After the incident with the boggart, Lupin's classes continued to be exciting and interesting. Fortunately, there were no more incidents, and everything went smoothly. Almost everyone agreed that he was the best defense professor in ages, and except for a few detractors in Slytherin everyone else was impressed.

The school year, for once was relatively uneventful. Ron and Hermione were fighting because Crookshanks kept attacking Ron's rat, but Harry did his best to stay out of it. Sometimes he envied Steven, who lived in the dormitories of another House and didn't have to listen to Ron's continual complaining.

Harry was forbidden visits to Hogsmeade. He had a serial murderer after him, and even if he hadn't, his aunt and uncle had refused to sign his permission slip.

It was frustrating to watch his friends leaving, but Harry knew better than to complain.

Even Steven left with the others, leaving Harry to wander the castle alone.

Harry took the opportunity to speak with Lupin, who reassured him that he hadn't overlooked him with the boggart because he thought he couldn't handle it. He'd been attempting to save the class from seeing Voldemort.

"If I'd known more about Steven's background, I'd have never allowed him to face the boggart," Lupin said ruefully.

Apparently the professor had been spending some time with Steven since the incident with the boggart in an effort to learn all he could about him.

Of course, with classes and Quidditch practice and working to start his own band, Steven didn't have a lot of time for anyone. He still studied with Hermione, although Hermione said he wasn't needing her help nearly as much as he had in previous years.

She seemed a little wistful when she said it.

Snape came to deliver a potion to Lupin, followed by an arguing Amethyst and Peridot. The look of exasperation on the man's face was almost enough to make his presence worth Harry's while.

His friends returned with enough stories about Hogsmeade to make Harry envious. Their pockets were filled with candy as well. Steven carefully shared his with Harry, reasoning that Amethyst would likely eat anything he had left over anyway.

He walked with them on their way back to their tower. They stopped; there was a crowd surrounding the entrance to Gryffindor tower.

It soon became apparent that the Fat Lady's picture had been slashed to pieces, and according to Peeves, it had been done by Sirius Black!

Sleeping on the floor on sleeping bags in the Great Hall wasn't a hardship for Harry; he'd spent most of his life sleeping on the floor in a cupboard. The muggles seemed to take it well enough, other than their fear of the mass murdering serial killer wandering the halls of Hogwarts.

It was the purebloods who seemed to have the most trouble with it. They were used to the conveniences of modern life. From what he'd heard from Ron, even camping was done in wizarding tents that had all the conveniences of home.

Black wasn't found, and everything went relatively back to normal the next day.

Still, everyone was on edge after that. Teachers found excuses to escort Harry everywhere and even Steven and Amethyst had taken to following him around. Steven admitted that he'd been asked to do so by the Headmaster, although he said he'd have done it anyway.

The attack seemed like the only thing anyone could talk about, and all Harry wanted was to try to not think about it. Becoming obsessed with something he couldn't control would only lead to his becoming fearful of everything. He couldn't go around worrying about every shadow, every footstep, or every stray noise. He'd never be able to do anything.

Steven told him about his own experiences with future vision, about becoming obsessed about how everything could kill him. It seemed odd that someone as seemingly invulnerable as Steven could be frozen by the fear of doing anything, but it made him feel a lot better.

All he could do was to try to be ready for whatever came.

Quiddich was his escape, and he threw himself into practicing ever harder.

It was a surprise then, to discover that instead of Slytherin they were facing Hufflepuff for their next game.

"Malfoy faked an injury," Wood said, gritting his teeth.

It was obvious why; nobody wanted to play in the kind of weather they were facing. Quidditch wasn't called off for weather, but without a seeker, the game couldn't end.

It was such a Slytherin thing to do that Harry couldn't even bring up the energy to care.

"This isn't going to be easy," Wood said. "They've got Diggory and Universe."

"This kind of weather might work in our favor," Fred Weasely said. "Universe doesn't weigh much; the wind will be blowing him all over the place."

Steven hadn't grown in two years while Harry had. Normally being small was an advantage as a seeker, as it made it easier to fly fast and to be agile. With the kind of winds they were seeing outside, Harry's extra weight would be an advantage.

"It doesn't matter how strong he is," George said. "There's only so much the broom can do, and his broom isn't as good as Harry's."

"He's fast, though," Wood said. "And Diggory is good too."

"We can take them." Harry was confident. The Hufflepuffs had become a team to be reckoned with over the past two years, but the Gryffindor team had been working just as hard. For once the weather might even give them an advantage.

Steven could have afforded a better broom, given his Acromantula and Basilisk money, but from a sense of fair play, he'd chosen not to buy one.

Harry wasn't as picky. Steven was already superhuman. Harry would take every advantage he could get.

The wind was bad enough that it was hard to even walk onto the field. The Slytherins were in the stands under umbrellas and Harry could see Malfoy smirking , although the sound of the wind was loud enough that he couldn't hear the crowd at all.

It was horrible weather; within five minutes of taking to the air Harry was cold and miserable. The rain on his glasses made it hard to see, and he could barely tell if the people he was almost running into were on his team, or the other.

It was getting harder and harder to hold his broom; his hands were freezing and feeling numb. Twice he was almost unseated by a bludger.

When the whistle blew for a time out, Harry was happy to drop to the ground, even for a short period.

"We're up twenty points," Wood said. The wind hadn't bothered Steven nearly as much as they'd hoped, and he'd been interfering in their game. "But if somebody doesn't find the snitch we'll be here all night."

"I can't see," Harry said. He rubbed at his glasses with hands that were numb.

"Here, let me," Hermione said. She cast a quick spell on his glasses. "It repels water."

"That's brilliant!" Harry said.

Anything that would get them off the field and into the warm castle quicker was more than welcome. He could have kissed Hermione in that moment, and in the minutes that followed as he took to the air again, it made all the difference.

A flash of lightning showed an enormous shaggy black dog silhouetted against the sky, sitting at the top of an empty row of seats. Harry felt himself slipping, his broom dropping as he stared.

Another flash of light and the dog was gone.

Steven flashed by him, and Harry turned; he saw the snitch and headed toward it. Steven had a lead and he was lighter, but he was struggling against the wind more than Harry. Furthermore, Harry's broom was faster.

He started closing the distance between them, but then he felt that something was wrong. He continued to struggle against the wind, but the wind stopped howling. The world became silent, as though Harry had suddenly become deaf.

He felt a sudden wave of cold; not the unpleasant , normal cold he'd been suffering through for the entire game, but something deeper. This was uncannily familiar and it took Harry a moment to realize what it was.

"Oh no," he had time to say.

He had time to see Steven grabbing the snitch, then another flash of lightning illuminated the horror below.

There were almost one hundred Dementors on the field looking up at him, almost as though they were waiting to devour his soul.

He heard the sound of screaming in his mind, and a moment later he felt himself slipping off his broom.

"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen."

"It's a good thing Steven is so fast," the next voice said. "I didn't think a school broom could move like that."

"He jumped the last thirty feet." It was Hermione's voice. "Wrapped them both in a bubble. I almost think he was more worried about the dementors than the fall."

Harry blinked and opened his eyes. "We lost, I guess."

If he hadn't lost other games to the Hufflepuffs it would have stung more, but Steven had taught him that there was more to life than winning.

Not that winning wasn't better, of course. It just wasn't the only thing.

"Steven tried to ask for a rematch," Ron said. "Diggory backed him up, but the teachers wouldn't allow it."

"They won fair and square," Harry said. He grimaced; he still felt cold.

Ron and Hermione looked like drowned rats.

"Where's Steven?"

"He's talking to the Headmaster."

"I've never seen him so angry," Hermione said in a small voice. "He ran out onto the field and silver stuff shot out of his wand, driving the dementors away."

"Did anybody get my broom?"

Hermione looked down, looking sick. "When you fell off your broom, it got blown away. Steven was too busy trying to save you, and I doubt even he would have been fast enough."

"It blew into the whomping willow," Ron said. He looked sick.

He held up what was left of Harry's beloved broom.

All that was left was splinters.

He had to find a way to deal with his weakness against dementors. If he didn't, it might get him killed. It might even be worse than that. He might have his soul ripped from his body and devoured.

At least Voldemort was only likely to kill and torture him.

He had to learn whatever spell it was Lupin and Dumbledore used to repel them; his soul depended on it.