Chapter 8: Oh Boggart

The next day, Harry found himself in Defense Against The Dark Arts class. There was excited chatter going around about the 'new teacher.' Harry smirked, hopefully this time they would be able to keep Remus around, because every teacher they would get in the future would less competent than the last, except maybe Snape, but that was a whole other story. The man could teach, when he wasn't convinced that every child was incompetent. Though, the man had Harry's respect.

"Okay, okay, settle down" came Remus' voice as he walked into the room. Harry sat there, staring at him while reliving the good times in his head. Then he caught himself, before scolding himself once again about acting like a man during his mid-life crisis. It was bad for his health.

Remus quickly finished explaining about Boggarts, all of which Harry already knew. The problem now was weather or not Remus would have him face the Boggart this time around. He had already changed many small details, so he couldn't be positive any event would happen. But nonetheless, Harry wondered, what exactly was his Boggart.

He didn't exactly fear dementors as much anymore, mostly because of his repeated exposure to them along with his mastery of the patronus. He wasn't afraid of Voltemort, that guy was long dead. Harry thought for a couple seconds.

Harry shrugged, he'd wing it. And, on the plus side, he'd learn his fears, which was half the battle to overcoming them. Harry raised his hand and volunteered to go first. He stepped in front, as Remus opened up the Boggart's enclosure. A grayish mist came floating out, before swiftly transforming into...

All the students behind Harry face-faulted.

Remus was in awe.

And Harry flinched.

Before him was a mundane scene of himself, sitting in his office, with paper work. And not just any paper work. Piles and piles of paper work that stacked all the way up to ceiling. And Harry knew what would happen if he didn't finish it. First, he'd have to listen to Hermione's rant on how important paperwork was. Then the Minister of Magic would hold onto his paycheck for a bit. And then he'd have to go home, and listen to his wife's rant about how he was lazy and trigger happy about always wanting to go out and hunt dark wizards.

Harry mentally slapped himself. This wouldn't do. He wouldn't let this happen again. He was given a second chance to not take the whole world on his shoulders.

Harry lifted his wand and shouted the spell, "RIDDIKULUS!"

The papers all spontaneously combusted into flames. And Harry laughed. And laughed some more. Then fell over and continued to laugh. The Boggart screeched and went back into its case.

Harry giggled a little more, then sighed, before getting up. He turned around to find everyone staring at him. Even Remus was put off.

"Thank you, and that concludes today's performance!" Harry stated with a bow, before returning to his seat. Then the whole class burst out laughing. Except Hermione, who felt Harry should see a professional. Immediately.

Neville went next, followed by Ron and the rest of the class. Hermione sat the exercise out again.

After the hellish nightmare, Harry made his way to eat. At the table, he heard chatter about Snape in an old woman's cloths. Guess somethings fate didn't want to screw around with. At least it made almost everybody forget about his encounter with the Boggart. Almost everybody.

"So, Harry, is your greatest fear really homework?" came Ron's excited voice. It seems that he felt that such a mundane weakness for a hero made Harry lesser than Ron. Oh well, time to crush his hopes.

"No, Ron. My fear is not homework. It was symbol. A symbol for the boring life that I fear to live out, representing regret and anguish of the soul. With weight of responsibility being shouldered by a single individual, I want to carve my own path, make my way, write my own tale, seek my own-"

"What?" And now Ron was very confused.

"He isn't afraid of homework Ron" came Hermione's reliable answer.

"Oh, why didn't you just say so? Anyways, Harry, what are you going to do about Quidditch?"

Harry smiled. Quidditch. How he missed the trill of completely annihilating competition on the field of play. Harry hadn't played since... several years back, where the Weasley's forced him into a seeker match against Charlie. But hey, he was a natural. Maybe he could take a career in professional Quidditch this time around. That wouldn't be too bad.

"I don't know, what about it?" answered Harry.

"Fred and George were saying something about a meeting later. You might want to go check up with Wood" replied Ron.

"Seriously, I don't know what you see in that game!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Oh come on, whats not to love about risking your life trying to catch a lightning fast enchanted little ball hundreds of feet about the ground with bludgers trying to-"

"Okay, okay. I get it.. Boys..." she trailed off as she started to get up.

Harry smirked. He finished up his food, before challenging Ron to a chess match, which he lost, but only just. Ron complimented him on improving, and said he'd have to learn a few tricks to make sure Harry didn't catch up to him. Harry felt like wallowing in his sorrow when he remembered he was several year- many several years ahead of Ron, and yet he still couldn't beat him at chess. Harry sighed. Somethings just weren't meant to be.

After that, Fred and George came along.

"Hey Harry!" came the voice of the twins (1).

"Yo, whats up?"

"Nothing much, Wood just wants to give the team a talk and then schedule practices."

Harry sighed and followed them. He sat through a long and boring talk about how they were going to win the cup, and how it was Wood's last year. They scheduled practice three times a week. And Harry was on his way. This time he wouldn't be smothered by dementors, so Harry could keep his winning record. He was going to become a legend, without a single loss. He'd make his dad proud... though James would probably be annoyed that he was seeker instead of a chaser... but that's besides the point.

Speaking of his dad, Harry needed to pull a prank. It felt like an itch. Like he couldn't relive his childhood the way he wanted to if he didn't prank somebody. Harry scribbled down a mental note. He didn't have much expired with it, but hey, it should be in his blood... right?

So Harry called it a day, silently praying that the next day would bring good news for Sirius. Even if it was going to take a while, he would free Sirius. It would be better for the man in the long run. Now if only he didn't screw it up the next couple of days. Harry chuckled. Things were going well.

Footnotes:

(1) I don't really want to type out the confusing finishing each others sentences thing, but you know how it goes. Just use your imagination!