A/N: And the final promised instalment. This is probably it until Thursday or Friday… unless I get particularly lucky and have more time than I anticipate this week. This chapter is a little shorter than my usual, but the section I had intended to end on did not seem to fit well at the conclusion of this chapter, so I am saving it for next time. And apologies for the very late posting time… I only just got back to my flat from the flight.

DISCLAIMER: Any and all familiar characters and story lines are the property of the wonderful Joanne Rowling, in whose world I am honoured and privileged to have an opportunity to play for a while.

Chapter 5: The Azkaban Guards

Remus awoke very early – much too early, for a morning after the full moon. Someone was knocking insistently at his door.

He stumbled to answer the call – half-blinded with residual exhaustion. When he finally pulled the great oak door ajar, he was astonished to see Albus on the threshold, a very grave expression on his face.

'Remus, I am sorry to disturb you so early in the morning. I know you must be ill-rested, but I am afraid this cannot wait.'

Remus shuffled aside, waving the headmaster into the small room. The vacant quarters were sparse on décor and furniture, but there was a threadbare sofa and a pair of rickety wooden chairs remaining in the centre of the space, in front of a small hearth. Albus took a seat on the end of the sofa, and Remus slumped into one of the small wooden chairs. Though his eyes were still heavy with interrupted sleep, he forced them into focus. He could tell from the set of Albus' mouth that something very serious had happened.

'What is it, Albus?' he asked.

The headmaster sighed. 'We have had a difficult night, Remus,' he said. 'I'm not sure where to begin…'

'Is it Harry?' Remus interrupted, suddenly tense.

'In a sense,' Albus admitted. 'But Harry is well. He is upstairs, in fact, still asleep.'

'You brought him here already?' said Remus in confusion. 'I thought the scheme was to collect him from the Dursleys on Tuesday.'

'That was my original intention, yes,' Albus confirmed. 'However, I did not anticipate the events of yesterday. It seems Vernon Dursley's sister was in town. She and Harry got in a row over dinner. Marge Dursley made some very vicious comments to him, and he ended up losing control of his magic. She was hit with an accidental engorgement charm.'

Remus, who had seen how hard Harry worked walking on eggshells around his family, felt his blood begin to boil. His temper always ran a little short anyway – in the wake of the moon. 'What exactly did she say to him, Albus?' he asked, a bit of a snarl creeping into his voice.

Albus' gaze was as steely as his own voice. 'She made several nasty comments about Harry's parents. Harry was understandably upset. What happened was not his fault.'

'I should think not,' Remus said angrily. 'Did Arabella send word? Or did you find out from the Ministry?'

'Actually, Cornelius happened to be with me when the information came in – we were told together. The situation was complicated by the fact that Harry had run off –'

'He what?!' cried Remus, startled.

'Yes,' Albus confirmed heavily. 'I do believe he was rather overwhelmed by the series of events. He had not gone far, however, and Severus was able to track him down fairly quickly. We brought him back to the castle late last night.'

Remus ran a hand over his face, feeling guilty. 'Albus – I apologise,' he said. 'I should have considered the situation more fully before suggesting we leave Arabella with Harry for the night. I did not know that the Dursleys were planning on company.'

'Remus,' Albus interrupted him. 'It is not your fault in the slightest. But I am afraid there is more I must tell you.'

Remus raised his head again, eying the headmaster with trepidation. Albus looked both serious and oddly sympathetic, as though he were about to deliver news that a beloved relative had passed away.

'Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban,' the professor stated quietly.

Remus felt the words hit him like a dull blow to the gut. For a moment, he was too stunned to speak as the weight of the news crashed over him.

'When?' he rasped, when speech finally returned to him. 'How?'

The headmaster sighed. 'We are not sure on either point,' he admitted. 'Though the Ministry believes the break out occurred sometime in the past thirty-six hours or so. How he managed it is anyone's guess. Perhaps he did it alone with some unknown magic; perhaps he was given aide from someone on the outside.'

There was a hollow ringing in his ears. 'Albus,' he croaked. 'Albus, I swear, I never –'

'Oh I do not believe you had anything to do with it, Remus,' Albus assured him, reaching out a comforting hand and squeezing his forearm gently. 'I would never mean to imply that. I was merely musing aloud.'

'I cannot believe it, Albus. It's inconceivable. And after all this time…'

'I know,' Albus agreed seriously. 'This is merely the latest in a string of events over the past few years that have left me greatly disquieted.'

There was a long minute of silence, as each man sat lost in his own thoughts.

'What is being done to apprehend Sirius?' Remus asked, recovering himself a bit.

'The Dementors of Azkaban are searching for him as we speak,' Albus replied. 'And I will be meeting with Cornelius first thing this morning. I'm headed there next actually, but I wanted to speak with you first. It is likely that we will need to put in place increased security at the school until Black is caught. We believe,' he paused a moment. 'There is reason to believe he will come after Harry.'

Remus snarled openly. 'He would not dare.'

'Well, obviously, I would hope for the same,' said Albus. 'But it appears that his current intention is to reach Hogwarts. We must be very careful to keep Harry from harm. I hope I can count on your assistance, in this.'

'Of course, Albus,' said Remus. 'Anything for Harry – whatever you need.'

'I am glad to hear it,' the headmaster replied with a small smile. 'Because what I need, Remus, is for you to take a more permanent role here at Hogwarts.'

'Meaning what, precisely, headmaster?' Remus asked, feeling slightly nervous again.

'As you know, we lost our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart, at the end of last term. I can think of nobody better to fill the post.'

'You – you wish me to teach? At Hogwarts?' Remus was stunned. A part of him longed to accept… the other part knew the dream was impossible.

'Absolutely,' Albus said firmly. 'You can begin this summer, with Harry, as we discussed when you returned. In the autumn you can take up the official position.'

'But – Albus it's impossible,' Remus protested. 'I cannot be around school children. It would not be safe. Nor is it fair to interrupt their learning every cycle of the moon.'

'We can work around that,' the headmaster said with a careless wave of his hand. 'It's not as if your absences will come unexpectedly. You can plot the syllabus accordingly, and I shall have another teacher substitute for you on days we cannot miss.'

'That does not negate the issue of the students' safety,' Remus insisted. 'I will not put innocent lives at risk, Albus – especially children's.'

'The potion works well, Remus,' Albus said soothingly. 'You put no one at risk as long as you are diligent in taking it. I have the utmost faith in your sensibilities. You are too hard on yourself, and always have been.'

Remus sighed. 'I will… consider it,' he allowed.

'That is all I ask.' Albus said with a smile. He rose from his seat again. 'Now, I am afraid I must get to the Ministry. I wish to see Cornelius as soon as possible. You should return to bed – you look quite done in. I apologise again for bothering you at this hour, but I felt you should hear the news from me rather than reading it over your breakfast.'

'It's not a bother, Albus,' Remus said truthfully. 'I'm glad you told me as well.'

Albus laid a hand on his shoulder. 'It will all work out, Remus,' he said quietly. 'It always does.'

Remus smiled back as the headmaster left the room. But once the door had closed, he could not get back to sleep. All he could see were their faces… the carefree man he'd once thought was his best friend… the three people he'd killed in callousness and treachery… and the child, the precious child, at the centre of it all.

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Harry went down to breakfast the morning following his unexpected arrival with just Professor McGonagall for company; Dumbledore had already left for the Ministry of Magic. He was meeting with Cornelius Fudge, McGonagall told him, to discuss the situation with Sirius Black and arrange for the school's (and Harry's) protection. The discussions were likely to last most of the day.

Snape did not join them for breakfast either; although they were, admittedly, running a little later than usual. Given the fact that Harry had not gone to bed until past one in the morning, McGonagall had let him have a lie in today. Which was good, Harry thought, because even with the extra bit of sleep he wasn't in top form this morning. The debacle with Aunt Marge, the news about Sirius Black, and the whirlwind of emotions and messy apparitions had left him tossing and turning much of the night; and he woke very poorly rested, with a headache and a slightly scratchy throat.

His temper was not much improved when a tightly furled note popped up beside his glass of pumpkin juice.

Potter –

Your Potions examination will take place tomorrow, at nine o'clock sharp. I trust you remember the terms of our agreement.

S.S.

P.S. – You shall need your dragonhide gloves.

Harry scowled as he finished the missive. Despite his revisions with Remus over the course of the past week, he was not feeling particularly confident about his chances on Snape's test. This would mean another full day's revision.

He picked moodily at his eggs – imagining each stabbed forkful to have Snape's face.

'Harry, are you listening?' McGonagall asked from his left. Harry started.

'Er – sorry ma'am,' he said apologetically. 'I was distracted.'

'I was saying,' McGonagall continued, looking slightly put-upon, 'That Remus is staying at the castle at the moment.'

'Really?' asked Harry, brightening at once. 'Where is he? Did he already have breakfast?'

McGonagall smiled at his enthusiasm. 'He is having a bit of a longer lie in this morning. He is still recovering from his bout of illness. But he should be up and about later this afternoon, if you'd like to see him.'

'Yeah, definitely!' Harry said with feeling. 'Er – if I'm far enough along in my Potions revisions, that is.'

He finished with his breakfast quickly after that, slightly cheered at the thought of visiting with Remus later. The day was balmy and bright, and he wanted to be out of doors.

'Can I take my things outside this morning?' he asked McGonagall. After all their concerns over Sirius Black last night, he wasn't sure she'd let him.

McGonagall considered him for a moment. 'I suppose that would be alright,' she agreed. 'As long as Mina or one of the other elves goes with you. I need to get a few things completed this morning, but I may join you after luncheon.'

Harry agreed immediately, and hurried from the hall to collect his Potions materials from upstairs. He thought perhaps he'd sit out by the lake to read – it would be much more enjoyable than cursing Snape while he slaved over the notes in the library.

Harry put in a good two hours of revisions, spread out on a blanket Mina had brought him next to the lake, before he decided on a break. He was starting to grow sleepy from the sun and the tedious Potions work, and his head was aching a bit again after so much reading. With a sigh, Harry set the notebook aside and laid back upon the blanket, staring up at the shapes in the fluffy clouds. He had a while to go until lunch, and he thought he might just close his eyes for a bit… perhaps McGonagall would consent to go flying with him later this afternoon…

Thinking of quidditch and incredibly comfortable, Harry drifted off.

He awoke abruptly to Mina shaking his arm. Still foggy with sleep, it took Harry a moment to realise why she'd awakened him. The bright sunny weather had turned – the sky was now heavy with dark grey clouds. A light drizzle of rain was falling softly on them both already.

'We is ought to be getting indoors, Master Harry,' Mina said, glancing up at the sky with concern. 'Mina is not liking this weather. Not at all, sir.'

'Right,' said Harry. He cleared his throat a bit, starting to pack up his things again. Mina folded the blanket over one tiny arm, still darting nervous glances about the grounds.

'Too much darkness,' she muttered.

It happened very suddenly.

In the space of a heartbeat, the summer's warmth was sucked away as if it had never been, leaving the grounds bitterly cold. Harry shivered at the swift change in temperature, and Mina began to stammer squeakily beside him, tugging at his arm.

'Come on, Master Harry!' she said, looking terrified. 'We has gots to be moving. Master Harry needs to be getting in the castle right now!'

'Wha –' Harry started to reply, startled by her urgency. But he never got the sentence out.

Tall, black-hooded figures were gliding around the lake toward them – ten, or perhaps twenty, Harry could not tell. A darkness was creeping in around Harry and Mina as the figures approached… and Harry wasn't sure if it was the sky blackening above them, or some ominous aura from these visitors.

The nearest figure was feet from them now. Harry had the uneasy suspicion that the creature was not human at all, as he watched its odd, smooth movements. He fingered his pocket for his wand. But before he could grip it, the creature suddenly paused. It drew a long, rattling breath.

Harry fell to his knees, his eyes rolling back in his head. As the hooded creature sucked the air from around him, he felt as though it were pulling something from inside his chest – around his very heart.

He was so cold.

And someone was screaming… a woman… a high pitched, terrified series of screams that pierced Harry straight through the soul.

He had to find her – had to help her!

But he was so cold. He was frozen.

A man was laughing. Laughing cruelly while the woman continued to scream in desperation…

And Harry knew no more.

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Minerva was sitting in the headmaster's office when Mina popped up before her. She started at the house-elf's sudden appearance, blotting a long dash of green ink over the letter she was addressing.

'Goodness, Mina!' she said in surprise. 'What is it?' The little elf was wringing her hands in agitation, her eyes wide and fearful.

'There is bad creatures in the grounds, Mistress,' she said squeakily. 'Very bad, dark creatures. They is coming for Master Harry. This is giving him a fit, Mistress. He falls to the ground, and Mina cannot make them go away.'

Minerva felt her heart clench. Surely… Surely the Minister had not sent Dementors up to the castle already? Without Albus here to monitor the situation?

'Where is Harry?' she asked in concern, already rising from her chair.

'Mina brings him upstairs, Mistress,' the elf answered. 'She could not wake him from his fit, and she is too scared to leave him near the creatures to get help.'

'Thank you, Mina,' Minerva said, already striding for the staircase. 'You did well to bring him back.'

She did not wait to see if the little elf departed, but shot up the steps two at a time toward Harry's room. Mina had left him on top of the bed, where he was still tossing and shivering, apparently unconscious.

'Harry!' she called, reaching for him.

His skin was icy to the touch, and Minerva quickly spelled the bedclothes down and over him, trying to warm the child. It took her nearly ten minutes to wake him from the spell, and when he finally opened his eyes he glanced around in terror and confusion.

'Hush,' Minerva said gently, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder reassuringly. 'It's alright. You're in your room.'

'Wh – what happened?' Harry asked thickly, adjusting himself so he was half-sitting up in the bed. 'What were those things? Where's Mina?'

His teeth were still chattering. Minerva called for Mina again, who looked very happy to see Harry awake. The Transfiguration professor requested a mug of thick cocoa, which Mina brought immediately. Minerva pressed it into Harry's frigid hand.

'Drink it,' she insisted. 'It will help with the chill.'

Harry took a small sip. 'What happened?' he repeated again.

Minerva grimaced. 'It seems that Fudge has sent the Azkaban guards up ahead to the castle. From what Mina said, they came upon you in the grounds. You did not react well to their presence. Do not feel badly –' she added, as she saw Harry's cheeks redden in embarrassment. 'It is not uncommon to react similarly in the presence of Dementors, and you could not have expected their arrival. It was very lucky Mina was able to bring you back so quickly, or things might have been much worse.'

'Who else was out in the grounds, professor?' Harry asked curiously as Minerva tucked the covers up under his chin. She considered at him in confusion.

'Nobody, Harry,' she said. 'Just you and Mina, as far as I know. Hagrid is away on an errand for the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore himself has been at the Ministry since after luncheon, and everyone else was in the castle. Why do you ask?' A horrible thought occurred to her. 'Did you see someone?' she added fretfully.

'No. But someone was screaming,' Harry said quietly. 'A woman. She was terrified.'

Minerva eyed him in concern as he shivered. Though he'd been so chilled when Mina had brought him back to the room after the Dementors' appearance, Harry was now flushing slightly at the cheeks, sweating a bit even while he shook under the many blankets she'd wrapped around him. Minerva felt his forehead with the back of her hand, and frowned at the heat.

'I'm calling Poppy,' Minerva decided, sweeping toward the door. 'You're running a temperature.'

'I'm alright,' Harry tried to protest. 'Don't bother her, professor.'

'You're feverish and shaking like a leaf, Harry,' she said in exasperation. 'It is not up for discussion.'

'39.1,' Poppy read out five minutes later. 'Far too high for my comfort, Mr Potter. You'll be staying in bed the rest of the day or until it comes down, I'm afraid.'

Harry's eyes blazed in defiance. 'I'm fine!' he insisted, though he was still quite pale and shaking.

'You're not,' Minerva said firmly. 'We should never have let you out in the grounds on your own today… I can't believe the Minister.' She ran a hand over her plait.

Poppy huffed in agreement, now peering into Harry's eyes. 'Open up,' she said primly, shining her wandlight into the back of his throat. She frowned. 'A bit red,' she muttered. 'Had you been feeling ill before this afternoon, Potter?' the mediwitch asked, setting aside the wand and feeling beneath his jaw with the tips of her fingers.

'No,' said Harry, though with less conviction. Minerva gave him a sharp look, and he backtracked. 'Well, maybe a bit off this morning,' he amended. 'But I'm fine – really!'

Minerva rolled her eyes, and Poppy scoffed. 'Your glands are swollen too,' she pointed out, finishing her exam. 'Dementors would not cause this sort of reaction. Diagnostic it is, then,' she insisted, running her wand in a sweeping motion over Harry's prone form. She read over the results with a small frown on her face, as Harry continued to glare resentfully at the pair of them.

'Nothing too atrocious,' Poppy assured Minerva as she set the parchment aside. 'It looks like a simple throat infection. He should be up and about in a day or two.'

'I feel fine now,' Harry grumbled, but neither Minerva nor Poppy paid him any mind.

'I suppose I should not be surprised,' Minerva replied with a sigh. 'With the week he's had… And we kept him up past midnight too.' She wrung her hands fretfully.

'Perhaps,' said Poppy, shrugging. 'It is not so uncommon a time to come down with something – with the changing of the season. The encounter with the Dementors probably exacerbated things – I would not normally expect his fever to be quite so high with a mild virus like this. Do you have a tendency toward strep throat or tonsillitis, Potter?' she asked him.

Harry shook his head. 'No,' he said. 'I was hardly ever ill before Hogwarts. I think I had strep once; it went around my primary school when I was six or seven, but I don't remember having anything like that before or again.'

'Very well,' said Poppy, rummaging about in her satchel. 'Antipyretic, anti-inflammatory, and a draught of throat soother,' she rattled off, handing the phials of potion to Harry one at a time. He took them all with a martyred expression, and gratefully gulped the glass of pumpkin juice Minerva handed him when he'd finished. Poppy nodded in apparent satisfaction. Then she unwrapped a bar of chocolate and passed it to the boy.

'Chocolate?' said Harry with a look of confusion. 'Thanks, Madam Pomfrey, but I'm not that hungry just yet, and I've already had some cocoa.'

The mediwitch fixed him with a beady eyed stare. 'Chocolate is the best remedy to the influence of Dementors,' she told him. 'You'll eat the lot, whether you are hungry or not.'

Harry sighed, but obediently dug into the sweet without complaint.

'You're to stay in bed until I clear you to get up,' she told him sternly. 'Try and get some rest.'

Poppy packed up her satchel again and stood to go. 'Give him the fever reducer every four hours,' she instructed Minerva as she headed for the door. 'And as much chocolate as he can hold down. He should have another dose of the throat elixir and the anti-inflammatory this evening, and you can give him a sleeping potion if he has trouble in the night. Call me if any problems arise. Otherwise, I'll come back in the morning to check him over.'

Minerva nodded. 'Thank you, Poppy,' she said. The mediwitch patted her arm with a smile, and swept out of the room.

'Do I have to sleep?' Harry complained from behind her. He was already looking much better for the potions and the chocolate – a heathier colour returning to his cheeks. Minerva hesitated.

'Can't I at least read or something?' Harry pressed. 'Snape's supposed to be testing me in Potions tomorrow, and he's never going to buy a stupid cold as a reason I wasn't prepared for the exam.'

'Professor Snape, Harry,' Minerva corrected. 'And Severus will delay the examination a day or two, I assure you.'

She would make him, if nothing else.

She walked over to the bed again, smoothing the child's hair back from his forehead. 'You're still much too warm,' she said worriedly. 'I think you ought to try and rest for a few hours. Then, if you're feeling better when you wake, you can revise Potions this evening.'

Harry sighed, but snuggled deeper into the bed, apparently giving up the fight. Minerva smiled.

'Sleep well,' she said softly. And she shut the door gently behind her as she left the room.

She needed to owl Albus at once.

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Harry awoke to the sound of someone opening the door. The room was much darker, a beam of setting scarlet sunlight the only illumination. He struggled up a bit in the bed, squinting toward the arrival. Someone had removed his glasses while he slept.

'Did I wake you?' a soft voice asked from the doorway. 'I apologise. I've only come up to see if you were hungry – dinner's just finished in the Great Hall.'

Harry fumbled on his bedside table for his glasses, slipping them on to see Remus standing in the door, a tray laden with food in his hands.

'No, that's alright,' Harry said, straightening up a bit. 'I should be getting up anyway. I can't believe I slept so long.'

'It's understandable,' said Remus, setting the tray aside and sitting on the edge of Harry's bed. 'Minerva said you've come down with something. How are you feeling?' he asked, looking concerned as he surveyed Harry closely.

'I'm fine,' Harry grumbled. He was growing uncomfortable with all the solicitousness.

Remus gave him a small smile, but reached up to feel his forehead anyway.

'I'm glad you're feeling better,' he said, 'though you're still running a bit hot,' he added. Harry frowned, dodging out from under Remus' examination. This seemed to amuse the man, who chuckled lightly.

'I've brought your next dose of potions with me,' he said, indicating the tray. 'Poppy says you're to take them before you eat.'

'Right,' Harry said unenthusiastically. He downed the phials as Remus passed them over. They did make him feel slightly less lethargic, though he was loath to admit it to Remus.

'Are you hungry?' Remus inquired again. Harry shook his head.

'Not really,' he admitted.

'You should try and eat something, Harry,' Remus said, frowning at him. 'It'll help you to keep your strength up. And I promise Madam Pomfrey is never going to release you from bed tomorrow if she finds you haven't felt up to eating.'

'Maybe in a minute,' Harry agreed half-heartedly. He looked down, fingering the edge of the bedsheet. 'Did you hear about the Dementors?' he asked, in a softer voice.

'I did,' Remus affirmed, staring seriously at Harry again. 'And I'm sorry you were exposed like that. Albus is working on it – they aren't to be allowed to enter the grounds. The Minister sent them on ahead before Albus had a chance to meet with him, but they're coming to an agreement on the matter as we speak.'

'Here?' Harry asked hopefully.

'No,' Remus said, with an understanding smile of sympathy. 'The headmaster is still at the Ministry. But he shouldn't be long now.'

'Ok,' said Harry, slightly self-consciously. 'Do you… do you know much about Dementors, Remus?' he asked tentatively.

Remus considered a moment. 'I know… enough,' he hedged. 'Dementors are not often encountered outside of Azkaban prison. Not in Britain, at least. The Ministry arranged a pact with their kind many years ago. They gave them control of the wizard prison, and regulated ability to do what they will with the prisoners inside her walls. In exchange, every Dementor in the U.K. is supposed to remain at Azkaban, unless the Ministry dispatches them elsewhere. In other countries, there are still roaming populations. I saw a few in Germany during my time there, although their Ministry has also managed to restrict the Dementors to far-flung forests and limited areas. They are – as you have undoubtedly surmised, particularly unpleasant creatures to encounter. And highly dangerous.'

'They're horrible,' said Harry with feeling, shuddering at the memory. 'When they came at us, I felt so cold. Like there was a casing of ice around my heart. And I heard… awful things.'

Remus looked nervous now. 'What did you hear, Harry?' he asked quietly.

'A woman,' said Harry. 'A woman screaming. Pleading. I couldn't make out what she was saying… but I felt desperate and helpless. And I knew, somehow, what was happening. She was dying.'

Remus seemed unnerved. 'It is a power – a curse – of the Dementors,' he said slowly. 'They force one to hear terrible moments, drawn out and repeated in their minds. It is their way of incapacitating their victims, while they feed on emotion and positive energy. It is why so many people go mad in Azkaban.'

'I'll bet,' Harry said darkly. 'They're here for him, aren't they? To try and catch Sirius Black?'

Remus' face seemed to whiten a shade or two. 'Yes,' he said quietly. 'They will be stationed around the school for the foreseeable future, until Sirius Black is apprehended again. Though, as I say, I do not believe that Dumbledore will allow them onto the castle grounds – especially not after what happened this afternoon.'

'Professor Dumbledore thinks that Black's coming for me,' Harry confided. 'Apparently, he's been talking about Hogwarts in his sleep. The Ministry reckons he's after me because of what happened the night that Voldemort killed my mum and dad.'

There was no mistaking the pained expression that crossed Remus' face at the words. Harry felt a little guilty for stating it so bluntly. 'Yes, Albus mentioned something to that affect,' Remus admitted. He was gazing at Harry with a very odd expression – part calculating, part, perhaps, possessiveness… maybe even love. 'Do not worry,' he assured Harry. 'He cannot get to you while you are so well protected. I won't let him, and neither will Albus or Minerva.'

'I know,' Harry assured him, offering a small smile of his own. 'I'm not scared. It just seems odd – that he would wait twelve whole years to come after me. I mean, I'm not even thirteen… how much danger could he think I was? And even if I had superpowers or something, why wait so long to come for me?'

Remus laid a hand on his shoulder. 'Let's talk of something else, Harry,' he said with forced brightness. 'This discussion of Dementors and darkness is riling you up. It's not going to help your fever.'

'I feel fine,' Harry repeated in a whinge. Remus merely smiled.

'Dumbledore came to see me this morning,' Remus offered, changing the subject. 'He wanted to know if I would be interested in teaching you.'

'For the summer?' Harry asked, cheering up at once. 'That would be brilliant! What are you going to be teaching me? When can we start?'

'I take it you are enthusiastic about the scheme, then?' Remus asked, laughing as Harry practically bounced in the bed. 'I'll make you a deal. You start on this delicious dinner I've slaved over –'

Harry gave him a disbelieving eye-roll, and Remus laughed again.

'Oh, alright, this delicious dinner Mina has slaved over,' he amended, 'and I'll tell you about the discussion I had with the headmaster.'

'Oh, go on then,' Harry agreed. He was suddenly in such a better temper anyway, he found he was quite hungry. Which was good, because he was starting to suspect that Remus fussed worse than McGonagall. He accepted the tray with a word of thanks, digging into the steak and kidney pie as Remus continued his explanation.

'First off – no, not for the summer, precisely, although we would begin sometime next week. Albus has asked if I would take the post of Defence Against the Dart Arts professor for next term.'

'What!' Harry exclaimed, thrilled. He nearly choked on his bite in his excitement, and hurriedly washed down the offending food with a gulp of juice. 'That would be wicked, Remus! Or, I suppose I should call you Professor Lupin, now,' he added, grinning.

'Not just yet,' said Lupin, though his eyes were dancing. 'In lessons, perhaps, but you can continue to call me Remus until school begins. I would feel very strange having James' son refer to me any other way… and besides, I have not given the headmaster my answer yet.'

'Why not?' asked Harry in confusion. 'You would be great, Remus, I know it! And we haven't had a proper defence teacher yet – Lockhart was a tosser and a fraud, and Quirrell was secretly hosting Lord Voldemort. It's about time Dumbledore hired someone decent for the job!'

'Mind your language,' Remus reproached him, though his smile negated the reprimand. 'I have a few things to consider, Harry, before I can commit to taking the position.'

Harry felt the little bubble that had risen inside him deflate a bit. 'Don't you want to teach us?' he asked, a bit of childish plea creeping into his voice.

'Of course I do, Harry,' Remus assured him. 'But I am… ill. I have been for a long time now, since before I even came to Hogwarts as a student.'

Harry felt suddenly awful for his whinging. 'Can't Madam Pomfrey give you something for it?' he asked quietly. He'd never had an illness or an injury that Madam Pomfrey couldn't sort out straight away.

Remus smiled a little sadly. 'No, not for this,' he said. 'There is a potion that helps – you saw me taking it at your aunt and uncle's house. But there is no known cure for the disease.'

'You mean,' said Harry, remembering how ill Remus had looked in the last few days. He still looked quite haggard now, actually. 'You mean you get that way a lot – how you felt when you had to go away?'

'Yes,' Remus acknowledged with a sigh. 'About once a month, give or take. It gets better for a while, but it always returns.'

Harry frowned. He'd never heard of a disease like that before. Well, except…

'Do you have cancer?' he asked, quietly. 'I had a Muggle teacher who had it once, in primary school. She was out lots of days, and then she'd come back for a few weeks and she seemed fine. But she lost all her hair… and then one week, she never came back.'

'No, Harry,' Remus assured him. 'It's nothing like that. Cancers are incredibly rare in wizards – the magic we have usually destroys the disease before it can take hold. It is almost entirely a Muggle phenomenon. This is more of a… chronic condition. It won't kill me, but it will affect me the rest of my life.'

'Oh,' said Harry, feeling a little relieved. He was insanely curious about this strange illness, but he felt it would be rude to press Remus for more details. 'Does Dumbledore know you're ill?' he asked instead.

'Yes,' Remus assured him. 'He's known since I was a child. Your dad did too – he and our friends were always very good about it.'

'Well then,' Harry reasoned, 'If Dumbledore knows and he still wants you to teach, then he must think it wouldn't be such a big deal.'

'Dumbledore… thinks that we can work out a suitable arrangement,' Remus allowed. 'But things are not nearly so simple. My condition would mean that you were without lessons – or with a substitute professor – for several days a month. And there are other risks to consider.'

'It doesn't matter!' Harry insisted. 'We need a good teacher, Remus. You should do it.'

'Eat the pudding, it's quite nice,' Remus said, nodding toward Harry's unfinished tray. 'And I promise, I shall think about it.'

Harry nodded, knowing that was the best he was going to get for now.

'What will you be teaching me?' he asked, once he'd cleaned the plate and was starting to feel quite full and sleepy once more.

'Some defensive magic, I think. We can decide on the details together, once you're back on your feet,' said Remus. He helped Harry lie back against the pillows, recognising his exhaustion, and set a hand on his forehead again. 'I think perhaps you ought to get some more sleep… your temperature does not seem to have gone down much from the last dose of antipyretic.'

Harry was irritated. He hated to be cooped up like this. Those Dementors…

'Isn't there a spell that works against them?' he asked in frustration. 'A way to beat them?'

'Beat what, Harry?' Remus asked, his hand still resting on Harry's head.

'The Dementors!' Harry growled. 'I can't stand feeling like this – it's not fair. There must be some way to counter it.'

Remus hesitated. 'There is a charm,' he admitted. 'But it is very, very advanced magic. It is not even taught at Hogwarts, usually. When it is, it is never before seventh year.'

'What's it called?' said Harry at once, pushing himself upward again. Remus palmed his chest, pressing him firmly back down to the mattress.

'It is called the Patronus Charm,' Remus explained. 'It is a highly advanced concentration of defensive magic; a focused form of the very emotions that Dementors feed off of. When conjured correctly, it will repel a Dementor. But Harry, the spell is beyond most fully trained wizards. To manage it at your age… it may be entirely impossible.'

'I've got to try!' Harry insisted. 'Can't you teach me, over the summer?'

'We'll see,' Remus said enigmatically, pulling the bedclothes firmly around him. 'Just rest for now. We'll discuss it further in the morning.'

Harry did not want to. He wanted to talk about it now. He wanted a firm commitment from Remus – a promise that he'd teach Harry how to beat the Dementors.

But the bed was so warm and soft… his eyes were so very heavy… and Harry found he could not keep them open any longer tonight.