Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.


Chapter Three

Unfamiliar Ground

"So… you are in Slytherin, I've heard?" Sirius tried to ask nonchalantly as Harry and he were sitting in the drawing room on the first floor once again.

It was the place they both fled to whenever Molly Weasley was on the lookout for new participants in her cleaning spree. The insufferable woman had made it her purpose to clean the house and simultaneously keep all the "children" occupied to make sure they wouldn't "get up to any mischief". Though considering Fred and George Weasley were her offspring her perspective was understandable in a way.

That sadly didn't make it any less annoying. She didn't even allow them to use magic – despite Grimmauld Place being a magical household with such extensive wards that Merlin himself would be hard pressed to detect underage magical activity through them.

"Yeah and you've been in Gryffindor with my father, right?" Harry didn't really understand why all the people who had known his parents always acted so surprised when they found out he was a Slytherin. Yes, both of his parents had been Gryffindors, but they didn't raise him. Nobody could expect him to act like they did.

They were strangers to him, faces in old photographs; alternately heroes, beloved friends, intelligent students or freaks, good-for-nothings and arrogant spoilt brats in stories told by former friends, old teachers, school nemeses and jealous relatives.

He didn't know them and never would. They were just a memory he'd pieced together from shreds of other people's memories. There was no use in trying to please them. He could never know what they would've thought in reality. He liked to think that they wanted him to be true to himself and make his own decisions.

"Ah yes, those were good times. We were best friends back then. James, Moony, I and… Wormtail, of course." He spat the last name with so much hatred that Harry recoiled.

But Harry understood, he wanted that traitorous rat dead too. He wanted to take revenge on the man, the family friend, who had forsaken him to grow up under the care of the Dursleys. The man who had been part of his parents little group of trusted loved ones until the day he organised their death.

They sat in silence for a short while, then Sirius brought up a topic Harry had managed to avoid so far.

"Albus said you live with Lily's sister?"

"Mhm."

"So, how's that been?"

"Okay." Drop it already.

"Lily once told me her sister had a problem with her being a witch…" Sirius prodded carefully.

"Yeah, they don't like magic much."

"But they treat you alright?"

To lie or not to lie… Harry decided to go with the truth. He didn't want to be pitied but hell would freeze over before he defended the Dursleys in front of anyone. He didn't have to reveal much anyway…

"They do now."

"Now?"

"Yes."

He could see that Sirius was getting frustrated with his monosyllabic answers, but the Dursleys were a topic he preferred to leave untouched.

"What was it like before now?" Sirius continued to ask, obviously preferring to ignore the not so subtle hints that this conversation was not welcome.

Harry huffed annoyed. "I really don't like talking about this…"

"Harry, I just want to get to know my godson a little better… I already missed so much of you life…"

Damn, resorting to emotional blackmail – so much for being a Gryffindor.

Harry fixed Sirius with a cold stare. He really really did not like talking about the Dursleys, about how he, a wizard, was helpless against pathetic muggles.

"Well… They really didn't like magic and as a consequence didn't like me. It wasn't too bad. They just gave me a lot of chores to make me earn my keep. Sometimes food was a bit meagre."

So much for not defending the Dursleys… But he didn't want anybody to know about how they kept him in the cupboard under the stairs until his Hogwarts letter arrived, or about how they never celebrated his birthday, had him wear his whale of a cousin's worn out clothes, punished him for accidental magic by starving him or worked him like a slave in their house and garden. A swell of hatred for his relatives filled him just at the thought of it.

"You mean to say they starved you?"

Harry nodded. There was no use in denying that.

"Those pathetic bastards. Taking it out on a child! Lily never liked talking about her sister… but this… Do you want me to talk to them? A short visit of the deranged murderer Sirius Black could do wonders…"

Sirius grinned at him, showing a bit too much teeth. Yes, Harry could imagine Sirius pulling off the role of a violent psychopath exceptionally well…

Petunia would probably cry hysterically, Dudley piss himself… it was a tempting thought... And that Sirius would do this for him; leave the security of his house to help Harry… that opened a box of warm feelings Harry touched very rarely. But it was little too late.

"Thanks for the offer." Harry grinned back. "But it's better already. Wouldn't want to risk that by scaring them too much."

"What happened to make it better? I hardly believe they just woke up one day as better people?"

Now Harry's smile turned a bit predatory.

"My best friend's father threatened them a bit."

At the mention of friends Sirius' eyes lit up.

"Oh? Who's your best friend? I got to write his father a thank you note." Sirius winked at him conspiratorially.

"Theodore Nott."

Sirius smile vanished faster than the air of a balloon pierced with a needle.

"Theodore Nott? The son of the known Death Eater William Nott?"

"Suspected Death Eater. He was never convicted." Harry corrected automatically.

His godfather only snorted angrily. "Yeah, neither was Lucius Malfoy for that matter. Did he plead Imperius Curse as well?"

Shrugging his shoulders noncommittally Harry tried to avoid answering that question. Sirius had hit the mark. As far as he knew Theo's father had even managed to make the Ministry pay him a compensation for the week he had had to spend behind Azkaban's bars. Harry had the very strong suspicion that this was not a topic one should discuss with a wrongly imprisoned man.

Sirius continued heatedly. "The Notts are not a good family, Harry. Your friend's father and grandfather are both Death Eaters. You really have to stay away from them… especially now…"

"What do you mean, stay away from them? Theo is my best friend! The hell I'll stay away from him!"

Sirius had no business demanding such a thing. A week ago they didn't even know what the other looked like, and already Sirius felt he had the right to intervene in his friendships?!

"Didn't you listen to me? His whole family are Death Eaters!" Sirius was standing now, his face red, but Harry was not about to back down.

"Please, I knew that before you told me. That doesn't mean anything." Harry had left his seat now as well.

"It doesn't… It doesn't mean anything? Are you trying to tell me you are okay with Death Eaters?"

"I never said that. But Theo is a great friend. And even his father helped me with the Dursleys."

"Yeah, right. Don't be under the illusion he only did it to help you. He probably felt like being back in the good old days. Scaring muggles shitless. Great start for a fun summer." Sirius sneered down at him making Harry hate his short posture once again.

"So what?! It's not as if you didn't offer to do the same thing only a minute ago!"

"Yes, but for totally different reasons Harry! Can't you see that? They are Notts, selfish bastards. They don't act out of the kindness of their heart!"

"Yeah and you are a Black!" Harry threw back. The man was being totally irrational. Theo was a great friend, his best friend. The one person he could talk to about anything… or at least that's how it used to be. Ever since the Dark Lord's return Theo's letters were conspicuously uninformative… Harry shook his head to get these thoughts out of his head. That was not something he wanted to think about now.

Sirius looked even angrier than he had before. "Yes I am a Black. But I never agreed with my family, I'm not a Slytherin like the rest of them, I was sorted into Gryffindor…"

"Oooh… so being a Gryffindor equals being a good person now?! Do you tell yourself that at night before you go to sleep? And I guess Slytherins are the bad guys in your perfect little world? Thanks for informing me."

Harry turned around and stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him loudly. Prejudiced arsehole. He had known Sirius had had a problem with his sorting from the beginning. Shouldn't have expected anything else. And Theo… how dare he judge Theo?! Theo who hadn't answered his letter for almost two weeks now…

He was so angry and lost in his thoughts that he didn't see Molly Weasley approach him before it was too late to disappear behind one of the numerable doors in the hallway.

"Oh Harry, there you are! I've been looking for you all over. Come along, we are cleaning the second family room today."

Without deigning her with an answer he followed her up to the second floor. Physical work always was a good distraction. He really didn't want to think about Theo and what his friend was up to these days that was so important that he couldn't even spare the time to pick up a damn pencil and write back. Or about what Sirius probably thought of him because he was a Slytherin…

Mrs Weasley led him into the room in question. It looked like an identical replica of the drawing room on the first floor. Only this one was a lot dirtier and the tapestry of the Black family tree was missing. Longbottom and his friends were already hard at work.

"Here we are. You could help Hermione scrub the carpet… I think it's supposed to be red…" She looked at the dirty grey ground doubtfully. "Anyway, I'll be downstairs. Ginny and I are cleaning another bedroom… Remus – ah Professor Lupin I mean – is supposed to come tomorrow and there's still so much to do… I've never seen a worse doxy infestation in my life…" She bustled out of the room, already calling for Fred and George.

Without so much as looking at the others, Harry grabbed the nearest wire brush and started working his anger into the floor. After minutes of relentless scrubbing, a patch no bigger than his palm stood out in pale red. Merlin. It would take ages to clean the whole room like this.

Time went by at snail's pace, and Harry was getting increasingly frustrated. Trying to work out his pent up aggressions was of no use when the work itself only added to his frustration. Not allowed to use magic in a magical household. The stupidity of some people!

A shuffling sound behind him made him turn around. There, right next to him, looking at him kneeling on the floor stood the ugliest, oldest house-elf Harry had ever laid eyes on.

"Filth… Halfbreeds… Besmirching the noble house of Black…" Its angry mutterings brought Harry out of his stupor and he turned to look at the other three teenagers incredulously.

"Why the hell are we cleaning the room if Sirius has a freaking house elf?"

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione Granger stared at him frostier than ever before, her voice weirdly calm.

"What I mean? I mean: Why are we doing its work?"

Granger abandoned her lying position to get up on her knees.

"It? This is Kreacher. He is male, and definitely not a thing!"

The elf didn't pay his defender any attention and continued spouting swear words.

"Well… that still leaves the question, why we are doing his work, then."

"His work? What makes you think this is his work? He is not even using this room!"

Harry looked at her flabbergasted. Was there something he was missing in this conversation? The last time he checked people kept house-elves to do the housework.

"What makes me think… well… maybe for starters that he is a house-elf?"

"Are you trying to tell me that you encourage the enslavement of his entire race?" Granger still knelt on the floor, hands on her hips, eyes fierce.

"Enslavement?" What the fuck?

"Of course. Or how would you call it to force somebody to work for you without payment or rights for time off? That's barbaric and definitely slavery!"

"Seriously? They are called house-elves for a reason, you know…"

"Yes, the reason being human cruelty!" She nearly screamed at him, but thankfully took a few calming breaths before she continued. "Did you never hear about S.P.E.W. back at Hogwarts? I mean… you are in our year and all that… even if we don't interact much… or at all… I thought most people would have heard by now…"

"Espee-what?"

"S.P.E.W. The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare! Honestly. I really thought most students would have heard of it…" The last part of the sentence was mumbled quietly as if she were talking more to herself than him.

Harry for his part felt a bit confused. He had never before heard of that organisation. Nor any other going in that direction…

"No, never heard of it."

"Well, you should think about joining. The fee's two sickles. We always need more members and you definitely need a wake-up call. We are fighting for equal rights and the houe-elves freedom. They have the right to be paid and go on holidays as well."

"You?" Harry had a sneaking suspicion, but it couldn't be… right?

"Yes us." She pointed at Weasley, Longbottom and herself. Both boys in the meanwhile were inspecting the carpet with immense interest.

"You," Harry stated flatly.

"Of course. I founded the organisation last year."

Sweet Merlin, the woman was being serious. Harry burst out laughing.

"Thank you... Granger," he yelped in-between loud laughs. "I really needed a good laugh today."

Said girl in the meanwhile was anything but content to be the reason for his amusement.

"You think this is funny? It's about human rights!"

Still sniggering Harry answered, "And that's where you are mistaken. It's not about human rights because they are, in fact, not human. They are magical creatures, born to work in magical households."

"So you think they are born to serve wizards? Of all the bigoted-"

Weasley chose that moment to enter the conversation, probably trying to win points with his crush. "Well what did you expect Hermione? I told you he was just like all the other Slytherins."

At these words Harry felt his temporarily forgotten anger rise up again. So he was just another Slytherin right, just another evil snake? Harry knew that his next words would not endear him to them and were largely fuelled by his anger at Sirius, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Well I certainly didn't expect anything else. You couldn't make it more obvious that you are just another ignorant mudblood if you tried," he addressed Granger, ignoring the rapidly reddening faces of the two boys.

"Shut up, Potter!" Weasley shouted furiously, but Granger intervened with admirable calmness for being the one the slur was directed at.

For some reason this infuriated Harry even more. He didn't want to have a calm conversation, he wanted to fight and get rid of the pent up emotions that plagued him since his talk with Sirius. He didn't dare imagine what Theo or his other Slytherin friends would say to such a blatant display of his feelings. They always told him he was far too impulsive.

"Why does fighting for elfish rights make me ignorant?" Granger asked. Her left eye was twitching a bit, and she gripped her brush tighter than was necessary. So she was angry too, she just dealt better with it.

"It just proves that you have absolutely no concept of how the magical world works. It shows that you are just another mudblood that enters our world and expects everything to change to fit her muggle-view of things."

"That's not true-" Granger started to say, but Harry was not finished. It felt good to rant.

"Your dear house-elves for instance. They don't want to be free. There is a reason giving them clothes is the worst punishment in their mind."

"Yes, the reason being that they have been brainwashed for generations," Granger said, not ready to give an inch.

"So, um, you know that they don't want to be free, but decided to free them anyway?" Harry asked puzzled. He had assumed that Granger had not bothered to talk to the creatures directly. Why would anybody want to free elves knowing that they didn't even want it themselves?

"Yes," she said steadfastly. "Because slavery is always wrong. They have a right to be free. You should understand where I'm coming from, Sirius said you were raised in the muggle world too."

Great.

"Yeah, I know where you're coming from. But what's true for the muggle world doesn't necessarily have to be true here too. When I joined this world, I tried to understand its culture. I wanted to know the world that should have been mine since birth, wanted to know the culture my ancestors grew up in and helped shape. The magical world is different from the muggle world Granger, and it's a good thing too."

Well he was not being totally honest. At first he had been content to learn about the magical world as he went, but being one of the only muggle-raised wizards in Slytherin made researching his roots a necessity. Slytherins were not exactly known for their patience when dealing with muggleborns after all. In his first year not even the name Potter had saved him from being called a "mudblood" from time to time when he showed his lack of knowledge too blatantly.

"I have learned a lot about the wizarding world too," Granger said. "But some things-"

"You have?" Harry interrupted. "So you know why Samhain's a holy day, or how wizards celebrate the Winter Solstice?"

"Nobody celebrates the Winter Solstice anymore. The Weasleys are a pureblood family, and even they celebrate Christmas."

Harry shot Ron an unimpressed look. "Well, there is a reason a lot of people call them blood-traitors…"

"It's called progress, you idiot," Weasley snapped, unwilling to let this slight against his family pass. "It just shows that we are not afraid of change."

"You call it change, I call it a pathetic imitation of the muggle world."

As Harry left the room, he noticed that the vile elf had stopped its ramblings and was staring after him with big eyes. He grinned. If insulting Granger and the others endeared him to the elf than there was a big chance he would have its loyalty by the end of the summer. And to gain the favour of a house-elf was definitely nothing to complain about. They were handy little things, after all.

That evening Harry's reading was interrupted by a soft knock on his door. He quickly hid the questionable book he had taken from the Black library under his pillow and pretended to be reading one of his schoolbooks.

"Yes?"

The door handle moved down and Sirius' head appeared in the crack.

"Harry, can we talk?"

"Sure, come in."

His godfather smiled briefly and sat down on the edge of Harry's bed.

"I just wanted to say that I am sorry. I overreacted today. I shouldn't have… but the name… I just… I fought in the first war and with Azkaban and everything it's still very close to the surface for me. I knew William Nott back then and he could be a right bastard when he wanted to. But I don't know you friend and… well… all I am trying to say is that I am really sorry for the way I reacted and I hope that you won't shut me out now… I really want to get to know you… you know?"

Sirius little monologue left Harry feeling weirdly touched. He hadn't expected his godfather to come to him and ask him for forgiveness… What was Sirius trying to gain with that? Or was this how somebody acted when they genuinely cared for you? He only had his experiences with the Dursleys to compare this to, and they didn't exactly fight for his affection.

The more he thought about it the more it looked like Sirius was really just trying to get to know him. Well… he had been prepared to act as though nothing had happened anyway, so this was fine with him.

"Yeah sure. I want to get to know you better too."

They talked for about half an hour after that, carefully avoiding any potentially dangerous topics. To Harry it became all to clear though, that Sirius was extremely frustrated to spend his days locked up at Grimmauld Place. He had an idea and really hoped that Sirius was up for it.

"Sirius, you are an animagus, right?"

"Oh yes. I can turn into a dog." Sirius smiled proudly. "Your father and I worked on it together. He was a stag, did you know?"

Harry had in fact not known. It was a nice little tidbit of information and actually a perfect bridge to the question he wanted to ask next.

"No I didn't… Have you ever visited their graves?"

Sirius looked up startled. "No, not yet. Have you?"

"Neither. Would you like to go together? You obviously would have to go in your animagus form but…" The rest of the sentence was muffled by Sirius' shoulder as Harry was too surprised by the sudden embrace to move his head in time.

Harry sat there stiffly and waited for Sirius to release him. He really couldn't understand why people liked hugs so much. He felt suffocated, constricted in his personal space.

Sirius released him slowly. "Yes Harry, I would love to go there with you. I am glad you felt you could ask me."

Harry smiled back. He couldn't say it out loud, the thought still too new to him, but he also enjoyed having a person in his life he could ask for things like that.

Sirius wanted to talk to Dumbledore before visiting the graveyard. Apparently the headmaster played an active role in hiding his godfather from the Ministry and its Aurors. It never seized to amaze Harry in how many things the old headmaster was secretly involved.

After the first two weeks of his stay at Grimmauld Place Harry had to correct his assumption that the little club that was meeting here was organized by Augusta Longbottom, no… by now Harry was pretty sure that it was in fact Albus Dumbledore who led this small group of people.

He didn't show up for every meeting, had in fact only been present twice so far, but both times he was treated with utmost respect and Harry and the other "children" had been sent upstairs immediately.

Harry still wasn't sure about the exact purpose of the organization. Naturally all of them opposed Voldemort, but were they only trying to spread to word and gather information? Or was there more to it? Were they going to fight actively along side the Aurors?

Now that he thought of it, he also started to question his parents' death. Neither of them had worked as an Auror, so why did the Death Eaters target them? Why had it been necessary for them to hide under the Fidelius charm? Had they been part of Dumbledore's little group, maybe even actively fought in the last war?

Harry became painfully aware of how little he actually knew about the last war. The objectives of both sides for instance… who had been fighting for what exactly?

Voldemort was not something commonly discussed in Slytherin. Of course it was an open secret that many sympathised with his cause, but the previous years had not been a good time to openly declare loyalty to a dead Dark Lord's agenda. Those who Harry suspected to really know something – the children of former Death Eaters – were especially tight lipped.

All Harry could say with certainty was that Voldemort had been a pureblood fanatic with an extreme hatred for all things muggle. Not that Harry blamed him for the last part. He too would prefer to steer clear of those ignorant sheep in the future, but then again… that didn't mean he wanted to wipe them off the face of the earth completely.

Once or twice he'd overheard Longbottom and his two cronies whisper about "the Order". So the "Order of Phoenix" was probably the real name of the group...

In times like these Harry damned his insatiable curiosity. Theo often said he was too nosy for his own good, and Harry reluctantly had to agree.

Back in first year, after Dumbledore had returned his father's invisibility cloak to him, this character trait had nearly gotten him killed.

At the time he'd spent whole nights sneaking through the castle hidden under the guise of his cloak. Then, one night pretty much at the end of first year, he'd encountered Longbottom, Granger and Weasley, hurrying down the forbidden third floor.

Of course he had had to follow them, and as a consequence nearly ended up as a snack for a three-headed-dog guarding a trap door. Thankfully his survival instinct stepped in at that point, and instead of following the three reckless Gryffindors he returned to his dorm. Merlin knows what the three idiots thought they were doing sneaking past a monstrous guard dog blatantly ignoring all of Dumbledore's warnings.

...

Ever since his not-so-friendly talk with the Golden Trio three days ago, they'd left him mostly to his own devices. Not that they had spent much time together before that, but at least they had been trying to include him sometimes and Granger used to join him in the library.

Now sitting in said library all alone, being able to look at whichever book he wanted, Harry had to admit that he was pretty satisfied with this outcome.

Had he known that calling her a mudblood would rid him of her bothersome presence – Oh Harry, don't touch it! I think it's one of the books Sirius warned us away from! Honestly, do you want to get yourself injured? That's the third time this happens. – he would have done so the first day. Now she only came to the library, glared at him and the book in his hands mistrustfully and left the second she had found her new reading material.

At the moment Harry was reading the journal of one of Sirius' ancestors, Arcturus Black I, who lived in the 19th century. It constantly switched from being utterly boring to completely fascinating.

By the looks of it Arcturus had not been a very happy man. He'd married for political reasons and alternated between calling his wife simply "the wife" or "the dragon". From the Black family tree Harry knew that Arcturus had had three children, one son and two daughters, but in his journal he only ever mentioned "the heir" and "the girl". Harry suspected that the man might not have cared enough for his daughters to distinguish between them. Those parts, where the Arcturus complained about his inadequate family, were tedious to read, but sometimes, hidden beneath loads of emotional tripe, the man revealed a sharp but cruel mind.

He'd for instance invented a dark curse that transformed a person's eyes into glowing embers that subsequently burned their way through the brain until they left through the back of the head. Apparently Arcturus got the idea from watching one muggle shoot another in the head with a revolver.

The spell never achieved great popularity. In battles it was practically useless because in order for it to work one needed to hit the victim at least somewhere in the face. For torture it killed too fast.

"Harry?" Mrs Weasley opened the door to the library without knocking. Her eyes followed the journal Harry tried to inconspicuously slide between the other books on the desk. She frowned deeply.

"Yes, Mrs Weasley?" Harry asked politely, at the same time wondering where this sudden interest in his reading came from. He'd always been careful to return all the books before he left… Hermione! She had caught him near some questionable books more than once. At the time he had thought she believed that it was just a coincident but maybe she was more attentive than he'd given her credit for. Or he was a worse actor than he liked to believe.

"The drawing room on the second floor still needs a lot of work. Ron and Neville will help you later." She turned around without waiting for his answer. Damn, she seemed angry. This was definitely not good.

After carefully returning all the books, Harry reluctantly crossed the corridor and entered the thrice-damned room once more. No matter how much time they spent cleaning it, the dirt never lessened.

He was about to start dusting an old grandfather clock when a noise coming from the opposite side of the room startled him. Immediately he released his wand from its holster and turned around slowly. There was nothing there. Shaking his head Harry turned back to continue the cleaning.

Krrrtsh… krrtsh…

Harry swirled around, this time faster, his wand held high. Again, there was nobody there.

Krrrtsh… Krrrtsh…

"Show yourself!" Harry hissed as he carefully made his way to the other side of the room.

No answer.

Krrrtsh… Grmph…

Harry looked around once again, but the noise definitely came from in front of him. If he was not mistaken it originated from the writing desk next to the window…

Hesitantly he reached out his hand. "It's just a bloody cabinet. Get a grip." He murmured to himself. It was probably just another stupid prank by the Weasley twins.

His hand touched the serpentine handle and he pulled hard. Nothing happened. The door wouldn't budge.

He looked around carefully, making sure he was still alone, before he pointed his wand at the cabinet.

"Alohomora." Harry whispered.

The door clicked open. Harry instinctively took a step back.

A manicured hand appeared, pushing the door open wide enough for a man to step out. He was clad in the maroon coloured robes of an Auror. His black slicked back hair and the brown, emotionless eyes intensified the hostile air his whole persona emanated. The man sneered down at Harry maliciously, exposing a row of pearly white teeth.

"Mr Potter. Harry James Potter, is it?"

Harry stumbled back further, incapable of answering.

"Tsk, tsk… Stop right there, Mr Potter. You can't flee from this."

The man lifted his left hand until it caught Harry's attention.

Harry's eyes grew wide. That couldn't be! The man had his wand. How?

The Auror moved one step closer to Harry, now holding Harry's wand with both hands.

"Yes Mr Potter. As I said, you can't flee from this. There is no way out. But you expected this anyway, didn't you? You knew that it was a mistake from the beginning. You never should have had a wand. You deceived the wand maker into selling you one, didn't you?"

"N-no…" Harry stuttered in horror.

"Oh yes, you did, Mr Potter. You are no wizard. You don't deserve to use magic."

"Please… no…"

A loud krack echoed through the room and Harry's wand dropped to the ground, broken in two. Harry's knees gave out and he sagged to the floor, tears streaming down his face.

"No... No, no, no! Please! Please! " He screamed between sobs, but the Auror only laughed.

"Look at you. Pathetic child. You are not worthy of magic. You are not worthy of using a wand. You are just a filthy m…"

Another man stepped in front of Harry and with a silent puff the Auror disappeared and a silver ball took his place.

"Riddikulus!" His saviour shouted and the silver ball swished through the air loosing its form.

"My wand! He – he broke my wand!" Harry was beside himself. His wand was broken, destroyed.

The man turned around identifying himself as Remus Lupin, his former Defence teacher. He bent down to Harry shaking his shoulder softly.

"Harry. It wasn't real. It was just a boggart, an illusion. Your wand is in your hand."

Perplexed Harry looked down at his hands. Lupin was right. His wand was still whole, safe in his own hand.

Only then Lupins earlier words registered.

A boggart.

A freaking boggart. He had just made a complete fool of himself. Boggarts were what…? Third year material…?

Harry pretended not to see Lupin's outstretched hand, preferring to get up on his own. He really didn't want to appear even weaker in front of the man by letting himself be dragged up like some little cry-baby.

"Thank you sir. I should have been able to get rid of a boggart myself."

Lupin only smiled benignly as though Harry had not just embarrassed himself completely.

"Don't think too much of it Harry. It happens to the best of us. Vicious little beasts. I didn't remember that fear from your third year though…"

"I was sick that day." Harry answered quickly. Actually he'd only been sleep deprived and pretending to be sick that day, as he'd spent the night before exploring Hogsmeade with Theo under his invisibility cloak. It was just his luck that this would come back to bite him in the ass.

"Well if this was your first boggart than there is even less to worry about. Nobody expects you to be able to handle one without former experience." Lupin again took hold of Harry's shoulder and guided the boy towards the door.

"Come along. Molly actually sent me to fetch you for lunch when you didn't answer her calls. She prepared meat pies for today. Delicious, I tell you. She uses some special recipe…"

Harry blocked Lupin's voice out. His thoughts were still circling around the boggart. No matter what Lupin said, he should have been able to deal with one single, little boggart.

Harry took pride in being among the best students of his year. He loved magic with all his heart and always sought to improve himself, to learn more, to become a more powerful wizard, to distance himself further from his pathetic muggle relatives.

But what was all of this worth if he was too weak to defend himself against that stupid creature? Maybe he really didn't deserve magic.

No. Harry shook his head aggressively, trying to make the traitorous thoughts disappear. He was a good wizard. He could be a great one. The sorting hat had told him as much. (And Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness…) He would just keep studying and improving himself. And maybe he would look up a dark spell that could blast that boggart to bits. Just ridiculing it didn't seem enough in the face of his own embarrassment.


Tadaaa... third chapter. I hope you liked it!

Thank you for your reviews, by the way! Made my day. Again: If you have a moment, please share your thoughts with me! Feedback is greatly appreciated.

"And Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness..." is of course a quote from J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone".