In Harry’s defence, it could be said that familiarity with his nightmares had worn some of the corners off of them. When one has the same dream repeatedly over the course of a couple of years, some details tend to become slightly blurred. But the Boggart’s magic didn’t care about familiarity and didn’t care about the passage of time. The creature’s unique magical defence seized on the strongest negatively-associated image in Harry’s mind and reproduced it in exquisite, loving detail for its victim.

Harry’s breath froze in his lungs as he saw an older Ginny sprawled dead on the desk. Details that hadn’t consciously registered that horrible day were reproduced down to the last spatter of blood. The artificially pale face, robbed of all circulation; the bones protruding from her wand arm, the stub of wood still clenched between two fingers; the broken and bent legs; the shredded and burned robe. Glimpses of torn underclothes.

Harry’s wand was in his hand, but it was shaking so hard he couldn’t raise it. He knew he was supposed to come up with a way to make this humorous, to laugh at it, but there wasn’t anything remotely funny in his mind right now. He clamped down on his Occlumency shields, trying to rob the Boggart of any input. The image wavered slightly as he heard the scrape of desks around him beginning to move.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Professor Lupin lunge towards him, clearly trying to distract the Boggart. He’d taken two steps, dodging around the desks moving away from Harry. He almost reached the Boy Who Lived before something unseen flung him toward the doorway with stunning force.

Suddenly Ginny was replaced by a sprawled corpse, mangled beyond recognition, only a few tufts of short red hair visible through the blood and gore that covered the head. Harry gritted his teeth as Ron’s corpse was replaced with an older version of Hermione, face deathly pale, but with her throat a red ruin that cascaded down to cover her blouse. It took a moment for Harry to realize that the animal growl he heard was coming from himself. Then Luna and Neville appeared in quick succession, their eyes glassy from the Killing Curse. Then a final figure that wasn’t dead.

The red-slitted eyes locked onto Harry’s as Voldemort’s victorious smirk spread across his features. The red silken robes rustled as the Dark Lord almost lazily raised his wand, the green glow of the Killing Curse already lighting the tip.

"I’ve already won, Potter," it seemed to hiss as Harry’s scar exploded with well-remembered pain.

"NO!" Harry screamed at the top of his lungs. "Singularis Nex!" he roared, the simple Boggart-banishing hex forgotten. The much-abused student desks, already pushed back to the walls, shattered to kindling behind him as a mote of pure darkness shot from his wand. Half-forgotten reflexes came to the fore and he dived and rolled to the side to avoid the counterstroke, coming up on one knee to blast Voldemort when he dodged Harry’s initial strike…

Only to watch the ersatz Dark Lord stare in confusion at onrushing doom. The pulsing ball of blackness travelled far slower than most curses, but that didn’t matter if its target didn’t move. When it struck the transformed Boggart it exploded with mind-numbing force and Harry had to shield his eyes with his hand.

When Harry lowered his arm, the Boggart was gone. As was the packing case, Professor Lupin’s desk, the bookshelves, and all the other furnishings at that end of the room. Not even dust remained on the scorched stones, some of which showed hairline cracks.

Harry swallowed and turned, still on one knee, toward the entrance to the classroom. With a quiet groan, Remus Lupin sat up, blinking owlishly and rubbing at the back of his head.

Harry froze in place for a moment, heart pounding, as the rage in his heart was abruptly replaced by chagrin.

This has gone utterly pear-shaped.

OoOoO

Professor Dumbledore’s eyes widened behind his spectacles as he stiffened. Professor McGonagall stared at him curiously. Professor Sprout was just giving them, along with the Potions teacher and School Matron, an update on the greenhouses when the Headmaster felt a disturbance in the wards.

As the Headmaster of Hogwarts, he held ultimate control of the castle’s defences, but he was surprised his colleagues didn’t themselves feel the flare of magic that had occurred within the school.

It was their turn to jump as a low-pitched boom rumbled throughout the castle. Professor Slughorn choked on a piece of crystallized pineapple and began coughing.

"Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked, an eyebrow raised in concern as Madam Pomfrey gave the round little Potion master a sharp blow to the middle of his back.

Dumbledore rose to his feet with a speed that belied his age. "That came from one of the classrooms," he said as he threw open the door to the staff room. As one, the professors followed their headmaster out the door.

OoOoO

Harry shakily climbed to his feet. Professor Lupin let out a low moan as he cradled his head in his hands. Recalling the loud thump the man had made when he struck the doorframe, Harry rushed over to check on him.

Even through the faded brown hair, Harry could see a large knot forming on the back of the man’s head. Head injuries were tricky, even if the victim was still conscious, so Harry resolved to get Remus to the hospital wing quick sticks.

"Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey, Professor," Harry said quietly as he got a good grip on the defence professor’s shoulder. Remus started to nod, but winced instead. His eyes screwed shut with pain.

As he helped Remus blindly climb to his feet, Harry couldn’t help but glance at the devastated classroom. He knew a few charms like Reparo, but this would take…

"Just give me a moment, Harry," Remus said in a shaky voice. His eyes were slitted as if the light hurt them.

Harry paused as Remus slowly tested his balance. Dobby hadn’t ended up at The Burrow, so he assumed the house-elf had found employment elsewhere. He just hoped he was correct in his assumption.

"Dobby?" he whispered urgently.

With a quiet pop, the former Malfoy servant appeared before them.

"Harry Potter, sir, calls Dobby?" the elf asked hopefully; joy alight in his bulging eyes.

"Er, yeah," Harry said quickly. "I guess you found a job here at Hogwarts?" he asked.

Dobby nodded quickly, making his long ears flop. "Headmaster says Dobby may not be welcome where Harry Potter stays, but Headmaster offers Dobby a job. Headmaster pays Dobby three Sickles a month, but Dobby is free to quit if he wants."

Harry frowned for a moment, wondering why the Headmaster had said such a thing, then he realized that Molly might not have been comfortable being displaced in her duties at The Burrow. Not to mention having Dobby do some of the chores might leave Fred and George more time for mischief… Harry shook his head — there was no time for this now.

"Glad to hear that, Dobby," he said quickly. "Look, we’ve had a bit of an accident here. I’m going to take Professor Lupin to the hospital wing to get his head looked at. Would you mind, er, helping with the mess in here?"

Dobby looked at the wrecked classroom, from the shattered desks to the scorched flagstones at the other end, and his eyes grew even wider. "Harry Potter, sir, is indeed a great and powerful wizard," he whispered, and Harry felt his stomach twist, but he supposed Dobby had cleaned up spell damage at Malfoy Manor more than once. The house-elf turned back to Harry and squared his shoulders with comical determination. "Dobby will fix it."

"Good thinking, Harry," Remus murmured. "I’d hate to explain any more of this than I have to," he said in an embarrassed tone. "Not one of my finer moments as a teacher…"

Harry felt a bit warmed inside that his tutor didn’t seem to be blaming him for what happened, but he was still worried that the man was hurt worse than he seemed to be. There would be time to worry about what he’d seen and how to explain it later.

But Professor Lupin’s luck seemed to be no better than Harry’s lately. They’d barely made the first cross-corridor before encountering the Headmaster and several professors.

"Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked, her voice rising slightly in alarm.

"We, uh, had an accident," Harry said quickly. "Professor Lupin hit his head."

Madam Pomfrey immediately stepped forward, her wand out. After making a few passes over the man’s head, she nodded. "He’s got a mild concussion, but if he can walk on his own, it’s safe to move him to the hospital wing. I can deal with this better there."

"Perhaps we should all go there," Professor Dumbledore suggested in a mild voice. Harry could only nod wordlessly.

OoOoO

Madam Pomfrey had Professor Lupin resting comfortably on one of the infirmary beds. After a couple of quick diagnostic charms, she handed him two potions in a manner that brooked no nonsense. Lupin drank them both without a word, and Harry was reminded that she’d been the Matron when Lupin was a student at Hogwarts. Obeying her was no doubt still a habit!

Once the man had drained the last vial, grimacing at an evidently unpleasant aftertaste, his eyes had cleared and he once again seemed fully aware.

"Remus," Dumbledore said gently, "how did you come to be injured?"

Harry felt his face flush with shame. However inadvertent, Moony’s injuries had still been caused by his magic.

Remus glanced at Harry and shook his head. "Mostly my own fault. You see, Harry missed the class where I covered Boggarts. I wasn’t sure having him confront one during the regular class was a good idea, but I did want to make sure he was familiar with the effects of their glamour, and knew the counter-charm."

"Are you always in the habit of holding private revision sessions for students that miss your regular class?" Professor McGonagall asked in an arch tone that made Harry wince. He knew that she still harboured some reservations regarding Remus and his extracurricular summer work with Harry and the others. She was scrupulously fair, showing no favour in the classroom toward her own house, so any signs of favouritism by others would be met with clear disapproval.

Harry knew the strict professor had been Remus’ Head of House when he’d attended Hogwarts — deferring to her would be even more ingrained than with Madam Pomfrey.

So he was mildly surprised when Professor Lupin locked gazes with the Deputy Headmistress and said quietly. "There are reasons that I need to ensure Harry excels in my subject, but I am not at liberty to speak of them." The other teachers looked curious about the vague pronouncement, but McGonagall immediately let the issue drop.

"I see," said Dumbledore. "But if Harry was confronting a Boggart, how did you come to be hit by his spell?"

"I wasn’t," Lupin admitted with a wan smile. "I was caught in the backlash when Harry destroyed it."

Harry stared down at his feet as he felt his cheeks burn. He was startled when he felt Lupin’s hand close around his shoulder. "I saw a young woman with red hair. Was it Lily?" he asked, but continued after Harry didn’t answer. "It affected Harry greatly, but as I moved to dispel it, I think I was caught in a burst of accidental magic. I am quite sure that Harry’s wand did not move, so this was not intentional."

Harry still couldn’t make himself look up. After the dream he’d had about Dumbledore at The Burrow, the idea of losing control of his magic horrified him almost as much as thinking about the future.

"Was that what caused the explosion we heard?" Professor Dumbledore asked in a quiet voice. For an instant, Harry wanted to tell him everything, lay all the cards on the table, and let someone else be responsible for this whole mess. But would that just be taking the easy way out?

"No, Headmaster," Remus said, and Harry thought his voice sounded very odd. "I looked up just in time to realize that the Boggart had made a fatal error."

Now Harry did look up. Remus had a tight grin on his face that seemed to melt years off of his appearance, and Harry remembered that he was a Marauder, after all. "I know none of the approved modern magical history books carry an accurate depiction of what Voldemort really looked like, but given Harry’s curiosity and resources, I don’t doubt that he’s read one that did. The Boggart decided to take on that appearance, and it was the last mistake it ever made."

"Harry Banished it?" Professor McGonagall asked curiously.

"Harry obliterated it," Professor Lupin corrected. "I daresay my desk will never be the same."

Harry resisted the urge to remind them that he was standing right there. He also realized that Lupin’s concussion prevented him from fully realizing what had happened. There was no desk anymore. He hoped Dobby was able to do something…

"Harry," Dumbledore said in a serious voice that seized Harry’s attention, "I understand that you may have been startled, but with great power comes great responsibility."

Harry frowned. Where had he heard that before?

"It seems," Dumbledore continued, "that your magic may be stronger than many of your peers. That means you need to be careful or you risk inadvertently harming one of your friends."

Harry swallowed thickly. Dumbledore was layering on the guilt, and he knew it, but it still worked. Harry nodded. "I didn’t intend for that to happen," he said truthfully.

"I’m aware of that, Harry," Dumbledore said, "but you need to be careful to make sure it doesn’t happen again."

Harry just nodded. He didn’t want to prolong the discussion. He was both worn out and wary of letting something slip. Had Remus seen more than he said?

OoOoO

By the time Harry was allowed to return to Gryffindor Tower, dinner was long over, but his appetite was nowhere to be found. His only consolation was that Professor Lupin didn’t seem to be seriously injured by his lack of control. He claimed his headache was gone, and only stayed overnight in the hospital wing at Madam Pomfrey’s firm insistence.

He noticed several people look up as he stepped past the Fat Lady’s portrait. His friends were clustered around a couple of sofas in the corner of the common room, so he made his way there with some relief.

Ginny frowned when she got a good look at his expression, but Hermione spoke up first. "Harry, what’s wrong?"

When he didn’t immediately answer, the others began to look more and more concerned, so he held up his hands in a placating gesture and glanced around the common area. Seamus and Dean were on the other side of the room, playing Exploding Snap with some second-year boys. "Let’s discuss this upstairs," he said quietly.

With that, they packed up their school books and made their way up to the third-year boys’ room. Harry brought up the rear, quietly palming his wand. He didn’t place locking or privacy charms on the door as it shut — that would have lead to all sorts of inappropriate speculation among their classmates — but he did perform a silent Warning Charm that would alert him if anyone approached the door.

The girls looked around curiously. While they were not barred from the boys’ dormitories — though the opposite was certainly true — they hadn’t been up there very often.

Harry sat on his bed, hung his head, and ran his hands through his hair. He barely registered Ginny sitting next to him before she laid a cool hand on the back of his neck. He tensed for a moment before he made himself relax. With her silent encouragement, he told them everything that had happened that disastrous afternoon.

When he concluded with how he’d finally been allowed to leave the hospital wing, he waited for them to react. A scolding from Hermione or Ginny he’d expect. An odd comment from Luna was only par for the course. An amused snort from Neville was enough to make him look up in surprise.

"You sure showed that Boggart, mate," Ron said, his smirk disturbingly reminiscent of the twins.

"Don’t you get it?" Harry demanded. "I could have given everything away!"

"It actually may not be that bad," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Professor Lupin appears to have only seen the first body, and thought it might have been your mother, instead of an older Ginny."

Harry stole a sideways glance at Ginny. Her face was a little red, but she said nothing. Her hand stayed on the back of his neck. He supposed she knew how his older counterpart had felt about losing that other Ginny, but he was still uncomfortable when events reminded her of it.

"And then he saw Harry blowing up Voldemort," Luna added dreamily. Then she smiled. "That was probably very reassuring," she added brightly.

"No doubt," Neville agreed.

"I can’t believe you are all making jokes about this," Harry snapped, his voice a little harsher than he intended. Ginny huffed and her hand tightened on the back of his neck for a moment. He froze.

Her hand began kneading the tense muscles and he found himself relaxing in spite of himself. Her voice, on the other hand, was rather crisp. "Whether we make jokes about it doesn’t matter one bit. But I do think you are overreacting, and I’m not the only one, Harry."

"Harry," Hermione began in a placating tone, "my father is rather fond of saying that when you hear hoof beats outside, it could be zebras, but most likely it’s just horses. In most instances, the simplest explanation is the best. These clues may seem obvious to you because you already know the truth. But try to put yourself in their shoes for a moment. The research on temporal transit fields won’t be published for several years and there are explanations that are far easier to accept for what they have seen."

Harry frowned at the bushy-haired witch. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Professor Lupin saw you confronted with the dead body of a red-haired young woman," Hermione began in her ‘explaining to my friends’ voice. "The only red-haired young woman he knows of with a connection to you is your mother. He assumed it was what he knew, rather than speculating about something else — like an older version of Ginny."

Harry nodded slowly, her words reassuring him in spite of himself.

"And when you destroyed the image of Voldemort," Hermione continued, "he apparently assumed it was because he’d killed your parents. Again, people tend to go with what they already know, rather than looking for something else. I don’t mean to make light of your concerns, Harry, but it may not be as dire as it seems."

Harry nodded slowly and blew out a shaky breath. He couldn’t fault Hermione’s logic, and Ginny’s mostly-silent persuasion was no less effective.

OoOoO

By the time the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress returned to staff room, the concerns about the state of the greenhouses were the farthest from their minds. Madam Pomfrey, of course, stayed behind to keep an eye on her new patient. Professors Slughorn and Sprout exchanged a glance before suggesting they meet later on in the week.

The door had barely closed before Professor McGonagall turned to the Headmaster with a raised eyebrow.

"A most unusual disruption to what promised to be a fairly tedious meeting," he said.

"Is that all you can say?" she asked in deceptively mild tone.

"We should probably survey the damage to the Defence classroom before drawing any conclusions," he said thoughtfully, stroking his beard, "but I feel it is safe to say that young Harry may be a bit more powerful than we were led to believe."

McGonagall nodded. "He certainly did not display anything like what Professor Lupin implied during Duelling Association meetings."

"I find it troubling that he seems to be concealing his true capabilities," Professor Dumbledore said with a frown.

McGonagall gave him a sharp look. "Are you still looking for parallels that don’t exist?" she asked in a tone that brooked no nonsense.

"What reason would he have for doing so?" Dumbledore asked, "He also seemed very upset that he’d been caught out."

The Deputy Headmistress shook her head in exasperation. "I think he was more upset by the injury to Professor Lupin. If you will recall, Remus and James were very good friends. I would not be surprised if Harry saw him as a link to his own father."

Dumbledore nodded. "A friendship that did credit to James, even if it did put him at odds with his father for some time. Do you think Harry is that attached to him?"

"Harry seems to be very focused on getting to know his parents’ friends," she said carefully. "You saw the interview he gave regarding Mr. Black."

Dumbledore winced. "Minister Fudge is still quite agitated about Harry’s accusations. He wants me to restrict owl post to Mr. Potter within the castle and not allow him to visit Hogsmeade with the other third years."

McGonagall scowled. "I hope you are not planning to accede to his requests," she said frostily. "No good will come of punishing the boy when he has done no wrong," she warned.

"I’m not sure the Minister would agree," Dumbledore said carefully, "but to Harry, he is just using all the means at his disposal to see his godfather cleared." He shook his head. "I did not agree to act on the Minister’s behalf with regards to Harry, but Cornelius sees this as a base betrayal on my part. I fear that there is a great deal of tension between the Ministry and Hogwarts at the moment."

"Is that why you agreed to them posting Dementors around a school full of children?" McGonagall asked.

"They are not actually on the grounds," Dumbledore pointed out in a pained voice. "But yes, with these alleged sightings in Hogsmeade, I can’t really interfere in an ongoing manhunt. I fear that Cornelius wants the man Kissed as soon as he is brought in, if only to head off a more thorough investigation."

"But he never even had a trial!" McGonagall objected.

"True," Dumbledore agreed. "But by fleeing custody he is placing himself beyond the protections afforded him by the law. There is a legal precedent for this, should the Minister order it."

McGonagall’s gaze hardened. "Then I hope, for all of our sakes, that Sirius Black is not captured. Little else could so firmly persuade Harry that the Ministry is his enemy… and he already has enough to deal with if You-Know-Who returns."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Dumbledore nodded wearily, for once showing his age.

As Professor McGonagall stood up, she paused for a moment. "I’ll leave you with an additional thing to consider," she said primly. "Last term you were concerned with how callous Mr. Potter appeared regarding the injuries sustained by the Slytherin students who ambushed him and his friends. Compare that with how guilt-stricken he appeared tonight because of Professor Lupin’s injuries."

Dumbledore looked up at her. "You are correct, there is quite a difference."

"I think it has to do with how much he perceives they deserve it," she observed. "Someone attacking him deserves what they get… but an innocent bystander?"

Dumbledore smiled as he stood up. "That is an excellent observation, Minerva! Please keep me posted on this, or anything else you observe with respect to Harry."

Seemingly in spite of herself, the Transfiguration professor smiled at the Headmaster’s words.

OoOoO

The following morning, Remus Lupin smiled fondly at Madam Pomfrey as she fussed over him before allowing him to return to his quarters. She’d helped him recover from the increasingly painful transformations he’d undergone while he was a student at Hogwarts — he doubted she’d ever see him without being reminded of the boy who stumbled, shivering, from the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack every full moon.

Remembering all the aches she’d soothed, he could hardly object when she wanted to run an additional diagnostic charm, or feed him an extra potion or two. When she finally cleared him to leave the hospital wing, he smiled fondly at her and thanked her in a quiet voice. She flushed a bit; evidently the difference in their heights once he stood up reminded her that he wasn’t that same little boy anymore. Moony suppressed a grin as he left. Some things never changed, and others became even better.

Despite the disastrous finale to the evening, he was considerably cheered by what little he’d seen. Harry’s confrontation with the Boggart had the boy displaying a degree of power that he’d only hinted at over the summer. He knew Harry was magically stronger than his friends, but he suspected ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’ was holding back -- a lot -- during their exercises.

Remus frowned as he walked down the corridor, heading for a moving staircase. That label was probably a good piece of the reason why… Harry was already treated as an object of curiosity by so many; it only stood to reason that he’d want to conceal anything else that might make him appear different. Children his age usually wanted very badly to fit in with their peers…

Remus shook his head. He’d talk to Harry the first chance he received. Given the task Harry had to perform in the future, having overly strong magic was only good news. He just needed to make sure Harry saw it as a boon, and not another burden.

He smiled wistfully. James and Lily would have been so proud of their son.

Just being back at Hogwarts was enough to make him feel nostalgic, and thinking about what should have been was enough to occupy his thoughts until he opened the door to his classroom.

Surprisingly, the damage wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d expected. The Boggart’s crate was gone, of course, but his desk and the student desks had been put back in their normal places. He frowned. He could have sworn he’d heard the sound of splintering wood after he’d struck his head, but either he’d imagined it, or it was just the crate being destroyed. He’d barely got his eyes open again in time to see the imitation Dark Lord annihilated by Harry’s spell. And after that, he’d been dazzled by the flashes shooting across his vision.

Slowly shaking his head, he entered the room. Hogwarts’ house-elves were as efficient as ever. His desk appeared to be freshly polished, as were the bookshelves holding extra copies of the defence textbooks, and someone had mended the small tear in the seat cushion of his chair… someone that was more proficient with fabric charms than he was, anyway.

Chuckling slightly, he looked at the clock on the wall. That, too, had been freshly cleaned. There was still an hour before the Great Hall opened for breakfast, so he could get some grading done on those essays.

But when he opened the left-hand drawer of his desk, he paused in confusion. Had he moved the essays? He checked the right-hand drawer and saw a set of quills and a fresh bottle of ink, but no papers. And how had that bottle been re-filled?

"Is everything alright, Master Loopy?" a high-pitched voice said from below his right elbow.

Lupin jumped with a muttered oath, almost falling out of his chair. He twisted around and stared at a cringing house-elf who was wringing his hands. "Who are you?" he asked, perhaps a bit sharper than he intended.

"I is being Dobby, and I works here at Hogwarts, Master Loopy, sir. Dobby cleaned up classroom last night. Is classroom to your liking, sir?"

Remus forced the scowl off of his face. He vaguely remembered hearing Harry talk to someone named Dobby when he was first recovering from his head hitting the doorframe. The overly-servile speech of most house-elves tended to rub him the wrong way, but he knew from his studies that they couldn’t really help it. So, he found himself hastening to reassure the little manikin. "Oh no, everything is fine, the room looks wonderful," he said, causing the elf to beam with happiness. "I was just," he added diffidently, "wondering if you knew where the essays that were in my desk went?"

Dobby’s eyes went wide with horror. Before Remus could stop him, the house-elf began slamming his head against the corner of the desk, over and over. "Oh, Dobby is a bad elf! Dobby did not save papers when cleaning! Dobby is so sorry! Dobby should be punished!" Every statement was punctuated with a meaty thump of tiny skull striking hardwood furniture.

Remus was momentarily speechless at the extreme reaction his innocent question had caused. He reached down to stop Dobby, but the elf was stronger than his size suggested and surprisingly persistent. "It’s all right, Dobby, I didn’t really need them. I was, er, just going to throw them out anyway… so you, ah, saved me the trouble."

It wasn’t until these words sunk in that Dobby stopped thrashing and trying to punish himself. "Professor Loopy means it?" he asked, eyes wide.

"Er, yes," Lupin said, taken aback. "Who told you my name?"

"Dobby asks Mister Peeves," he said seriously. "Mister Peeves was very helpful to Dobby."

Lupin winced, but refrained from commenting. "Well, no harm done. I appreciate you cleaning up the mess from that Boggart!" he said in what he hoped sounded like a jaunty tone.

Dobby nodded so hard his ears wobbled. "Master Loopy must let Dobby know if his Professorness needs anything! Anything!" Then he disappeared with a small pop.

Professor Lupin blinked and then shook his head. He closed the desk drawers and got up from his chair, heading toward the door. He supposed the students wouldn’t be too averse to him announcing they’d all received full marks for their essays.

OoOoO

Dobby smiled as he returned to the kitchens. Harry Potter had been very worried about the classroom when he called for Dobby. He remembered the dark Young Master calling for him in similar circumstances. His orders had always been very clear. Painfully clear. Make this so it looked like nothing happened. Make it so no one even notices. If anyone does notice anything different, tell them it’s your fault!

The desks and chairs were easy — he had only to get spares from the Hogwarts storage areas and fix them up, an easy job for house-elf magic. The same applied to the book shelves and spare textbooks, though he’d had to duplicate more than a few of those to make up the deficit.

The student essays, though, were a different matter. They’d been destroyed so thoroughly that his magic couldn’t restore them — so he did, in fact fail to save them. Taking the blame for that didn’t bother him, though he was surprised that Master Loopy didn’t let him punish himself more.

If he would do it for Young Master, who didn’t treat him very well, he’d certainly do it for the most wonderful Harry Potter, who’d freed him.

Dobby was delighted to note that the preparations for breakfast were still underway, so he could get in on those as well. Working at Hogwarts was great fun for a house-elf, because there was always something to do.

OoOoO

Harry was almost too embarrassed to meet Professor Lupin’s eye when he attended his next Defence Against the Dark Arts class. It got worse when Professor Lupin asked him to stay after class.

Once the last of the other students had filed out, Professor Lupin let out a sigh that almost sounded like he was amused. "That was not the textbook way to dispel a Boggart, but it was certainly successful. Full marks, Harry."

Harry visibly cringed, causing his professor to laugh. Eventually, he relaxed as he realized the man didn’t completely blame him for what happened.

After his laughter trailed off, Lupin eyed Harry appraisingly. "You know you have every right to be angry with how some things have happened in your life. Don’t dwell on it, don’t let it consume you, but it’s all right to use that anger when you need it."

Harry looked up, and locked eyes with his father’s friend. Hard green eyes bored into faded brown ones. "It can’t be good that I hate Voldemort this much, can it?"

Lupin shook his head. "I’m not Dumbledore, Harry; I don’t think everyone can be saved. I believe there comes a time and when justice must be meted out. I don’t think anyone knows exactly how many deaths he’s caused, how many lives he’s ruined. If any living person deserves your hatred, he does."

Harry nodded slowly; feeling like a weight had been lifted. He had no idea that Remus disagreed with the Headmaster on such a fundamental issue — especially since it was Dumbledore’s philosophy that had even allowed Remus to attend Hogwarts in the first place. But then again, there was an issue of choice there as well. Remus hadn’t chosen to be bitten by Fenrir Greyback. Tom Riddle chose to become Lord Voldemort. That was all the reason in the world.

As he digested this, Remus’ next question caught him off guard. "How long have you been hiding your power?"

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "Since first year," he admitted. "When I saw how much stronger my spells were coming out…"

Remus nodded. "And you didn’t want to show off?"

Harry shrugged again. "A little; I also didn’t want to advertise too much. There are a lot of unfriendly eyes around here."

Remus nodded, conceding the point. "Be that as it may, I think we should work on that a little. We need to gauge exactly how strong you are, and then help you deal with it. Do you ever have problems controlling your magic?"

Harry shook his head. "Not unless I am angry or really upset."

"Then it would be a good idea for you to make sure you are always in control of your emotions," Remus replied thoughtfully. "Do the Occlumency exercises help?" he asked.

"Some," Harry allowed. "If I remember to do them in time," he added ruefully.

Remus smiled thinly. "That’s always the case," he agreed. "I would also add that talking about things that are bothering you can be a great help. You are both unusually mature and unusually self-contained for a wizard of your age, Harry. I don’t say this to make you uncomfortable, but if you keep things bottled up too much, when you do let the cork out you may go further than you intended."

Harry peered at Professor Lupin. While some of the man’s observations were uncomfortably perceptive, his advice had the sound of painful experience to it. "Did that ever happen to you?" he asked.

Remus looked startled for a moment. "Yes, in a way. But I had friends who kept me from going too far. Given the… circumstances… we find ourselves in, I understand if you are hesitant to tell me too much. But I hope you do confide in someone. Even speaking about your problems to another person can ease the burden."

Harry looked away and nodded. Remus had evidently intuited that there were some things Harry wasn’t comfortable with the Headmaster knowing. But he was being so understanding that it shamed Harry, just a little. But the simple fact was that coming clean with his friends had been an enormous relief. Talking with Ginny later had been even more cathartic. "I understand," he said finally.

"Good man," Remus said. "In that, you seem to be more like Lily than James."

Harry looked up sharply at that.

"Your mum was a bit more sensible about things than James was. I dearly loved them both, but there were times when only Lily could talk sense to James," the professor explained with a fond smile. "Although academically you take after your mother, you still seem to have James’ propensity for getting into trouble."

Harry rolled his eyes at that, but he couldn’t prevent the pleased smile that crossed his face.

"All I would ask of you, Harry," Remus continued, "is that you exercise that Evans common sense and ask for help when you need it. For my part, I think it would be productive if we did some exercises to see just how much more powerful you can make your spells…"

Harry listened as Remus explained… all the awkwardness between them forgotten.

OoOoO

The remainder of September passed far more quietly, for which Harry was grateful. His electives, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, proved to be very engrossing. Neither Professor Vector nor Professor Addams were slouches in the classroom, and both witches were very focused on their subjects. As a result, Harry found himself being challenged more than in any of the other classes. Ron and Neville were equally swamped trying to keep up with the material.

Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying every minute of it.

She was so enthused about what they were learning in their electives that she wanted to talk about it all of the time… and Harry realized how disappointed that other Hermione must have been when both of her best friends stuck with Divination. Unfortunately, her enthusiasm was driving Ron spare.

One day, Harry found his friend in the common room, cradling his head in his hands over a half-finished essay on Norse runic alphabets. "I’m not sure I can take this anymore," the redhead said in a low moan. "I keep getting my languages crossed up, and Hermione, she thinks this is simple! She keeps going on about this and I’ll show her a futhark…"

Harry coughed as he swallowed a laugh. "Ron, if you’re struggling, just ask her for help."

Ron’s head snapped up like it was on a spring. "And then she’ll think I’m stupid!"

"No more than me, mate," Harry said, and then paused, frowning. "You haven’t asked her a single question, have you?"

"No," Ron said as he rubbed at his eyes.

"Then she probably thinks you understand all this and find it as easy as she does," Harry said in a low voice as he saw Hermione start to come down the stairs. "Did you think she was thick-headed when you were helping her get comfortable on a broom?"

Ron stared at him for a moment as Hermione sat down. Then he cleared his throat. "Uh, Hermione, could you take a look at this for a moment? I’m having a bad time keeping these Norse ones straight."

Harry smothered a grin as Hermione enthusiastically went through Ron’s notes, correcting a couple of things and showing him some simple mnemonics she’d developed to help keep them straight in her head. After a moment, Harry pulled out a quill and copied them down as well.

OoOoO

With the difficulty of their electives, October and the start of the Quidditch season was a welcome distraction to Harry, Ron, and Neville. Their early morning training had kept them fit, and Oliver’s speech about bringing home the Cup "one last time" before he left Hogwarts forever got everyone fired up, even on the reserve squad.

The whole team was training three evenings a week and Harry got to see some of the changes he’d missed at the end of the last season. Ginny rejoined the Chasers with nary a word about her absences last term. Ron was receiving a lot of personal coaching from Oliver, who evidently wanted a sure hand in his position after he left.

But most surprising was Neville and his progress under Fred and George. Harry didn’t think those two could take anything seriously, but he’d severely underestimated the Weasley Quidditch spirit. During one of the first practices, they asked Harry to help them with ‘a game of keep-away’.

In retrospect, Harry should have known better than to agree without getting all the details. Their little practice game consisted of Fred and George parking on their brooms about twenty yards to each side of Harry, then Summoning a quartet of charmed Bludgers and slamming them at Harry as hard as they could manage.

Now normally, this might have been a good bit of sport, but Harry wasn’t allowed to dodge — not even the slightest bit. Neville, armed with a spare Beater’s bat, was supposed to guard Harry and ‘keep all the Bludgers away’. Neville looked a bit green when he saw Fred release the Bludgers and shot Harry an anxious look. At that point, Harry didn’t dare say a word, or Neville would think he didn’t trust him.

So Harry sat, cringing, on his broom as Fred and George ran Neville ragged over the course of ten minutes. He’d lost count of the number of cracks of bat on Bludger he’d heard before he realized that Neville was really doing it.

Red-faced and sweating, squinting with concentration, Neville zoomed around Harry in a tight orbit. His right arm was nearly a constant blur of motion as he fended off the Bludgers. Harry stared, amazed, until Neville’s arm began to slow and Oliver blew his whistle.

"’Ere now, that’s enough of that, you two!" he yelled from the goals. George pulled out his wand to Banish the Bludgers back to the case and Neville sagged in relief.

Oliver began to chew out the twins as they headed for the lockers, demanding to know why they’d endangered their Seeker for a practice exercise this early in the season.

"Well, Ollie," Fred said in a jovial tone, "we thought Neville here could use the motivation. He’s never got past handling two at once, you know."

Harry swallowed and turned to look at Neville, who still had that sickly smile on his face.

Ginny spun toward her brothers, narrowing her eyes. "You two are unbelievable! If you injure Harry, I’ll… I’ll…"

"You’ll what?" George asked, looking puzzled.

Ginny inhaled sharply. "I’ll owl Mum," she replied softly.

George, Fred, and Ron all froze in their tracks. "You wouldn’t," Fred gasped, horrified.

"Don’t try me," Ginny snapped. Harry made a point of sitting next to Ginny as they studied later that evening, and her mood seemed to improve slightly.

OoOoO

At breakfast the following morning, most of the older students were talking about the first Hogsmeade weekend that had just been announced. Harry was looking forward to getting out for a while, but was acutely aware that, as second years, Ginny and Luna would not be allowed to go. Rather than beat around the bush, he simply asked Ginny if she had a list yet.

"List?" she asked, frowning in confusion.

"Yeah, anything you want from Hogsmeade?" he asked. "I thought I might pop down there for a bit and check out the shops, anything you need?" He was purposefully downplaying an event that most of his classmates were eagerly anticipating.

Of course, he didn’t fool her for a minute, but Ginny grinned appreciatively nonetheless. "I’ll think about it. I might need some quills."

Harry didn’t even have time to look at Neville before his friend had haltingly asked the same question of Luna. The blond girl patted his arm fondly and said she’d let him know.

Their meal was interrupted when a tawny owl dropped a bright red envelope in front of Neville. The Howler immediately began smoking and Neville flinched back in spite of himself.

"You better get it over with, mate," Ron commiserated as he covered his ears.

With a grimace, Neville ripped open the envelope.

"Neville Longbottom!" the paper snapped as it emerged, "When I give you instructions, I expect them to be followed!" it continued in an overly loud version of Augusta Longbottom’s voice. "When Mrs. Stebbins told me you were still hanging around with-"

At this point, Harry had heard more than enough. He stabbed his wand at the enchanted missive and spat, "Finite Incantatem!" He knew that normal Howlers were enchanted to react badly if the recipient tried to hex them… so he pushed more power into the spell and tried to visualize cancelling all the enchantments on the paper at once.

The Howler cut off in mid-tirade and poofed into a small pile of dust. The nearest candle dimmed for a moment as well, but Harry tried to ignore that as he looked up.

Luna’s face had gone very still. She clearly didn’t need anyone to tell her that she was the point of that message. After a moment, she rose to her feet and left the Great Hall.

Neville’s face, on the other hand, was quite different. It had started off pale, and filled with chagrin, embarrassed at being called onto the carpet in front of the entire school. But his eyes followed Luna as she walked away and suddenly it was like a switch was thrown. His face flushed and he spun toward the Hufflepuff table, glaring.

Harry saw an older boy snickering with his friends as Ron grabbed Neville’s sleeve, preventing him from standing up. "Neville!" Hermione hissed as she tried to help Ron restrain their friend, "The professors are all staring at us."

"I don’t care," Neville snapped. "Ken Stebbins has been talking to that gossip-mongering mum of his, and now Luna hates me!"

Harry leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Don’t be a prat. She doesn’t hate you, and revenge is a dish best served cold."

Neville frowned uncertainly as he stopped struggling. Harry gave him what he hoped was an evil grin. Neville and Ron both suddenly leaned back, so he wasn’t sure if he’d succeeded or not… Ginny’s elbow got his attention and he leaned back himself as Professor McGonagall arrived.

"What seems to be the problem here?" she asked in a sharp voice, no doubt irritated at having her meal interrupted.

"Nothing, Professor," Harry answered quickly.

McGonagall merely raised an eyebrow and turned toward Hermione.

"Ah, we were just, ah, surprised by the Howler," Hermione explained.

"Ah yes, the Howler," she said. "While it wasn’t allowed to finish," she observed, glancing down at Harry, "I do believe I recognized Augusta Longbottom’s voice. Mr. Longbottom, would you care to explain what you have done to cause your grandmother this degree of distress?"

Neville looked up, his eyes still angry, and Harry gripped the edge of the table. "I believe I offended her bigoted, pure-blood sensibilities, professor," he replied evenly.

"I see," Professor McGonagall said, her eyes boring into Neville, who was either oblivious or too angry to care. Either option scared Harry just a little bit. Completely unnatural, that’s what it was.

"I think everything is all right now, Professor," Harry said, hoping to distract her before Neville said anything else.

"Is that so, Mr. Potter?" she asked, turning toward Harry.

Harry tried to give her his most innocent smile as he assured her that everything was under control… really, he did. His smile was absolutely nothing like the evil grin he’d given Neville earlier.

So why did Professor McGonagall suddenly go pale and step back like she’d seen a ghost?

OoOoO

After the evening meal, Harry, Ron, and Neville took a detour on their way back to the Gryffindor common room. Luna had stayed in her dormitory the entire day, claiming she wasn’t feeling well, and Neville moped around with a face like a dropped pie.

Harry didn’t know if a little creative revenge on this Stebbins bloke would make Neville feel better, but he was willing to give it a shot. He knew Ginny and Hermione were working on Luna, and he was confident that they would succeed. He knew from personal experience how good Ginny was at cheering someone up.

As soon as they were out of sight, Harry walked them through an incantation he’d picked up from a British Auror, though the man claimed the idea for the spell originally came from a bloke from Wisconsin, of all places.

"Arachnos podares," he whispered, tapping each of his feet with his wand. Ron and Neville copied him, though Ron looked a little uncomfortable. Harry lifted his leg and set his foot against the wall of the alcove they stood in. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his other foot up and soon was walking right up the wall.

The other two followed, and soon they were all walking across the wall and up to the ceiling. Harry was reminded, to his annoyance, that school robes were not exactly made to be worn when standing upside down. It took several sticking charms applied to the hem of his robes to get them attached to his trousers and not hang down in front of his face. Getting Neville and Ron similarly kitted out consumed precious minutes.

Finally, they made it to the corridor outside the Hufflepuff common room, with five minutes to spare before curfew. According to Fred and George, Kenneth Stebbins had a girl in Ravenclaw that he spent an inordinate amount of time studying with. Or rather, studying. According to gossip amongst the upper forms, he hadn’t talked her into inspecting any broom cupboards as of yet, but he tended to make it back to his own common room only at the last minute each night.

The corridor with the entrance to the ‘Puffs common room was well lit, but the corridor that it connected onto had a higher ceiling with arches that seemed to collect the shadows. It was in one of these that the three Gryffindors lurked, waiting for their target.

Sure enough, with a minute to spare, the blond-haired sixth-year student came racing around the corner. Fortunately, they’d already worked out their plans ahead of time.

Neville led off with a low-powered jinx that made the floor momentarily slippery under the Hufflepuff’s feet. Stebbins went arse over teakettle as he turned the corner, knocking the wind out of himself which preventing him from noticing the other two spells. Ron’s spell was a Flatulence Curse he’d picked up from Fred that would make Stebbins extremely unpopular with his dorm-mates tonight. Harry’s was a variation on the Babel Curse that Hermione had suggested after she realized she wasn’t going to talk them out of pranking the older student. At random times throughout the next twenty-four hours, Kenneth Stebbins would speak words that sounded perfectly normal to himself, but would sound like complete gibberish to anyone else.

Stebbins picked himself up with a groan, muttering something that made no sense whatsoever. He paused while standing up, only to pass gas that was shockingly loud in the silent corridor. Then he collected himself and made his way to his common room before he was caught out of bounds.

Harry and his friends carefully picked their way across the corridor ceilings, getting far away from the Hufflepuff corridor before descending to the floor again.

It wasn’t long after curfew, and the prefects were probably still getting ready to do their rounds, but Harry didn’t want to take any chances on running into Filch. He pulled his father’s Invisibility Cloak out of his robes and spread it over the three of them. They were growing large enough now that with three of them under it, the hem of the Cloak didn’t meet the ground evenly anymore. Harry bit his lip as he realized this and silently blessed the shadowy corridor they traversed back to the Gryffindor tower.

They did have one close call, when Cedric Diggory passed them on one of the moving stairs. All three of the Gryffindors simultaneously crouched as they edged together toward the railing. The hem of the Cloak touched the marble just as the stairway’s motion rotated them through a brighter area under a floating chandelier. Harry lost track of how long he’d held his breath, but dark spots were swarming in front of his eyes by the time Cedric rounded the corner.

Melissa Bulstrode was just leaving the corridor in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait when they arrived. Fortunately, she was heading toward the opposite end of the corridor, so they were spared another close call.

The Fat Lady was already settling down for the night, sipping what appeared to be a rather large glass of port. So when Harry whispered the password, she opened up without even looking up. Harry whipped off the Cloak as they passed through the opening, quickly stuffing it under his robes again.

Ginny immediately jumped up from one of the chairs near the door. "Move quickly," she said in a low voice, "Percy is out looking for you. The twins ran interference for a while, but I think he saw through them."

Harry, Ron, and Neville immediately made for their dormitory, ignoring the knowing smiles from the older members of the Quidditch team. Harry figured they were used to watching Percy chase Fred and George. Ginny followed them up the stairs as well.

Harry threw open the door, startling a small yelp from Hermione as she and Luna jumped up from sitting on Harry’s bed. Dean and Seamus, who were sitting on the floor playing Gobstones, both began to snicker.

"Did you find him? Were you caught? Did those charms work? What took you so long?" Hermione asked without pausing for breath.

Ginny, who was bringing up the rear, managed to get the door shut before she began giggling. Ron bit his lip, while Neville cocked his head, trying to meet Luna’s eyes.

Harry sighed. "Yes. No. Yes. We were being careful not to get caught. Were there any other questions?" he asked sardonically.

Hermione huffed in exasperation, but everyone’s attention was diverted when Luna looked up and spoke. "Neville, I’m sorry I embarrassed you today."

Neville blinked and took a second to digest this. "Luna, you didn’t embarrass me at all. My Gran embarrassed both of us. I want to formally apologize to you on behalf of my family," he continued in a formal tone. "Her remarks and actions this past summer have been wholly inappropriate and constitute conduct unbefitting a Longbottom."

Harry wasn’t sure what that meant, but Neville’s words had the sound of some sort of legal formula. From the way Ron’s eyes were bulging, it seemed to be pretty serious, too.

Neville turned to Hermione and asked a question that captured everyone’s attention. "Do you know the incantation to create a Howler?" he asked.

OoOoO

Marguerite Stebbins looked around in shock, her ears ringing quite loudly.

One moment they’d been holding a meeting of the East Lancashire Horticultural Society, the next moment a white snowy owl flew in the window and dropped a smoking red envelope in Augusta Longbottom’s tea!

Scowling, the old woman ripped open the envelope before it could explode, ignoring the droppings the ill-mannered bird deposited on the antimacassar.

While they were not exactly friends, Marguerite had known Augusta for years. They’d formed an alliance of sorts against members of the society that wanted to ‘modernize’ their standards — standards that had proved more than sufficient for generations of their ancestors. In any event, she couldn’t conceive of anyone who had the audacity to send Madam Longbottom a Howler — it was inconceivable!

So if she was reeling before the Howler began, she was in shock when she heard the voice of Augusta’s grandson, Neville, taking her to task!

"Gran, I’ve always had a lot of respect for you, and what you’re willing to do for the family, but this time you’ve gone too far," it began. The words were fairly mild, as far as Howlers go, but they were pronounced at an ear-splitting volume. Members of the society, flinched back, spilling their tea, upsetting chairs, and generally adding to the bedlam.

"Your actions yesterday hurt me, and, worse, they hurt my friends. And that, I will not allow. Now, we can continue exchanging Howlers, though I can guarantee that none you send me will ever be heard, or we can meet this weekend. Hogwarts is having a Hogsmeade weekend and I will meet you at the Three Broomsticks at noon if you wish to continue this ridiculous vendetta. Reply by a regular letter if that time is unsuitable," and with that, the Howler exploded into a fine spray of ash. The polite request at the end, added in something much closer to Neville’s normal tone of voice, was almost too much for Marguerite’s composure. Lips twitching slightly, she peered at Augusta, who appeared unruffled, except for two faint spots of colour that burned just below her cheekbones.

Marguerite decided she’d better owl Kenneth once she was home. It would be best if her son was careful that no one knew he’d told her of Neville’s continued association with some of the lower sorts in his house. It just wouldn’t do to be involved with this particular family squabble.