True to their word, Harry, John, Ron and Hermione spent a lot of their free time the next day looking into anything that would help Hagrid and Buckbeak's case.
"There's this case about a hippogriff that-bloody hell, that's disgusting, look what they did to it!", said Ron, who had a page open with a picture of a hippogriff that had been apparently beheaded with multiple brutal, imprecise swings with an axe. Jagged strips of flesh hung from its neck, which was being held up by cheerful, victorious wizards, while the body lay on its side, blood soaking the grass upon which it had been killed.
"There was a case where a manticore savaged someone in 1296 and they let it off- never mind, everyone was too afraid to go near it", Hermione said.
"All I'm finding is that hippogriff baiting is fucking stupid and that the hippogriffs always die because some wizards and witches don't have brains", said John, slamming another book shut.
"Same. I'm not seeing anything about hippogriffs being let off", said Harry, who was growing more frustrated by the minute.
They eventually called an end for that day, vowing to keep trying later. Hermione did help John master two spells to allow him to increase or decrease the weights of objects, but they couldn't accomplish any more in what little time they had in the library.
Instead, their focus was on what Lupin could have in store for them once they'd arrived at his classroom with their textbooks out.
"Good morning everyone. Please put your textbooks away. Today's will be a practical lesson", said Lupin.
The class began to murmur excitedly; their previous professors didn't have habits of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts in a practical manner, unless one considered how Lockhart had unleashed a swarm of pixies into the room. All they'd learned from that ordeal was not to unleash a swarm of pixies.
"All you will need is your wands and a little imagination. Now, if you'd all follow me-", he said, leading the class away from the classroom.
"This is promising", whispered Hermione, eagerly.
Harry saw John frowning, though why, he didn't know until Ron spoke.
"When did you get here? We were wondering where you'd gone off to!", he whispered as the class followed Lupin along the corridors.
"I've been here all along, you just didn't see me arrive", Hermione said offhandedly.
Neither Ron nor John seemed convinced. Harry hadn't noticed anything, but decided that he'd try to keep an eye on her. Something about her tone suggested that she was hiding something.
Before they'd arrived at the place Lupin had planned, they saw Peeves, floating in mid-air, stuffing a keyhole on a door with as much chewing gum as he possibly could.
"Good morning, Peeves. May I ask you to remove the gum from the keyhole? Mr. Filch won't be able to get to his brooms", said Lupin, his tone even and polite. Harry knew that it was no good before Peeves responded; Filch and Peeves waged a near constant war against each other.
Peeves, with a mad grin on his face swivelled to face Lupin.
"Loony, loopy Lupin! Loony, loopy Lupin!", Peeves chanted, cackling in between words. Lupin sighed and pulled his wand out, before turning to the class.
"This is a useful spell. I'd suggest looking into it, should you find yourself with free time. Waddiwasi!", said Lupin. In the blink of an eye, the chewing gum flew out of the keyhole, faster than a speeding bullet, lodging itself far into Peeves' left nostril. Peeves yelped and flew away, cursing as he did so.
"That was cool, sir!", Dean blurted out. Lupin smiled.
"Thank you Dean. Shall we?"
The class' collective respect for Lupin seemed to be increasing with every second they spent around him. It didn't fade when they arrived at their destination, which turned out to be the staff room, which only had one inhabitant; Professor Snape, who was sat in an armchair with his eyes closed as he massaged his temple.
"Hope he's stressed as fuck", John muttered to Harry, who couldn't help but agree.
"Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this", said Snape, once the whole class had entered. By the time Snape had reached the door, he opened his mouth to speak again.
"Perhaps you haven't been warned yet, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. Some may consider him to be an... occupational hazard, shall we say", said Snape.
Hermione elbowed Ron, who looked furious and ready to verbally lash out at Snape and stepped on John's foot, as his face betrayed his obvious desire to launch a derisive quip at their Potions master. Part of Harry wished Hermione didn't predict Ron's anger or John's disdain for Snape. Harry was on John and Ron's side however. It was bad enough that Snape bullied Neville in Potions classes, but to do it in other teachers' lessons seemed a step too far.
Unsurprisingly, Neville had gone pink, but Lupin stayed smiling.
"I was actually hoping that Neville would assist me with a demonstration. I am sure that he will perform admirably", said Lupin. This did nothing to visibly calm Neville, who looked more terrified than before.
"To each their own, I suppose", Snape drawled, almost smirking at the class as he left the room.
"First thing I'll do when I finish here is slap him", Ron whispered.
"You'll have to wash your hands pretty fiercely for that", John whispered back. Lupin waited patiently as the pair of them laughed under their breaths, watching them expectantly. It didn't take long for their laughter to subside.
"Sorry professor", said John, once they'd stopped.
Lupin nodded and moved to a corner of the room in which there was a large, old wardrobe. Once the class was within twenty feet of it, the wardrobe began to shake. Violently. A sense of unease began to spread among the class, some of whom began shuffling away from the wardrobe.
"Not to worry", said Lupin. "There's a boggart in there".
The members of the class that knew nothing about boggarts, which included Harry, Ron and John, seemed to treat that as a reason to worry all the same.
"Does anyone here know what it looks like?", Lupin asked.
Hermione's hand, unsurprisingly flew into the air at once.
"No-one knows. Boggarts are shapeshifters. They always take the form of whatever will frighten the nearest person the most", she said.
"Excellent", said Lupin, smiling at her. "Now, boggarts tend to like dark and damp locations. This one was lurking under a sink and I asked Professor Dumbledore to lock it away for our class today. They will otherwise climb into drawers, behind toilets, under beds and so on".
Harry had a fleeting image of a hairy, clawed hand poking out from under his own bed in Privet Drive. Perhaps this was what all those muggle children saw when they made claims of monsters under their beds to their disbelieving parents?
"Now, with their shapeshifting powers in mind, we have a significant advantage against this boggart before we even set eyes upon it. Harry, have you spotted it?", asked Lupin.
Trying to think with Hermione bouncing up and down next to him was rather difficult.
"Well there's a lot of us here, so that'd mean that the boggart might not know what form it needs to take", he said.
"Well-reasoned Harry. That is exactly right. When travelling in areas which are damp and dark, perhaps in forests or swampy areas, it is best to travel with at least one other person for this very reason. I once saw a boggart try to frighten two people at once. What should it become? A headless corpse? A flesh-eating slug? In trying to scare them both, it transformed itself into half a slug. Hardly frightening", said Lupin.
The class gave a collective chuckle at the image.
"The important thing to know about actually fighting boggarts however, is that they cannot stand laughter. Laughter is the one thing that truly finishes a boggart. With that in mind, we have a simple charm to learn, with the goal of forcing this boggart away from a frightening form into an amusing one", said Lupin.
It was by far the best defence against the dark arts lesson Harry had ever experienced. His classmates clearly agreed; they were all excitedly discussing how they'd faced down that which normally scared them senseless.
Ron had given a spider that resembled Aragog in size and menace eight oddly-sized roller skates. Best of all however, was Neville dressing Professor Snape in his grandmother's clothes.
The only thing that dampened Harry's enthusiasm was the fact that Lupin got in between Harry and the boggart when it was his turn to face it. Part of Harry was glad; at first, he'd thought of Voldemort, only to have his mind move instead to the horrible, rattling breath, the rotting, scabbed hands and the ten foot tall, cloaked form of a dementor.
While it was a relief to not see their horrible forms, Harry began to wonder why Lupin had prevented him from facing the boggart. Him, specifically. Of course, John and Hermione had also not been able to face the boggart, with them both standing behind Harry and they too seemed disappointed. However, Harry had to wonder whether Lupin would have stopped either of them.
"Did you see me with that banshee?", Seamus said, enthusiastically recounting what he'd faced and overcome.
He was far from alone; most of the class were delighting in their accomplishment in defeating the boggart and Neville, most shockingly, seemed to be walking... no... strutting away towards the Gryffindor common room.
"He does seem to be a very good teacher", said Hermione, sounding somewhat unsatisfied with the fact that she couldn't put the theory into practice.
"An actual expert teaching the subject. What an idea, right?", John asked, scoffing at the memory of their previous teachers of the subject.
"I'm telling you, that bloody cat is targeting Scabbers!", Ron snarled as the four friends walked to breakfast the next morning.
"Nonsense! Cats chase rats, they see rats as prey, you can't blame Crookshanks just for being a cat!", Hermione retorted.
"How many rats do you think are in the castle? The way your bloody beast acts, you'd think there's only one!", Ron said, his face reddening. Harry and John exchanged exasperated looks. This was the third time this argument had been re-treaded.
"Because he's nearest, that's all!", Hermione insisted.
"Why haven't the other cats in Gryffindor jumped on my back then?", Ron asked.
Hermione opened her mouth, closed it again and hurried ahead of the other three. Harry could almost see steam coming out of her ears.
Neither Hermione nor Ron spoke throughout breakfast, though Lupin's subsequent lesson and the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend managed to cast the issue from their minds.
During Transfiguration, Ron and John encouraged Harry to ask McGonagall to sign his permission form and Hermione's feeble attempt to dissuade him certainly wasn't enough to stop him from agreeing.
Needless to say, McGonagall's reputation as a strict, rule-abiding disciplinarian was well-earned and Harry left with a still-unsigned Hogsmeade form.
To their credit, Ron and Hermione managed to forget their argument temporarily as the pair of them accompanied John to Hogsmeade, returning with a massive pile of Honeydukes sweets. For his part, Harry began telling them about what he had seen whilst talking to Lupin in his office and how Snape had brought him a potion.
"Snape made it and Lupin actually drank it?", Ron asked, astonished.
"Snape wouldn't try to poison Lupin in front of Harry", said Hermione, with a furrowed eyebrow.
"He probably wanted Harry to try a sip too", John drawled half-heartedly.
"Don't be ridiculous John, I doubt Snape would be poisoning anyone at all!", Hermione started.
"I know, I was bloody joking", said John, rolling his eyes.
"It's hard to tell with you", sighed Hermione.
"Getting harder every d-", Ron started, before being stopped in his tracks by the sight of the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.
They expected the fat lady to be there as always, waiting to hear the password, but all they could see was a crowd of confused Gryffindors and a violently slashed portrait.
"What the hell happened?"
"The Fat Lady, she's gone!" Ginny told them.
"Where?" John asked, looking around at other nearby portraits, hoping to find a sign of their common room guardian.
She was located not long afterwards, near a map of Argylshire, but most critically, she was crying, apparently having been attacked by Sirius Black.
He was in the castle, or at least on the grounds.
The Fat Lady outright refused to return to her portrait, being replaced by, in Ron's opinion, the only nutter mad enough to take the job; Sir Cadogan. Meanwhile, the Quidditch season loomed and the Gryffindor Quidditch team had received news that thy were by no means happy with.
"We're not playing Slytherin", Wood said, grumbling to his team.
"What? Why?", George asked angrily.
"Malfoy. Says that he can't play in his condition", Wood explained.
"He's putting it on", Harry said at once.
"Probably. They just don't want to play us in these conditions", Wood said. Slytherin had a point; the ceaseless rain and muddy ground were far from ideal for a game of Quidditch. "We're up against Hufflepuff, which means the tactics we've been working on are going out of the window. They have a completely different style!"
"It's alright, we crushed them last time we played them. Harry caught the snitch in a couple of minutes", said Fred, looking relieved.
"This is a different year! They have a new captain, Cedric Diggory and he's put a strong team together! I was hoping you'd take it all more seriously!", Wood snarled.
"Diggory... he's the handsome one, isn't he? Strong, silent", said Angelina, quietly, though a dreamy look came over her face.
"Only because he's too thick to string a sentence together", said George, rolling his eyes.
"Focus, for Merlin's sake!", Wood yelled.
"It's alright Oliver, we'll take it seriously. We'll win", said John, confidently. As the team took to the air, their training began in earnest, with Ron and Hermione in the stands, watching.
When the match itself started, Ron and Hermione were far from the only ones in the stand, however. Even though the intensity of Gryffindor's rivalry with Hufflepuff paled in comparison to Slytherin, even though the weather was atrocious, most of the school turned up to watch the match.
Lee Jordan was as usual, commentating, but Harry could hardly hear him over the torrential downpour and the thunder. Calls made by the chasers were not heard by their teammates. All in all, the match was utter chaos.
"What the hell is the score anyway?", Harry yelled, as he flew close to John.
"We're up one hundred to twenty!", John yelled back over the howling wind. Harry nodded and continued searching for the snitch, but the rain made his glasses utterly useless. Trying to play without glasses however, wouldn't help either; Harry's eyesight was a genetic trait he didn't share with John, who could see with little issue.
Harry eventually called for a time out. He would simply never find the snitch at this rate. Gryffindor were ahead by eighty, but the snitch was worth more.
To his surprise, Harry saw Hermione rushing down to meet them.
"Harry, I've had an idea! Give me your glasses!", she said. She tapped them with her wand and gave her incantation of 'impervious'. When Harry wore them, they were completely clean, with not a single drop of water on them.
"Marry me, Hermione", John said. The team laughed and Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Just win the game, alright?", she said, before scurrying back to the stands.
Minutes later, Harry found himself swerving in and out against bludgers, whilst chasing the snitch. Wood was right. Hufflepuff this year were much better than the last time they'd played each other. In the cold weather, even Harry's gloves didn't seem to adequately protect him from the temperature. But that couldn't be right... his gloves were made of dragonhide.
Why was he still cold?
And why was he suddenly feeling... clammy? Ill? Not himself?
Turning around, Harry's stomach lurched and he felt every bone in his body overcome with dread.
Dementors.
The screaming started again.
"Stand aside, girl!"
"No, I will not!"
"I will not ask again. Stand. Aside. Now."
"I WILL NOT!"
"You think he'll be alright?"
"He looks a bit peaky"
"Of course he looks peaky, he fell a hundred feet!"
"Come on Ron, let's drop you out of the astronomy tower and see what you look like".
"Probably better than he normally does".
The last voice was... Harry's own. Rubbing his eyes, Harry slowly sat up in a comfortable, soft bed, but one that was not his own. When he opened his eyes, he saw what was clearly a hospital wing bed, surrounded by some of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, as well as both Ron and Hermione.
"How're you feeling?", John asked.
"Not that bad really. What happened?", Harry asked.
"You fell off your broom when the dementors showed up. Dumbledore used some spell to slow your fall and he was bloody livid. Never seen him so angry. He sent some sort of white thing out from his wand and drove the dementors away", Ron explained.
"And... the match?", Harry asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer.
"Hey, no-one blames you Harry", said Katie Bell, confirming what Harry had feared.
"Even Diggory wanted to call off the result. He caught the snitch right as you fell off the broom, but... technically he won within the rules. One hundred and eighty to one hundred and ten", Angelina explained.
"Where's Wood?", asked Harry, grimly.
"He doesn't blame you, honest. He's in the showers", said John.
"We think he's trying to drown himself", quipped Fred. It did elicit a short smirk from Harry, but he was overcome by guilt and shame. Why did the dementors have so much power over him? Him, specifically?
"Oh, did anyone get my broom?", asked Harry. His friends all exchanged uncomfortable glances. Harry's stomach lurched again.
"Well... Professor Flitwick got it. From the whomping willow. Your broom flew straight into it after you fell off and-well-the whomping willow isn't fond of being flown into", Hermione explained, picking up a blanket from the floor, which contained the splintered pieces of Harry's favourite possession.