"Some of you might already have heard about a magical creature named 'Boggart'," Professor Lupin, the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, smiled at the third-years that had formed a semicircle around a dark, occasionally-shaking cupboard on one end of the teacher's room.

Some of the students shifted and a few turned pale. Most of them stared at the professor blankly, though.

"A Boggart is a dark creature of unknown appearance. His physical characteristics are unknown because- yes, Miss Granger?"

"Boggarts are shape-shifters. They will take whatever form they sense the human facing them most fears, so naturally, nobody knows what a Boggart looks like if it's completely alone. There are a few theories, of course, I have read several books about dark creatures, and Melville Metus suggests that Boggarts don't have an actual form while being alone at all, he claims that they are practically spirit-like, while Timothy Timor wrote they are-"

"Yes, yes, correct, very good, Miss Granger, but I'm afraid we won't cover those theories just now," Professor Lupin interrupted the eager girl. He turned back to the class in general. "Now, as Miss Granger explained, a Boggart will turn into an image of your biggest fear. It won't be able to harm you, though, so even if your biggest fear is being killed by an Inferius, the Boggat will merely take the form of an Inferius and act in a threatening manner. Let me assure you that this has been enough to drive some powerful witches and wizards insane, though, so you shouldn't take this lessons lightly even if you are in no danger of physical injuries."

"Now, Boggarts like small, dark spaces, and as surely all of you have already guessed, one of these nasty little creatures has moved into this cupboard here during the summer. We will spend today's lesson learning how to get rid of it. There is a neat little spell that's easy to learn but difficult to cast effectively when faced with a Boggart. The incantation is 'Ridiculous'. Now, please repeat this - without your wands for now."

Obediently, the class followed the instructions, some of them warily, some of them - those who hadn't forgotten the highly dangerous pixies their last teacher in this subject had presented them with - with barely contained contempt.

Just as in every other class this school-year, Harry stood at the very back of the room in order to avoid the constant pointing and staring. He tried to listen to Professor Lupin's words, but he could hardly keep his eyes open. The last few nights had been a nightmare - literally. Each and every time he had fallen asleep he had dreamed about the screams of his mother, the maniac laughter of Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange casting an Unforgivable at him, Yaxley cutting open his forehead and the hissing voice of Nagini that ordered him to release her master.

With every passing day Harry felt worse, despite everything he had found out about what must have happened the night his parents had been murdered . Or what his head made him believe had happened, Harry wasn't sure about this. Perhaps he had really gone insane and was imagining things.

Because how for Merlin's sake was this possible?

How was it possible that something like this had happened and no one - Hagrid, Dumbledore, anyone who had seen him after That Night - had noticed a thing? Or perhaps they had noticed but didn't care? Hell, they might even condone what those Death Eaters had done to him, thinking that it would make Harry weaker and therefore reducing the chances that he, being exposed to dark magic at such an early age, would become dark himself.

And even though he had - until now - refused to believe it, there was that little voice inside Harry's mind that told him that with the help of a little bit of Polyjuice Potion, it could even have been Dumbledore and his allies themselves that had tortured him.

He really had to stop thinking these things. Those thoughts were making him feeling sick.

And you never knew whether there was some sort of magic that allowed other people to read your thoughts. If Harry had learned anything during the time he had spent in the wizarding world, then that nothing was impossible. And no one, not a single human being, must find out about his thoughts. Because if his theories were correct, once they discovered that Harry had started to question their loyalty, Dumbledore and everyone who was involved in this ploy surely would make sure that Harry once again became the naïve, oblivious little boy.

Well, and if his theories weren't correct than all of Harry's friends would be disappointed in him and probably punish him because those thoughts were proof enough that Harry was evil.

By now, the class had proceeded to practising the wand-movement of the spell designed to fight the Boggart. Harry quickly took his own wand and copied his classmates' swings and swirls. He didn't want to earn a detention for not paying attention in class. From their first lesson onwards, the new DADA teacher had given Harry weird looks. He wasn't sure what to make of the man.

At first, he had been convinced that Professor Lupin didn't like him, but whenever the Professor had talked to Harry (which hadn't been often, mind you), he was very kind. The stares unnerved Harry still, though.

"Very good, class," Professor Lupin smiled at the assembled third-years, "I think you are ready to try this spell on the Boggart. Please stand in a line and leave enough space in front of the cupboard. You'll fight the Boggart one after the other, everyone will have his or her turn. Remember what I told you about thinking of something that will make your Boggart look funny. Laughter is the most effective weapon against those creatures. Casting the spell without any amusing thoughts in your mind will not do them any harm."

Harry swallowed convulsively. He must have zoned out longer than he had thought, as he couldn't remember the Professor telling them anything about making the Boggart look funny. How was he supposed to do this? He wasn't even sure what form his Boggart would take, so how was he supposed to think of something that would make him laugh when facing the beast?

Luckily, Harry managed to get a position at the end of the line of mostly eager students without it being to obvious that he would rather not fight the Boggart. Now at least he would have some time to gather his thoughts before being faced with his biggest fear.

But what would it be? What was his biggest fear?

Yes, there was Voldemort. But apart from the face that had stuck out of Quirrel's head back in first year, Harry had no idea how that guy looked like. So how would the Boggart be able to take his form? And then, it wasn't as if he really feared Voldemort very much. Of course, on some kind of abstract level, he was afraid of the evil wizard. The man wanted him dead and everything. But dying was hardly Harry's greatest fear...

But what other form was his Boggart likely to take?

Bellatrix Lestrange? Yaxley? Nagini, Lord Voldemort's snake? That of the mysterious person called "Wormtail"?

A few days ago, Harry had decided that books that only dealt with what Voldemort had done to him and his parents would not get him anywhere. Therefore, he had moved on to the texts that were more about the war in general, about the dark wizard's history, how he had gained followers and the crimes they had committed before their master's downfall.

And there, he had found the names he couldn't get out of his mind since the Dementors had forced him to remember the worst hours of his life - or parts of them, at least.

Both Bellatrix Lestrange and Yaxley had been high-ranking followes of Voldemort. Death Eaters. While Bellatrix Lestrange - together with her husband and her brother - had been imprisoned in Azkaban shortly after the war, for reasons Harry didn't understand Yaxley had remained free.

As Harry had already guessed after thinking about the memory more carefully, Nagini was a snake. Voldemort 'pet-snake', to be precise.

But Wormtail? Non of the books he had consulted had mentioned someone with this name, and Harry thought that it had to be some kind of weird nick-name. So 'Wormtail' could literally be everyone.

Therefore, it was all but impossible for the Boggart to take the appearance of Wormtail. Probably equally unlikely was it that it would take the form of Nagini, as Harry wasn't afraid of snakes at all, no matter who the owner of the animal was.

That only left Bellatrix Lestrange and Yaxley. Both of whom Harry had found pictures in one of the books.

But then, there had been pictures of various other Death Eaters. And who knew whether those three had been the only one present that evening? Weren't all Death Eaters equally dangerous and blood-thirsty? And then, it weren't really the Death Eaters he was afraid of, but rather what they had done to him... and the fact that he wasn't sure whether the pieces he remembered were everything that had happened or whether they had done other, perhaps even more horrible things to him.

So what form would a Boggart take if one's biggest fear were the unknown horrors you had to go through in the past?

And then he couldn't rule out the possibility that the Boggart would take on a completely different form. The one of a Dementor. Or - and here Harry almost started to hyperventilate, which earned him a sneer from the Hufflepuff standing in front of him - it could assume the appearance of his Uncle.

Harry didn't know whether he should be more afraid of having to face Uncle Vernon at Hogwarts or the reaction his classmates would undoubtedly have on the revelation that Harry Potter's biggest fear was to confronted with his enraged muggle relative.

The line of students in front of Harry became shorter and shorter and with each student that fought the Boggart, Harry's nervousness increased. When it was Ron's turn, a gigantic spider - not dissimilar to the Acrumantulas they had met last year - appeared in front of the cupboard, and Harry managed a small smile. This was so... Ron.

Now that he paid more attention to his classmates, he noticed that most of them seemed to be afraid of dark or dangerous creatures of one type or another.

That was odd.

As far as Harry was concerned, there were far more dreadful things than Banshees and Mummies and scary teachers. Like your family being tortured or murdered in front of you. Or being locked up for days on end, not knowing whether you would make it out of your prison alive. Being abandoned by your friends.

Of course, it would be rather humiliating if those fears were played out in front of a whole class of nosy teens. And now that he thought about it, he couldn't be the only one who had suffered from the effects of the last wizarding war, could he? Other students must have endured similar awful things.

Would a teacher really risk that your most terrible experiences became known to the entire school? Or hadn't Professor Lupin said the entire truth when explaining how a Boggart worked? Then, perhaps, Harry didn't have to worry about his memories becoming public...

"Your turn, Miss Granger," Professor Lupin called once a Hufflepuff Harry didn't know had reduced what Harry was quite sure had been a vampire to a pile of ash.

Only one student left, then it would be Harry's turn. If only the lesson was already over...

Just as if Hogwarts had heard Harry's silent pleas, the bell that announced the end of the lesson rang. Maybe...?

"Don't worry about the bell, I will inform your respective teachers that we needed a few more minutes to finish off that Boggart," Professor Lupin smiled at them as if he had just presented them with a particularly large gift.

Well, most of the third-years that hadn't yet fought the Boggart did look relieved, Hermione in particular, despite the fact that her Boggart had just turned into a teacher Harry didn't know who started to humiliate the girl for only getting 95 percent of the marks in a test instead of the usual 100 one.

Harry had no idea whether this was something that had really happened to his friend or not, but he supposed that Hermione's obsession with getting perfect marks in every single subject had to have its reasons.

"Ridiculous!" shouted a determined-looking Hermione, and suddenly, the advancing teacher was completely naked.

"And Mr Smith, please," the Professor called, nodding approvingly at Hermione.

Shit shit shit. In a few seconds, Professor Lupin would call him and Harry still had no idea what form his Boggart would take - let alone how he was supposed to force the creature to look funny. He prayed that he wouldn't loose it in front of the entire classroom when he was confronted with what supposedly was be his biggest fear.

For a brief moment, Harry had the crazy idea that perhaps the Boggart would be equally confused about what exactly Harry Potter's biggest fear was as the boy himself. If the beast tried to take on the form of Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange, a Dementor and Uncle Vernon at the same time, perhaps it would be enough for Harry to summon the mirth to successfully cast the spell...

A sound that was a mixture of a sob and a laugh escaped him, but nobody noticed. Or at least this was what Harry thought. He didn't notice the concerned gaze Hermione was giving him.

"Mr Potter, your turn!"

The door of the staff room opened but Harry didn't notice. His heart was pounding so hard, it almost felt as if the organ tried to escape his much-too-tight chest.

He stepped forward. There was a sluggish, bright orange mass on the floor which had to be the remnants of his predecessor's Boggart.

Before Harry could figure out what exactly this was, the mud started to transform.

In less than a second, a fully fledged Dementor was hovering in the middle of the teacher's room, only three or four feet away from Harry.

The screaming started instantly. Only this time, it wasn't in Harry's head.

"Not Harry, please, take me instead, not my son!"

For the briefest moment, the hooded head of the Boggart - of the Dementor - shifted into the grey face of Voldemort.

"Stand aside, you silly girl - AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Green light filled the room.

As if hit by a spell, Harry fell to the ground.

Before he could regain his bearings, a sharp kick in his ribs forced the breath out of him.

"BOY! You will pay for this!" A second kick hit Harry in the head. His vision started to blacken. "Hexing Marge! After everything we have done for you. You will move back to your cupboard, freak, we should never have you let out of there in the first place!"

The pain that shot through him after a well aimed kick in his private parts was so fierce, Harry actually lost consciousness for a moment or two.

When he opened his eyes again, Bellatrix Lestrange looked back at him, her twisted face only inches away from his own.

"CRUCIO!"

"RIDICULOUS!" A voice, vaguely familiar, shouted from somewhere far, far away. It was the last thing Harry heard before passing out for good.