Okay, the 4th chapter!  Thanks for all the reviews and compliments! And ofcourse the usual editor thanks to LEAD, who makes sure that I won't make Lupin too immature:P

And I've been trying to take over the whole Harry Potter fandom, but it still didn't work… JK just won't give up her throne…

On with the story!

In no time at all, Remus had made a syllabus for every class and was noticing that most of the students liked them. There were even kids, like Neville, who made a great deal of progress in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He had been given another boggart the day after the lesson, this time by Filch, who'd apparently found it in the dungeons, nicely at home in a cupboard full of manacles and other assorted torture devices, which it had taken to rattling. He'd finally got round to sending a letter to Mundugus Fletcher, who had replied that more creatures could easily be obtained, "for a nice little price, lower for you because of our history."

It was still weird to see Harry taking his classes, laughing with his friends and still looking so much like a smaller version of James. But since there had been no dementor attacks after the train ride, he pretended that Harry was just one of the many students here, whom he was trying to teach.

Halloween drew near, and with it Remus' second transformation inside the walls of Hogwarts. The first time it had been weird. He knew what the influences of the Wolfsbane Potion would be, but he had to say, Snape was a first-class potions maker. Without wanting to, Remus' old enemy-by-association had helped him a lot. He had taken two goblets of the potion before the full moon, and locked himself inside his room. The transformation had gone better than he'd expected. He'd felt himself change, felt himself suddenly grow fur, but he hadn't become wild; instead, he had spend the night clawing at the foot of a table, like a dog, clenching his jaws around a bone. Remus was no longer scared that something would go wrong: he, like Dumbledore, trusted Snape and tried not to think of the number of times Snape might have wished he could add some poison to the elixir since hearing of Neville's boggart.

Because Snape had certainly heard of it. Remus noticed that Neville came to his Thursday class more timidly. He taught the Gryffindors after Potions lesson, so it was really no wonder. As if that hadn't been enough of a hint, Dumbledore had personally asked Snape if he had heard about "Lupin's wonderful first lesson for the third years" at dinner.

On the Saturday morning of Halloween, Remus had expected Mundungus to Floo in after breakfast with his newest subject: a grindylow. He knew that infiltrating the Floo network was impossible for a normal witch or wizard, but . . . well . . . you couldn't call Mundungus normal, and apparently he had found a way to do it, seeing as the kappas had been delivered through the fire.

But Remus got the fright of his life when he noticed a half dozen owls flying in, bound at different places to a huge package. There was a letter attached, and when Remus opened the large window in his study and motioned the owls to his classroom, he saw the messy handwriting spelling out "CArEful: frAgilE."

The ungainly sextet landed on his desk, and it took a great deal of time for him to free them. Finally, he ripped the paper away from the package and read the letter.

According to Mundungus, the Ministry was busy taking new precautions to make sure that Sirius Black – a pang of guilt stuck Remus – wouldn't enter the castle, so he'd had to send the new creatures by owl, and he expected Remus to pay the delivery fee.

This explained why he was being attacked by the owls as he read the letter.

The postscript told Remus that Mundungus had put some spells on the water basin, which was now unbreakable, but he wasn't sure they had worked.

Remus knew enough. He paid the owls (who kept picking at him until he paid enough, according to Mundungus' standards) and finished tearing away the paper.

There in the tank was what was unmistakably a grindylow.

He smiled, and with a wave of his wand, he levitated the tank from his desk to a corner of his classroom.

There was suddenly a racket near his window and he looked outside. A lot of older students were standing in a large, extremely disorganized group, waiting to go to Hogsmeade. His eyes quickly found Harry's messy hair, so familiar from years ago, but to his surprise the boy turned back to the school after his mates got permission. He remembered the conversation he'd overheard at dinner between McGonagall and Sinistra: Harry had asked McGonagall for her permission, as his Head of House, to go to Hogsmeade, but she had refused. Apparently, the Dursleys hadn't signed, and Minerva had told Sinistra that "under these circumstances," she was glad they hadn't.

Remus had a slightly different view of the subject. He felt that James' son ought to have the right to see Hogsmeade. Half of the prank supplies had been bought there and at least a quarter of all the pranks they had ever pulled on their fellow students were done there. Remus knew that the circumstances were not nearly the best possible, but Harry had earned the right, just as all the other third years had, to go and buy as much as rubbish as they wanted.

He considered letting Harry know of the locations of certain passages to Hogsmeade, but immediately tossed that idea aside. He was Harry's teacher and was supposed to watch him, not his best friend who could help him to get into trouble. He had once again made the mistake of switching James with Harry. He forced into his head the belief that if Harry went to Hogsmeade, something terrible would happen . . . but even as he thought it, he remembered the person who had caused so much of this destruction.

Suddenly, he remembered that he would have all day to find out what exactly had happened to the Marauders Map; maybe he could start with distracting Filch, and then sneak into his office . . . behave like a teenager again . . .

At the same time he felt a bit of doubt rising. The Map would bring a lot of memories with it, and he didn't know if he wanted to have them back. On one hand, it would be great to think back on his peaceful time here, but Remus also knew that it would make him sad, thinking about the old times, when the Marauders' friendships were now torn apart.

James dead, Peter dead, and both by the hand (indirectly or directly, it didn't much matter) of a third Marauder. And he, Remus, had seen it all begin to happen and had (just as with their pranks) done nothing to stop it. To think, he'd called Sirius his friend for seven years . . .

Suddenly, he felt his heartbeat rising, and his face turned pale. What if Sirius had the Map in his possession?

What if -- his heart now almost stood still -- what if he used the Map to get to Harry? He stood up quickly from his chair, and walked toward the door: He really had to find out if Filch would still have that document.

Remus opened it, and saw -- just my luck -- Harry standing on the stairs.

"Harry?" Without doing it purposely, he had spoken.

Harry turned around and looked at him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, rather surprised. "Where are Ron and Hermione?" No sooner had he asked than he remembered the answer himself – he'd seen it just now, from his office window.

"Hogsmeade," Harry replied, more than a little bitter based on his tone of voice.

"Ah," he said, not knowing what he should do next, attempt to retrieve the Map, or talk further to the obviously bored, irritated Harry.

"Why don't you come in?" he asked. The decision to invite Harry in had taken a second at most; this was his best friend's son, after all. "I've just taken delivery of a grindylow for our next lesson."

"A what?" Remus saw him looking curious and he motioned him in.

"Water demon. We shouldn't have much difficulty with him, not after the kappas. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers?" Harry nodded. "Strong, but very brittle." The grindylow swam behind some seaweed. "Cup of tea? I was just thinking of making one," he lied, while trying to find his kettle. He noticed how normal the boy was, despite all he'd been through. Dumbledore was right; Harry definitely had more modesty than his father.

"All right," Harry said, clearly somewhat uncomfortable. Remus found the kettle, filled it with water and heated it to its boiling point with a tap from his wand and a non-verbal spell.

"Sit down," he asked, suddenly recalling his discussion with McGonagall about Harry's disastrous first Divination lesson. "I've only got teabags, I'm afraid – but I daresay you've had enough of tea leaves?" He smiled and Harry looked surprised.

"How did you know about that?"

"Professor McGonagall told me," he said honestly. "You're not worried, are you?"

"No," the boy said simply, turning his attention to the grindylow.

"Anything worrying you, Harry?"

"No." The grindylow was putting on a fierce show; he imagined Harry must think it rather frightening, or at least disturbing.

Then:

"Yes," Harry said suddenly, putting his tea down. "You know that day we fought the boggart?"

"Yes," Remus said slowly, trying to figure out where Harry was headed with this particular question.

"Why didn't you let me fight it?" asked Harry abruptly.

Not expecting this, because he had hoped that Harry hadn't noticed that day, he raised his eyebrows.

"I would have thought that was obvious, Harry," he said, avoiding the question. Should he say that Dumbledore had asked him to help keep Harry safe? Or could he just say . . . because that would be part of the reason . . . And wouldn't be a lie . . .

"Why?" Harry asked again.

"Well, I assumed that if the Boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort."

He saw Harry staring at him, his mouth open. Remus had obviously been wrong about the shape of Harry's Boggart, and he admired Harry more.

"Clearly I was wrong," Remus said, frowning a bit at the thought that he had handled the entire situation incorrectly. "But I didn't think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staff room. I imagined that people would panic." He watched and saw that Harry didn't flinch at the sound of Voldemort's name. He'd heard it before, then, from someone – probably Dumbledore.

"I didn't think of Voldemort. I – I remembered those dementors," he blurted out.

If Remus Lupin had been a cartoon, his jaw would now be on the floor. Fearing a dementor? That meant that Remus had seen the boy already at his weakest. He felt rather ashamed of thinking back then that Harry might be a weak person.

"I see," he answered thoughtfully. "Well, well . . . I'm impressed," he smiled and said with perfect honesty. "That suggests that what you fear most of all is – fear. Very wise, Harry."

He saw that Harry looked a bit embarrassed at this compliment.

"So you've been thinking that I didn't believe you capable of fighting the boggart?" he said.

"Well . . . yeah. Professor Lupin, you know the dementors – " Harry was suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in," called Remus. He had expected him, but wasn't happy to see him now he was talking so animatedly with Harry.

Snape entered, carrying a smoking goblet in his hands. Remus saw his eyes narrowing at the sight of Harry, to whom he gave the same look of loathing he always used on Remus. Maybe that's just his way of looking, said a voice in his head, which he tended to doubt. Surely there was someone . . . but then again, perhaps not.

"Ah, Severus," he heard himself say. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?"

Snape did so and then let his eyes wander between Harry and Remus, as if questioning why two of the people he hated most in Hogwarts were sitting in the same room when they didn't have to.

"I was just showing Harry my grindylow," Remus said as an answer to the never asked question by Snape.

"Fascinating," Snape said, not trying to hide the sneer a bit. "You should drink that directly, Lupin," he added.

"Yes, yes, I will."

"I made an entire cauldron full, if you need more." Snape continued, as if he wanted Harry to hear as much as possible, and was trying as hard as he could to waken his curiosity.

"I probably should take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus." Remus tried to make the note of finality in his voice as absolute as possible.

"Not at all," Snape grated through his teeth and walked out, Probably wishing the most horrible things on us all . . . He then focused on Harry, who was clearly quite curious. Of all the times for Snape to come in . . . that had to have been the worst.

He smiled and tried to come up with an excuse for the whole situation:

"Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me. I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex." Well, no lies told . . . so far . . .

He picked up the potion and sniffed it. "Pity sugar makes it useless," he said, suddenly speaking his thoughts. He took a sip and shuddered; he always forgot how very bitter the partial solution to his problem was.

"Why – ?" Remus could see that Harry wasn't satisfied with his explanation, and he interrupted:

"I've been feeling a bit off-colour. This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren't many wizards who are up to making it." He took another sip and congratulated himself again for having avoided telling any real lies.

Harry still looked somewhat worried and blurted out:

"Professor Snape's very interested in the Dark Arts."

"Really?" said Remus between two gulps of the bitter potion. That wasn't news to him. Snape had been interested in the Dark Arts since he'd come to Hogwarts as a first-year.

"Some people reckon –" (he saw that Harry was choosing his words carefully in his head) "some people reckon he'd do anything to get the Defense Against the Dark Arts job," he finished, as Remus drained the rest of the goblet's contents. He shuddered again, and pulled a face.

" Disgusting," he said, referring not only to the potion, but also to its brewer. He felt an odd chill and knew that he would shiver and feel ill for the rest of the day.

"Well, Harry, I'd better get back to work. I'll see you at the feast later."

"Right," Harry said, looking at Remus as though he were completely mad. He put his teacup down and left the office.

As Harry closed the door behind him, Remus smiled. He had found a new similarity between James and Harry: their hatred for Snape.

Remus locked himself into his chambers that night, feeling safe enough, not thinking about the warnings Harry had tried to make about Snape (obviously not realizing the common history between the two), and not knowing that the last of his best friends was at that moment entering Hogwarts and attempting to break into Gryffindor tower.

Well, tell me what you like and don't like about it.

But before you do, I want to tell you all that I will go on a holiday to Egypt for ten days and that after that, school starts.. in other words: the updates will probably be a bit slower, but I will do my best to keep this story alive!

xxx-mokimik-xxx