"Anyway, I bet the Headmaster knows and he's keeping it quiet. He wouldn't want everyone to know that his Gryffindor golden boy is a deranged werewolf. If I can get proof, father could probably get him expelled."

Severus smiled at the thought of Potter and his rabid friend in front of the school board, being stripped of their Hogwarts Crests. Yet still...

"Your father is no longer on the board Draco; he has burned bridges there and it is important that you keep that in mind. If you lose sight of that, there could be a power shift, and it won't be in your favor. Besides, I should hope that with third year starting, your schemes will no longer entail getting your father involved."

"Father still has clout with Chromarty," Draco said, ignoring everything else Severus had said.

"Something the rest of the school board is very aware of, believe me."

"Still, they'll expel Potter if they find out he's a werewolf," Draco said confidently.

"I take it you have not yet checked the full moon calendar, or you would know that the full moon rose approximately ten minutes ago. Sadly, I do not hear the tortured screams of Potter's cohorts." Though he could almost hear Black, Pettigrew, and Potter screaming in terror as the monster in their dorm tore them apart.

"It is?" Draco asked, extremely disappointed. "It doesn't matter, I can work with that. If he thought it was bad with everyone thinking he was the Heir of Slytherin, just wait until everyone thinks that he's a werewolf. I can make this work; I just have some thinking to do." With that, Draco turned in the direction Crabbe and Goyle had run some moments before.

"Yes, please do," Severus said to himself, as he removed the privacy ward he had previously erected.

While he would certainly enjoy seeing Potter being taken down a peg, he had hoped that Draco would aspire to be more than Hogwarts rumor monger. He scowled at the compartment that he knew housed Potter. When Draco had entered, he had had some hope for an excuse to put the boy in detention before he even reached Hogwarts, but it wasn't to be. The boy's brashness had taken up much of his time over the summer, and Severus planned to get that time back from him through detentions throughout the year, he would get back from Potter what Potter had taken from him. He remembered quite vividly a detention he himself had served in his third year after Potter had gotten him in trouble, two hours of gutting stink slugs. That would be Potter's first detention this year.

It wasn't much later that Severus noticed that the train was slowing. He checked his pocket watch in alarm. It was too early for them to have arrived at Hogwarts; something was wrong, it must be an attack. Severus took out his wand as the train came to a halt. Potter should have been portkeyed directly to Hogwarts. Now he would have to save the brat once more, or die trying. Perhaps Lily would greet him on the other side; but no, she wouldn't want to see the man who had destroyed her family. Her blood was on his hands, she would no sooner greet him than she would the Dark Lord. He would be as alone in death as he was in life. Though how many of those that he had killed would haunt him; would torment his eternal rest. Rest, or damnation.

Odd, how he didn't even recognize the effects of the dementor as it approached, not until he saw his own breath before him, and the abomination was soon gliding past him. Did it know how close he had been to living in a hole on that blasted rock it hailed from?

It was looking for those who had escaped it, but it wouldn't find them, not here. It was hopeless.

The thing went from compartment to compartment. It had no eyes to see, but it would know when one whom it had fed upon before was near. However there was little chance that any of them were here, Severus had already checked.

It stopped in Potter's compartment. Why had it stopped? Had it found someone? He needed to do something, but he couldn't think what. It was hopeless anyway. It came to him though, he needed a Patronus. He couldn't hope to be able to summon one, but he had to try, he owed too much to Lilly not to try. He needed a happy thought, but none were forthcoming. He needed a memory. His mind was running rampant. He needed to bring order to the chaos. Occlumency; he needed to clear his mind.

He focused, he fought; and slowly his mind became a haven once more. Now he needed a memory, a happy one, he grasped back, he would have to go far back. It was hard, even with a clear mind, the dementor's effects made it so hard to think of a happy memory. A memory surfaced, he was twelve and the satisfaction he had been feeling faded as the fifth year Slytherins who had just chased off Potter's gang had him pressed against a wall, now that they were out of sight of others. He had embarrassed their house with his weakness.

Severus put the memory away, there was no happiness there. He grasped for another; his simple task made difficult by the oppressive weight of the dementor on his mind. Another memory surfaced, but he put it away quickly when it became clear, his father yelling at his mother while a seven-year-old Severus sat in his seat staring at his empty dinner plate. He wouldn't find many happy memories at home.

He grasped at another memory but knew instantly that it was no good. He felt it immediately, the jealousy and the hurt, as he saw Lily walking down the hall next to Potter, the look in her eye the same as it had once been around him, before he had ruined everything, before Potter had ruined everything. Lily though, Lily had been his joy. Before he had lost her, she had made him happy. Before he had driven her away. He turned back in his mind, back to before, when they had been happy, when they had been innocent.

He grasped for a memory, and there was music. He didn't like it. He was dancing, he really shouldn't be. Really if anyone saw him moving so awkwardly, with two left feet, which you wouldn't see if he were dueling, he would probably die on the spot. Yet none of that mattered, not when he had this girl in his arms. Lily was smiling so broadly, beaming up at him as they moved about the unused classroom to the tune of some oddball muggle musician. He would have stayed in that moment forever, if he could have.

"Expecto Patronum," he said. There was a bright flash of silvery light and a magnificent specter appeared, the sight of it shocking him. It was a doe. Yet that was Lily's; it had complimented her husbands. His was a panther. When had it changed? He hadn't cast a Patronus since before her death.

His Patronus walked up to him and he felt its protection through the clarity of Occlumency, enjoyed the memory that had summoned it from afar. He scanned the hallway, looking for the dementor. Where was it? Had it left Potter's compartment while he struggled? Had it left the train car? He looked in the first compartment on his left, full of crying first years.

"Eat chocolate," he commanded, before he continued checking each compartment, his Patronus following after him. Halfway down the train corridor he could feel it, even through his Patronus. He checked two more compartments before he found what he sought. Of course it was still in Potter's.

The wraith stood in the compartment with the three Gryffindors. It did not turn around when Snape entered, but it did perceptively stiffen at the presence of his Patronus. There was Weasley, both arms up, his hands grasping his hair as he rocked back and forth. Granger, tears running down her face, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared at Potter who was unconscious on the floor, twitching and jerking occasionally. Of course Potter wouldn't be able to handle the dementor. What did he know of misery? With a thought, his Patronus charged forward, and the dementor fled the compartment.

The Granger girl was now at Potter's side, calling his name urgently. Likely in her demented mind, she was convinced that whatever was wrong with her friend was very dire. Weasley too now seemed to be coming out of his stupor and was showing concern for the boy on the floor.

"Do cease your histrionics, Potter will be fine," he snapped, turning to leave and ensure the dementor hadn't stopped to feast in another compartment. "And eat chocolate," he said through clenched teeth. Honestly, a whole train car of children he had to tell to eat chocolate. His reputation would be ruined.

He entered the train corridor and made sure that the dementor finished its job and left quickly. As he did so, he started collecting his thoughts and organizing his mind. Odd how quickly and naturally Occlumency came back to him; like flying on a broom. He hadn't practiced Occlumency in almost twelve years, not since Voldemort had been vanquished and it was no longer necessary. Not since Lily had died and it had been so much easier to wallow in grief and anger than it had been to bring order to the chaos of his mind and face the whole reality of what he had done.

He pulled a vial out from his robe and downed it in a swallow as he followed the dementor out of the train car and stepped out onto the space between cars. He watched the wraith fly off to the milling mass of its brethren, a swarm of shadows. He put a hand on the Patronus at his side. He thought of Lily and his mind went back to the boy in the compartment he had just left.

It was odd that Potter should collapse like that, odder still that the dementor had been so drawn to him. Perhaps the boy had a weak constitution. But no, an image sprang to mind, the foolish boy standing next to an unconscious troll. Could the boy be ill? It would explain the loss of consciousness. He would have Madame Pomfrey check the boy that night. He could just see the boy laid up in the hospital wing, milking an illness for all it was worth, just like his father, always looking for attention. Yet unbidden, images sprang to mind of many times over the summer when the boy had hid his scar and attempted to duck the notice of the other patrons of the Alley. Severus scowled and almost stopped occluding that moment; it was so much harder to see what you wanted to when you were occluding.


IIIIIIIIIIII


Harry's return to consciousness was slow, and he thought he could hear someone crying. Not like before, someone had been screaming before. Harry opened his eyes. His right shoulder and elbow were sore as well as his neck. He also felt fairly melancholy but oddly comforted at the same time. He looked around; he was on the floor. Hermione was next to him, she had been crying, and now that he was looking at her, she was wiping her eyes. He found Ron on his other side. He felt like he should know what had happened, but he didn't, his mind was foggy, and the events of that afternoon were jumbled in his head.

"Here," his friend said, holding a chocolate frog in front of him. "This'll help." Harry noticed that Ron had chocolate at the corner of his own mouth. He also noticed his somewhat haunted expression.

"What happened?" Harry asked, taking the chocolate and sitting up.

"A dementor searched the train," Ron said. "It was awful."

The train was moving again, Harry noticed.

"Professor Snape drove it off," Hermione said.

"Took his time, didn't he," Ron said mulishly.

"He even told us to eat chocolate, which has helped," Hermione said giving Ron a pointed look.

"I don't remember any of that," Harry said. "Who was screaming?"

Hermione and Ron shared a concerned look.

"No one was screaming Harry," Hermione said, sounding a little worried.

Harry was confused, nothing they said made sense, why didn't he remember anything, and why hadn't they heard the screaming, he was sure a woman had been screaming something, though he couldn't remember what. Why had all of those old memories popped up?

"You passed out when it came in," Ron said. Harry looked at him incredulously. He couldn't have passed out. Well, he had a couple of times growing up at the Dursley's, but there had been reasons then.

"What is a dementor anyway?" he asked.

"Dementors guard Azkaban," Ron said, he sounded somewhat far off. "They just suck the happiness out of you and make you miserable. They're why no one's escaped Azkaban before, escape's a happy thought, see?"

"Well why'd I... why'd it make me unconscious?"

"I dunno, maybe that just happens to some people," Ron said.

There was silence for a bit, and Ron grabbed another chocolate frog and started gnawing on it absently.

"You don't seem affected by it," Hermione said. "Not like we are," she continued with a frown. "It's more like you're upset about passing out than that you've been affected by the dementor."

"I don't know, maybe because I wasn't awake it didn't affect me the same," Harry shrugged. He didn't feel as miserable as Hermione and Ron looked. He certainly was far from happy, and he had a headache for some reason, but both of his friends looked like they were in a world without sunshine. He wouldn't say that he was unaffected, but Ron had a point.

"But you were," Ron said. "You were twitching and jerking the whole time."

Harry ducked his head, very self conscious at the moment.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "Your neck."

"What?" He asked.

"You must have hit something when you fell, you're getting a horrible bruise," she said, now next to him, pulling his collar down to get a better look. She prodded it.

That wasn't right, Harry didn't bruise easily, he never had, no collapse was going to bruise him like that. But then, the spell... What was the spell? He had memorized it. What was it? He couldn't think. His head still as foggy as it had been when he woke up. He needed to see the spell. It was in his trunk.

"I need my trunk," Harry said, standing up and climbing up on his seat to get at the luggage rack. He had to pause for a head rush.

"Harry, you should sit down, if you hit your neck like that you could have a concussion," Hermione said, sounding very worried. Of course that just worried Harry even more, could he be bleeding into his skull?

"A concussion?" Ron said. "Harry's a wizard, a fall like that isn't going to hurt him too bad."

"Look at his neck," Hermione said.

"I really need my trunk," he said urgently, shifting things around on the luggage rack.

"Harry," Hermione said plaintively.

"Ron," Harry said.

Ron got up and helped Harry get his trunk down. Harry opened his trunk and was somewhat struck by a high-pitched whine coming from somewhere within that he ignored. It took him a moment to remember where he had put the letter, which was odd, since he did remember specifically putting it in his trunk.

"Need help mate?" Ron asked.

"Um," Harry started to say yes, when he saw the folded up letter sticking out of his copy of Quidditch Through The Ages.

"I think we should ask Professor Snape to take a look at you," Hermione said.

"Are you mad?" Ron asked.

"Or a Prefect," Hermione said.

"I'll be right back," Harry said, standing up. "Got to use the loo."

"If you feel nauseous, that's a sign of a concussion," Hermione said, very worried now.

"I'm fine," Harry said. "I'll be right back

He left the compartment quickly and headed down the hall to the loo. Of course it was occupied; it sounded like a boy was crying inside. He probably wouldn't be getting in anytime soon. Should he wait or look for a loo in another train car. He could be bleeding to death on the inside at that moment for all he knew, though he didn't know much.

He looked down the corridor; it was empty. Harry looked at the letter, quickly finding the two spells. He focused, which wasn't easy, and cast the diagnostic spell. His wand glowed red. The blood spell had worn off. It shouldn't have yet, but then, external magical forces wore away at it, and Harry had probably been exposed to more of that since the spell had been cast when he was a baby than most children his age. At least it had lasted as long as it had, it had probably been on its last leg when he had been at the Dursley's that summer. Harry shuddered at the thought of how many times he had been seriously injured over that time.

Yet it had lasted, and long enough too, though just barely. He could do magic on his own now. His fuzzy head had worked its way into a splitting headache, but Harry focused on the blood spell and cast it upon himself without further delay.

He didn't feel any different. Would he? The letter didn't say. He cast the diagnostic spell again, and the tip of his wand glowed a vibrant blue. He checked the letter again. Blue meant it was at full strength. He sighed in relief, he would be fine.

He turned to go, but the crying from the loo caught his attention. He felt like he should just let whoever it was be, but found himself knocking on the door anyway.

"Hey," he said. "Are you alright in there?"

"Go away," a distraught voice said.

"Alright," Harry said. "Just wanted to make sure you ate some chocolate after the dementor left."

"Justin said we can't, 'cause Professor Snape told us to, so it’s probably bad. He told me all about him, and now I know than I'm going to hate Hogwarts, and I'll be sad all the time, and I should just go home and be a squib," the crying boy said miserably.

"Are you a first year?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," came the reply around sniffles.

"Well," Harry said, not really sure what to say. "The thing about Snape is, even though he's really mean, he takes some things very seriously. Actually, he's saved my life a couple of times, so if he says you should eat chocolate for the dementor, then it's probably a good idea. I know I felt better after I had some."

"Really," the boy asked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Do you have any chocolate?"

"No," came the reply from the other side of the door.

"I've got a chocolate frog in my pocket, if you want it," Harry said digging out the chocolate.

There was a pause and then the door slid open. A miserable face peered out, truly, Harry suspected prisoners on their way towards execution probably looked happier. He took the chocolate from Harry's hand and Harry wondered if he should go, his job done.

"Is Justin your brother?" he found himself asking.

The young boy nodded his head, mouth full of chocolate. "He said Professor Snape tests experimental potions on first years."

"You know, one of my best friends, his big brothers told him first years had to fight a mountain troll for the sorting, which is silly."

The boy looked worried. "Justin said they test us on how many first-year spells we learn before we get there. But he just told me today, I haven't had time to study."

"Don't worry, the sorting's easy. It isn't even really a test. Just focus on what house you want, and you'll be fine."

"How does it work?"

"It's a surprise, but don't worry, you'll be fine," Harry repeated.

"Ok, um, thanks for the chocolate," the boy said with faint trace of a smile. He returned to his compartment.

Harry leaned against the wall of the corridor for a moment and closed his eyes. His headache was still going strong and he was glad the conversation was over. Figuring he should get back to his compartment before Hermione came looking for him, Harry turned around and froze. Halfway down the corridor, hidden in the shadows was a tall black cloaked figure. Easy guess who it was. How long had he been there? Long enough to hear the spells Harry had used? Snape would know what they meant, at least in part. Yet Snape didn't say anything, didn't even look like he was paying attention to Harry.

Harry walked back to his compartment, not looking at Snape. He hoped the man hadn't heard what he had said to the boy.

"I was beginning to worry," Hermione said when Harry walked in the door.

"Beginning to?" Ron said. "You were worried the whole time."

"No need to worry," Harry said. "I'm fine really."

Ron tossed him a bar of Honneydukes finest as he sat down, which he managed to fumble.

"What did you need to read in the loo?" Ron asked.

"Um," that had him stumped. "Look we'll talk about it later."

Ron nodded, but Hermione wasn't so easily placated. In the end though, Harry wasn't about to tell any version of the fact that he had hemophilia, with Snape right outside the door. Assuming he hadn't already seen everything.

Harry put the parchment back in his trunk and this time paid attention to the high-pitched noise.

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"Isn't that the Sneakascope?" Ron asked.

Harry found the crystal that Ron had given him for his birthday.

"It might be a bit wonky," Ron said. "Or maybe Malfoy's in the next compartment."

Harry just shrugged and wrapped the crystal in an old sock, glad to muffle the noise that seemed to rebound around the inside of his head. He closed the trunk and with Ron's help, hoisted it up onto the luggage rack, while Ron explained to Hermione what a sneakascope was.

The rest of the trip was fairly uncomfortable. Harry had wanted to rest his eyes because of his headache, but Hermione had practically panicked at the thought that he might have a concussion and had resolved to keep him awake. At least he was able to keep her from getting Professor Snape to check on him.

Her decision to look up dementors in one of her extra books hadn't helped anything. The picture inside and the description of how a dementor fed were disgusting, and what Harry couldn't get out of his head was the only part of the picture where one could see any part of the dementor beneath its cloak, it's hand, looking like little more than bones with taut pale skin stretched over it. Like a body left to dry out in the desert, like death. All in all, between the lingering melancholy, the headache and the ache in his elbow and neck, Harry rather wanted to skip the feast and head to bed when he got to the castle.

The students getting off the train in Hogsmeade were a rather somber bunch, and Harry hoped that the mood of the school would improve during the sorting and the feast. The first-year students were separated from the rest and were gathered around Hagrid, the very large and tall man standing out among the tiny first years. Harry waved to the man as they passed.

The next rather rude shock of the evening came when they got to the carriages. They looked just like the carriages that had carried Harry to the train station at the end of each school year, except that those carriages had been carried by magic, the hitches where a horse would have gone were always empty. Yet now the same carriages had no empty hitches, they were occupied, but not by horses. If dementors rode horses, Harry thought that this was what they would look like. Pure black hide, stretched out over a horses skeletal frame, with two great wings, like a bat's. Harry stopped in his tracks to stare at the specters.

"You alright mate?" Ron asked. Ron didn't seem to think anything of the death horses.

"I'm fine," Harry said. "Just wondering about the weird horses."

"What horses?" Hermione asked.

"Those horses," Harry said, pointing at the carriages and having little patience at that moment for stating the obvious.

"Harry, there's nothing there," Hermione said.

"Maybe you were right about that concussion," Ron said to Hermione.

"I'm not concussed, I'm not seeing things, I'm fine," Harry said a bit heatedly, his headache flaring up around the loudness of his own voice in his head. "Back me up here," Harry said to a forlorn looking Neville who had just walked up to their carriage with Ron's sister.

"Huh?" Neville said, seeming surprised to find attention upon himself.

"You can see the weird death horses, right?" Harry demanded.

"Um," Neville stammered looking fairly confused and worried.

"It's alright Neville, Harry hit his head on the train, but he'll be better after he sees Madame Pomfrey."

"I do not need to see Madame Pomfrey," Harry said, turning around and getting into the carriage.

Ron and Hermione followed, and a moment later Neville and Ginny got in as well. The carriage started moving and Harry was somewhat relieved for the awkward silence. Neville kept shooting Harry worried looks, like he was worried he was locked in with a crazy person. Though, as he calmed down, Harry started to wonder if he really was seeing things, otherwise, why hadn't everyone else seen the horses.

"So, Neville," Hermione broke the silence. "How was your summer?"

On anyone else, Harry would have said that the look that flashed over Neville's face was dark, but he had a hard time attributing something like that to Neville.

"Um, well," Neville said, his mind clearly somewhere else at the moment. "Gran' took me to Spain, though we had to come back early; my granda's turned a bit ill."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. What did you see in Spain?" Hermione asked politely.

The two carried on the conversation for a bit more, neither one seeming to be that interested in the conversation. The whole carriage was rather subdued. Harry had started to think about what to tell Ron and Hermione about the hemophilia when the carriage approached the school gates and Harry saw just a flash of a black cloaked figure outside the window when everything seemed to stop as an image of a woman's body exploding filled his head and he felt like he had plunged into the Great Lake in the middle of winter. It passed quickly though, and he found himself slumped over half leaning on Ginny, who had tears in her eyes that she hid quickly behind the sleeve of her robes.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Neville asked, his face a haunted mask as Harry righted himself.

"Yeah," Harry said, now hoping that Neville would believe Hermione's nonsense about a concussion. He didn't know why he was reacting to Dementors differently, but he really didn't want others to know about it. Things were bad enough without everyone knowing that he was weak.

It took him a moment while staring at his lap to notice the chocolate frog Ron was holding silently in front of him.

"Thanks," Harry said, to which Ron shrugged.

The rest of the ride up to the school was silent as everyone gnawed on chocolate.

Getting out of the carriage, Harry was almost surprised to see that the horses were still there, but he didn't say anything this time. He walked up the stairs, managing to bang his hip on the guard rail, not being entirely with it at the moment. Hermione gave him yet another concerned glance. With luck he could slip up to the dormitory and just go to sleep without anyone noticing.

Hermione didn't need to keep track of him, however, since Professor McGonagall was waiting for them when they walked into the entry hall.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, please follow me," she said when she spotted them.

"We need to see Madame Pomfrey," Hermione said, casting a worried look at Harry, as Harry glared at her. "I think he has a concussion."

"That is in fact part of the reason I am here to collect you, now come along so you don't miss too much of the festivities."

They both turned to follow her, and as they passed the doors to the great hall, Harry could see Snape properly, with the man's own face, for the first time since he had literally walked into him in the Alley. The man gave him a piercing look, and Harry turned his head away; before scowling at his own behavior. Harry really didn't feel much like enjoying any festivities.

Their head of house led them to a small room not far off from the entry hall where it happened that Madame Pomfrey was waiting for them.

"Oh dear, you look awful, come here and let me take a look at you," the matron said to Harry. She turned to Hermione. "Did he lose consciousness suddenly or gradually?"

"Gradually," Hermione said. "And he was sort of twitching a bit. But I think he has a concussion, he's developing a big bruise on the back of his neck, he must have hit something when he fell, and he seemed drowsy and he was seeing things."

"Seeing things?" Madam Pomfrey asked, seeming alarmed.

"I wasn't seeing things, they were there," Harry said defensively.

"What exactly did you see, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Winged horses," Harry said. "Pulling the carriages."

Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey both gave him pitying looks.

"Those are thestrals Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said. "They have always pulled the carriages, but only those who have seen death can see them."

Harry took in a sharp breath and he heard Hermione gasp as his thoughts turned to the woman who had saved him.

"Enough said about that," Madam Pomfrey said. "Lets take a look at this head of yours."

She put one hand on the back of his head suddenly and Harry practically flinched while her other hand withdrew her wand and brought it up to his head.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," the matron said as she tapped the tip of her wand on the top of Harry's head, followed by his temples and right between his eyes while murmuring an incantation. She looked him right in the eyes; or rather, right through his eyes, and frowned.

"A bit more serious than a concussion it looks dear, your brain was bleeding, but it's stopped. Most likely your magic protecting you. Now, let's make sure nothing else is wrong," she said before waving her wand over Harry's chest. Harry felt a warm energy in his rib cage

Madame Pomfrey frowned. "It looks like Greyback did a number on you over the summer," she said. "I'd heard you only sustained minor injuries."

Harry momentarily panicked at the thought of where some of the injuries she was seeing had come from. Would she be able to tell if she looked closer.

"Um, a car actually," he said. "I got hit by a car while he was chasing me across a street."

"And did you tell anyone, Mister Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked sternly.

"It wasn't going very fast," Harry said defensively. "Sorry." He was used to dealing with pain over the summer. Good at ignoring it.

"You have a few hairline fractures," Madame Pomfrey said. "Some more on the mend than others. You're lucky, your internal organs don't look to have sustained much damage."

She tapped his head again with another incantation and Harry felt the headache clear rapidly. She then started taping her wand on various places around his body muttering the same spell, healing the fractures. Harry was about ready for the floor to swallow him up by the time she was done poking and prodding, though he'd forgotten what it felt like to be completely without pain as now not only was his head cleared, but all the little aches in his joints and in his ribs had completely vanished. Though she’d missed his hip, where he’d bumped into the banister, but that wasn’t even worth mentioning.

"Well there's no medical reason for him to have passed out," the matron said, getting back to the original topic.

"So why did he faint then?" his professor asked, and Harry's face flushed red at the terminology.

"Not enough research has been done on the effects of dementors, but different people react differently, Potter just had a strong reaction it seems."

"Should he stay in the infirmary tonight?" Professor McGonagall asked, and Harry's eyes opened in shock.

"With a head injury, yes, for observation," Madam Pomfrey said.

"What?" Harry said. "I feel fine. I don't need to sleep in the infirmary."

"Perhaps he can still attend the feast," Professor McGonagall said, ignoring his protests. "I dare say he will not be outside of observation there."

"Yes, that should be alright," Madam Pomfrey said to the professor.

She turned to Harry and Hermione. "Have you two had any chocolate?" She asked.

"Yes," Hermione said. "Professor Snape told us to eat some."

"Good," Madame Pomfrey said. "Make sure to drink the hot chocolate tonight. There should be pitchers at all of the tables. And you Mr. Potter, I'm half tempted to tell you no quidditch if I can't trust you to take an injury seriously."

"What? No! I'm sorry. I'll be good," Harry said quickly in a near panic.

"See to it that you are," the matron said.

'Well," Professor McGonagall said. "That seems to be in order, Mr. Potter if you would step outside, I have a small matter to discuss with Miss Granger."

Harry wondered what she could have to say to Hermione in private, when he had just had a medical exam with an audience, but he walked out without saying anything.

He stepped outside with Madame Pomfrey and waited for Hermione to emerge.

"Remember Mr. Potter, hospital wing, right after the feast," Madame Pomfrey said as she made her own way to the great hall.

With his head no longer feeling like it was going to explode, and outside the company of his friends, Harry's mind turned over some of the memories dredged up by the dementor, replaying some moments in his head, analyzing them, judging them, playing the games of what-if. He stopped himself with a scowl. There was no point in thinking about any of it, and it certainly wasn't a good way to start the school year.

Harry was brought out of his reverie when the door to McGonagall's office opened. The Professor and Hermione walked out.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said to Professor McGonagall in parting as their head of house took the passageway that lead to the door behind the head table, and Harry and Hermione turned towards the entrance hall.

"What did Professor McGonagall want?" Harry asked.

"What," Hermione said, seemingly surprised that Harry would ask such a question. "Oh, she just wanted to talk to me about my class load this year, I'll be taking a few more than most other students.'' She paused. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry said. "My head feels much better now."

"No, I mean about everything else," Hermione said, looking at him with worry.

"What everything else?" Harry asked, suddenly worried that Hermione somehow knew everything he had been hiding, as she often did.

"You know," Hermione said with some exasperation. "The dementors and the thestrals, and everything that happened over the summer."

"Well sure," Harry said. "I don't know, I'll be fine." And as they walked into the Great Hall, he started to feel like he would be. The atmosphere was a bit more subdued than Harry was used to a Hogwarts feast being, but between the floating candles, the smell of chocolate in the air, and the general sense of being home, Harry was suddenly glad that he hadn't slunk off to the dorm when they had arrived at the castle.

The two of them soon spotted Ron and made their way to the seats he had saved them at the table. Harry noticed that they had missed the sorting and very briefly wondered where the first year from the train had been sorted.

"Have some chocolate," Ron said, poring some of the steaming beverage into their mugs from one of the many carafes lining the otherwise empty table. "What did McGonagall want?"

Harry wasn't about to say that he had had a check up while surrounded by other students, and was saved from having to say anything by Professor Dumbledore, who rose up at that moment to give his start of term speech.

"Welcome students," his voice filled the room. "I am excited to see the school filled once more with young minds, all here to learn and explore the wonders and the mysteries of magic. I have only a few start of term announcements before our feast may begin. First, it is my pleasure to announce that this year we will be having two new professors. Professor Lupin, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, could not be here this evening, but he will be in bright and early tomorrow morning for classes. As well, while not quite new, our very own groundskeeper, and the Keeper of the Keys for Hogwarts school, shall now henceforth be, Professor Hagrid, our Care of Magical Creatures instructor, since Professor Kettleburn has decided to retire with what remains of his limbs."

Harry looked over at Hagrid in surprise; of course the man would assign a biting book. He found himself smiling genuinely though as he applauded the announcement. Hagrid, Harry could see, had tears in his eyes, and was clearly very proud of his new position.

"The Forbidden Forest," the Headmaster continued with the usual warning. "Is off limits to all students due to the large quantity of very dangerous plants and animals found therein. As well, our caretaker Mr. Filch would like me to remind all of you that spell use in the halls is strictly prohibited, as is a host of very fun things, a list of which can be found posted outside of his office. Lastly now, I must impress upon you the seriousness of this last announcement. Until such a time as it is deemed safe to do so, the border of the grounds of Hogwarts shall be guarded by several dementors from Azkaban prison. Students are not to try to approach them for any reason, and anyone attempting to sneak past them will be discovered. They are not fooled by disguises, or invisibility cloaks, and they do not understand excuses, or pleading. They are merciless in what they do, but in the end, they are here to protect this school from those who might do us harm."

Here the headmaster paused to let this last announcement sink in, though Harry didn't think anyone actually needed to be told to stay away from dementors. "Now, this has been much too much of me talking while you are all awaiting the feast. So, tuck in, enjoy the various chocolates, and enjoy the feast."

At the word 'feast' there appeared on every table more food than Harry thought decent, and students all around started piling food on their plates. Harry took a drink of the hot chocolate, and it really did make him feel better.
"All right there, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, realizing he had been looking around for a moment, not touching the food. "Just taking it all in. It's good to be back." He grabbed the spoon for some mashed potatoes.

As far as Hogwarts feasts went, this one started out a bit more subdued than was normal. Yet as students warmed up and reconnected with friends, and drank heartily of the hot chocolate, the atmosphere started to take on the usual atmosphere of a feast.

"So what did McGonagall want?" Ron asked again.

"Well she wanted to make sure Hermione would be ok taking a ton of extra classes," Harry said. "And she'd heard I hit my head on the train so she had me checked out, turns out I'm fine."

"Fine," Hermione hissed. "You were bleeding into your skull."

"What?" Ron asked, sounding alarmed.

"Madame Pomfrey said it had already stopped by the time she checked me out, so see? I'm fine," Harry said in exasperation, though he kept his voice down and gave Hermione a look telling her to do the same.

"Oh, you are such a boy," Hermione said.

"Last time I checked," Harry said with a grin.

"Girls do the same thing," Ron said.

"No we don't," Hermione defended.

"It's the same thing Ginny always says when she thinks mum's babying her. She said she was fine that one time she twisted her ankle and spent half a day limping 'cause she wouldn't admit she'd been climbing trees."

"Well, boy or girl, it's just stupid, and you are staying in the Hospital Wing tonight for observation."

Harry scowled at that. He wasn't about to bug everyone by whining.

"That's rough mate," Ron said.

"Madame Pomfrey's just worrying too much," Harry said. "Like you, and it's no wonder I always say I'm fine."

"You got hit by a car and didn't say anything," Hermione said.

"What?" Ron asked.

"She said they were only minor fractures," Harry said. "They'd have healed before long on their own. The car wasn't even going that fast. It's not like I was bleeding to death or had a bone sticking out of my skin. I was fine."

"You'd say you were fine if you were eviscerated," Hermione said.

Harry opened his mouth to reply but Ron cut him off. "Careful mate, she probably knows a spell that'll do that."

"Oh, do either of you even know what that means?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged, and Ron said, "No, I just know you."

The evening wore on, and Harry found himself very glad to have not skipped the meal. He was even glad to have been made to see Madame Pomfrey, so he could enjoy the evening without a headache. Of course, the evening had to end eventually. As the rest of the students made their way to their dorms, Ron, Hermione, and Harry waded their way up to the head table to see Hagrid.

"Oh, Professor Hagrid, congratulations," Hermione said to the very large man.

"None o' tha' now, you jus' call me Hagrid. It's all down ta you three, isn't it, clearing my name last year. An' Dumbledore o' course, great man Dumbledore."

"Well, you'll be the best Magical Creatures Professor this school's ever seen," Ron said. "You should have had the job ages ago." Hagrid was all but blushing at this point, clearly very happy for the title he had shrugged off earlier.

"Can't wait for our first class, Hagrid," Harry said. "I'm sure we'll have loads of fun." Or at the very least, they'd have a good deal of excitement, Harry could almost imagine Hagrid introducing the whole class to a dragon first thing.

"Oh, it'll be great, just yeh wait, won't spoil the surprise though. Now, you three get along, you'll wan' ta be rested up fer your first day of classes." With that, Hagrid got up from the head table and headed out.

"Well," Harry said. "I'll see you two tomorrow."

"Oh, we'll walk you to the Hospital Wing," Hermione said.

"I'm not going to do a runner," Harry said.

"I know, but you still need to tell us what was with that parchment after the dementor on the train," Hermione said. Harry suddenly felt like doing a runner.

"Fine," he said. "Come on, before Madame Pomfrey starts a search party."

As they walked through the corridor towards the Hospital Wing, Harry looked around nervously to make sure no one would overhear. He wasn't about to tell them where Madame Pomfrey could overhear.

"I found out over the summer that I've got, like some sort of magical variant of hemophilia," he said in a near whisper.

"You can't have secretly had hemophilia," Hermione said matter of factly. "You'd be dead by now without treatment."

"I had treatment," Harry said. "They cast a spell on me when I was a baby. It wears off eventually, though it should have lasted longer. I'll explain more later, but my parents posted a letter to be sent to me when I turned thirteen. It explained everything. There's a spell that tells me if I need to renew the treatment or not, but I couldn't do it over the summer without help, I had to wait till I could do magic on my own. When you noticed the bruise, I figured the spell had worn off, I needed the notes to do the spell right."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Hermione all but shrieked. "Do you know how easily you could have died without treatment. What if you hadn't woken up on the train, or if I hadn't seen that bruise, no one would have known to check, you'd have just kept bleeding into your head. You could have died. For crying out loud you got hit by a car this summer."

Harry tried to shush her, very worried about someone overhearing.

"What do you mean, what is it?" Ron asked, now very worried.

"Hemophilia, Ron, it means that Harry's blood doesn't clot right, and it varies from case to case, but even a small injury can be life threatening," Hermione explained. "You need to tell Madame Pomfrey."

"No," Harry said, emphatically. "Then she'd figure it out, and I don't want anyone to know."

"Figure what out?" Hermione asked.

Harry had a big stupid mouth. "It doesn't matter," he said eventually. "It's not life threatening, so just drop it. I have everything under control. I renewed the spell, it'll last a good long while, and I'll check it regularly, so just drop it, it's really really private."

There was silence for a moment as they walked towards the Hospital Wing.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, it's just… Look just, I'm not ready to talk about it, okay. I mean I don't need to do anything about it. Or… I don't know. You'd freak out if I told you. But it's not something you need to worry about; I'm not. So…." Both of his friends were looking at him with worry.

"Just… I'm fine, alright, it's just weird," he told them. They had arrived at the Hospital Wing.

"Right, well, you should get back to the tower. I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow," he said.

He tensed a moment as he found himself receiving a hug from Hermione.

"You know you can tell us anything, right Harry?" she said.

"Of course," Harry said. "Have a good night."

"Good luck," Ron said, as he and Hermione turned down the corridor.

Harry walked into the Hospital Wing and was soon set upon by Madame Pomfrey.

"Well now, alright, just you get ready for bed dear, and I'll come check up on you before you go to sleep," she said, as she guided him towards a bed, just outside of her office.

Harry found a set of hospital pajamas at the foot of the bed and he went into the restroom to change and wash his face. It was when he was changing that he saw a bruise on his hip, peeking out over the edge of his shorts. Madame had overlooked it in the face of all the fractures but Harry hadn’t expected to see evidence of it. He frowned, that was where he had bumped into the railing earlier, but that had been after he had done the spell on himself. He shouldn't be bruising so easily. He cast the diagnostic charm, this time from memory. His wand glowed red. He felt somewhat shaken, Hermione's words about the risks of the illness and his own assurances that he had it under control coming to mind. He must have cast it wrong, it hadn't taken, that was all. Just the effects of the dementor making him do it wrong. It just hadn't lasted. He cast the charm on himself again, followed by the diagnostic. Blue. Harry smiled. There now, he thought, everything was fine. He'd check again in the morning, just to be sure.

He was soon sitting on the side of the bed, quite ready to go to sleep after the excitement of the day. It turned out that checking up on him was Madame Pomfrey's way of saying that she'd cast a half dozen monitoring charms on him before he went to sleep. Harry recognized a couple of them from his stay at the end of first year.

"Now I don't want you staying up tonight," the matron told him. "You need plenty of rest, so I want you to go right to sleep. I'll know if you're not." With that she headed into her office and the lights in the room dimmed. Harry wasn't sure what she expected him to do, since he didn't have any of his books or anything to occupy himself with. He was asleep less than a minute later, dreaming dreams he would be happy to forget when he woke up.

Madame Pomfrey insisted on doing another checkup in the morning, and he barely had time to down some breakfast before it was time to go upstairs to the tower and get his school supplies and a robe that he hadn't been wearing while passed out on the floor of the Hogwarts Express. Ron had gotten his timetable from Professor McGonagall and the three of them all left the hall to get what they'd need for their first classes. Harry had forgotten all about the things Malfoy had been saying the day before on the train, but after bumping into a Slytherin first year on their way out, Harry was quickly reminded as the boy turned very pale and all but ran away from him. Had Malfoy told all of Slytherin? Did they believe him?

"Don't worry Harry," Hermione said, "it'll blow over soon enough."

"Yeah, just like it did last year, and the year before that," Harry muttered.

"Oh, a person just has to be around you for a moment to know you're not a werewolf," Ron said.

"Well let's just make sure everyone knows it was the full moon last night," Harry said. "Let Malfoy explain why I didn't change on the train."

"So show Harry your time table," Ron told Hermione.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Hermione said. "So, I can't wait for divination, can you imagine?"

"She's got a bunch of classes at the same time," Ron said. "Should have told McGonagall before she no-shows to two classes at once."

"Don't worry," Hermione said. "I've got it figured."

Ron gave a bewildered look to Harry who just shrugged.

Once they reached the tower, they all ran up to their dormitories, grabbed their books and headed off in search of the elusive Divination classroom. Hermione's book bag looked a lot heavier than their own.

"Too bad we don't know any divination yet, we could find the classroom that way," Ron said as they made their way down a hallway after getting turned around again after getting directions from a portrait.

"I think we could be looking at a map of the school right now and we'd still be lost," Harry said.

"That would be useful though, someone should make one," Ron said.

They made it eventually, but even though Harry was pretty sure that they were late, the Professor just nodded her head to them placidly as they climbed the ladder into the tower classroom. The classroom didn't look like a normal classroom. Instead of desks and chairs, there were small round tables surrounded by poufy cushions. The trio found themselves a table to themselves.

The class started out well; Professor Trelawny made the subject sound fascinating and exciting and mysterious. Hermione kept frowning at what the Professor said, especially after the woman mentioned that the subject wasn't something that could be learned from a book. Everything was going fine until the professor had quite dramatically predicted Harry's near and impending death.

Fortune telling wasn't a sure thing, was it? Maybe knowing the future meant you could change it. He'd have to read his book better. Hermione assured him as they left the class that he probably shouldn't worry about it. It wasn't like he had a history of almost getting killed or had at least one escaped murderer actively hunting him.

The next class, Care of Magical Creatures started out well also, though Harry had felt odd when he caught a glimpse of the dementor's patrolling the wall off in the distance. Actually, the class was pretty awesome. Hagrid had brought amazing creatures called Hippogriffs to the first class which was held out on the grounds of the school. They looked like winged horses with an eagle’s head and front legs. Hagrid had asked for a volunteer who wanted to approach the creatures, which were apparently very temperamental. No one had volunteered, and Harry hadn't wanted Hagrid to have a bad first day teaching, so he had wound up approaching the creature. It was as he was doing so that he really noticed how sharp the creature’s talons and beak were and he remembered his just recently predicted death. Of course, he wasn't about to let Hagrid down.

Hagrid had surprised him by having him ride the beast, which had flown around the paddock before letting him off onto his slightly shaky legs. It wasn't at all like flying a broom; he wasn't in control at all, but it had been exhilarating. Malfoy had just had to ruin things.

Harry had been half tempted to start a fight with the boy when he saw him. In between classes, Harry had noticed more and more students looking at him like he was a monster, as he had become very well accustomed to the year prior, and at the start of class, the Slytherins had huddled together pointing occasionally at Harry. It was when Harry got off of the animal and was walking back to the rest of the Gryffindors that he heard Malfoy's comment.

"Well of course it was easy for him, he's more beast now than human, it's like watching two animals," Draco's voice carried.

"What's he talking about," Lavender Brown asked, when Harry got up to the rest of them. Unfortunately, she asked loudly enough for Malfoy to hear.

"Oh," the boy said. "He hasn't told you? Of course he hasn't told you. Greyback got him over the summer. He's a werewolf now."

"Don't be stupid," Parvati said. "Harry's not a werewolf."

"You wouldn't know about it, but father heard all about it over the summer," Draco said, really emphasizing his father's inside knowledge. "You all probably heard Potter got attacked by Greyback when he was all alone in the muggle world. What they aren't spreading around is that he went missing after that. What no one is talking about is that Potter got himself captured and infected by Greyback. He didn't escape; Greyback let him go so he could infect everyone in the school. You lot will be first."

"Oh, this is stupid," Hermione said. "It was the full moon last night. It rose while we were all on the train."

"Funny though, isn't it," Draco sneered at her. He turned to take in his crowd. "He's given himself away trying to cover it all up. I saw him on the train, but he wasn't acting right. It was probably one of Dumbledore's cronies under polyjuice, and then of course, surprise surprise, one of the Professor's is missing from the opening feast. And what happened next? Potter didn't spend the night in Gryffindor Tower. They weren't about to have a teacher sleep over with a bunch of third years, so Potter conveniently took ill and had to spend the night in the Hospital Wing, where no one but Dumbledore's people can verify if he was actually there."

"Dumbledore wouldn't let a werewolf into the school. Besides, Harry's obviously not a werewolf," Seamus said.

"Of course he would, the muggle loving old fool would rather let all sorts of filth into the school, half-breeds and mudbloods. He won't stop until the castle's crumbling around him," Draco said angrily.

"What did ya say about the Headmaster?" came a dangerous voice behind Draco that Harry had only heard once before.

Draco turned around to find Hagrid towering over him, but for once since Harry had met him, they blond boy seemed to be at a loss for words.

"Go! Just, go." Hagrid said gruffly.

Draco collected himself and sneered, but turned around and walked off as though he had merely become bored.

"An' tha'll be a detention t'night, after yer last class," Hagrid said to the boy’s back.

There was an awkward moment when no one said anything.

"Righ' well, les no' stop the lesson," Hagrid said. Hagrid had them break out into groups to approach the hippogriffs.

All of his fellow Gryffindors made small comments of support and belief in Harry, but Harry couldn't help but notice slightly worried or speculative looks here or there.

After class, the trio stayed back a moment to congratulate Hagrid once again on his new position, and the large man assured them that they would be having more than a few adventures in his class that year. They then rushed to get to Transfiguration, not wanting to be late for their first class with their head of house. Halfway there, Ron had turned to say something to Hermione, only to find that she wasn't there. The two took a moment to look around, both certain that she hadn't passed them. Surprisingly, she was already in the Transfiguration classroom when they arrived.

"How'd you do that?" Ron asked.

"Do what?" Hermione asked, her cheeks blushing.

"You were right next to me one moment, then you disappeared, then we find you already here when we get here," the freckled boy said.

"Oh, I must have passed you without realizing it," Hermione said.

Ron looked like he didn't want to leave it at that, but at that moment Professor McGonagall walked in and the lesson began.

Transfiguration too had started out well; it wasn't until the end of the lesson when Parvati Patil had held up her Hogsmeade permission slip and asked their Professor when they would be turning them in that things had taken a sharp nosedive. Harry was smiling to himself at this point, for his form had already been turned in, and he was still rather proud of the accomplishment that that had been. However, Professor McGonagall had sighed at this point and her usually stern demeanor had softened for just a moment.

"You may as well pass them forward now if you would like, however," the professor frowned, "I should tell you now that you may not need them. It has not been decided yet, and we are still working with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but as of right now it appears that until such a time as those who have escaped from Azkaban are captured, there will be no visits to Hogsmeade."

There were quite a few groans and cries of dismay at these words, but Harry didn't make a sound. He just felt his stomach plummet. He had gone through quite a bit to get his form signed and now his painful victory over Uncle Vernon just seemed like a bad joke the world had played on him.

Next was lunch, and after that was the class that Harry had been dreading. Double Potions, with the Slytherins of course, because that wasn't a recipe for disaster. Harry briefly entertained the idea of meeting his predicted fate from a Slytherin tampered exploding cauldron; but it wasn't really his classmates that had him apprehensive of the class. He rather didn't like the idea of spending two hours with his bio-dad glaring at him and insulting him.

Oddly enough, though, Snape didn't really do either of those things. Oh, he was far from friendly to anyone, and he had taught in the same cold, superior air that he wore like a cloak while using words they barely understood to explain the days lesson, but he barely looked at Harry at all, and Harry could almost think that during the practical part of the lesson the man had been almost more helpful than cutting in his critiques of the students he passed as he stalked through the room. He even stopped himself halfway through chewing out Neville Longbottom for ruining his potion before he looked at Hermione of all people and ground out "tell him how to fix it," before turning away. The man didn't even insult Harry once, and Harry found the atmosphere of the room lacked just enough malice to work in and managed a halfway decent potion, which Snape had walked past with indifference.

Draco, of course, was a different matter entirely. He had been whispering to his fellow Slytherins constantly during the class whenever Snape wasn't looking, shooting Harry smug vindictive glares the entire time, but Harry ignored him… for the most part. He mollified himself with the knowledge that Malfoy had a detention on the first day of class.

Harry could hear Hermione quietly helping Neville fix his potion, which he couldn't believe Snape was allowing. Not that he could imagine the man giving her points for it, like any other Professor would.

With his potion done, Harry found himself waiting quietly for other students to finish up. Unlike Malfoy, Harry wasn't about to get away with talking in class. As he sat there, his eyes occasionally following Snape as the man stalked around the classroom, he found himself wondering what the man's story had been. Why had he joined Voldemort? Why had he left? Why did he keep looking out for Harry when he clearly hated him? Like the night before. He hadn't just chased off the dementor; he had told them to eat chocolate and then told Madame Pomfrey to check him over. Perhaps most surprising of all, the man hadn't said a thing about it since. Harry had passed out, and Snape hadn't said a word. He could have spent the entire class humiliating him about it, but he hadn't. Why?

He didn't have too long to ponder these questions; soon the whole class was getting ready to leave, but as Harry shoved his books and supplies into his bag, he found himself mulling the most over the fact that he really did want answers to those questions. Which he shouldn't. He really didn't care a bit about Snape. The man wasn't anything to him, so why should he even think about him outside of not running afoul of the man's temper.

The thing about Mondays, Harry thought as they all walked down the halls to their next class, was that everything was crammed together. It was nice in some ways, since all of the classes except for potions were shorter, but with five different classes in one day, everything just sort of jumbled together. Take Tuesdays for example. Two classes, just two, one before lunch and one after. They were extended periods, but all he had to worry about was two classes for the day. At least the variety of Monday's made the day go by a bit faster. Of course, having five classes on the first day of school also meant a fair bit of homework to start everything off with.

After leaving Potions, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked with the rest of the Gryffindors to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for the last class of the day. Defense had always seemed like it should have been an amazingly exciting class, but if one excluded the fact that both of the previous defense teachers had sent him to the hospital wing and had made attempts to kill or permanently incapacitate Harry, he had to say quite conclusively that it had always been a boring, and at times very unpleasant, class. However, it was a new year and a new professor, so Harry found himself cautiously optimistic about Professor Lupin.

Professor Lupin had not at all been what he, or likely the rest of the class, had been expecting. The man looked almost shabby compared to the other professors of the castle. He had threadbare clothes and a look about him that said that he was old before his time. Indeed, he looked like he hadn’t slept at all the night before, or maybe like he was recovering from a cold. But the most off-putting part about the professor was that he had numerous faint scars covering his face and hands. Yet he greeted everyone with a warm smile and a good afternoon and promptly told everyone to take out their wands and leave their bags at their desks and then without so much as handing out a syllabus or giving any sort of introduction to the class, escorted them all out of the classroom and down the hall to the professor’s lounge.

Professor Snape, it seemed, was not teaching a class at that moment and had in fact been lounging in said lounge when the class shuffled in. Harry briefly entertained the notion that Professor Lupin was going to teach the class how to defend themselves from Snape. When he saw the class file in behind Professor Lupin, however, Snape got up from his couch and left, giving the defense professor a light sneer, and a snide remark about the competency of Gryffindors.

Only a few minutes into the class, Harry found himself liking the new professor. Oh, time would tell if the man was a dark wizard who for some unfathomable reason wanted to kill him, but for now, Harry decided Defense Against the Dark Arts was probably going to be a fun class that year. Professor Lupin started the class by introducing the class to an actual dark creature, a bogart, for this lesson. A creature that could shape shift into whatever the worst fear of its victim was, according to Hermione, who explained it to the class when the Professor had asked for the answer. A creature that was in fact hiding inside a wardrobe in the room. The professor was both engaging and knowledgeable and was soon calling for a volunteer to face the bogart. Though, at this point, he still hadn't explained how one did that.

Harry felt lucky to not find himself in a similar situation to what had happened in creatures class, almost everyone raised their hand to volunteer. Harry, it seemed, was not the only one who was enjoying defense this year. A host of Gryffindor hands shot up and soon Parvati Patil was standing in front of the class.

"Alright now Miss Patil, what form do you think the boggart will take for you?" Professor Lupin asked the girl.

"Um," she suddenly looked self-conscious. "A mummy."

Professor Lupin nodded. "Now the trick to getting rid of a boggart is to make it turn into something funny. Turn your own fear into something you would laugh at. There is a spell that will help us do this, but what truly banishes a boggart, what sends it packing is laughter. Now can anyone tell me what advantage we have, with a creature that turns into the greatest fear of the person it faces? Harry," he said without waiting for anyone to raise their hand.

Harry didn't know if the man was calling on him because he was the boy-who-lived, or if he planned to put all students on the spot to answer questions but found himself searching for an answer anyway.

"Because there's so many of us," he hazarded.

"Yes," Professor Lupin said, "precisely. Large groups confuse it, what scares one person won't scare another, and laughter, I have found, is infectious. So, Miss Patil, can you think of any way to make a mummy funny, to make us laugh out loud?"

"Well." Parvati thought. "What if it tripped on its own bandages and face planted?"

"That would be amusing," Professor Lupin said. "But surely there is more you can do to your greatest fear."

"Oh," Parvati said. "What if a loose bandage got tugged away, and it spun around like a top, unraveling… and falling to pieces."

"There we go," Professor Lupin said. "Now when those doors open, the boggart will come out and when it sees you, it will take the form of the mummy. It won't hurt you, so all you need to do is to picture the mummy getting unraveled and spinning like a top. The incantation is Riddikulus, and the wand movement is a simple slash, like this. Now everyone else, think about your greatest fear, and be ready to turn it into something we can all laugh at. Are you ready Miss Patil."

She nodded.

"Alright everyone, back up, so that the bogart can focus on one person at a time, and when I call your name, step forward to take your turn."

With that, the rest of the class backed up, and left Parvati to face the bogart. Professor Lupin flicked his wand and the wardrobe that the bogart had been hiding in burst open. A mummy walked out. It had to be two whole meters tall, and it had two yellow glowing eyes. It gave a menacing groan as it lurched toward Parvati, who did indeed look very frightened. But she held her wand up firmly and cried out "Riddikulus."

A loose bandage from around it's middle suddenly jerked backwards, and suddenly the mummy was spinning like a top, its limbs splayed out, bits of it flying off, and the classroom erupted into laughter.

"Mr. Weasley approach please," the Professor said.

Ron walked forward, a determined look on his face. There was a pop, as Ron walked forward, and standing in place of the spinning mummy was a giant spider, reminiscent of Aragog, the large arachnid that lived in the forbidden forest. A couple of students screamed when they saw it, but Ron quickly called out the incantation and the spider lost all of its limbs, rolling across the floor.

Professor Lupin called more students up and Harry saw a banshee loose it's voice, and a sunburnt vampire.

"Mr. Longbottom, if you please," the professor called.

Neville walked forward, white as a sheet and with a pop, the sunburnt vampire turned into a person whose face everyone in the class had seen in the newspaper. Belatrix Lestrange let out a cackle and Harry saw Professor Lupin start to walk forward, but Neville gave a very angry "Riddikulus" and Belatrix gave a scream as she seemed to crack up like a porcelain doll which exploded into a thousand pieces. Neville gave a very non jovial 'hah,' and turned on his heels to join the rest of the class.

"Miss Granger, forward please," Professor Lupin said, not seeming to be phased by what he had seen.

As more students went up there was more and more laughter, but Harry couldn't decide what his greatest fear was. He tried to think up a few so that he wouldn't be surprised. When he realized he was the only student left who hadn't yet faced the boggart he took a step forward, getting ready, though not sure what to expect. He made eye contact with the professor to let him know he knew it was his turn. Yet as the class was laughing at a walking severed hand that had found itself trapped in a mouse trap, Professor Lupin said, "Alright, I think we've about finished it off, Miss Patil, if you would do the honors."

Parvati walked forward and the mummy appeared again.

"Riddikulus," she called out jovially. The mummy once more found itself unraveling and spinning, and the whole class gave a rousing laugh and the whole creature seemed to go up in a puff of smoke and door to the wardrobe slammed shut.

"Excellent," Professor Lupin said. "Excellent everyone. Let's see, that's five points for everyone who faced the bogart, and an additional five for Mrs. Granger and Mr. Potter for answering those questions earlier. Well done everyone. Now, let's get back to the classroom and I'll go over a few things you'll need to know for the term."

The class exited out of the professor's lounge, all talking excitedly about the lesson, a couple people giving Neville an odd look. No one, it seemed, had noticed that Harry hadn't gone forward. No one except Professor Lupin, and Harry found himself pretty miffed. Why had he been excluded? First the man called on him when he hadn't been raising his hand, then he kept him from participating in the practical exercise. Did he think Harry was incapable of handling a bogart? He had a sickening thought. Had Madame Pomfrey warned the faculty to watch out for poor delicate Harry, who had fainted because of the dementor? Did they all know, did they all think he was weak? Maybe Professor Lupin had heard about his predicted death and had decided not to take any chances in class. Had the professor only called on him earlier so he could award him points when everyone else had gotten points?

He would have to make sure the man knew he could handle himself just fine. He had faced Voldemort and a Basilisk, and a whole clutch of giant spiders. He wasn't about to sit out on the sidelines of the class just when defense was getting interesting.

That night after dinner, Harry found himself avoiding Hermione. He could tell that she wanted to talk more about what they had discussed the night before. About the hemophilia, and more importantly, why Harry was so desperate that no one else know about it. Harry wound up heading up to the dormitory after he got up to the tower. He had a thought about getting a start on some of the little homework already assigned, or rather he wanted to read about death omens in divination, but was derailed when he opened up his trunk.

There sitting on top of his possessions was the letter from his parents and Harry was suddenly reminded that there had been two things he had been waiting for over the summer: making sure he wasn't about to bleed to death, and revealing the secondary letter that his parents had written. The sheets of parchment held two letters. The letter that he had read; the one that only he could read, and the one that anyone else looking at the parchment would see. The letter that one would expect parents who worried about surviving a war might write to their son. A letter full of stories about their lives, stories that told him who they were. The one Harry hadn't been able to read without a simple spell to switch which letter he could view.

His parents had probably never dreamed that he would be raised in the muggle world. They had probably thought that even if they had died, he would have been raised by people who cared, people Harry could have trusted with the letter. However, he was on his own, and waiting to do either of those spells over the summer had been a little bit of torture.

Harry gathered up the numerous pages of parchment and sat on his bed and drew the curtains.

"Albus," he heard his name called from his fireplace. "This is Amelia Bones, we need to talk.

Albus waved his wand opening the floo connection wide and patiently awaited the woman who soon stepped into his office.

"Good evening, Headmaster, I hope you are well," she said, taking the chair he indicated.

"I am, and I hope that you are as well Madame Bones, however judging by that look I can see that you have some unpleasant news for me."

"Crouch is dead," She said bluntly.

"I see," Dumbledore said. "I had heard he has been working himself very hard since the breakout, but something tells me he did not work himself to death."

"Hardly," Madame bones said. "He was tortured, extensively. The Cruciatus Curse is only one of the spells in our murderer's repertoire. They even killed the poor house elf."

"Do you know who 'they' are?" Albus asked.

"Not officially, no. They took care to disguise magical signatures. But with Belatrix Lestrange and the rest of those monsters on the loose, we have a rather short list of suspects as of right now. Merlin preserve us Albus. It's starting to feel like the war never ended. People disappearing, people found dead in their homes. They left the dark mark over the manor. Twelve years since last I saw it. Fudge is still talking about the tournament for next year as if we aren't fighting a war, as if Hogwarts isn't under guard by dementors."

"Has there been any indication whatsoever of what the others are doing?" Albus asked.

"None," Amelia said. "It's as though they've fallen off of the face of the planet. Beckett has been spotted a couple of times. We have a pretty good idea of where Greyback has set his sights, but the others are in the wind."

Albus was pensive for a moment.

"What word have you had from our neighbors?" he asked.

"The answer is somewhat unanimous from the continent. If they see any of them, they will detain, but they have no intention of actively searching. Not much different from the war. Do you truly think they have gone abroad? They would not want to risk too many border crossings." She gave him a very questioning look, and he knew exactly what she wanted to ask. Though she knew not to ask it as well as he knew not to answer it.

"I do not believe Voldemort is in Britain, and I do not think it will take them long to reason this out either."

"You are sure?" she asked.

He nodded, and she did not probe further. They had discussed the Dark Lord's whereabouts before and there was little use going over it all again.

"We should have sent Aurors to find him twelve years ago, and damn the treaties," Amelia said.

"My dear Amelia, it is best not to get too much in the habit of should haves. When you live to be as old as I am, you find the list grows rather long. Now, perhaps we can discuss the number of dementors you have laying siege to my school."


IIIIIIII


The moon had been hard on him the night before. Hiding frequently behind clouds, he could not revel in its glory and power, and his need to stay hidden had kept him away from prey. He would have to go hunting soon. Of course if he could grab the boy soon he would have training to do. An easy hunt wouldn't be satisfying but it was always fun to see a new initiate wake up covered in the blood of their first kill.

His finger found the knot in the tree he was crouched beneath and the swaying branches froze. Cloaked in illusion and wards, he climbed out of the tunnel and looked up at the castle that loomed across the grounds. He wouldn't be going there tonight. He would not attack until he was ready. He loped across the grounds to the forest. It would be his home for some time.