a sneer mutilated her plain face. Her rapidly dissolving composure explaining why the little pureblood supremacist wasn't placed in Slytherin, such a hot head would have brought her closer to the lion's den if anything. In that moment, if nothing else, Harry greatly admired Slytherin's skills in the art of politics and subtly.

After a long moment studying Morag, the girl—as well as the rest of the house—became more tense and uncomfortable as the moments dragged on. Finally, Harry spoke in far more lethal tone, quiet in nature, but nearly deafening in the completely silent room, half of the occupants refusing to even breath to puncture the void of sound.

"Oh, but it is my business, Morag. That girl is a part of this house, she is one of our own and she has done nothing to you." Morag opened her mouth to protest, but Harry stopped her with the raising of his hand. "This is not a negotiation, I do not need your excuses, nor your insults. For as long as I am here, this house will remain united, helping each other towards a common goal. Have you any pride at all, you would have never preyed on the innocent girl in the first place. I do not care what you think of me or my blood, but if you harass one of our own again, there will be consequences." The threat was punctuated by the surge of suffocating magic around them for only a moment, before Harry pulled it back.

For the first time, Morag's chin dipped and her eyes bore into her knees as she sat stiffly, steeling her limbs to suppress the subconcious twitch. Harry's eyes moved over the rest of the frozen bodies in the common room as he stood, straightening his robes out in reflex.

"The same goes for everyone else, I do not care what you do, so long as you do not harm others and you show consideration for your house. Every single action you take or word you speak reflects on this house as a whole. I think we can all learn from the example another house in particular has set and be conscious of how we represent ourselves. Whatever critiques you may have of them, I have personally never seen any Slytherin students turn on each other, they are arguably the most cohesive house at Hogwarts. Keep that in mind the next time you think of turning on one of our own for your own entertainment." And with that, Harry turned and left the common room, wandlessly accio-ing his bag from his room on his way.

At breakfast, Harry said nothing as he sat down across from Luna Lovegood, her wide red-rimmed blue eyes lingering on his face for longer than what was strictly polite. Harry made quick work of introducing himself as Anthony and Hermione took the seats next to him, Luna settled into an eccentric conversation without any prompting, appearing completely comfortable with them all as if they hadn't just met, aside from Hermione.

When the Ravenclaw table filled with students, it was eerily hushed. Their table had never been as loud as the Gryffindors next to them, but the talking was nearly relentless in the mornings. However, even at its fullest, chatter was rather nulled and quiet. Not a word of what happened in the common room escaped from their house, having apparently taken Harry's advice to keep maters internal.

Most avoided looking at Harry directly, but he caught the occasional wayward glance or intense look from under curtains of hair and dark lashes. Harry's circle of friends, in contrast, were buzzing with energy. Draco was perhaps the only outsider to be filled in, and he had been beaming ever since, quietly raving something about Harry and his 'Slytherin-tendencies.' Harry casually ignored the blonde and ate his food in relative silence.

Unbeknownst to the others, Harry was actually listening to the disembodied voice over his shoulder, musing about Harry's speech. At intervals, Death would update Harry on Voldemort's movements and actions. Apparently the Dark Lord had taken on a weakened and rather disgusting rudimentary form now that he could no longer feed off Quirrell's body and soul, the former DADA professor having already perished not long after fleeing Hogwarts. The body would sustain until Voldemort regenerated his old one, but only with the help of very powerful potions. That meant that it wouldn't be long until Voldemort formed a plan to do just that. Despite Harry's concerns about time, Death assured his little companion that they would have plenty of time.

Later on, Harry was distracted from his tumulus thoughts when they got to Care of Magical Creatures and Hagrid introduced them all to his Hippogriff, Buckbeak. Harry found himself rather enthralled by the graceful creature and even managed to ride Buckbeak. The flight over the castle and across the black lake had been invigorating. The beautiful creature cutting through the air and gliding over the rippling glassy water, it's talons skimming the surface as if to tease and frighten the fish within.

When they landed, Harry felt as wind-swept and exhilarated as he did whenever he rode his broom with careless abandon outside a match.

Draco, never one to be overshadowed, tried to do the same without showing the proper respect and almost got himself trampled. Harry had startled the rest of the class by laughing at his friend until his sides were sore as the blond whined about 'dying' because of the nick on his arm. Draco pouted at first, but Harry's genuine laughter was rare and blissfully infectious, a few haughty huffs from the blonde and he was fighting off a grin himself as Hagrid righted the Slytherin sheepishly, not wanting to get in trouble with the formidable elder Malfoy on his first day as an actual professor.

Unfortunately, the next day cast a shadow over the incident when word spread that one Bellatrix Lestrange had been spotted in London, but not caught. Harry had been surprised when more than a few Ravenclaws of varying years pulled him aside throughout the day to ask if he was alright. When Harry asked Anthony about their behavior, the blonde had chuckled and informed Harry that ever since his little speech in the common room, most of Ravenclaw had been gravitating towards him, watching him from afar, and stopped listening to Michael's constant slander against Harry. Apparently Ravenclaw had found a renewed appreciation for Harry.

Harry wasn't sure what he thought about that. Although, he supposed that as long as the fretting and fussing was kept to a minimum, he wouldn't intervene.

Either way, Harry didn't waste much thought on the escaped witch. His dueling skills had greatly improved and even though he would be wary of fighting any adult Harry was confident that, if nothing else, he would be able to hold his own against her long enough to escape.

Remus, however, didn't seem nearly as blasé about the situation—both with the Dementors and the witch they were hunting. Since one was considered a far more immediate threat, the man decided to catch Harry in any moment of what he thought was free time (which usually meant Harry was trying to sneak off to the chamber for some more spell practice) to have little private lessons on some off-curriculum defensive magic, all of which Harry knew already, except for the Patronus Charm.

Now that bit of magic was rather tricky. Harry didn't deign himself to getting frustrated at his failed attempts at the charm, but he did grow further invested the more the spell evaded him. Harry wasn't arrogant enough to think that he could master any form of magic that came his way, he just found himself excited at the prospect of a challenge.

Harry was aware of the implications of him not being able to perform the spell—even though Remus insisted it was because the spell was inherently very difficult and well above the level of what was taught at Hogwarts—but he also knew that the reason for his lack of success was not due to a lack of happy memories. Harry had plenty of new, bright memories collected over the last few years at Hogwarts and with his new family. No, it had far more to do with his affinity.

The Patronus charm was definitely a light spell, but the trouble came from what the spell did. As it had been demonstrated on the train, the spell was used primarily to repel Dementors, who were creatures that survived off a form of soul magic by literally draining the joy from a person's soul. In order to be successful, the patronus spell had to be a complicated form of anti-soul magic.

Harry had done a little research of his own in the library and found the theory of it to be fascinating, though his companion had lost interest almost immediately. The magic of the patronus went directly against the primary natural affinity of his core, making it extremely difficult for him to bend his magic into a way that would accommodate this new spell.

Even though Harry didn't even technically need the protection, he knew it would make his guardian feel better and it would be one of the most challenging forms of magic he would take on, only rivalled by the naturally difficult soul magic he would hopefully be learning soon.

A month and a half into the school year and his companion was still stubbornly declining to teach him any of the magic.

On the up side, however, having Remus as his DADA professor was rather enjoyable. Remus was truly competent in his teachings and honestly liked being around children, unlike certain broody potions masters. Harry liked all of his lessons well enough and could see the importance of the less interesting subjects, but he was actually eager to go to DADA. Harry Potter was many things, but 'eager' usually wasn't one of them.

That is, until Remus announced at the beginning of class that they would be working with a Boggart that day and all of Harry's excitement morphed into trepidation. He hadn't even thought twice about the creatures since Remus briefly mentioned them on the train. Suddenly, Harry became very wary of his own fears. It wasn't that they were abundant that was the problem, the exact opposite, in fact. Harry found himself drawing a blank on what his biggest fears may be.

Harry didn't fear heights or spiders nor did he fear monsters or even death. He wasn't naïve enough to believe that his boggart wouldn't find something within him to turn his blood cold, his concern was that he didn't know what it might turn into, and that whatever it may be would be disastrous. What could possibly scare someone who didn't fear death? Who didn't fear the rising Dark Lord?

His defense class was joint with the Gryffindors, which meant that there was a clear separation in the line, with Gryffindors crowding at the front of the line and eager to face their fears if only to prove their bravery in this small way, and the Ravenclaws standing at the end, reluctant to the confrontation that awaited them. Thankfully, Anthony picked up on Harry's shift in mood and moved to the very back with him, not saying a word as he took the place in front of Harry.

Harry watched with growing apprehension as the boggart was released again and again, ranging from furry beasts with plenty of fangs to their very own imposing potions professor. Each time, Remus would pause to talk to the student afterward and correct them on anything they could improve upon. Harry counted down the minutes and silently willed the time to go faster and for Remus to take longer with each student. Even if it was only delaying the inevitable.

While he waited anxiously, Harry did pay attention every time someone interesting took their stance in front of the inconspicuous wardrobe. Seamus, for example, was terrified of cats, which had garnered quite a few laughs when the little orange spotted kitten mewed from the floor. Or Terry Boot, who's Boggart was a person in black robes with only startling, glowing green eyes shining out from under the hood—Harry had found that rather amusing. Pavarti feared snakes, for Ronald it was spiders. As the boggart was transformed into increasingly hilarious forms, the nerves of some of the more reluctant students began to ease.

It was nearing the end of class and the end of the line, but Harry knew that it wouldn't go fast enough, he would have to go. A crowd of student who had already gone formed behind the ever-shortening line to share in the laughs and slight scares and interesting revelations about their classmates.

Hermione stood before Anthony, and waited with her chin and wand raised as the clown dissolved into amorphous smoke before reforming into dozens and dozens of insects, scurrying towards her feet before they all turned into chocolate galleons that spun in their gold tin foil on the floor. Hermione joined the crowd looking a little green. Anthony went next, looking completely at ease and confident in himself. What appeared before him, though, had turned the blonde ridged.

There, standing less than two meters away, was a carbon copy of . . . Harry! Harry's composure slipped and he gaped, as did the rest of the silent class. But this Harry was different than himself, this Harry looked like he'd been through hell. Covered in dirt and blood, weeping wounds glistening through large tears in his clothing, looking half-dead as he stood there, his vivid eyes pooled with pain and defeat, staring only at Anthony. Anthony faltered and his wand arm dropped, fingers trembling slightly when the boggart spoke.

"This is your fault. Why didn't you save me? Why weren't you stronger? You were supposed to protect me!" Anthony flinched at the words and Harry was woken from the fog of his own swirling thoughts. Harry didn't hesitate before stepping up beside his friend and enclosing his slender hand around the warm back of the blonde's neck, meant to be both comforting and commanding. It was what Anthony needed then.

Anthony looked over at the real-Harry, eyes taking a moment to soak in the others face, devoid of blood and grime, staring back at him with those bewitching green eyes and making him feel foolish for mistaking, even for a second, the Harry in front of him with this Harry. This Harry, whose magic wrapped around him like a warm cloak in the middle of a snow storm whenever he was near, whose presence he felt in the marrow of his bones, whose gaze felt like silver rain on his skin. He nodded once and turned his determined stare back on the boggart, who now looked pathetically dull and flat in comparison to the real person.

The boggart was reduced to tittering red birds with pink bows wrapped around their throats. Anthony received a final, comforting squeeze on the back of his neck, causing him to dip his head instinctively, and he moved back into the crowd to stand next to Hermione.

Harry caught the gaze of his guardian for a moment, taking in the encouraging nod before steeling himself with a deep breath and turning to face the boggart.

The relentless muscle inside his chest abused his ribs with it's harsh pounding and Harry focused on keeping his breath even as the boggart once again swirled into shapeless black smoke. Then, it suddenly burst into movement, flinging itself back into the wardrobe. The doors stayed wide open as it attached itself to the back of the wardrobe, making it appear as though the back had opened up to a void, barren of all light. At first, the class held their breath in hesitant confusion, not sure what to make of the boggart's new form. Harry could hear whispers from behind him, people asking their neighbors if it meant he was afraid of the dark or was it wardrobes?

Harry was about to ask Remus if something went wrong when a sound emitted from the wardrobe, slowly fazing into existence and every cell in Harry's body became suddenly cold. Horrified, Harry listened in utter disbelief as the familiar sounds filled the silent room, shaking him to his core to not hear them coming from within at the edge of sleep or on the brink of death. He couldn't breathe, hearing the sound outside in his environment was even more haunting and somehow violating—it just felt wrong. The notes were so mournful, the tune unfulfilled as it ached for something else, much like a widow crying out for her late husband or mother grieving for a lost child.

The silence in the room was palpable and more jarring to Harry than if someone had set off a bomb. Harry felt a mix of horror and humiliation blossom in his chest at the fact that all his classmates were hearing something so intimate, so private. Harry felt violated in a way he did not know possible and he moved quickly to shut it down. Flicking his wand and not saying a word, the boggart immediately cut off mid-note and the doors to the wardrobe slammed shut. A surprising flair of anger putting a little too much force into the spell and causing a few spider webbing-splinters to form in the wood.

Harry completely ignored the dazed and confused glances from his peers and stormed through the room, grabbing his stuff and leaving a few minutes early. The students immediately parted for the Ravenclaw, but he heard Anthony calling to him the moment he made it to the door.

Harry didn't stop, but he slowed slightly in his charge through the empty halls so that the blonde could catch up. The only thing Anthony said when he reached him, was that he'd listen if Harry ever wanted to talk, otherwise he remained silent beside Harry. Harry's appreciation for his friend cut through some of his roiling emotions and Harry sent a small smile his way, even if it was still tainted by his mood.


For several days after the boggart incident, Harry kept everyone at arms-length. However, eventually Draco found his wits end and dragged the other boy out onto the quidditch pitch to blow off steam. Everyone was relieved when Harry came back looking wind swept, flushed, and grinning at the smug bloke with and arm thrown over Harry's shoulders.