Author's Notes: Oh, look. Draco's doing his usual smug thing. 'I'm going to put these facts together because it's my FAVORITE thing to do in the world and even if you deny it I will believe my deduction until you prove it's wrong.' No wonder Harry's peeved.
Edit: 07-04-2013 I fixed info that Harry would not be privy to (Extended Learning group in Arithmancy) since he's only had one class so far.
It was morning on Thursday after breakfast when Madam Pomfrey finally let Harry go. Despite her best efforts, Harry's tender left arm remained in a sling. He had already cleaned up and magically Switched his clothes in the facilities adjacent to the infirmary. The Spellfast cloak was not among the provided clothes. It must not have been repairable.
Now Harry was stubbornly carrying his schoolbag in his right hand and ignoring Theodore's friendly chattering. When Harry had woken, the smirking Draco was nowhere to be seen. It was also unfortunate that the very last person Harry wanted to see was the professor of the first class he had that day.
They stepped into the Potions lab. From the looks of things, the class was halfway through the lesson already.
Harry's Slytherin year-mates looked up eagerly as he was led by Theodore to an open spot at a table next to Hermione and Ron.
"How is it, Harry?" Pansy simpered from across the aisle between the tables. "Does it hurt much?"
He sat down on his stool, placing his books next to his feet. "Don't ask silly questions. Of course it hurts," he told her tersely.
"Settle down, settle down," Professor Snape said idly, missing Harry's glare of loathing. Harry would not trust him again, unless it dealt with potions. Those obviously wouldn't poison him, considering that the Death Eater seemed to want him alive when Voldemort returned. The game was already irritating and stupid.
He didn't miss the scowls on some of the Gryffindors' faces. Snape favored the Slytherins above all others. If some non-Slytherin had come in late, hurt or not, they wouldn't have gone without a few nasty, belittling words from Slytherin's Head of House.
Harry glanced at the blackboard for the name of the potion they working on: Shrinking Solution.
Theodore set up a cauldron for each of them and collected the potions ingredients needed for it, while Harry looked at the appropriate page in the book.
"Sir," Draco called out at the table in front of him, "Harry needs help cutting up those daisy roots because of his arm—"
"I don't need—" Harry began but was interrupted.
"Weasley, shred Potter's roots for him," Professor Snape said without looking up from the book his eyes were scanning.
Harry grimaced, looking apologetically to Ron, whose ears had turned brick red. Then Harry sent a glare at Draco before telling the Gryffindor, "You don't have to do that."
"And let him deduct points?" Ron hissed under his breath. He began to thinly slice Harry's daisy roots. They weren't nearly as nicely done as his own, but Harry thought they'd suffice.
"Professor," Draco drawled, "Weasley's mutilating Potter's roots, sir."
"Draco, they're fine!" Harry hissed, pulling the slices towards him to begin creating his base.
Professor Snape had already approached the table, stared down his hooked nose at the daisy roots, and then gave Ron an unpleasant smile. "Exchange roots with Potter, Weasley, as I specifically said to shred Potter's roots."
"But—!"
"Now," Snape said in his most dangerous voice.
Ron shoved his beautifully shredded roots across the table to Harry and gathered the pieces he'd given to Harry. Then Ron took up a thin slice, pinching it between his fingers, with a sour look on his face.
"Sorry," Harry muttered, hating how he was being treated like an invalid, especially from the uncaring likes of a Death Eater.
"It's not your fault, mate," Ron bit out.
Harry looked over to see that Theodore's cauldron was already merrily bubbling. His roommate stirred it with intense concentration.
"And, sir, he'll need his shrivelfig skinned," Draco said with a voice full of malicious laughter.
"Granger, you can skin Potter's shrivelfig." Snape gave her a scathing look, daring her to retaliate.
"Yes, sir," Hermione said quietly, taking Harry's shrivelfig.
Harry opened his mouth to apologize to her, but Draco tsked at him. The memory of his deal with Draco came to the forefront of Harry's mind. With the ingredients he had, Harry started the base, trying to ignore Ron's frustrated noises at the daisy roots. The skinned shrivelfig appeared next to Harry's cauldron. Harry almost thanked her and instead looked away. Draco was smirking more broadly than ever.
"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" Draco asked.
"Talk to someone else, you plonker," Ron said with a jolting manner without looking up.
"I heard they're having a hearing soon to put down that vicious creature," Draco said in a tone of mock sorrow, "Father's not happy about Potter's injury."
"Keep talking, and I'll give you an injury. As far as I'm concerned, it's your fault he was hurt," Ron snarled.
"Both of you hush up," Harry snapped wishing Theodore would do something about them instead of staying quiet. As usual, neither Draco nor Ron listened to him.
"He's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like that—" Draco flicked his fingers towards Harry and then let out a fake sigh, "Who knows if the Boy-Who-Lived's arm will ever be the same?"
"You're trying to get Hagrid fired," Ron said, his voice quivering with anger.
"Well, partly," Draco lied and then dropped his voice to a whisper, "But there are other benefits too." He grinned. "You'll need to thinly slice Harry's caterpillars, too, Weasley."
Ron's face turned cherry red as he complied. Hermione continued to quietly work on her potion to avoid attention from Professor Snape no doubt.
"Stop bullying him and slice them yourself," Harry said darkly, adding the shrivelfig to his bright green potion.
"Why should I, when you're sitting so much closer to him," Draco said primly. Harry opened his mouth and then—
"Orange, Longbottom," Snape's voice carried from the table on the other side of Ron and Hermione. Harry leaned back to see that Snape had ladled some up, allowing it to splash back into Neville's cauldron so that everyone could see its color. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a splash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"
Harry felt sorry for Neville. The Gryffindor regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons as it was his worst subject and his great fear of Professor Snape made things even worse. Neville had gone pink and was trembling noticeably. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.
"Please, sir," Hermione said softly, "please, I could help Neville put it right—"
"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," Snape said coldly, causing Hermione to go nearly as pink as Neville. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to follow directions precisely." Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear.
"Help me!" The stout Gryffindor moaned to Hermione.
Adding the sliced caterpillars to his potion now, Harry narrowed his eyes at his Head of House, who paused at his workspace. "Is there a problem, Potter?"
"Yes, sir," Harry said, standing and raising his voice. "I contest the use of a personal pet as a test subject for a potion brewed by an Unlicensed, Underage Wizard."
"Is that so?" Harry's guardian said slowly.
"Yes, sir," he managed neutrally, shuttering his mind with the image of his old cupboard to keep the niggling sensation of the greasy-haired git out.
Professor Snape eyed him, but when Harry said nothing else the Potions Master nodded. "If that is your complaint, I suppose a substitute can be used."
Neville's hyperventilation eased up. Harry didn't hold his breath. He knew there had to be a catch.
"Weasley, Harry needs his rat spleen diced," Draco said snootily.
Without snapping at Draco, Ron did so without complaint.
Except Harry was having a sinking feeling as Professor Snape walked to the front of the classroom to his desk. The git yanked a box from the floor. "As per Potter's request, we shall test Longbottom's potion on this common garden rat I found wandering about," Snape went on nastily. Then he lifted the lid and pulled out a grey, balding fat rat which squealed in his hands.
"Scabbers!" Ron cried out.
Harry froze. His cauldron would have bubbled over if Theodore hadn't stirred it for him.
"This rat has been abandoned. Obviously it is no longer a pet, but a pest."
Ron's mouth opened, closed, and then opened again at Professor Snape.
Draco let out a low, sneering laugh.
"You shut up!" Ron said through clenched teeth, his fingers gooey with rat spleen.
"You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away your supplies while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's."
Harry felt dispirited. He had tried to help and only made things worse.
Crabbe and Goyle were laughing openly now, leaning closer to Neville as the poor boy stirred his potion feverishly. Whenever Snape's back was turned, Hermione muttered instructions to him out the corner of her mouth.
Feeling defeated, Harry had begun to pack up his unused ingredients.
"I'll put these away," Theodore said helpfully, gathering them up for him.
"Thanks," Harry muttered, irrationally angry that he hadn't interfered.
"It's done," Ron said morosely not a moment later.
"Thanks." Picking up the neatly diced rat spleen, Harry added it to his potion. He then stirred it and was glad to see it turn an acid green. With a tap of his wand, he lowered the heat to stew the potion as Snape had instructed.
Though Neville had always been on Snape's list of failing students, it was very apparent to Harry that Professor Snape was targeting Harry's other non-Slytherin friends, too. With the appearance of Scabbers as the test subject, there was no doubt in Harry's mind of that.
"Nice work, Harry," Draco praised. "Weasley, clean his utensils."
Harry shot a glare at him and took his ladle and stirring rod to the stone basin at the back of the classroom. After rinsing them one-handed, Harry stuck his hand under the icy jet of water that poured from the gargoyle's mouth.
"Thanks for trying to help Neville," Ron said beside him.
"A lot of good it did you," Harry muttered.
"Scabbers is old, older than Neville's toad. And I already thought that Crookshanks had gotten him…"
"Is that why Hermione and you have been fighting?"
"Partly," Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Harry… why'd you do it?"
"Because he picks on Neville enough as it is."
"No, not Snape." Ron seemed embarrassed. "Why'd you run between Buckbeak and Malfoy?"
The Slytherin looked into the redhead's clear eyes. He obviously couldn't tell the Gryffindor the truth; it wouldn't be believed. "Imagine what would have happened to Hagrid if it had been Draco, who'd been bedridden for three days. He'd been suspended right away, don't you think?"
"You—you did it for Hagrid?"
Snape's voice resounded in the classroom, "Everyone gather around and watch what happens to this old rat. If Longbottom has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a pinkie. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, this rat is likely to be poisoned."
Neville cowered by his cauldron as Snape grasped the wriggling rat firmly in his left hand. He dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down the screeching rat's throat.
There was a moment of silence and then a small pop, and Scabbers the tiny, dark pink baby squealed and squirmed in Snape's palm.
The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking disappointed, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe. He poured a few drops on top of the baby rat and Scabbers reappeared fully grown.
"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said snidely. He turned to look at Hermione, holding the squealing rat tightly in his fist. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."
Scabbers was dropped carelessly onto the counter, and Ron scooped up the panicked rat. "Scabbers! I thought you were dead!"
Harry leaned over and picked up his schoolbag, aware that Theodore was patiently waiting for him.
"I believe you owe me an apology," Hermione said sharply.
"It was a perfectly logical assumption that that orange-furred pig killed my rat!" Ron retorted.
Hermione humph-ed and picked up her bag, rushing from the classroom.
"Harry…" He looked up, seeing Theodore hovering. "You alright?"
Embarrassed to have been caught staring, he straightened. "Yes, fine." He left the classroom, walking behind Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. It wasn't long before they made it to the top of the stairs.
"Harry, have you seen Hermione?" Ron asked, standing next to Neville. The both of them were looking around with puzzled expressions.
Harry blinked at them. "She left the classroom before we did." Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle continued to the Great Hall without sneering at the Gryffindors. Harry heard someone panting on the stairwell behind him.
"There she is," Theodore said.
Hermione was hurrying up the stairs; one hand clutched her bag while the other seemed to be tucking something down the front of her robes beneath the collar.
"How did you do that?" Ron asked.
"What?" She said as she joined her fellow Gryffindors.
Theodore patted Harry's arm. "C'mon. I'm starved."
Harry nodded heading to the Great Hall with his house-mate. Behind him he heard Ron say, "One minute you were somewhere ahead of us, the next, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again."
"What?" Hermione's confused voice said, before the rest of her sentence was swallowed by the noise of the Great Hall.
The teacher wasn't there when Harry walked into the entirely windowless Ancient Runes classroom near the Ravenclaw house with Theodore. They both took a seat at the front of the classroom.
The classroom began to fill mostly with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Sally-Anne walked in with Hermione chatting breezily to her. They were both chuckling over something when they came to sit by Harry. Looking around at the faces, Harry realized that he, Theodore, and Sally-Anne were the only Slytherins in the class. Harry wondered why as he pulled out the assigned book and everything he would need to write.
A minute before class was to begin, a rosy-cheeked, black-haired witch with coffee-colored skin walked in. Her dark violet robes were covered in gold and silver stick shapes. She even had similar looking symbols hanging from her ears. "Everybody here for Study of Ancient Runes? Very good then," she called out. Pulling a quill from behind her ear, she unrolled the parchment in her hand and began calling names. At Harry's name the professor didn't even bat an eye. Once she'd finished with 'Zabini, Blaise', she rolled the parchment up. "I am Professor Babbling," she said with a smile. "Ancient Runes is a complicated, largely theoretical art. It is not an easy art. It requires no wandwork, no special incantations, only dedication to detail and precise calculation. I expect that half of you will drop out," Professor Babbling said brightly. "But never fear, what you do learn will stay with you for the rest of your life."
She tapped the projector next to her and swung her wand at the lights to dim them. "Open your books to page fourteen, Chapter Two: The Runes."
Harry opened the book and jotted down notes as Professor Babbling lectured. There were a lot of drawings that came up on the slides. Harry did his best to render the runes and label them and their historical uses. Many of them were protective in nature or encouraged bounty and luck. Harry thought he'd recognized a few of them, but he wasn't sure from where.
Before he knew it, the bell for period to end had tolled. The lights turned on and the old-style projector turned off with a tap of her wand. "I want three poems, each at least three lines long, about one of the Runes we used today in class. If I catch any of you copying the other, I'll have you wear this during the next class." Wrapped within a thick black cloth was an innocuous white stone with a crimson red Rune on it. "You will attract undesired luck until Sundown," her voice said gravely. Professor Babbling covered the stone. "Class dismissed!"
Immediately the students filtered out, chatting excitedly to one another.
After Harry had packed up, he saw that Theodore had still not woken. Harry shook his shoulder. "Hey, class is over."
Slumped to the side, Theodore only slept on blissfully. Harry was beginning to feel sleepy too and his legs nearly collapsed underneath him. The moment his hand had slipped off of his roommate the fuzziness disappeared. He stumbled to regain his balance. "Theo, wake up," he demanded lowly as the bad feeling in his gut grew worse.
"What's the matter with him, Harry?" Sally-Anne looked very worried.
"I don't know. Theo's a light sleeper; he shouldn't be out cold like this."
A Gryffindor, the very same who had bullied Harry during their first year, dropped to the floor inspecting the desk. He froze when he saw something under it. "There's an active Runic Triangle on this," he said to them. "Professor Babbling!"
"What is it, Zabini?" The average-sized witch came over from the door.
He pointed at the bottom of Theodore's desk. "I think someone carved a set of runes into this desk."
"I did," Professor Babbling said.
"Whyever for?!" Sally-Anne cried out.
The Ancient Runes Professor crossed her arms. "For practice, why else? Now, can any of you tell me how to break it?"
"Since the desk is wood and the runes used are all wind-based, the most obvious answer is to draw the reverse-Runic Triangle of the counter-runes with fire-water on his desk," Zabini answered swiftly.
"What is fire-water, Zabini?"
"Carbon-based oil, professor."
"Ten points to Gryffindor." The witch pulled out a flask with an unusually shaped top. She unscrewed the cap and turned it over, quickly drawing the pattern on the desk.
Theodore started as if a thunder-clap had woken him. "What'd I miss? Blaise, what's the matter with you?"
Harry blinked. It was strange to hear Theodore talk to anyone outside of Slytherin by their first name.
Zabini looked towards the professor, who'd finished putting away the flask. "She carved a Torpor Runic Triangle into your desk and taught us how to counter it."
"Really?" Theodore turned an impressed expression on their Ancient Runes professor. "Oh, we're going to get along swimmingly. I thought for sure we'd only get to do boring things like Runic translations."
"Good work, Zabini," Professor Babbling said with a grin, not commenting on Theodore's words, as she headed to the classroom door. "Until next time, my sweet pupils." She waved over her shoulder and left the classroom.
When there were no lofty, disparaging comments of the professor's questionable teaching method, it was then that Harry noticed that Hermione had gone somewhere. Strange, Harry thought. This was the sort of thing that Hermione liked to involve herself in. He filed it away, recognizing that this wasn't the first time that Hermione had mysteriously disappeared this year. He went to study period with Theodore and then to dinner.
Friday morning, Harry was looking forward to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He and the other Slytherins sat quietly as they waited. Harry began taking his things out, but Theodore told him to put them away. Frowning, Harry did so. When Professor Lupin finally arrived, he smiled vaguely at them and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train. Harry thought the regular meals in the Great Hall had likely helped the penniless professor.
"Good afternoon," the professor said. "As you all may have already heard, today's lesson will be a practical one. You will need only your wands."
Harry looked around and saw that the rest of his house-mates were eager to learn something of substance. Dueling only taught so much and those lessons were only useful against other magic-using humans. The only practical experience they'd had with magical creatures at Hogwarts was on a cageful of pixies last year, which had been set loose without the previous DADA instructor telling them how to catch them.
"Right then," Professor Lupin said, "follow me."
Intrigued, the Slytherins obediently followed their professor out of the classroom down the deserted corridor and around a corner, where none other than Peeves was floating upside down with a wicked grin on his face. "Loony, loopy Lupin," Peeves sang, "Loony, loony, Lupin."
Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves usually showed some respect toward the teachers. Every Slytherin waited with bated breath to see how Professor Lupin would take this. To their surprise, he was still smiling.
"I'd find somewhere else to be if I were you, Peeves," he said pleasantly.
"No gum today, loony Lupin!" However, Peeve's blew a loud wet raspberry.
Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand. "This is a useful little spell," he told the class over his shoulder. "Please watch closely." He raised his wand to shoulder height and said, "Skurge," twirling the tip of his wand at Peeves.
Something green splashed onto Peeves who shrieked as if acid had hit him. He whirled, cursing, and dove straight into the floor.
"Cool!" Two voices caroused together.
"Thank you, Crabbe and Goyle," Professor Lupin said, putting his wand away.
"Was that a type of Substantive Charm, sir?" Sally-Anne asked politely.
"Good eye, Perks. Five points to Slytherin."
They set off again. Harry noticed that his house-mates were looking at the shabby professor with increased respect. He led them down a second corridor and stopped, outside the staffroom door. He opened it and stood back. "Inside please."
The staffroom was a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs. It was empty. Professor Lupin stepped in behind them, shutting the door. He beckoned the class towards the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe with mirrors on all sides. As their professor went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the floor. Several of them jumped in surprise and backed away suspiciously.
"It's nothing to worry about," Professor Lupin said calmly. "It's only a boggart."
Harry saw that most of the Slytherins relaxed, though both Crabbe and Goyle looked as if this were something to worry about. Draco eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.
"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," Professor Lupin began. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks—I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in two days ago, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to my third years for some practice. Now, can anyone tell me what a boggart is?"
"A shape-shifting shade," Theodore answered. "It can take the shape of whatever it believes will frighten us most."
"Fantastic answer, Nott, five points to Slytherin," Professor Lupin said, and Theodore smiled. "So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out he will immediately become whatever each of us fears most."
"Sir, I respectfully disagree," Draco began with a tone that was barely courteous.
"Do you, Malfoy?" Professor Lupin asked curiously. "Which part?"
"A boggart won't know which shape to take if three or more people approach it at once."
"Correct. Another five points to Slytherin," Professor Lupin said.
Draco blinked in pleasant surprise.
"As Malfoy pointed out, we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we even begin. With our present arrangement, it will become confused. I once saw a boggart make that very mistake—it tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into slug-headed corpse. Grotesque to look at, but not very frightening. Now, can anyone tell me what repels a boggart?" Professor Lupin looked among the teenagers about him.
"Laughter, sir," Theodore supplied. "A boggart, like most Dark creatures, thrives on fear."
"Excellent, another five points to Slytherin."
Harry could sense that his house-mates were nearly preening at the generous awarding of House points.
"Simply using a tickling charm would not be very effective as the boggart would still be presenting a frightening image to us and feeding off our fear. What you need to do is force the boggart to assume a shape that you find amusing. We will practice this charm without wands first. After me please… Riddikulus!"
"Riddikulus!" The class said together, excepting Draco who Harry heard tell Crabbe, "This class is ridiculous."
"Very good," Professor Lupin said, ignoring Draco. "However, the incantation alone is not enough. Would you step forward, Perks?"
Sally-Anne shyly did so. The wardrobe shook again, causing her to jump in surprise. Behind him, Harry heard Draco and his two underlings snicker. Harry shot them a glare.
"First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?" Professor Lupin asked the shortest third-year in Slytherin.
"Acromantula," she answered promptly. Harry knew they were giant venomous spiders.
"How might you force it to look comical?"
Sally-Anne frowned.
"Perhaps you could make it tap-dance?"
She grinned. "I have a better idea."
"Good. Can you picture it very clearly?"
"Yes," Sally-Anne said with certainty.
"When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, it will assume the shape of an acromantula, and you will raise your wand and cry 'Riddikulus' and concentrate hard on making it into something you can laugh at." Professor Lupin turned to look at the rest of them. "When I tell you, you will form a queue. Should Perks be successful, she will move to the back of the queue and the next person will step up. The boggart will shift its attention and the process will begin anew." He looked at them. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how to force it into a shape that would make you laugh."
The room went quiet. Harry thought… what scared him most? His first thought was Voldemort or Tom Riddle returned to full strength… But before Harry could plan a possible counter-attack on the boggart, a horrible image came floating to the surface of his mind… a rotting, glistening hand, slithering back beneath a black cloak… a rattling breath from an unseen mouth… a cold so penetrating it felt like drowning…
"Line up!" Their professor commanded.
There was a mad rush to do so. As usual Harry was near the very end with Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco. Harry hadn't moved fast enough as fear lurched through his belly. He wasn't ready. How could you make a dementor less frightening?
"Wand at the ready, Perks." Lupin stood to the side and flicked his wand at the doorknob. It turned and opened. Harry stepped away from the line and leaned to his side to see it. An incredibly large spider crawled out, the very same kind that resided in the Longbottom's forest… and the Forbidden Forest, if Neville was to be believed.
"Riddikulus!" Sally-Anne cried out tremulously.
The spider lifted up as if gravity had been turned off. It spun around helplessly, its legs frantically flapping about. Sally-Anne burst into loud giggles as did the rest of the Slytherins.
"Good! Bulstrode, forward!"
Bulstrode stepped forward, and the spider suddenly dropped to the ground morphing into a half-rotted corpse, its brains oozing out the side of its head. It gasped and rasped, pushing itself towards her, snuffling hungrily. She raised her wand, "R-riddikulus!"
Suddenly the creature that looked like a zombie was compelled to throw itself into a shuffle, both arms going to one side as it danced in a very ridiculous manner. That earned a great roar of laughter.
"Very good. Nott!" Professor Lupin roared.
Theodore excitedly jumped forward, wand pointed at the boggart.
The zombie spun around, splitting into black particles. It misted into the cracks of the floor. Something moaned, and creaked, and then Theodore's legs were surrounded by a thick black mist that appeared to be sucking him down.
"Riddikulus!"
Whatever it was turned into an elegant, sparkling black dress with a matching set of gloves. Theodore sashayed his hips and posed.
The class roared with approval, laughing uproariously. The dress and gloves slumped to the floor despondently.
Daphne was next. The dress turned into a trunk which hinged its lid open in a menacing manner. A spiky, whip-like tongue lolled out as it growled and drooled. "Riddikulus!" The trunk's tongue sprouted a violet plumage, and the chest began to choke and wheeze, spitting out feathers in a pathetic manner. Daphne howled with laughter with the rest of them.
Pansy stepped forward and a stone statue of an angel formed, but looked like nothing Harry had ever seen before. It was obviously malevolent. Its hands were outstretched towards her with a mouth wide-open, baring fangs. "Riddikulus!" Some time when Harry had blinked the stone statue had tripped on its hem and had broken into many pieces on the floor. The face looked helpless at the pieces as if it hadn't meant to do that. More laughter.
Tracey was next. The stone fragments gathered and spun together and suddenly a green-skinned woman appeared hissing a forked tongue at her. From the waist down the creature's body was that of a very large snake, keeping her upright. "Riddikulus!" The half-snake woman's straggly black hair suddenly blindfolded her and she desperately tugged at the strands, causing a roar of laughter from Harry's year-mates.
The next fear was an… Ooze Monster. That was the first thing that popped into Harry's mind at the sight of the doddering oil blob which glurged and blubbed as it sludged towards Crabbe across the floor. "Riddikulus!" Crabbe cast, and the blob turned into a black, oozing Unicorn, melting like a piece of wax under the hot sun. Crabbe thought this was the most hilarious thing in the world, while the rest of them were somewhat puzzled by his laughter.
Goyle came forward and the Ooze Monster transformed into Professor McGonagall, who approached Goyle with furiously angry eyes. "Ri-Riddikulus!" Goyle managed with a shaking wand. In a flash, Professor McGonagall's hair had fallen out of her usual bun and was instead frizzed out on either side of her head. Her eyes were large and insect-like behind glasses. She raised her hands and said in the breathiest voice Harry had never heard from McGonagall, "Clear your mind! Open your inner eye!"
The class roared with approval, leaving Harry and Sally-Anne guessing at why it was funny at all.
"You want to go first?" Draco murmured behind Goyle at Harry.
Harry shook his head. He still had no idea how he was going to make a dementor into something funny.
Looking rather sick, Draco stepped forward with his wand firmly tucked inside his fist. Professor McGonagall spun around and in her place was a hunched dog-like monster, taller than even the wardrobe, with vicious yellow teeth. The creature was snarling at them, drooling as if they all looked very tasty indeed.
Draco took a shallow breath, "Riddikulus!"
In a jiffy the monster had a silver collar around its mangy throat with a heart-shaped charm. Upon its head rested a large frilly bonnet and bows were all along its furry body. It whined as everyone laughed at its rather pathetic-looking state, and now it was Harry's turn.
When the whining wolf looked at Harry, he un-holstered and raised his wand at ready. There were several long moments, as fear pounded through Harry's mind, before the boggart morphed into a dementor. That was enough to evoke a loud gasp from Harry's classmates. He stood unmoved for a half-second as it rushed towards him.
"Here!" Shouted Professor Lupin as he hurried forward, but Harry was more quick-footed. He side-stepped the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor and cried out, "Riddikulus!" Harry's Dementor suddenly sported a shiny black helmet that covered its head and a long billowing cape. The chest plate had flickering lights, and the glistening gray hands were covered with black gloves. The hollow wheezing was now a comical 'Kaa-khii!' sound. Harry burst into uproarious laughter at the ridiculousness of its appearance.
The masked Dementor, which was actually a Boggart, turned its head side to side in puzzlement.
"Very good, Harry!" With a chuckle, Lupin stepped in front of him. A silvery-white orb hung in the air, partially hidden by dark wispy puffs. "Riddikulus!" he said with a relaxed tone.
Pop! The orb transformed into a yellow balloon which now squealed around the room. Where the class had been silent behind Harry, they now erupted into laughter. Professor Lupin kept his wand trained on the balloon and swung it back to the wardrobe, which had its door open in wait. With a loud slam, the boggart was once again trapped.
"Excellent!" Professor Lupin said. "Well done, everyone! You should all take extra pride that none of you faltered in the face of your greatest fears in spite of the audience you had. Five points to Slytherin for every person to tackle the boggart. Plus an extra ten points to Slytherin because every person participated."
The Slytherins burst into cheers. Along with the sixty points, they'd earned fifteen before they'd started the activity: A total of seventy-five points!
"You would have earned more if I hadn't overheard any complaints whilst I was teaching." Professor Lupin looked pointedly at Draco, who nodded graciously with a much more neutral expression.
"My apologies, professor," Draco said promptly.
"Just be sure to be respectful in the future, Malfoy. I could have just as easily deducted points for every infraction," the professor said looking at everyone else. The Slytherins understood that it was a thinly veiled threat of consequence should it occur again. He clapped his hands together. "Excellent. For homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me. One foot of parchment should do it… to be handed in next Friday. That will be all."
Talking excitedly, the class left the staffroom. Re-holstering his wand, Harry, however, wasn't feeling cheerful. Professor Lupin had deliberately tried to stop him from attempting to subdue the boggart. Why? Was it because he'd seen Harry collapse on the train and thought he wasn't up to muster? Had he thought Harry would pass out again?
"That was the best Defense Against the Dark Art lesson we've ever had, wasn't it?" Sally-Anne's voice swam up behind him.
"He seems like a very good teacher," Pansy agreed.
"I wonder why Professor Lupin's frightened of crystal balls?" Bulstrode asked with a puzzled tone.
It seemed no one had noticed that Harry hadn't followed them out… "Are you coming, Harry?" Theodore called out.
"I'll be right there. I wanted to ask our professor something," Harry answered over his shoulder.
"I'll be in the corridor," his friend responded, shutting the door behind him.
"What is it, Harry?" Professor Lupin sounded concerned. The wardrobe banged behind him.
Harry smothered the irritation he felt when the professor called him by his first name. Harry had noticed that he was the only Slytherin Professor Lupin didn't call by family name.
"Would you like to sit down?" Professor Lupin took a seat at one of the rather comfortable-looking chairs.
"I'm fine, sir." Harry remained standing. "Why did you try to stop me?"
"I would have thought that was obvious," the professor said, sounding surprised.
Harry, who had expected the adult to deny that he'd done any such thing, was taken aback. "I don't see why," he said sourly, trying to keep the sulkiness out of his voice. Obviously, Professor Lupin thought he was a fainting ninny.
"Well," his DADA professor said, frowning slightly, "I assumed that if the boggart faced you, it would take on the shape of Lord Voldemort."
Harry stared. Not only was this the last answer he expected, but Lupin had said Voldemort's name. The only person Harry had ever heard say the name aloud (apart from himself) was Professor Dumbledore.
"Clearly, I was wrong," Lupin said, frowning still. "My apologies, I didn't think it was a good idea for that evil wizard to materialize in the staffroom. I imagined that people might panic."
"I did think of Voldemort… at first." Harry paused. "But then I remembered that night on the train… and the dementor."
"I see," Lupin said thoughtfully. "Well, well… I'm impressed." He smiled softly at the look of surprise on Harry's face. "That suggests that what you fear most of all is—fear. Very wise, Harry."
Harry didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't help thinking that Professor Lupin was warm in all the ways that Professor Snape was cold.
"So you've been thinking that I didn't believe you capable of fighting the boggart?" The DADA professor looked at him shrewdly.
It caught Harry by surprise. "Well… yes."
"What do you think now?"
"I think you don't give Slytherins much credit. I doubt the others would have panicked at all had they seen Voldemort. He's not that scary in his a sixteen-year-old form or as a nose-less specter attached to the back of someone's head," Harry answered honestly.
"I give you and your house-mates far more than they expect," Professor Lupin countered. "How do you know that you aren't overestimating their courage?"
Harry paused thoughtfully. It wasn't courage that would have prevented their panic; many of them respected Voldemort's 'noble' aims, which was the reduction of the stigma against the Dark Arts;. It was something that Harry didn't believe justified the slaughter of his parents twelve years ago. Harry decided that he probably shouldn't air these thoughts, however. "I know them, alright? They'd be intellectually curious. It's not like there are handy photographs of Voldemort lying about."
Professor Lupin nodded. "Quite so."
"I should go. Theo's waiting for me," Harry said courteously.
"Harry, one last thing..." The professor's kind eyes met Harry's eyes steadily. "Our pain becomes the dementors' power. You can't fight a dementor by forcing your negative feelings away."
"I understand," Harry said, wondering why the professor thought he would ever want to face a real dementor again. He left the room; Theodore was holding Harry's schoolbag while his own was strapped to his back, but when Harry reached forward to retrieve it Theodore's fist tightened considerably around the straps.
Harry frowned, dropping his hand. "I thought you were going to stay in the corridor?"
Theodore tossed his gaze upwards flippantly. "I knew you needed to talk to the professor about his desire to save you from the scary boggart."
Trying not to look annoyed, he gave Theodore a flat stare and wiggled his free, unhurt hand expectantly. "I'm not completely crippled," Harry said tartly.
"But this way we both have our wand-hands free, my clueless friend. Do you really think that Sirius Black would simply stop at abducting you?" Theodore said.
Harry ground down his jaw and followed after him. Harry couldn't very well tell him why Black wouldn't hurt him as that information would then spread to the others like an infectious disease. He hoped that Neville had kept his mouth shut about that.
That afternoon, Harry was paired up with Michael Corner in Double Herbology class. They were harvesting shining beans from a puffapod. If one missed the pail, the beans would burst into bloom right before their eyes the moment they touched the ground.
Corner was a quiet bloke with black hair and piercing blue eyes who was also in Arithmancy with Harry. Harry had often seen him chatting with Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein, two other Ravenclaws in his year.
Harry pulled off another feathery pod from the plant and carefully cracked it open to reveal the black beans inside.
"Potter, may I ask you about your boggart's shape?" Corner asked very quietly in the noisy room.
"Why?" Harry didn't want to be teased about it.
"I heard the boggart turned into a dementor for you. I would have expected—"
Harry chuckled. "Yes, most people would, wouldn't they? But a dementor's worse than Voldemort."
Obviously startled to hear the evil wizard's name, Corner's finger slipped and a few beans bounced off the table onto the dirt-packed floor, sprouting.
"Careful, Corner!" Professor Sprout called out.
"Padma wasn't joking about your forthrightness." The Ravenclaw gave him a crooked smile. "I suppose both can drive you mad, one through torture and the other through the severing of happiness. Where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can only cleave one's soul from the body, only a dementor can suck a soul out and leave a still-breathing husk behind."
"What did your boggart turn into?" Harry asked.
"A blackhole. I thought for sure it would have been a supernova ripping through the fabric of space. But a supernova doesn't have the attendant time dilation and infinitesimally small point of origin."
Harry blinked at the Ravenclaw. A blackhole? Obviously, Corner was a Muggle-born. "How did you…"
"Well," Corner let out a small laugh, "I gave it arms and a sign that insisted it needed a hug to change its ways. The sheer absurdity of that made everyone laugh." Placing the emptied seed pod to the side, Corner snapped off another one. "How did you make the dementor look ridiculous?"
"I turned it into Darth Vader."
Michael Corner burst into surprised laughter, startling the rest of the Herbology class.
Harry smirked, inordinately pleased that someone at least understood what he'd done.