Hey! So, a fast update! You have to know that I didn´t enjoy this writing….. There can´t be a lot of own input in the dementor-scene…. Still, one of the best scenes in the book, so hopefully also one of the most meningfull-ones in my story….huge thanks to Lead again, who is helping so much, and who now also takes the time to edit the first chapter as well….

School started…. I'm not sure how fast or slow I will be with all the school-stuff…. I think it will depend upon the stress and my mood…:p

The project of Taking over the world and trying to become JK Rowling still isn't making progress, but I will keep you up to date when something happens…..

Unfortunately for Remus, time flew when one was having fun. Much as he had fought taking the liquid from Madame Pomfrey, it seemed to help with the transformations. And aside from full moon nights, the Dementors outside, and the twisted Potions master inside, that's what Hogwarts was: fun. Remus had found his calling; teaching was delightful. It felt like second nature, and the students seemed to do really well under his guidance; Remus caught Ginny Weasley red-handed blasting a particularly cruel Slytherin with an exceptional Bat-Bogey Hex, and couldn't help the feeling of pride that crept up his throat. Remus hadn't felt this happy in a long time.

He regretted that one of his transformations fell during the Christmas holidays. It would have been very nice to go to Hogsmeade and enjoy the festive dinner at Hogwarts, but, well, one couldn't have everything.

The only thing that worried him slightly was Hermione. During the practical lessons, she had gone from being very good to performing rather poorly. The bags under her eyes were dark, and she was very jumpy during Defence Against the Dark Arts. Remus blamed it on the time-turner, and spoke to Professor McGonagall about his suspicions.

"Miss Granger knows that she can give it up whenever she chooses," was her short answer.

"We both know that Hermione is far too ambitious to give it up. She wants to prove herself by taking all these extra classes . . . but she doesn't seem well . . ."

Minerva gave him a sharp look; her gaze seemed to pierce right through him.

"Well, I will keep an eye on her. But as long as I don't hear any other teachers complaining about Miss Granger . . ."

"Complaining about Miss Granger? Dear heavens, why? The girl seems to know everything!"

Professor Flitwick marvelled.

"So she doesn't seem absent or jumpy in your class?" Remus asked.

"No, of course not. I think you are worrying a bit too much, Remus. You are probably looking for a problem, since you have all your other problems under control," Flitwick assured him with a little wink.

On Christmas Day, when he was recovering in bed from the previous night's transformation, he suddenly heard a knock on the door.

He stood up, limping slightly; his inner wolf had apparently found a better meal that his face – his left leg. When he opened the door, McGonagall stood there, her cheeks a bit flushed because of the coldness of the corridors.

"Merry Christmas, Remus. I hope you liked the book I gave you," she said, in her usual stern voice.

"Ehm… yes, it was a good present," especially when you compared it with the other presents: From Dumbledore a pair of socks, made of what seemed to be wolf-fur, (that man always had a strange sense of humour), a great sack of caramels from Hagrid (he was sure his teeth would never feel the same) and a kettle of flobberworms from Snape (well . . . that was . . . unexpected).

He realized that he hadn't asked Minerva to come in, and quickly remedied his rudeness by asking her inside. She entered, and his eyes fell on the broomstick she had brought with her:

"Wow, is that a Firebolt?" Without doing it on purpose, his mouth gaped at the magnificent broom.

"Yes, I think that Mr. Potter would have reacted the same way," she said even more short and stern. Remus didn't know if she meant James or Harry – the comment could be for both. "I came to ask you if you might perhaps have sent this broom as a Christmas gift to anyone you know."

Remus really didn't want to, and he knew that it would irritate McGonagall, but he started to laugh.

"Minerva, that broom costs my year's salary."

The transfiguration-professor blinked, stunned.

"Are you quite serious? Who would spend so much money on a broom just to give it to someone without a note?"

"I have no clue. All I know is that it wasn't me. Whose did you say this is?" Remus now asked a bit curiosity.

"Mr. Potter was sent it for Christmas."

"What? Harry? By whom?"

"Didn't you hear what I just said? There wasn't a note attached to it, according to Miss Granger. So naturally I couldn't help but wonder . . ."

"If it was Sirius Black." Remus finished her sentence dully.

"Indeed. He probably would have hexed the broom, and Filius and I will try to find out what's wrong with it. I just wanted to make sure that you wouldn't have anything to do with it."

"No, it wasn't me."

"Alright. Well, good day then, Remus."

With that, she left, leaving behind a very worried werewolf.

When the classes started again, Remus noticed that Harry and Ron seemed not to be speaking to Hermione. It probably had to do with her going to McGonagall about the Firebolt, seeing as the professor had confiscated it until further notice. Remus honestly didn't know who he felt more sorry for: Harry, who had the best broom ever but couldn't use it, or Hermione, who had no friends speaking to her and lower grades than usual, just because she had done the responsible thing. When the third years' lesson ended that Monday, he saw that as the rest of the class filed out of the room, Harry was still there, slowly packing his things. Having used the same ruse many times himself, Remus knew immediately that Harry wanted to speak to him – and he had a very good guess as to what the topic would be.

Remus had thought about how to teach Harry the Patronus Charm, but hadn't yet come up with a satisfactory solution. He actually needed more time, but when Harry asked, it was obvious that this was something the boy really wanted to do. He, Remus, would just have to hurry up and figure something out. Besides, he had a feeling that he was trying to find ways to get out of the agreement, because he still had his doubts about the private-lessons. But on the other hand, a promise was a promise, and he couldn't let Harry down.

"Ah yes. Let me see . . . . How about eight o'clock on Thursday evening? The History of Magic classroom should be large enough . . . . I'll have to think carefully about how we're going to do this . . . we can't bring a real Dementor into the castle to practise on . . . ."

Harry thanked him and walked away with Ron, who had been waiting at the door. Remus was left to contemplate exactly how he could go about teaching Harry the Patronus.

By that evening, he had found a solution, but executing the plan was a whole different story. What they needed was a Boggart. If Harry had been honest with him, it would turn into a Dementor, and they could use it to practise. The problem was that after his lessons about them, the whole castle seemed to be Boggart-free.

Posting a bulletin ("Boggart Needed!") on the staff-board wasn't a bad idea, but it didn't give him much help, especially not when some colleagues came to him personally to tell him that they really couldn't help.

"But why do you need another one? I thought you had already done the subject in your class?" Pomona asked at dinner.

"Oh, well, a few of my third years need some revising in the subject, and actual practise is better for them than just, you know, learning the theory behind it," he had answered vaguely. Remus didn't really know why he didn't tell her the truth. Perhaps because people would think that he was favouring Harry, or that he was trying to become a friend, rather than a teacher. All he knew was that the idea of people knowing didn't sound right.

Wednesday evening rolled around, and he still hadn't found a Boggart. He decided that looking for one himself would be more reliable than just asking around, so that night, he took a walk through the castle. He followed a narrow corridor to one of the dungeons, and looked in every corner in the hope of finding one. But he didn't succeed. All he found was a memory about how he had walked here with his friends, talking about the previous night, when the other one had become Animagi.

He recalled that the seventh floor had its fair share of dark corners as well, so he walked up the stairs and found himself going automatically to the painting of the Fat Lady. But she wasn't there. Remus' first thought was that he must've gone in the wrong direction (it had, after all, been several years since he'd been to Gryffindor Tower), but he almost immediately remembered that the Fat Lady was too scared to do her job after what had happened on Halloween. Unintentionally, Remus smiled, remembering that the Fat Lady and Sirius had never gotten along. He had found James and Sirius standing near the portrait one evening when he came back from his prefect-duties. James was leaning against a wall, obviously bored and irritated. Sirius, however, was in the middle of huge argument with the Fat Lady. Apparently, she was refusing to let them in; the password had changed a few minutes before, and they didn't have it. He remembered that Sirius had said that he would get some "muggle liquid" and wreck her painting (he was probably talking about turpentine). This didn't seem to help. Fortunately for the locked-out twosome, Remus had known the new password.

He looked for a moment at Sir Cadogan, but when the painting was eying him suspiciously back, he walked into another corridor, which led to the divination classroom. Not wanting to meet Trelawney again (a few weeks ago she had begun mumbling about his death and all that nonsense), he decided that the whole expedition had been for naught, and he turned to go back to his room. After taking a shortcut through a secret passage he remembered from years ago, he walked towards his chambers at the second floor and closed the door behind him. As the door clicked shut, he was struck by the urge to rifle through Filch's cabinets again. He felt the strong urge to recall some more memories, and what memories were better than the mischief-ones?

That thought was enough to drive him out of his room. He descended the stairs that ended into his own classroom and walked one level lower toward Filch's office. The door stood slightly ajar, and Remus could see that no one was there. With some hesitation, he walked in and opened one of the drawers marked "Potter, Black, Pettigrew, Lupin." The oil-lamp hanging from the ceiling didn't give off much light, and Remus couldn't read the titles on the maps that were in it. He closed his eyes and picked a random file. In it, there were several dozen pages, filled with, as Filch called it, 'crimes'.

Date: 3-10-1972

Names: James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin.

Crime: Covering the floor of the Charms corridor in lobalug droppings. Suspected to have done the same a week ago using muggle hair-gel.

Suggested Punishment: Fifty lashes each.

Of course they really hadn't been whipped. They'd had to scrub the hospital wing without magic every day for a week, but when they had made more trouble and mischief there (he remembered vaguely that it had something to do with changing the medicines of the people who were lying there ill), the rest of the week had been spend in detention instead.

Date: 15-10-1972

Names: James Potter, Sirius Black.

Crime: Charming vials of potions to follow Slytherin students and smash in said students' faces.

Suggested Punishment: Bread and water ONLY for four weeks.

Before Remus could recall that particular occurrence, the office-door creaked open and Filch stumbled in. Mrs. Norris was circling around his legs, looking accusingly at him, but before he could explain himself (how could he explain that he had felt the urge to look into old files?) Filch spoke:

"Ah, Lupin, I just went by your office to look for you, but apparently you already got the message from Snape."

"Snape?"

"Yes, I asked him to tell you that I have found you a Boggart. But you didn't come, so I thought that I would go to your office to see if you still wanted the thing."

He blew his nose with an unpleasant sound into a handkerchief he had pulled out of his pocket (and that had, by the looks of it, never been washed).

Then he pointed at a drawer at Remus' left and said, his voice slightly muffled from the handkerchief: "There he is. Discovered him yesterday, while I was polishing the chains."

Remus looked at the drawer. The Boggart seemed to feel that people were staring at it, because it wobbled a bit, and Filch took a step backwards. Remus was quite relieved; Filch had just given him a terrific excuse for why he was there.

"Do you have a box, something I can carry it in?"

Filch nodded, and started to poke around behind his desk. He gave Remus a large packing case, which, if the smell were anything to go by, had once held cleaning supplies. Remus was al ready happy that the box didn't smell like old fish: as apparently, the rest of the office smelled.

He opened the case and the drawer, and forced the Boggart into its newest location. The whole thing was getting to be rather routine.

"Thanks," he said, picking up the box and making his way out of the office. He was not sure if Filch had heard him. The man was once again blowing his nose with a sick making sound; he obviously had a cold.

At eight o'clock the next day, Remus took the box and walked over to the History of Magic classroom. After all, Binns wouldn't mind (if indeed he even noticed), and the room was bigger than his own classroom. Harry was already there, waiting for him. Apparently, the boy found the lesson very important. Remus wasn't sure if that knowledge ought to make him happy or nervous. He settled for a combination of the two.

He smiled at Harry and put the Boggart on the teacher's desk.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"Another Boggart. I've been combing the castle ever since Tuesday and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we'll get to a real Dementor. The Boggart will turn into a Dementor when he sees you, so we'll be able to practise on him," he explained to Harry, who nodded. "I can store him in my office when we're not using him; there's a cupboard under my desk he'll like," he said.

"Okay," said Harry, eying the box nervously.

"So . . ." he took out his wand and motioned that Harry do the same. Then he thought about the book he had been reading during the Christmas holiday about Partoni and he said:

"The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, Harry – well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm."

"How does it work?"

"Well, when it works correctly, it conjures up a Patronus, which is a kind of anti-Dementor – a guardian which acts like 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 – hope, happiness, the desire to survive – but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can't hurt it." He saw the eagerness in Harry's face. "But I must warn you, Harry, that the Charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it."

"What does a Patronus look like?"

"Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it."

"And how do you conjure it?"

"With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory."

Clearly, Harry was trying to recall an appropriate memory. "Right," he mumbled after a while.

"The incantation is this –" He cleared his throat for the right pronunciation. "Expecto patronum!"

"Expecto patronum, expecto patronum," he heard Harry murmur.

"Concentrating hard on your happy memory?"

"Oh – yeah – expecto patrono – no, patronum – sorry – expecto patronum, expecto patronum—"

Remus had expected that Harry would get the Patronus eventually, but not this fast. In fact, he'd planned that they would spend tonight's lesson practicing without the Boggart. However, at Harry's last words, they both saw a shimmer of silver gas whoosh out of the end of his wand.
Remus was perplexed. Some seventh years had managed to do the same in his classes, but only after a whole hour of murmuring.

"Did you see that?" Harry asked excitedly. "Something happened!"

"Very good," he said. Then, feeling a bit bold, he asked:

"Right, then – ready to try it on a Dementor?"

"Yes," came the determined answer.

Remus walked to the case, looked at Harry and opened it.

The moment the Dementor came out of the box, Remus could see that he had made a mistake. Fear was evident in Harry's eyes; there was no way he was ready for this. The lights in the room went out . . .

"Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum! Expecto —"

Remus saw Harry's eyes roll backward and a moment later, there was a sickening thud as his body collapsed to the floor.

Without waiting any longer, Remus forced the Boggart back in the case with a shout of "Riddikulus!" and relit the lights in the classroom. Cursing himself for letting Harry face the Dementor so soon, he walked over to Harry, and shook him slightly.

"Harry!" His eyes – Lily's eyes – jerked open.

"Sorry," he murmured, sitting up. Remus had the odd feeling that Harry had said sorry at the same moment that he himself had intended to do so. He saw that the boy had sweat on his forehead, and that even his bed linens had more colour than the pale face in front of him.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes . . ." Harry pulled himself up and was now leaning heavily against one of the desks on the front row. Quickly, Remus searched his pockets for the chocolate he had brought with him.

"Here – eat this before we try again. I didn't expect you to do it first time," he said, when he saw the look of disappointment on Harry's face. "In fact, I would have been astounded if you had," he added.

"It's getting worse," Harry muttered in reply, and Remus knew immediately what he was talking about. "I could hear her louder that time – and him – Voldemort —"

Remus could feel the colour draining from his own face. How could Harry muster up the courage to learn this if doing so meant he would hear his mother dying with every attempt?

"Harry, if you don't want to continue, I will more than understand —"

But he hadn't even finished the sentence before he knew that Harry wasn't about to give up; he had a familiar determined glint in his eyes . . .the same one James had when he had been stubborn . . .

"I do! I've got to! What if the Dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? I can't afford to fall off again. If we lose this game we've lost the Quidditch Cup!" he said fiercely – or as fiercely as one can while one's mouth is full of Chocolate Frog.

It was not easy for Remus to allow him to continue. "All right then . . .You might want to select another memory, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on . . . that one doesn't seem to have been strong enough . . ."

Harry closed his eyes, frowning slightly. Remus wondered what memory he was thinking of, but he knew it was none of his business.

When Harry opened his eyes again, still with that determined look, he asked:

"Ready?"

"Ready," came the answer, out of a face that was twisted with concentration and still some fear.

He walked towards the box, opened the lid and yelled: "Go!"

Again, the lights went out and the same coldness as a few minutes filled the room. Remus saw that the Dementor was extending one of his rotting hands toward Harry . . .

"Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum! Expecto pat —" With the same thud, Harry landed on the floor. It took Remus some time to get the Boggart into the box; he was very close to Harry, and Remus couldn't think of anything funny enough to Riddikulus! the Boggart at once.

When he'd returned the Boggart to the box, he flicked his wand, putting the lights back on, and rushed over to Harry. He was lying on the floor, twitching.

"Harry!" Harry didn't react as fast as the first time, and Remus tapped him harder on his face.

"Harry . . . wake up . . ."

Slowly, Harry's eyes opened again and looked dazedly around. He sat up a little, and his face was still twisted, but not with determination as it had been.

"I heard my dad," he suddenly mumbled. "That's the first time I've ever heard him – he tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give my mum time to run for it . . ."

Every word Harry spoke tore at Remus' heart. The world seemed to have gone tilted and fuzzy. This was why he'd had doubts about giving Harry private lessons. All the pain . . . and he couldn't help . . . Harry seemed to have tears on his face, but Remus couldn't see them too clearly, as his eyes had suddenly become watery as well. Not just for Harry, but also for the people he heard.

"You heard James?"

"Yeah . . ." Harry looked up at Remus. "Why – you didn't know my dad, did you?"

He cursed himself for revealing so much, but at the same time he knew he couldn't lie about it.

"I – I did, as a matter of fact. We were friends at Hogwarts." Harry's expression was hard to read, and Remus felt that he himself could not possibly take any more of this today. "Listen, Harry – perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This charm is ridiculously advanced . . . I shouldn't have suggested putting you through this . . ." he heard himself rattling.

"No!" came the answer and Remus looked up. He couldn't believe that Harry, who must be feeling ten times worse than he was, would still want to continue . . . Harry stood up again.

"I'll have one more go! I'm not thinking of happy enough things, that's what it is . . . hang on . . ."

And before Remus could say anything, Harry had closed his eyes again and was thinking determinedly. After a while, Remus saw that his muscles were relaxed and that Harry was even smiling a bit.

"Ready?" he heard himself say uncertainly when Harry opened his eyes again and looked at him. He really didn't want to do this, but at the same time he knew that stopping Harry wasn't an option right now.

"Concentrating hard?" he walked to the box – "Ready?"— he touched the lid – "All right – Go!"

He pulled the lid off again and for the third time, there was a Dementor standing in the room. For the third time, the lights went out and the temperature in the room got colder . . .

But there was a Harry in front of him whom he had never seen; the look on his face was one of concentration and willpower, mingled with tenacity.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!" The Dementor was coming closer to Harry, but now he seemed to be more prepared. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Suddenly, Remus saw that there was a bit of silver gas coming from Harry's wand: Harry himself looked as if he might faint any moment now, but for a few seconds, Remus saw that the gas did indeed work as a barrier between the Dementor and Harry. With pure amazement, Remus watched the situation . . .

It was only when Harry's knees started wobbling dangerously that Remus snapped back to reality and realized that he needed to do something to prevent Harry from being overcome by the Dementor again.

"Riddikulus!" he shouted. He forced the Boggart back in the case; it turned into a silvery moon immediately, but Remus was far too happy for Harry and the progress they had made to feel fear for his Boggart-shape at the moment. He closed the lid, then turned around and saw that Harry was sitting on the nearest chair, as exhausted as one could possibly be.

"Excellent!" he said, walking towards him, feeling the weird urge to hug him again. "Excellent, Harry! That was definitely a start!" It seemed as though the words caused Harry to forget his tiredness.

He sat up, asking, "Can we have another go? Just one more go?"

"Not now," he said, wondering where the boy could possibly come up with more energy. "You've had enough for one night. Here –" He pulled some chocolate out of his pocket and gave it to Harry. "Eat the lot, or Madame Pomfrey will be after my blood." He didn't mention that he had purchased the chocolate as a Christmas gift for Harry, but had felt too awkward to actually give it to him. When Harry accepted it, a little disappointed because they had to stop for tonight, Remus asked: "Same time next week?"

"Okay." Harry took a bite. Remus stood up to extinguish the lights.

"Professor Lupin?" Remus didn't turn around, but merely nodded. "If you knew my dad, you must've known Sirius Black as well."

He turned around so fast that he heard the bones in his neck crack. His insides turned cold as ice, and quickly (and not very convincingly) he asked: "What gives you that idea?"

How much did Harry know about his dad? Did he know the whole story? No, he can't, if he did he would know about the Marauders . . . Did he know about Peter? Did he knew that Siri . . . no, Black was his godfather?

"Nothing – I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts, too . . ."

Remus relaxed a bit, but he still felt his heart thumping . . . So much for knowing the whole story . . . He just had to give a short answer back . . . He had known him alright . . . but not so well as he'd thought.

"Yes, I knew him. Or I thought I did. You'd better be off, Harry, it's getting late."

With that, Harry bade Remus goodnight, and left the classroom. The moment the door closed, Remus felt like his body was too heavy for his legs, and with a thud he fell to the floor.

Being around Harry stirred so many emotions . . . And giving private lessons doubled them. He was happy to see that Harry was brave, kind, stubborn and witty (Remus didn't know which parent he had inherited this from more) and at the same time he felt that his heart bled every time he saw the boy. The kid had had a rough time. It was so unfair that Remus could have spent so much, and Harry so little time with James and Lily . . . And it all could be traced back to that terrible Halloween night . . . If Remus could have done something . . . it didn't matter what, so long as it had been something . . .

He didn't know how long he sat there . . . after a while he got up, grabbed the case with the Boggart and walked to his room. Trying to forget that Harry had just heard James and Lily die and hoping that he could abandon his emotions for just one moment, so he might get some sleep . . .

When I read the piece in the book again to write it in Lupin's perspective, I only fully realized how much emotion is hidden behind this scene……

Hope you liked it, and as always, reviews won't hurt me….. they will make my imprisonment in school only more enjoyable…:P