VI
Who is Afraid...
Lupin was possibly Harry's favourite teacher, in terms of his lessons at least. Anything would have been an improvement over the ridiculousness of Lockhart's 'teaching', but it was clear as day that Lupin's tutelage was simply excellent. He engaged his students, explained everything carefully and patiently, and was ever approachable.
Harry really couldn't fault the guy. So it was with genuine concern for someone he was growing to care about that he noted the dark circles and haggard look in his professor's eyes as he met them outside of the classroom, with the door firmly shut.
"Good morning second years!" he said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them furiously, perhaps in an attempt to rouse himself. "Bit of a different one today. Professor Sprout found a boggart in the staff room yesterday evening, and I thought you all would benefit from a little hands-on experience. Now I know, I know; boggarts aren't on the curriculum until next year, but life has a habit of throwing things your way before you're ready for them. My job is to teach you how to deal with that, so… follow me."
He set off at a pace that had his shorter legged followers skipping every few steps to keep up. Except Luna, of course, who was skipping properly, and apparently knew the way to the teachers' staff room as she took the lead unerringly.
Neville was also faster than his classmates, as he drew up alongside the professor and haltingly raised a concern.
"B-boggart, sir?"
"Yes, Longbottom. You know about them?"
"Y-yes. I, um, I wanted to say…"
"Yes?"
"It's just that, well…"
"Come on lad, out with it," Lupin snapped, harsher than Harry had ever heard him.
That had the effect of shutting Neville up completely, but Ginny took up his place and cause.
"I think Neville's worried, sir. After what happened on the train and all…"
"Oh, pssssh. That dementor was nasty business, certainly, but a boggart cannot hurt you. Nothing a pack of Gryffindors should be worried about."
"And the Ravenclaws?"
Lupin stopped abruptly, turned to face Ginny and loomed over her, almost menacingly.
"Miss Weasley, students are expected to follow professor's lesson plans, not create them. Do not force me to deduct house points."
He turned back and began striding away again, either not knowing or not caring that much of his class was hanging back, dumbstruck at the normally kind professor's words.
"What's up his arse today?" Geofric muttered in Harry's ear.
"Not a clue."
"I saw Snape give him something yesterday - a potion, I think," Sally said. "Maybe he's feeling unwell?"
"Maybe the greasy git poisoned him," Geofric suggested.
"Or both?" Colin contributed. "Spiked his medicine?"
"Whatever it is, let's not annoy him. He was kinda scary for a second there," Sally said, to a chorus of nods and agreements.
Then, realising as one that lagging behind might fall under things which would annoy, they hurried to catch up with the rest. They closed the distance just as the group reached the staff room, which was empty. The class shuffled in, a strange sense of discomfort falling over them; this was not a room they had ever expected, or wanted, to see, and to Harry it felt like he was intruding, at risk of being caught at any moment. It was silly, because he was there at the behest of a professor, but he tread lightly all the same.
"Now, class," Lupin started lecturing, standing beside a closet which rattled at the sound of his voice, "as you're only second years, it's unlikely you'll manage the charm we use to defeat a boggart, but you are all welcome to give it a go anyway. The wand movement is thus," - he demonstrated a simple twisting motion - "and the incantation 'riddikulus'. Picture the form the boggart has taken, but changed to make it funny. A boggart which finds itself confronted with laughter in place of fear will quickly retreat."
"Sir, if we can't do the charm…?" one of the Ravenclaws - Natalie Silus - asked.
"Not to worry. The main thing with boggarts is not to let them get the better of you. Keep in mind that they cannot directly harm you, remain calm, and nothing bad will happen. Almost every injury attributed to a boggart has come from a witch or wizard either being surprised at the top of a staircase, or injuring themselves through reckless spellcasting against one. Knowing what your boggart is will help you not to overreact should you encounter one in the wild."
Several of the class were murmuring, and Harry was the one to raise a hand and voice their concern. "Sir… you haven't actually explained what a boggart is."
"Oh, did I not?" - he dragged a hand slowly down his face - "I apologise. A boggart is a pseudo-corporeal creature which mimics the form of its closest observer's deepest fear. Fascinating defence mechanism really. But, why take my word for it, hey? See one for yourself."
And, without giving his class any time to prepare, Professor Lupin opened the closet door and unleashed the boggart into the room. It came out in a tangle of furry limbs, silver light, and wildly shifting form. AS Lupin smartly stepped away the fur and light faded, leaving a creature built of spider limbs and serpentine body, undulating menacingly beneath a tattered cloak.
"It's confused by so many people, so it adopts a form which we all may find frightening," Lupin explained, obviously unconcerned even as half his class recoiled instinctively. "If someone were to step forward, however…"
Harry didn't think there would be many takers on that offer. Lupin's comment about boggart related injuries had been proven; had they been at the top of a staircase, most of the Ravenclaws and a couple of Gryffindors would be halfway to the bottom already, the way they had stepped back.
The least affected in the room was Luna, because she wasn't paying the boggart any heed whatsoever, content instead to potter around the staff room looking under cushions for who-knew-what. The uneasy stalemate between students and snake-spider-dementor monstrosity was broken when Luna's wandering took her too close, and it turned on her.
She looked up, startled, then smiled at the thing.
"Oh, hello. Aren't you pretty?"
It seemed to take offence to that, as no sooner had the words left her mouth, than it began to change. Shrinking, it lost half its limbs, with two turning to arms. The cloak turned strawberry blond and melted into a head of waist-length hair. Scales rippled until they were a sky-blue summer dress.
Before Luna now stood a woman who could only have been the girl's mother. Luna cocked her head and smiled, but the expression died as a vibrant red splotch blossomed on the woman's chest.
The boggart spoke then, with a soft but catching voice. "Darling? Where are you?"
"Mummy?"
"Come to me. Hold me."
Luna stepped forward. Harry made to move as well, to put himself between his friend and what he was still fully aware was not her mother, but an arm across his chest stopped him. He looked to its owner and met Professor Lupin's tired, tight smile. The professor winked, and Harry remembered: Pseudo-corporeal. The boggart would not be able to touch a living thing.
Luna was just then discovering that worked both ways. Her hands drifted through the visage of her mortally wounded mother.
"Hold me," it repeated. "Please. Don't leave me alone."
"I'm trying mummy."
"I'm so cold. Don't leave me. Too cold."
The boggart sank to its knees, where phantom blood was beginning to pool. Luna joined it there, desperately trying to grasp it.
"Perhaps a Gryffindor to your classmate's rescue?" Lupin suggested, though he kept his arm across Harry.
Ginny was there before he could have been anyway, gently peeling Luna away and taking her place in doing so. The boggart shifted quickly into a person Harry knew better than he would have liked, but was surprised Ginny's mind could recreate.
Tom Riddle.
"Hello, Ginny," he teased, stepping forward to bring a finger to her jawline. "It's been too long. Oh, but you didn't think I was really gone, did you?"
Ginny jumped back, flicked her wand out, and was yelling the incantation when Tom dissolved into wisps of black smoke, then nothingness.
"Ah, ah ah, girlie," his taunting voice rang out. "You can't be rid of me that easily."
Ginny swung her wand around, searching for the source of the voice. There was a desperate, dangerous look in her eyes.
"What say we have a little more fun, hmm? Which one will it be next?"
Those desperate eyes fixed onto Neville, then Colin, then flicked back and forth wildly, and Harry knew at once what was going through her head. He looked to Lupin to intervene, but the Professor was stood motionless and a little bewildered. Harry barged through his restraining arm and took up at Ginny's side, wand at the ready. All he had to do was get closer to the now maniacally laughing boggart - pull it out of its current form and into one designed for him instead.
He mentally braced himself, repeating the words 'it isn't real' in his head until they found their own way to his lips. Ginny and he turned, back to back, scanning the room. On the second rotation a shimmering in the air before him resolved all too quickly into the hulking form of his Uncle Vernon, brandishing a belt.
Not too scary, he thought, not even bothering to be quick with his wand. Hard to be properly scared of something you're that accustomed to.
The boggart apparently took that as a challenge. A part of it slewed off, running to the floor like thin custard, then from there it rose and took up the shape of Hermione sprawled on the floor, one half of her broken wand in each hand.
Hermione?
'Vernon' raised his belt high and yelled, "Putting ideas in the freak's head again? We'll beat that out of you, don't you worry!"
The belt came down, striking across her chin, and she cried out.
Harry saw professor Lupin starting forward, but stopping as Harry raised his wand level with boggart. The incantation was on his lips when it occurred to him he hadn't come up with a way to make the scene before him funny. His subconscious was put on the spot, and all it came up with was turning the belt to a balloon. The second blow came with a comical squeak as the balloon bounced harmlessly off its target.
The professor was clapping, complimenting Harry on his perfect pronunciation, but the boggart wasn't done. A meaty hand reached down to grab at 'Hermione', and caught her by the blindfold. As she was wrenched into the air and held aloft, the silk began to rip, threatening to expose what lay beneath to the entire class.
"Fumos!" Harry cried, sending a jet of smoke to conceal the scars he remembered far too well. "Riddikulus!" he followed, finally seeing the humour; the black comedy on the brink of unfolding before him. One of Hermione's hands was visible through the smoke; in it, a broken wand became whole. Harry sniggered. Try beating that from her, you ape.
Fingers wrapped about its length and into the smokescreen it was drawn. Not a second later, the smoke glowed with all the colours of magic. Harry couldn't see what he had unleashed upon the image of his uncle, but he could imagine, and each imagining was more humorous than the last.
Vernon's stupid suit somehow too loose, then far too tight. His hair rolled up in buns before falling out, leaving him with nothing but his absurd moustache, which was growing and growing until it covered half his face. His suit melding into his skin, turning everything grey; his hands becoming so fat the fingers stuck together; his fatty wings so large it was impossible to tell where his body ended and his arm began. A hundred other changes, each and every one making the grotesque man only more like himself, but when combined…
When the smoke cleared, it revealed a safely blindfolded Hermione, on the floor, struggling to breathe as she was almost crushed by a wide-eyed and flailing walrus.
The walrus turning into a balloon and floating away like a small, uncontrollable blimp was too much: Harry burst into belly-racking laughter, and when he came up for air the boggart was gone.
Professor Lupin closed the door of the closet and addressed the class. Harry struggled to stifle his laughter, along with several classmates who laughed along, albeit nervously.
"That - ahem. So, that was a very solid demonstration of the riddikulus charm," Lupin declared haltingly, tugging at his collar. "Ten points to Gryffindor. I, um, I hope you all now appreciate that the boggart is not a creature to be… to be underestimated. I must admit, that one was a little more… powerful than any I've come across before. So, especially well done. Now, I don't think any of us are going to be able to focus on schoolwork after that, so we can probably call the lesson there. Don't forget your essays on lesser fae are due Monday."
Most of the Gyffindors cheered at class ending early and rushed out of the room as if they had somewhere exciting to be instead. The Ravenclaws followed more sedately, some grumbling while others engaged in feverish discussion.
Harry, Neville, Ginny, and Luna stood somewhat shellshocked as their professor slumped into a chair with a groan and rubbed at his eyes. Harry wasn't sure why he wasn't leaving, but it felt like there was something hanging in the air in need of addressing; the elephant in the room was blocking the doorway. It was the professor who addressed it as he stared off into the middle distance.
"What happened to spiders and clowns?"
"Sir?" Luna asked, taking a seat next to him.
"Kids are meant to be scared of spiders and clowns and the dark."
"I'm scared of all of those things," Neville confessed, grinding a foot into the floorboards.
"Don't really compare though, do they?" Ginny growled.
"Seemingly not," Lupin sighed. "I wonder if you would tell me, though I acknowledge I have no right to know; did that experience match up with what you felt when the dementor accosted you all on the train?"
"Pretty much."
"Oh, very much so, yes."
"-"
It was Ginny who refused to answer.
"As I should have expected. That experience has no doubt dragged your deeper anxieties to the fore, where the boggart was able to more readily access them." Professor Lupin leant forward to place a hand on his chin. He didn't sound as certain of himself as his words alone suggested. "There were four dementors on the train… the prefects dealt with the others, but… Oh, but listen to me rambling. Another five points to each of you, and be on your way now. Go get some fresh air in you."
He waved them to the door.
The group shuffled out into the corridor their peers had already vacated. Luna skipped off at once, dragging a reluctant Ginny along to do as the professor had suggested and head down to the greenhouses. Harry expected Neville to join such an adventure, what with his green fingers, but instead the boy pulled Harry into an alcove, ignoring his protest, and squared up to block his way out.
"Nev?" he asked, wondering what had got into his friend. He didn't even face that blasted boggart.
"Talk to Hermione."
"Oh not this again!" Harry snapped, throwing his arms up.
Neville flinched, but annoyingly stood his ground. "We both know you need to, so just… man up and do it."
"So she can try kissing me again?"
Not that Harry honestly thought she would, but… he had thought she wouldn't before. She promised she wouldn't.
"Harry; stop being a prick."
"Me, a prick?"
Wherever Neville's sudden confidence had come from, Harry didn't much like it. Probably Hermione bullied him into doing this.
"Yes, you. You can't keep blaming Hermione for-"
"Well it's her fault, isn't it?" he shouted, seeing clearly where his friend's allegiance fell.
"So be the better person! Talk to her anyway!"
Harry turned away and shoved his hands into his pockets. Hearing Neville of all people shouting was distinctly uncomfortable. Being the reason for it, even in such small part… He studied a brick in the wall to keep his mind from that path.
"Maybe I don't want to."
"But you do."
"How would you know?"
Neville scoffed, and sidestepped to move back into Harry's peripheral vision. He considered turning further away, but that would have been petty.
"If you don't want to talk to her, why was she your boggart? Why not Luna, or Ginny?"
There was the question. The question Harry had asked himself, just briefly, in the thick of combating the boggart. Ginny had been right there next to him; Ginny had been the one he was trying to protect; and yet the boggart had picked Hermione as the worst victim. The damnedest thing was, Harry knew it was right. He just couldn't figure out why.
"Go ask it yourself!" he lashed out. "Maybe you'll get a spider or a clown or something easy!"
That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say, as Neville stepped away, and yet the freedom he offered felt all of a sudden more like damnation. He took it anyway, sliding out of the alcove and walking away, eager to be shot of the conversation.
"My parents," Neville called softly after Harry, bringing him to a halt. "I'd get my parents, and the… the last words they said to me. And I wish… I wish, more than anything, they could talk to me again."
"I'm sorry, Nev," Harry muttered, because what else could he say?
"Just talk to her, Harry. Don't leave things unsaid. You might not get another chance to say them."
They stood like that, in that lonely corridor, for the longest time while Harry wrestled with his thoughts. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to be the better man; he didn't see why it was on him to do so. He didn't want Hermione thinking she could walk all over him and he would come crawling back - he would never crawl for anyone. Not anymore. But if something happened tomorrow… it wasn't so unthinkable, even - Hermione had more near-death experiences to her name than he cared to count; what if the next came too close?
What would he regret never saying? What would he regret never hearing from her?
What would I say at the funeral? Would I even be welcome?
"Hey, Nev," he called, checking the boy was still behind him.
"Yeah?"
"Tell Hermione… Tell her tomorrow, after potions, I'll be in the library. If she wants to find me."
Lucille knew it was a bad night to be going out. She knew that, but… honestly, when you've run out of milk, what else are you meant to do? A quick trip to the corner shop, the one that stays open late for just such an emergency, that's all it was. Besides, right in the middle of Hogsmeade, abandoned as the high street was, was the safest place to be except holed up at home. It wasn't like Sirius Black was actually prowling the town, right? Normally people weren't so tense, but Lucille had always prided herself on her logical approach to life; the miniscule threat of a mass murderer in the area shouldn't have any impact on how risky it was to go out under a full moon.
And there hadn't been a werewolf attack anywhere near Hogsmeade since the war. The ministry had cracked down on the beasts; those which hadn't been killed outright in the conflict, sent into battle like the mindless dogs they were. Still, she hurried along, turning her head left and right, checking every shadow which stood stark against the moon's bright beams.
That was how she spotted them; the two flashes of gold down a side alley, lurking in the shade of a porch. Two round spots, punctuated by a jet-black spot in the dead centre of each. Mesmerising; menacing; blinking.
She felt the fear wrap about her like an icy blanket, so tight she could hardly move under it, so heavy she could not leave the trap she was caught in. All at once, she was sweating, shaking, and reaching too slowly for her wand. Why, oh why, had she stashed it in her bag? If she had it in hand, ready, then maybe- Golden orbs flashed forward, unnaturally fast, bringing with them black fur, rippling muscles and rending teeth.
She lay in there in the street, her life running freely onto the cobbles, thinking that it was at least better to die a witch, than to live an animal. Her last thought went to her daughter; an apology; a begging of forgiveness.
Be strong for daddy, darling. Be strong.
Knowledge is power. Power is useless to those afraid to exercise it. To possess knowledge, and lack the will to act upon it, is a worse crime than to live in ignorance.
There was a reason Hermione Granger was not sorted into Ravenclaw, the house of those who valued the possession of knowledge itself. There was reason she was sent to Gryffindor, the house of those with the will to act. There was a reason she knocked on the door of her defence professor's office on the first day of the waning moon.
It was far from the first time she had come calling; despite her practical experience of the subject, parts of the theory she often struggled with, prompting her to latch onto the first competent defence professor in her Hogwarts education and trawl his mind for the deeper insight she lacked. Apparently 'apparate away' was a good answer for handling most dangerous creatures in practice, but not one the education board would accept for anything short of a five-X, and having formulated a working answer Hermione's brain often refused to come up with alternatives.
The other thing drawing Hermione back to his office regularly was the quality of his company; he was polite, well read, and appreciative of her thirst for knowledge. He had his flaws, and they were considerable, but they did not get in the way of conversation. She did not expect him to be half as welcoming today, however, as the long wait for an invitation to enter attested.
"Come in."
She pushed the door open with a creak, wrinkling her nose at the heavy musk of sweat turning stale; she was immediately regretful of her choice of day to practice holding a low-level sensory charm. Had he been too exhausted for a shower and some freshening charms, or was the un-sanitised aftermath even worse? Either way, she decided to linger at the door a while, holding it open to let some breathable air in.
"Sir?"
He answered with a tired weight to his voice; not surprising given how he had spent his night. "Yes, Miss Granger?"
"I'm sorry for the intrusion," - she honestly was, but she wasn't going to let her sympathy get in the way of what she needed to achieve -"but I was wondering if you offer extracurricular lessons in defence?"
"Ah, I was warned you might corner me for this," Lupin chuckled weakly. "Getting the grades up isn't enough? Looking to get some extra credit as well, are we?"
Warned? Is that how teachers think of me?
"Not at all," she snipped.
"No? Then to what do I owe this visit?"
She moved into the room properly, letting the door close. A scraping in front of her gave her pause, until she realised Lupin had magically moved something - several things, by the sound of it - out of her way. What state was his office in right now? No matter. She made sure to specify 'empty' when she summoned a chair to sit in.
"I want to learn to fight dark creatures."
"Well yes, that is the gist of the third year curriculum."
Another day Hermione might have appreciated the sardonic wit. Another day she might not have been a girl on a mission. A mission she was fully committed to as, just because Harry wasn't talking to her right now, that didn't mean he needed her any less. She could find a way to get through to him; the only thing that would stop her was if he managed to get himself killed in the meantime. For any other student, that would not have been a concern worth acting on. For Harry, it was compulsory.
"No, sir; I want to learn to fight very specific dark creatures, which pose a clear and present threat to my life."
"Are you suggesting there are dark creatures at Hogwarts?"
Hermione took her time answering. The irony of that statement coming from professor Lupin was delicious. And if he happened to be sweating a little more worrying what creature she was referring to… well, a nervous mind is a pliable one.
"I doubt it has escaped your notice that we are surrounded by dementors, professor."
"Those dementors are posted by the ministry for the safety of all students," Lupin stated, and his tone told her it was no coincidence that he was quoting the ministerial decree verbatim, rather than putting the sentiment into his own words. Nice to know he doesn't approve.
"Have they tried telling Harry that? Only the last time they met…"
"The incident on the train was unfortunate, but ultimately harmless." - Hermione scoffed at his definition of harmless. Mental scars could be worse than physical, that much she knew for sure - "And in the other case… he did attack it."
Hermione could barely believe he was toeing the ministry line so willingly, given he clearly didn't approve of it. Or was it Dumbledore's line he toed? She could understand that far better; not many were willing to give a werewolf any sort of employment, so a feeling of indebted gratitude was to be expected. But then again, expectation did not prescribe toleration.
"The train was only fine because a professor happened to be riding that train, which we both know is not standard policy! And he attacked a dementor because it was harassing me. He thought I was in danger, and I honestly do not know if he was right or not! Snape barely saved him! Will a professor be there the next time it happens? Will you?"
So that came out a little angrier than she had planned. Not like it is not justified.
"I'm sure Harry is safer with the additional security-"
"-Will you be there if they attack again?" Hermione cut in, rising to her feet, her chair toppling behind her. "Can you promise that?"
"I promise to look out for Harry in any-"
"Promise you will be there if they attack again. Promise me Harry is completely, entirely safe from those things."
She ended her challenge with her hands planted on his desk. It helped to have something under them - lessened the urge to palm her wand.
"I promise you Harry is safe," Lupin placated, too quickly to have put any real thought into it.
Hermione, on the other hand, had spent plenty of time worrying over it. Time she could have spent with Harry, if not for… she shook the thought from her head and focused on the present; on what she wanted. "Then you will surely have no trouble making an unbreakable vow to that effect," she proposed.
Lupin drew an audible breath. "How do you even know about that magic?"
She did not appreciate the pathetic attempt to divert her from her cause.
"I read, professor. Now, for the vow… I am thinking it breaks if a dementor comes within ten yards of Harry, with anything so much as resembling hostile intent. Does that sound fair?"
"Now be reasonable, you know I can't agree to tha-"
"Yes, Lupin," she sighed dramatically, like she was sick of talking to a complete idiot - not that that was entirely untrue, as it seemed the professor's brain hadn't fully recovered yet. "I am fully aware you cannot. It is you who seems to need convincing of reality here. If Harry is as safe as you claim, the vow costs you nothing to make. If not…"
Lupin was quiet for a time, and Hermione let him be, her challenge hanging in the air. If your debate partner might be changing their mind, allow them to.
"You wish to learn the patronus," he muttered. That it was not a question raised Hermione's opinion of the man from where it had been threatening to scrape the barrel's bottom.
"That or the vow, professor," she confirmed. "I am equally happy with either, so whichever you would prefer."
"And if I refuse? You seem to be forgetting you're only a student; I am the teacher here."
Her fingers curled on the desk; had her nails been longer, she would have left marks.
"Oh trust me, Remus Lupin, I could never forget what you are."
Honestly, naming a child that was begging fate to intervene. Or did he change his name after the fact? Why would he-?
"What do you mean by that?"
"Do not play dumb with me, professor; you cannot pull it off any better than I. I understand you had a rough night, but others had it far worse. The papers say Sirius attacked with the moon - latest is he's a werewolf, you know, with three more victims to his name."
"Preposterous," Lupin interjected, albeit half-heartedly.
"Is it? Apparently they interviewed a student who thought Black was a wolf all the way back in his Hogwarts days. Him and his friends always seemed to be out the night of the moon, and returned looking much worse for wear the morning after. Frankly, it is a miracle no-one was harmed. A werewolf around students - it would be dangerous enough for full grown wizards. I can't believe Dumbledore would allow a category five creature into the school like that, but how could he not have known? He has control of the wards - he should be far more selective with who he lets into them, don't you think? After Quirrell first year, and Lockhart second… oh, but we were talking about werewolves, not defence professors, were we not? So… you were acquainted with Black back then… is it true? Was there a wolf amongst the cubs?"
She came down from her ranting assault - a carefully constructed thing, even if it sounded like she went off the rails - and waited with baited breath. Would he confess?
"Sirius Black was not a werewolf."
"Good to know, professor, but I do not believe that is quite the question I asked."
She heard him get up, walk over to one side, and… unstopper a bottle? Was he really drinking in front of a student, at this time of the day? How pathetic.
He took his time getting his drink, seemingly to steady his nerves, as when he spoke again he was more composed. "How long have you known?"
"I suspected when you failed to show for the sorting ceremony. I knew on the moon just passed."
That was a lie; she had couched her words because she had only suspected, albeit strongly.
"What - who - gave me away?"
"You mean besides the name; the scars; the timely bouts of illness; and the fact no one has heard anything from you since your Hogwarts days despite your exceptional NEWT scores?"
When she laid it out, Hermione realised it was even more spurious than she had thought; certainly she had nothing which would hold up in court. She was correct though.
"And who have you told?"
Now for the crux of it all. "No-one. Yet. And it can stay that way."
He took a long sip - more a gulp, really, of whatever he was drinking. It smelled, even at a distance, strongly of whiskey.
"Blackmail, Ms Granger?"
"Only if I have to."
"You are aware blackmail is illegal, and an expellable offense at the minimum? Is this a risk you are prepared to take?" Lupin growled.
Hermione was suddenly, keenly aware that she sat in lunging distance of a bona fide werewolf. That it was not a full moon for twenty seven days was scant comfort, as a wolf was surely less dangerous than a competent wizard in command of his senses - and his wand. Still, she wasn't going to be intimidated. She wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.
"How far would you go to protect your friends, professor?" she shot back. "What would you risk to keep them safe? What would you give to see them live?"
After a long pause, Lupin sighed wistfully; "To see my friends live? Anything."
That, she knew, was the moment she won. "Then you understand my decision."
"I do. You really are like her, aren't you?"
"Like who?" Hermione asked, daring him to say the name 'Bellatrix Lestrange'. No way his secret stays if he does.
"An old friend of mine." - Not Lestrange then… or did she really not know him at all? - "You say you'll do anything to protect Potter?"
"A-ny-thing."
"Then may you be more successful than I ever was."
"Sir, what do you mean by-"
"Report to my classroom after dinner, two weeks from now," he ordered, suddenly a drill sergeant. "I shall teach you the patronus charm - or rather, I shall try. It is a NEWT level spell for a reason. You should expect to fail."
"You'll help?"
"I do believe I said as much already. And this concludes our business for the day?"
That was not a question. Hermione counted her blessings and obligingly moved to the door, though she did stop in the doorway, sensing there was metaphorical bad air needing to be cleared.
"Oh, professor… to be clear: I do not carry the same prejudices as most witches. Just because I acknowledge the inherent danger of a werewolf at Hogwarts, does not mean I lay the blame on the true victims of lycanthropy. And I would not actually have spilled your secret."
"No? I thought you would do anything?"
"Exactly so, sir. Getting you kicked out of Hogwarts would not make Harry any safer; if you had not been convinced, I would simply have found some other way to persuade you."
"And you're confident you would have succeeded? That I won't go back on my word now the threat is gone? You must have quite the set of schemes in mind."
"Maybe I shall tell you about them tomorrow. Or maybe I trust that you have come to your senses regarding the matter, and will help me still because it is right."
Hermione span and slammed the door behind her, then set off to give Ha- Luna the good news. When she was out of the average person's earshot, but still within her own, she heard Lupin mutter:
"Just like her. Just like her."
She was so engrossed with mulling over who the professor meant, and so tired from a month of thirty-hour days of furious study, it was not until it was too late she remembered Harry was waiting for her in the library.
A/N:
Boggarts are fun.
Thanks for reviews all always, and especially to Forthwith16 for addressing my question.
Presenting challenge appropriate for characters is something I definitely aim to do, it just involves constantly fighting down my urge to write power fantasy because I don't want my darlings to suffer... not that you might know it. (Sorry Hermione).
The other challenge is keeping Harry relevant as a protagonist. I knew going in to this book Hermione would take centre stage, and named it after her for that reason, but Harry really does have nothing to do in PoA canon, and finding such things is proving difficult. He has plenty of moments, they just all feel reactionary, and I want to get away from that Harry because it disappoints me deeply. Next book should and will be his book, but he feels so side-lined right now. :/