Summary: Third Year - Darkness has breached the castle walls: Professors falling sick, Professors dying, nasty incidents and even nastier things written in the paper. Fear pervades the school, and Remus is having to learn to face it. But it's never all doom and gloom at Hogwarts: Hogsmeade, Honeydukes, new subjects to study and old enemies to hex. James has his Quidditch, Lily has her magazine (and The Kneazles - her heart will always belong to Bobby Darrow!) and the boys are locked in a fierce competition: who will be the first to collect Lord Voldemort's Chocolate Frog card?

Third Year

Chapter One: Boggart Hunting

Remus Lupin was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one thing he absolutely loved school - and was never happier than when term was about to start and he had it all to look forward to. For another, he quite enjoyed his homework and - although the letters from his friends told him they were not bothering to do theirs - he was actually spending his summer working alongside his dad, and including everything he learned in his essays. He also happened to be a wizard.

This had not come as much of a shock to him. His father was a wizard as well (though his mother had not been a witch) and he had shown signs of magic from an early age. He had spent much of the past two years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which did not teach much in the way of Maths and Geography but did teach subjects like 'Charms' and 'Potions' and 'Transfiguration'.

Remus's best subject by far was Defence Against the Dark Arts (his worst by far was Potions - where he had not been unknown to melt a cauldron or two in his time). Everything he had learned so far in the subject just seemed to come so naturally to him, and he found it endlessly fascinating. He even read books about dark creatures, for fun, in his spare time. (He was currently reading Casting off the Cloak: Vampiric Counts, Countesses and Castles by Beltina Bathory.) But now his second year at school was over, and it was the summer holidays - and had been for a while.

So far he had had a relatively quiet summer (with the exception of one rather hairy night in mid July). And when Remus wasn't reading or doing his homework or writing letters to his friends, he was travelling with his dad and helping him study the dark creatures that he so loved to read about.

Today, he and his father, Lyall, were at an elderly witch's house in Hastings - and he was rather nervously eyeing up a large wardrobe that was crammed into the dark corner of the attic. The wardrobe was mahogany, and carved with intricate, curling patterns and had a small, golden key sticking out of the key hole. It was also rattling as if all by itself. Something was inside and - by the sound of it - that something was bursting to come out.

'Yes, Madam Grimmice,' Mr. Lupin said to the hook-nosed witch, whose wardrobe it was. 'That's definitely a boggart you've got in there.'

Lyall Lupin was a world renowned Boggart expert and - when Remus was at school - he went around the country fighting them, examining them and really finding out what made them tick. On a good day, he would get called in by a nervous old dear who had one trapped in their tea chest or coal cellar and who would offer gold for him to get rid of it (there was - unfortunately - not much money in the boggart hunting business and, despite their best efforts, the Lupin men were decidedly shabby looking).

Today was one such day - and Madam Grimmice nodded her head and sucked her mossy teeth. 'I thought as much. I'll pay ten galleons, if you can make it disappear.'

'Not to worry - we'll have him out in a trice. Remus - have you got the packing case?'

Remus nodded - and swallowed nervously. Although Lyall could vanquish the boggart with a lazy flick of his wand, he wanted to keep it and study it - and rather than just get rid of it, the two of them were planning on wrestling it inside the case so they could carry it home (a case being rather more portable than a wardrobe).

'Alright - wand at the ready, son.'

Madam Grimmice ran her eyes over Remus, taking in the fact that - tall as he was - he was only thirteen. 'You're letting him do underage magic?'

'It's all educational; there's no need to tell the Ministry,' Lyall winked at her. She blushed.

Remus felt a bead of sweat roll down his back, he was all flushed under the collar. It was stiflingly hot inside the attic, as it was, and his nerves were not doing anything to make him any cooler. He put his wand down in order to take his sweater off, which he did very carefully - so that when he pulled his jumper over his head his t-shirt would not ride up with it, and reveal his scars to Madam Grimmice. The benign twinkle in her eye would turn to suspicion if she saw those.

For his whole body was covered in crisscrossing, bumpy scars - some old and turned shiny and white with age - some fresh and vivid and purple and one large, gnarly one in particular which bore the all too easily discernible jagged pattern of teeth marks. Of all the highly unusual things about Remus, the scars were perhaps the most unusual.

For Remus was no ordinary young wizard (if any young wizard could be described as "ordinary"). At the age of five, when he had been sleeping peacefully in his bed, a werewolf had climbed through his bedroom window and viciously attacked him. Lyall had got to him in time to save his life, he had seen off the werewolf with his wand and used what knowledge he had to heal his son's wounds. But he had been too late to save Remus entirely - and from that night onwards, Remus had been a werewolf, himself, forced to transform every month into a ferocious beast without humanity or conscience.

During the holidays, when he was at home, he transformed inside a cage in the cellar, which was just about as awful, painful and humiliating as it sounds. He had lived a lonely life up until the age of eleven, never allowed to make friends in case they realised something was off about him - and once a month he would be locked away where he could not hurt anyone, and so would hurt himself instead. His parents had always thought he would be too dangerous to go to school but - to Remus's delight - the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, had been sympathetic to his plight and organised things so Remus could attend school and transform safely away from the other students.

But, whether at home or at school, each month his wolfish form would attack itself, and his human body would bear the scars … and werewolves were so hated and mistrusted in magical society that, if Madam Grimmice knew he was one, she would kick him and his father out of the house and slam the door in their faces. And then no ten galleons.

But he got the sweater off without her seeing anything, folded it neatly, opened up the packing case and gave his father a rather grim nod. He was ready.

'Of course we have the advantage,' Lyall told Madam Grimmice. 'With three of us in the room, the boggart won't know what shape to shift into. It will try to frighten us all at once - and will no doubt fail miserably… er - what is that you fear the most?'

'Flesh eating slugs,' she responded promptly and with a shudder. 'Ever since I was a girl … I have nightmares.'

'For me it's corpses - headless, savaged.' His eyes grew dim. 'And the times we live in are not making things any easier.' He gave himself a shake. 'Still - we must take one day at a time. And one boggart at a time. Remus - stay back, I'll drive the boggart towards you and then you can get it into the case, understood?'

Remus nodded. The wardrobe rattled again.

'Very well,' Lyall rolled up his sleeves. He pointed his wand and a jet of sparks flew from the tip and hit the wardrobe. The door swung open. Remus held his breath, his eyes wide as he waited to see what hideous horror would emerge … and then something large and brown and squishy flopped out - with a squelching, sucking sound - and fell on the floor, wiggling limply.

'What in Merlin's name…?' Lyall stepped forward to examine the form the boggart had taken, he held his wand aloft, lit up so they could see better.

'It's disgusting,' Madam Grimmice sniffed. 'But hardly frightening. What is it supposed to be?'

'It's half a slug.'

Both adults turned to look at Remus. He shrugged. 'Madam Grimmice said she was afraid of flesh eating slugs, dad - you said you were afraid of headless corpses … it's being both at once.'

'Fascinating ,' Lyall bent down for a closer inspection.

Remus wrinkled his nose. 'But not remotely frightening. It looks like a …' he searched for a polite term - they were in company after all - 'bowel movement.'

Madam Grimmice let out a hearty laugh. 'He's not wrong.' But her laughter had had an adverse effect on the boggart. There was a sound like a whip crack and the half slug vanished - to be replaced by a true headless corpse.

Lyall tutted and took a step back. 'That hurt it, that did. The laughter.'

'Why is it just a body now, dad?'

'Because I was closest when it sought to change. It skimmed my mind for my fear and is showing it to me. Now - let's get it into the packing case.' He waved his wand and muttered 'mobilicorpus'. The headless-body-boggart was lifted from the floor and floated through the air towards the packing case, Lyall guiding it with his wand the whole way. 'Now remember that squashing spell I taught you,' he said to Remus.

Remus nodded and stepped forward from behind the packing case. 'Comprimio,' he cried. But - just as he was forcing the boggart down towards the case, there came the sound of the whip crack again.

'It's caught sight of you, son,' Lyall said. 'Careful now - it will show you your worst …' He trailed off as the boggart took on a new form.

A glowing, silver ball now floated in the air, where the headless body had been. Remus paled - and shot a half glance towards Madam Grimmice to see if she had understood. She was … grimacing , her brow furrowed as she frowned at the new shape the boggart had taken.

Remus looked at his dad.

'Ridikulus!' Lyall cried, stepping forward and brandishing his wand. There came the sound of the whip crack again, Remus's boggart vanished to be replaced once more with the headless corpse … and then Lyall yelled 'comprimio' and forcibly squashed the boggart into the packing case before slamming the lid down and clasping it shut. The packing case began to tremble and shake - but the boggart was trapped safely inside, unable to get out.

'Well, we'll get this out of your hair, Madam Grimmice,' Lyall said cheerily, picking up the case … though Remus noticed that his father's hands were shaking a little.

'That was a curious boggart of yours, boy,' Madam Grimmice said.

Remus said nothing in return.

'Why are you afraid of crystal balls?'

He relaxed.

'There was - er - an unfortunate incident when he was younger. With a fortune teller and some tea leaves and…well - it's a long and dull story but ever since then he cannot abide anything linked to the art of Divination.'

'Most irregular.'

'Well - he's an unusual boy. Come along, Remus.'

It was all too clear that Lyall just wanted them to get out of there, before Madam Grimmice could ask too many questions, or think too carefully on what she had actually seen. For a moment, Remus thought the pair of them might actually run out of there altogether without even being paid. But Madam Grimmice had her coins ready and she pressed them into Lyall's hand just as they reached the doorway.

'Thank you, Mr. Lupin - you have been a great help.'

'It was no bother - only a boggart.'

'I will recommend you to all my friends.'

'You are too kind, Madam Grimmice,' he bowed his head to her and then ushered Remus through the front door and out into the street. The packing case still trembled and shook in his hand, as the boggart fought to get out.

Outside, the street was busy. Cars wended their way down the road, beeping their horns; muggles strolled down the path with ice cream cones, and seagulls circled overhead, stealing chips from cardboard containers. The salty tang of the sea carried on the breeze. The two wizards and their struggling packing case walked for a little while, until they found themselves in a secluded spot out of sight from any keen and prying muggle eyes. Then Lyall Lupin threw out his wand arm. There was the sound of a large explosion and the squealing of brakes - and then the bright purple, triple decker Knight Bus was right there in front of them.

They clambered on, paid their eleven sickles and sat down on two chintzy pouffes - which slipped and slid down the aisle of the bus as it jumped erratically from one destination to another - until finally it was their turn, and the bus pulled up to their own cottage on the Welsh border, and they were home.

…

It was later that evening, once they had had tea, that they drew the curtains, lit the lamps and cleared space in their little living room to experiment on the boggart.

'A boggart feeds on terror,' Lyall told Remus. 'It reads your mind and looks for the thing that frightens you the most. They're rather sad creatures, really, not too much to worry about - but when one hits upon the right fear, they can leave an otherwise talented wizard utterly flawed; paralysed and unable to vanquish it.'

'So what happens then, dad?'

'If another wizard does not happen by, then they can be lost forever to their fear; the boggart will simply drain them until there is nothing left.'

'But I thought you said they weren't much to worry about.'

'Aha - well, therein lies the trick.' Lyall grinned and pushed his sleeves up. 'As I said, a boggart discovers your worst fear by reading your mind - sifting through until it finds what it needs. Therefore it is your thoughts that determine the form the boggart takes. Do you remember how I told you you got rid of boggarts?'

'You need to laugh at them - force them into a shape you find amusing.'

'Precisely. The well prepared wizard is at all times in control of the shape the boggart assumes. You remember I asked Madam Grimmice what her worst fear was? And then told her mine?'

Remus nodded.

'Well - here's the thing, Remus. No one's worst fear is actually flesh eating slugs or headless corpses. Even at your age - you have passed the time of being afraid of monsters. Our fears - our real fears - are much darker, much less tangible, more complicated and complex and they bury deeper into our mind than any surface scary creature of the deep ever could. But no one wants to admit their deepest, darkest fears in front of a crowd . When I asked Madam Grimmice what it was she feared, she gave the simple answer - not the true one - and thus flesh eating slugs were at the forefront of her mind when the boggart appeared. And so - when the boggart went sieving through her grey matter, what it found was the flesh eating slugs. She chose the form it took, and chose a fear she could face head on and fight. And that is the secret to boggarts - not just to force them into a shape you find amusing, but to force its initial shape into a shape you can handle.'

'So - what was Madam Grimmice's real worst fear?'

Lyall shook his head. 'I don't know. She didn't want us to know. And she stopped the boggart from finding it. Of course there was something else working in her favour - do you remember what it was?'

Remus nodded. 'We were there with her. You should always hunt boggarts in pairs - or more.'

'Why?'

'Because when it's got more than one mind to read, it gets confused - it doesn't know what to turn itself into and tries to scare everyone at once and ends up scaring nobody … which is how we ended up with half a slug this afternoon.'

'Excellent,' Lyall beamed at him proudly. 'You know - you'll be taking over from me as the country's leading boggart expert before we know it. Not that I should be surprised - with your history…'

Remus rolled his eyes fondly.

'You came into this world on the back of a boggart, you know?'

'I know.'

'Your mother was walking in the woods, one day …' Once again, Remus rolled his eyes - and then waited patiently for the conclusion of a story he had heard many many times before. '...And she insisted on a boggart as the cake topper at our wedding. Well, of course no one knows what a boggart looks like when it's alone. But your mother had such a vivid imagination - truly a gift - and she could just see what they should look like. And that was good enough for her - and of course that meant it was good enough for me …and then, less than a year later, along you came and …'

'We always said that we had that boggart to thank for you,' Remus joined in on the last line.

Lyall smiled self-deprecatingly. 'You're a wicked boy - you should humour an old man his fond memories. Well, come on then, Mr. Know It All - this boggart isn't going to fight itself. Let's get that packing case open and see what we can make of him.'

They spent a couple of hours putting the boggart through its paces. 'We're testing to see the limits of just how much we can determine its shape,' Lyall said. The silvery orb of the full moon hovered above the mantelpiece, and Remus stared up at it. 'Think of something else that frightens you - see if you can make it something different.'

'Er - well - er - ' he screwed his face up and closed his eyes, trying to think of anything that left him with the same kind of dread as the moon. Not too much to handle - just enough that his stomach felt like lead and his heart beat a little faster. 'Er- right!' He remembered a moment in the forest last year - staring down a threat and thinking this was very probably the end.

There came the sound of the whip crack. The full moon vanished from where it hovered by the family photos and instead there was suddenly a massive and wild looking centaur, standing on the hearth and scraping its hooves along the rug.

Remus yelped and jumped back in alarm.

'Crikey,' Lyall mopped his brow. 'Alright, son - the incantation. Try and make it something funny … and smaller , if at all possible.'

He nodded and gripped his wand, thinking he would turn the centaur-boggart into a donkey, just like in the enchanted picture his friend, Peter Pettigrew, had drawn for him. But - just as he was trying to visualise a little, grey donkey with a mournful face - he remembered how the real centaur - Bane - had announced to the others that he, Remus, was a werewolf - exposing the secret he had so carefully kept for over a year. And he remembered the feeling of horror and dread that swept through him - and the way they had all stared at him and - before he could speak aloud the incantation - the whip crack sounded again and the centaur was once more replaced by the full moon, bobbing quietly by the ceiling.

'What happened?' Lyall asked him.

'I lost my concentration.'

'You must never do that when fighting a boggart.'

'Sorry.'

'That thought wasn't scary enough. Try for something else.'

Remus frowned and tried to think of something else that caused him dread. He briefly managed to turn the boggart into Professor Slughorn - who told him in his booming voice that he had to brew a particularly complicated potion or he would be chucked out of Hogwarts … but that lasted even less time than the centaur. He just didn't believe the Slughorn-boggart. Potions was a pain, but no one was kicking him out of school for being a walking catastrophe at it. He was too good at all his other subjects.

And his imagination was running dry (he took after his father, not his mother, when it came to talents). He wasn't afraid of spiders or dragons or the giant squid. He was too interested in dark creatures to be afraid of any of them - vampires and lethifolds and kelpies were too fascinating to be frightening.

But without monsters to be afraid of … that only left his real fears. The deepest ones he didn't want to admit to himself, never mind to a crowd. The ones his dad told him not to think about when fighting a boggart, in case the manifestation of them paralysed him with terror. And between trying not to think about those and trying desperately to think of something else scary, he was fast becoming exhausted.

The full moon bobbed gently up and down. 'I'm sorry dad, I can't make it stick as anything else.'

'Don't be sorry - we're experimenting. Seeing how far we can control the boggart and how far we can control our fears. You're doing fine. We have to remember safety first. What we don't want is for the boggart to see the real secrets in your heart. If the moon is the easiest and safest thing for you to have a boggart turn into - then this should be what you stick with. This should be the form you fight … so - how are you going to make it funny?'

'Er -' he remembered a nursery rhyme his mum used to recite to him before he was bitten:

The man in the moon came down to soon

And asked his way to Norwich

He went by the south and burnt his mouth

While eating cold, pease porridge.

He formed an image of the illustration from his mother's book of rhymes in his mind, lifted his wand and cried 'Ridikulus!'

He heard the crack and when he opened his eyes the full moon had a face - a funny face with glinting black eyes and a very long nose. It wore a fluffy, little night cap and was puffing and panting in pain over its burnt mouth. He laughed. He heard the crack - and there was a headless corpse on the floor, waiting for Lyall to deal with it.

'Excellent, son!'

'Can we keep going until it explodes?'

Lyall checked his watch. 'Not now - you need to be in bed. And I want to test it some more. Come on, now - up you go.' And, grumbling slightly, Remus left the headless corpse-boggart on the floor and climbed the stairs to his room.

…

He drifted off into weird dreams; Slughorn was trying to squash the full moon into his cauldron. 'You need to be able to brew a moon waning potion or the centaurs will be angry,' he said.

'But I don't know how.'

'Well - there's nothing to be done, then.' There was the sound of a whip crack and the cauldron turned into a flesh eating slug and bit Slughorn's head off. The sound came again - and Remus jolted awake.

He could still hear the cracking noise. His father must still be downstairs, experimenting on the boggart. He frowned and looked at the clock beside him. It was well past midnight. He heard the whip crack again - and decided to get up to investigate.

He crept down the stairs, careful not to make any noise, and leaned over the bannister so he could see into the living room below. The headless corpse was still right on the floor, where he had left it … only it was no longer was some kind of large, four legged creature standing over it, ripping into it - mauling it. He bit his lip to stop himself from crying out in alarm - and reminded himself it was only a boggart.

But as he crept closer, he realised the creature was a wolf. It made him feel sick to watch. The wolf looked up - its eyes were frenzied and its muzzle was red with blood…and once again Remus had to stop himself from crying out. Then came the whip crack and the corpse and the wolf disappeared to be replaced by Remus himself - and a man, in smart robes. And Remus was handcuffed, and the man - the Ministry official - was taking him away for savaging that poor person.

Remus looked away - not wanting to see - and caught sight of his father, standing frozen, looking both terrified and heartbroken.

And then the whip crack came again - and Hope Lupin was standing there, in the middle of their living room.

She looked like she used to - before the illness - she was young and beautiful, but her face was angry. 'You let them take him away!' the Hope-boggart screamed. 'How could you, Lyall? How could you fail to protect our son? Our son!'

'Mum!' This time Remus couldn't stop himself. The boggart looked so much like his mother, sounded so much like his mother - and all he wanted in the world was to run to her - that he forgot he was supposed to be staying hidden.

Both Lyall and the boggart looked up at where he stood on the stairs. Another whip crack - and Hope vanished to be replaced by a hovering full moon.

'Mum!'

But she was gone.

He looked down and saw his dad staring up at him. 'I'm sorry…'

'Go back to bed, Remus.' Lyall's voice was shaking. 'I told you to go to bed.'

'But -'

'Go!'

And he turned and ran up the stairs, slammed his door shut and flung himself on the bed. He lay there for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, and thinking about how he had just seen his mother's face one last time, heard her voice - when he thought that was impossible … and how much he still missed her.

It wasn't until he was almost asleep that he remembered the other forms the boggart had taken. And, with a lurch of his stomach, he was wide awake again.

They were all him. He was what his father was most afraid of. What he might do, who he might hurt. He was the deepest fear Lyall had, that he did not want to admit to in public - the type of fear he warned Remus not to think about in front of a boggart - the sort of fear that left Lyall paralysed in true terror. Remus was the monster his father had nightmares about.

Remus Lupin might have been a very unusual boy but - as he lay there, unable to sleep - he wished with all his might that he did not have to be quite so unusual. He wished with all his might that he could be more like everyone else. A boy - and not a monster.