A/N: I'm going to make this clear. I don't own the Harry Potter series or it's characters. That right goes to JK Rowling

If you haven't yet, read before this story:

The Son and Nephew of the Maurders: The Sorcerer's Stone
The Son and Nephew of the Maurders: The Chamber of Secrets

Also if you haven't please take part on voting for which story you want me to update next month

Harry's First Private Lesson

In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become most people's favorite class, and hardly anyone from Slytherin table made fun of Harry for being afraid of Dementors after word got around how he made his boggart explode into confetti. Of course Draco Malfoy still tried to tease Harry about it, but he just ended up just laughing by himself. So Malfoy find other ways to annoy Harry—through his uncle.

"Look at the state of his robes," Malfoy would say in a loud whisper as Remus passed. "He dresses like our old house-elf."

But again, no one cared about that, and Malfoy was just making a fool of himself.

Remus' next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. After boggarts, they studied Red Caps, nasty little goblinlike creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed: in the dungeons of castles and the potholes of deserted battlefields, waiting to bludgeon those who had gotten lost. From Red Caps they moved on to kappas, creepy water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds.

If only the mood in Potions was just as good. Word got around about Neville's Boggart wearing his grandmother's clothes spread through the castle like wildfire. Snape caught word of it and been in a particularly vindictive mood. His eyes flashed menacingly at the very mention of Remus' name, and he was bullying Neville worse than ever.

Harry had hope that by avoiding Divination as an extra-curricular things would of gotten better. Unfortunately, it did not. According to Ron and Neville Professor Trelawney still been predicting Harry's death. What's worse, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown who also took the class had taken to haunting Professor Trelawney's tower room at lunchtimes, and always returned with annoying superior looks on their faces, as though they knew things the others didn't. They had also started using hushed voices whenever they spoke to Harry, as though he were on his death bed.

The only bright side is that Muggles Studies gave Harry another reason to enjoy the class. It takes his mind off Divination. Harry had learned the use of technology, to the muggle movement of what they call the Industrial revolution, to how muggles learn to fight wars without magic. Apparently Harry made the right decision joining Muggles Studies to understand his Muggle Heritage better, and had already decided that when OWLs comes along in his fifth year, Harry hopes to score well enough to take it in his NEWT years.

Harry also wished Care of Magical Creatures turned out the same way. Apparently, Hagrid felt bad enough for Harry's injury that he decided back track a little and had his students learn how to look after flobberworms, which turn out to be the most boring creatures in existence. All they really did was try to stuff some lettuce down the creature's throat.

After hearing Malfoy bringing up his family's old house elf, Harry actually went down to the kitchens to visit the House Elf he helped freed from the Malfoys. Dobby been working for Hogwarts ever since his freedom and been paid for it. Every now and then he visited Harry checking on him. Mostly during the night when everyone else is asleep, which often drove Harry crazy as he often wake up to seeing huge eyes looking at him. Often Harry even woke up his roommates to the point they gotten use to Harry's surprise visitor and even treated Dobby to whatever treats they had in their trunks.

At the start of October, Harry had something to look forward too: Quidditch. Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor team, called a meeting one Thursday evening that included reserve players such as Ginny Weasley who was the team's reserved Chaser and Seeker. They don't play much unless a regular is too sick or injured to play, but they been helping the team prepare for games by having a once in a while team vs. reserve practice games.

There were seven people on a regular Quidditch team: three Chasers, whose job it was to score goals by putting the Quaffle (a red, soccer-size ball) through on of the fifty-foot-high hoops at each end of the field; two Beaters, who were equipped with heavy bats to repel the Bludgers (two heavy black balls that zoomed around trying to attack the players); a Keeper, who defended the goalposts, and the Seeker, who had the hardest job of all, that of catching the Golden Snitch, a tiny, winged, walnut-sized ball, whose capture ended the game and earned the Seeker's team an extra one hundred and fifty points.

Then there were the reserves, which now included two of Harry's roommates: Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas who were acting as reserve Chasers. After two years of sitting in the sidelines, Seamus tried out for the reserves. As for Dean Thomas, after gaining private lessons from Harry on the game he finally decided to try for the reserves. Ron still haven't tried for Keeper but Harry knew his friend was just buying time for when Oliver graduates so he could actually try for the actual position.

Oliver Wood was a burly seventeen-year-old, now in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts. There was a quiet sort of desperation in his voice as he addressed his main and reserved team members in the chilly locker rooms on the edge of the darkening Quidditch field.

"This is our last chance—my last chance—to win the Quidditch Cup," he told them, striding up and down in front of them. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it."

"Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world—injuries—then the tournament getting called off last year…" Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. "But we also know we've got the best—team—in—the—school," he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint in his eye.

"We've got the three superb Chasers."

Wood pointed to Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell.

"We've got two unbeatable Beaters."

"Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us," said Fred and George Weasley together, pretending to blush.

"We've got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match, and help got us the best reserve teammates I could ask for since Alicia Spinnet was on the reserved," Wood rumbled, glaring at Harry with a kind of furious pride before nodding to the reserve team. Even Alicia nodded in agreement. "And me," Wood added as an afterthought.

"We think you're very good too, Oliver," said George.

"Spanking good Keeper," said Fred.

"The point is," Wood went on, resuming his pacing, "the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Professor Potter donated Nimbus 2000s to the school allowing Harry as well as any potential first years to join the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. Especially after Harry recommended Ginny Weasley to join as reserve Seeker incase he get injured again before an important game—a recommendation I'm glad he made as she has proven to be not only a great Seeker, but also a great Chaser in the future."

Ginny blushed at the reminder of what Harry did for her.

"But we've haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll get to finally see our name on the thing…"

Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic.

"Oliver, this year's our year," said Fred."

"We'll do it, Oliver!" Angelina said.

"Definitely," said Harry.

"And us reserve team will do anything in our power to help you get it," Ginny said.

With full determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, but no amount of mud, wind, or rain could tarnished Harry's wonderful vision of finally winning the huge, silver Quidditch Cup. In fact, it couldn't tarnished Harry's vision at all since Harry always played with a pair of quidditch goggles his uncle Remus gave him that repels water so Harry could see even in severe storms.

That's another reason Harry wanted to win not just the Quidditch Cup, but the next game. This would be the first time any of his uncles actually get to see him play for Hogwarts.

Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold and stiff and still wearing his Quidditch Goggles instead of his glasses but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly.

"What's happened?" Harry asked Ron Hermione and Neville, who were sitting in three of the best chairs by the fireside and completing some star charts Harry's dad assigned them for Astronomy.

"First Hogsmeade weekend," said Ron, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the battered old bulletin board. "End of October. Halloween."

"Of course it had to be on that day," Harry muttered.

Ron Hermione and Neville looked down guilty. Obviously in the excitement of the first Hogsmeade trip they forgot Halloween was also the anniversary of the death of Harry's mother. Because of it, the Potter family never really been in a celebratory mood despite taking part of the Halloween events. It especially didn't help that something had to happen the last two Halloweens in the row: A troll attacking the school on their first year; them finding Mrs. Norris petrified and accused for it last year.

"Maybe one of us can stay here with you," Neville suggested.

"Nah, it's okay. You guys can go ahead," Harry said.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked.

"Certain! Besides, it's not like I'm going to be sitting around doing nothing," Harry said. "I do have my private lessons to look forward too. Just make sure you bring back some Berry Bot Beans so we can have our little: who can get the most delicious beans competition."

"Sounds like a deal," Ron said.

"I seriously don't see why you boys make a competition out of eating that stuff," Hermione said. Despite befriending the boys, Hermione never took part in their little competition with the Berry Bott Beans as she found it ridiculous and pointless.

"It makes the mystery of what kind of bean you'll get fun," Neville explained.

Hermione was about to argue when Crookshanks leapt lightly on her lap. A large, dead spider was dangling from his mouth.

"Does he have to eat that in front of us?" said Ron, scowling.

"At least he killed it," Harry said.

"Clever Crookshanks, did you catch that all by yourself?" Hermione asked.

Harry decided to get started on his homework before he goes to bed. He took off his goggles and put on his normal glasses before pulling his bag toward him, took out parchment, ink, and quill, and started work.

"You can copy mine, if you like," said Ron, labeling his last star with flourish and shoving the chart toward Harry. But Harry just shoved it back.

"Thanks, but I'm fine," Harry said. "Besides, I'm sure Dad would find it suspicious if I label the main star of Andromeda wrong." Harry pointed at one of the stars Ron labeled.

Ron grumbled and quickly tried to fix it.

…

The next day things started off normally. In Herbology they had to stripped fat pink pods from plants and emptied the shining beans into a wooden pail. They had to be careful not to drop them on the floor or the beans would burst into bloom before their very eyes, which happened to few of the students who weren't careful.

Next was transfiguration, which Harry looked forward too. It was, after all, one of his best classes, along with Charms, Astronomy, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Only person better than him in Transfiguration was Hermione as she was a natural with it, despite the fact Transfiguration is one of the hardest classes in Hogwarts.

But unfortunately, as soon as the lesson was over, Harry's mood had been dashed away at Transfiguration.

He passed Lavender Brown, Parvati, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas who were huddled together at their desk. Normally Harry just ignore anything involving Parvati and Lavender as it normally has something to do with Divination, and it always lead to them looking at Harry like he was a dead man walking. But this time Lavender was actually crying as Parvati had her arm around her and was explaining something to Seamus and Dean, who were looking very serious.

"What's the matter, Lavender?" Harry asked.

"She got a letter from home this morning," Parvati whispered. "It's her rabbit, Binky. He's been killed by a fox."

"I should have known!" said Lavender tragically. "You know what day it is?"

"Uh—"

"The sixteenth of October! 'That thing you're dreading, it will happen on the sixteenth of October!' She was right, she was right!"

It took a minute for Harry to registered that this must have been one of the predictions Trewanny shared. With the Professor's tendency to predict Harry's early death that haven't happened, Harry often forget that the teacher does once in a while predict something that does come true.

Hermione choose that moment to start questioning Lavender about her rabbit so she can put logic behind what happened, but Harry decided to just pat Lavender on the shoulder reassuringly and took his seat when Professor McGonagall started class. When the lesson was over, she brought up the subject of Hogsmeade first and had everyone turn in permission.

Harry was about to leave when Professor McGonagall called out, "Potter!"

"Go ahead guys. I'll catch up," Harry told his friends.

They were anxious at first but nodded before leaving. Once the room McGonagall transformed from a strict teacher to a caring person Harry hasn't seen since very much since he started Hogwarts.

"You're not in trouble, Potter," she said. "I just want to know if you're okay considering the cercumstances of the date of the trip."

Harry realized she was referring to the fact he wouldn't be able to be with his friends for most of the day this Halloween—the day where having friend's support would have been great.

"I'm fine with it, Professor. Really," Harry said. "I appreciate the concerns. I just hope this year, trouble won't find me."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "I think we all can hope for that this year."

Harry nodded and left.

...

On Halloween morning, Harry naturally awoke with the sense of dread and depression that seem to always sneak up on him this time of year. And of course, naturally Harry left a note for his friends this time telling them to have fun at Hogsmeade and not to worry about him, before heading to his dad's living quarters.

When Harry got there, he found his uncle Moony was already there.

"Um, sorry…" Harry said.

"It's okay, Harry," Remus said. "Your father and I were just talking."

Harry joined his father and uncle.

"Can I fix you two some tea?" Remus asked.

"That be nice, Moony," James said. "The tea bags are in the left drawer."

Remus nodded and got up to magically prepare their tea.

"I guess we can consider ourselves lucky you decided against Divination this year," Remus joked as he handed Harry his cup. "From what I heard, Ron and Neville got some horrible predictions from their tea leaves."

"Please don't remind me," Harry muttered. "It was bad enough when Trewanny did that every time she see's me in public, but now she got Lavender and Parvati wrapped around her finger about it."

"There are always a few believers of hers," James said. "Especially when she makes predictions that ended up coming true, then people forget about the ones that still hasn't happened."

"Let's stop talking about divination," Remus said. "Harry doesn't need to be any more depressed than he already is before we start his lessons."

Harry perked up. "You really going to teach me today?"

"Of course. A deal is a deal," Remus said. "Plus, as I mention to your father before you arrived, today would be a good time as ever. After all, there is always a chance that a dementor would find you when you are already at your lowest."

That cheered Harry up greatly. Even though he told his friends he will be busy with his private lessons today so they wouldn't worry about him, Harry thought that the lesson might be postponed because of the significant of the day.

"So do we have to go to your office?" Harry asked.

"No, actually, today we're just practicing reciting the spell and see from there," James said. "Then hopefully by time of your next lesson, your uncle Padfoot would pull through with the Ministry to get us a boggart."

"We figured it be safer for you to practice the spell against a boggart-dementor before you have to face the real deal," Remus explained.

"Which hopefully won't happen anytime soon," James added.

Harry nodded. But before there was a familiar pop sound and a small elf with big eyes wearing new black robes appeared holding a large cauldron holding a week supply of boiling hot potion.

"Dobby?" Harry responded.

"Sorry to interrupt sirs, but Professor Snape didn't want to search the whole castle to give Professor Lupin his potion so he search for Dobby instead," Dobby said.

"That's okay, Dobby," James said. "I actually prefer you popping in than Snivelus."

"That's the wolfsbane potion, right?" Harry asked looking at the potion in the gauntlet.

"Yes. Unfortunately, I never been good at potions, and as much as your father hates to admit it, Professor Snape is better at potions than him," Remus said.

"He hates admitting mum was better at magic than him too," Harry explained.

"I never admitted that!" James argued earning a chuckle from Harry and Remus.

"Harry Potter, Dobby got something for you too," Dobby said. "Harry Potter's father told Dobby you weren't going to Hogsmeade this year, so Dobby popped by yesterday on Dobby's time off and got this."

Dobby waved his hand and a small basket with Berry Botts Beans, Chocolate Frogs, and other stuff Harry recognized as students get at Hogsmeade as well as some mismatched pair of hand knitted socks.

"Wow! Thanks Dobby," Harry responded.

"Anything for you, Harry Potter. If it wasn't for Harry Potter, Dobby not only still be enslaved, but Dobby wouldn't have been able to get a paid job here at Hogwarts," Dobby squeaked.

"You probably would have eventually," Harry told Dobby. "You're your welcome either way."

Remus drank the potion with a nasty look on his face that told Harry he didn't like it very much.

"Harry, the spell your uncle and I are going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, well beyond Ordinary Wizard Level," James said. "It is called the Patronus Charm. When used correctly it will create an anti-dementor—a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the dementor. The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the dementor feeds upon—hopes, happiness, the desire to survive—but it cannot feel despair as real humans can, so the dementors can't hurt it."

"It's also very advance," Lupin added. "Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it."

"But something tells me you can handle at least summoning a shield at first," James said, "and maybe in time a full form patronus."

"What's the incantation?" Harry asked.

"Hold on Harry, you'll need more than just the incantation to use it," Remus said. "First off, with all your might, you must concentrate on a single, very happy memory."

"One that holds significant meaning too you," James said. "The stronger the memory the better."

Harry cast his mind for a happy memory. One that held significance to him. One that cheered him up even on this day.

That's when it comes to him. The first time Harry saw the Mirror of Erise. When he saw his mother holding him in his reflection. Although it wasn't truly happy memory, he still holds it dear to his heart.

"I'm ready," Harry said, trying to hide the choke in his voice.

"Are you sure?" James asked.

"Yes."

"Okay," Remus said. "The incantation is this—Expecto Patronum!"

"Expecto Patronum," Harry repeated under his breath concentrating on the memory. "Expecto Patronum!"

On the second time a bright light whooshed out of the end of Harry's wand and took form of a whispy shield.

"Wha—Harry, How?" Remus asked.

"What was the memory?" James asked.

Harry gulped. "It was the time I first saw the Mirror of Erise—when I first saw mum's reflection in it."

There was a moment of silence.

"Well, if that was your strongest memory, then those Dementors have something to worry about," James said.

…

"Where did you get that?" Ron asked.

Ron Hermione and Neville returned to Gryffindor Table after their trips to Hogsmeade carrying stuff they got for Harry when they already saw Harry had a gift basket full of the stuff they got him.

The entrance hall had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant water snakes.

"Dobby got these for me," Harry said. "He heard I couldn't go to Hogsmeade so he made the trip for me."

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah—it just been a long day." Harry told them about his first lesson.

"So your dad going to let you attend the next Hogsmeade trip?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. "Dad says there's a difference between conjuring the charm with no dementors around and conjuring one when there is one. But he and Uncle Moony are impressed I was able to conjure a shield. I'll tell you guys more later. Let's eat."

The food was delicious as even Ron Neville and Hermione manage a second helpings of everything.

The feast finished with an entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding; Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with reenactment of his own botched beheading, which had reminded Harry that Halloween had just amount of significance to the Gryffindor Ghost as it did to him as this was the anniversary of Nick's death.

It actually been such a pleasant evening that even Harry manage to have a good time, despite the fact Malfoy had been shouting through the crowd as they left the hall, "The dementors send their love, Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes at Malfoy's idiotsy. After his lessons, Harry asked his dad if the boggart turning into a dementor meant that Harry really was scared of them. James laughed.

"No Harry. Despite what most people think, it's not the dementors you are scared of, but rather what they represent: Fear," James said.

It actually made Harry felt it was more of what the Dementors represent that scares him, and not the dementors themselves. Unfortunately, Harry knew that wouldn't be enough to convince Malfoy.

Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione followed the rest of the Gryffindors along the usual path to Gryffindor Tower, but when they reached the corridor that ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady, they found it jammed with students.

"Why isn't anyone going in?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. This was the first time he ever seen something like this happened. "Where's Percy? He might be able to do something?"

Sure enough when Harry asked that he heard Percy through the crowd: "Let me through, please. What's the holdup here? You can't all have forgotten the password—excuse me, I'm Head Boy—"

And then silence fell over the crowd, from the front first, so that a chill seemed to spread down the corridor. They heard Percy say, in a sudden sharp voice, "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick."

"I'll get him!" Harry volunteered and rushed his way through the crowd.

Harry found Dumbledore as he was about to give the password to the gargoyle that guards his office.

"Professor!" Harry yelled.

"Harry, what are you doing down here?" Dumbledore asked.

"We need you at the Fat Lady Portrait. I don't know what exactly happened, but Percy has requested you," Harry said.

Dumbledore's demeanor change to serious. "Take me there."

Harry did as he was told and took Dumbledore to Gryffindor Tower, soon followed by James, Remus and Professor McGonagall who found them along the way. When they got there Gryffindors got out of Dumbledore's way and Harry got a good look at what happened.

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely.

Dumbledore did one quick look at the ruined painting and turned to James, Remus and McGonagall.

"We need to find her," said Dumbledore. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You'll be lucky!" said a cackling voice.

It was Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage or worry.

"What do you mean Peeves?" Dumbledore said calmly, and Peeves' grin faded a little. Even the Poltergeist knew better than to taunt Dumbledore. Instead he adopted an oily voice that was no better than his cackle.

"Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," he said happily. "Poor thing," he said unconvincingly. "According to her, he got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see. That little traitor friend of Potter himself, that Peter Pettigrew."

A/N: Thank you for all being patient with me. My step-grandfather died Wednesday and was burried Saturday