When lunchtime drew nearer the following day, Harry grew more and more nervous. So far, he had managed to avoid the crowd, but after skipping both dinner and breakfast, he now felt ravenous. Which was quite a feat, considering that he had hardly had any appetite ever since returning to school.

After Luna had warned him that the whole school was gossiping about the incident during DADA-class the previous evening, Harry had gone straight to Gryffindor tower, retracting to the boy's dormitory.

No one had bothered him there since everyone believed that he was still in the care of the medi-witch. And when Ron and his other room-mates had entered their dorm, Harry had feigned sleep. Of course, those four had witnessed first-handedly what had happened, but Harry was in no mood to talk or to hear their excuses that they hadn't prevented that the form - or rather forms - of Harry's Boggart became public.

And this morning, Harry had waited until the other boys had left for breakfast before getting ready and going straight to the transfiguration classroom. Professor McGonagall had looked surprised when she entered the classroom fifteen minutes before the lesson was due to start, but she hadn't said anything. She, too, must have picked up on the rumours.

During transfiguration and later charms, his classmates had given Harry weird looks, but they couldn't very well continue their gossiping. Now, however, charms drew to a close and Harry dreaded the moment the bell would ring.

His face firmly fixed on the ground, the boy made his way to lunch. The nearer he came to the Great Hall, the more students crowded the corridors. His small statue prevented them from spotting him easily, but once the students had recognized who the black-haired person that hurried through the halls was, they would all fall completely silent.

Then, the whispering would start.

When Harry had arrived at the Great Hall, his face was burning. This was worse than in second year, when half of the school had believed him to be the Heir of Slytherin.

He sat down at the far end of the Gryffindor's table and reached for the pots and pans closest to him, not caring what he ate. The big lump in his throat made him wonder whether he would be able to eat anything at all - he could hardly breathe - but in the end, his hunger won.

Harry had made his way from Professor Flitwick's classroom to the Great Hall in what must have been a new record time, and now more and more pupils were pouring into the large room. The whispering that had started as slight gusts of wind grew into a fully fledged hurricane.

"... heard she tortured him... yes, Bellatrix Lestrange... Azkaban..."

"...wonder whether that's really true... only nightmares, or maybe he wants attention..."

"... Sirius Black, yes, he's related to Bellatrix Lestrange... right hand of you-know-who... and the screams, don't forgot the screams!"

"I think... muggle... went to the library to borrow a few books about him... don't think the ministry told the whole truce when..."

What probably was the worst, Harry thought gloomily when he took a second helping, wanting to eat enough to avoid having to attend dinner, what was worst was the fact that until now, the rumours seemed to be fairly accurate.

It would have been much easier to deal with his nosy classmates if they had come up with some really ridiculous stories about what forms Harry's Boggart had assumed. Then, he might even have managed to laugh about all of these annoying teens that couldn't stay out of other people's business. But from the snippets of conversation he he couldn't help to overhear, it seemed that for once, the truth was scandalous and exciting enough for his fellow students to work themselves into a frenzy.

The only positive thing you could say about the whole situation was that Snape had banished the Boggart immediately after it had taken on the form of the female Death Eater. Harry almost snorted at the absurdity of the situation. Who would have guessed that one day, it would be Snape who prevented Harry from getting into even more trouble than he already was? Because the man's timely appearance had at least led to non of the other things the Dementors had made him remember to become public. Harry could only imagine how much worse it would be if the other Death Eaters and even the snake had made an appearance in the teacher's room.

But that left the question, why hadn't their new DADA-teacher - the man responsible for the safety of the students during lessons - intervened when it had become obvious that Harry was too weak to even attempt to fight the Boggart? So far, Lupin had been nice enough. Harry thought it strange that suddenly, the man seemed to have decided to use his classes to torment him.

Swallowing his last bite, Harry quickly got up from his seat and made his way towards the exit, cursing the fact that he had taken a seat at the very back of the room. Now he had to pass those hundreds of nosy students, giving them further opportunity to gawk.

When he had finally made it into the Entrance Hall, Harry leaned against the next wall and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. If the gossiping didn't died down during the next day or two, he might start to take rations from breakfast or dinner. Going through this once each day was simply not an option.

Suddenly, all the embarrassment and confusion and anger - both at himself and at the other students - boiled up. That was just so... damn it! In his frustration, Harry lunged out and smashed his clenched fist against a jut of the wall.

"Shit!" he swore when his hand collided with the unforgiving rough and stony surface. That had hurt more than he had expected. He examined his hand more closely. Experimentally, he moved his fingers. Well, at least nothing seemed to be broken. However the punch had been hard enough to draw blood.

"Harry?"a sudden voice startled the boy.

Quickly, said boy looked around, hoping that whoever it was hadn't witnessed his little outburst. If things continued like this, he would be labelled mad before the week was over.

"Oh, hello Professor Lupin," Harry eyed the tired-looking man warily. What could the teacher possibly want?

"Harry, I'm really sorry for not noticing that you had such... difficulties fighting the Boggart immediately. I should have prevented the creature from attacking you like this, it would have been my responsibility as your teacher. I'm very, very glad that you weren't hurt more seriously, Professor Snape seems to have arrived just in time. I'd never thought that Snape of all people... well, never mind," he hurriedly amended, "I hope you'll accept my apology. It really wasn't my intention to let you suffer like this. If I had known... it was just, Lily's voice..." he trailed off, a vacant expression on his face.

"You knew... you knew my mother?"

Harry's hesitant question brought the DADA-Professor out of his reverie. "Yes, Harry, yes. Your mother and I, we were in the same year, and she was one of my best friends. I have never met a person as kind and accepting as Lily..."

The first students had finished their meal and started to trickle out of he Great Hall. They didn't even try to appear inconspicuous in their attempts to overhear the conversation between teacher and student.

"Why don't you join me into my office for a moment or two, I would have liked to talk to you about your... difficulties with the Dementors anyway." Professor Lupin offered when it became apparent that Harry wanted nothing more than to flee from all the staring.

Harry nodded jerkily. He wasn't sure what to make of the Professor, but surely everything would be better than to stay here, in clear view of practically everyone.

"Tea?" the Professor offered once they had reached his office.

Harry shook his head. After the last two years, he was wary of DADA-teachers. Sure, Lupin had known his mother, but that didn't have to mean anything. If he had really cared for his mother, why hadn't he made any attempts to stay into contact with her orphaned child?

"Well, yes, about those Dementors," when it became clear that Harry wasn't going to open up to him, Professor Lupin finally began, "I have heard that they affect you more than most students. Understandably, of course," he hurried to add when Harry's cheeks started to redden.

"And of course, after what I witnessed yesterday... I wasn't trying to lull you into a false sense of security when I said that Boggarts cannot physically harm you. I believe you have been told that it's highly unusual for a Boggart to behave the way yours did?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Yes. Professor Snape and Madame Pomfrey mentioned something along these lines."

The DADA-teacher nodded, absent-mindedly stirring his tea. "I had thought so. Well, since the ministry doesn't seem to have any intention of withdrawing the Dementors from the school any time soon, I thought that maybe you might want to learn how to defend yourself against these creatures. It's a very difficult spell, but if what I have heard about your abilities is correct, I do believe that you can learn it successfully. Normally, the defence against creatures such as Dementors isn't taught until at least NEWT-level, but if you are interested, well, I would be willing to give you private lessons."

Harry thought about the Professor's offer for a few moments. If this was a trap to have an opportunity to attack Harry, it would be a very bad idea to agree to such lessons. But the thought that he wouldn't have to relive those nightmarish details from the night his parents had been killed again and again and again... well, it was tempting. Really tempting.

Perhaps then, everything would go back to the way it had been before? Perhaps then, the nagging feeling that he was missing something important would stop? Perhaps then, the doubts he had about everyone he had trusted - Dumbledore, Hagrid, his friends - would stop?

"Ehm, how exactly does it work, this defence-spell against Dementors?" Harry asked, mostly to stall the moment he would have to make a decision.

"The charm is called the Patronus spell. The incantation is 'Expecto Patronus'. If cast successfully, an imprint of everything good and happy in your life will appear and drive the Dementor away. These creatures feed on happy feelings, as you probably already know, leaving the victim with only the most dreadful memories they have. Patroni, however, consist of pure happiness and thus, the Dementors cannot harm them. Conjuring one is very difficult, however, even for grown witches and wizards, as it requires immense concentration and sufficient control over one's mind. But as I said, I'm confident that you can manage it. Maybe by teaching you, I could make up for my failure to help you yesterday..."

Harry nodded absent-mindedly, not having heard half of the Professor's explanations. "Yes," he finally agreed, "yes, I think it would be good to learn how to fight off a Dementor. I think I would appreciate your help, Professor."

The ghost of a smile passed over Lupin's normally sad face. "Very well. I'm afraid we can only start our lessons the week after next, though. How about Tuesday evening, right after dinner?"

Even though the amount of pointing and whispering that followed Harry everywhere he went started to decrease after two or three days, the next few weeks were almost as horrible as the time when half of the school had believed him attacking his fellow students during second year. And while at the beginning the rumours about what had happened during that particular Defence against the Dark Art's class had been relatively accurate, after a few days, the thirst of the Hogwart's rumour mill for more exciting news won.

Harry tried his best to ignore everything that was going on around him, but it happened more and more frequently that students - even those he had never exchanged words with before - approached him directly, demanding answers to the most ridiculous questions.

When one sixth year from Ravenclaw asked Harry about whether it was true that his parents had been Death Eaters and that they had allowed Voldemord and Bellatrix Lestrange to conduct experiments on their child, Harry almost lost it.

His parents had died for him. How dared these people to suggest that they had not only not cared for his well-being, but that they had purposefully allowed their only child to be tortured?!

He didn't mind the detention he had to serve with Filch for hexing a student. At least the caretaker was his usual nasty self and didn't bother Harry with questions about his past.

#####
#####

When Harry returned to the library for the first time after the disastrous DADA-class, he found to his dismay that each and every book that covered the events of Halloween 1981 and the Boy-who-lived had been borrowed. Well, at least he had already searched all of those books for any useful information. But he could only imagine what would happen if someone took the more outlandish stories about his past seriously.

It didn't take long until he was proven right and rumours about Harry Potter being the son of Bellatrix Lestrange and Voldemort started to spread.

His classmates didn't even bother to lower their voices when talking about Harry any more. On the contrary, from the looks Harry received he deduced that they were practically hoping to provoke him enough for him to spill more bits of juicy news during an impulsive outburst.

What the students didn't take into account, though, was that far from being enraged and disgusted by their tales, Harry was slowly starting to experience more and more doubts himself.

What if some of the gossip was true?

Even though he had not had any more run-ins with Dementors (real or otherwise) since that fateful DADA-class, Harry had by no means forgotten what he had heard and seen and felt in those horrible moments. If nothing of these things were true, if he had only ever been attacked by Voldemort, how was it possible for him to remember Bellatrix Lestrange? If nothing of these things were true, how was it that he had known the name of at least one other Death Eater, not to mention the incantation for the torture-curse, even before he had ever read them in any book?

Was it really possible that everything he had seen, heard, remembered the last few weeks were merely figments of his imagination?

How he wished that this was true. How Harry wished that all those nightmarish images were just that, nightmares. How he wished that everything surrounding that Halloween had been as simple and easy as he had believed it to be for the last two years. His parents being murdered by a madman, him being taken out of the ruins of their house by Hagrid and then being delivered to the Dursleys right away.

The doubts that this was how things had played out, though, were increasing with each passing day.

#####
#####

In his desperation, Harry decided to pay a visit to the gamekeeper, the man who had claimed having rescued him from the rubble of the Potter's home on the very day of Harry's re-introduction to the wizarding world.

Of course, it wasn't as simple as that, not with the Dementors hovering on the edges of the grounds. Hedwig didn't mind delivering a short note to the man, though, in which Harry requested that the gamekeeper would meet him in the Entrance Hall half an hour before dinner would start.

"'arry! Goo' to see yo'!" Hagrid clapped his big hand on the small boy's shoulder, who was hovering hesitatingly near the entrance doors.

"Hello Hagrid," Harry greeted back, somewhat less enthusiastically.

"Hav'n' seen much o' yo', 'arry. Everythin' a' righ'? Why don' yo' join me fo' a cuppa?"

"We're not supposed to walk across the ground without a teacher or an older student present, Hagrid," Harry reminded him.

"An' I am a teach'r , 'm I not?" Hagrid laughed jovially, already ushering Harry out of the safety of the castle.

While this was certainly true, Harry couldn't help but to feel uneasy when the giant of a man led him across the grounds. Professor Lupin had said that even for fully-trained wizards it was difficult to fight off a Dementor, and Hagrid was neither fully trained nor did he have an intact wand. But then, he was good with creatures of all kinds, so surely he could handle a few Dementors?

"Go 'way, Fang!" Hagrid admonished his dog, who was jumping at them when he had opened the door to his hut. "Why don' yo' sit down, 'arry, I'll make tea."

"Right," Harry nodded jerkily and took the offered seat. Fang, Hagrid's enormous dog, took advantage of his sitting position and started to slobber his face. Harry couldn't help but to smile at this (after Fang had removed his tongue from his face, that was). Even if it felt as if everything had changed, that nothing was certain any more, at least the giant dog had stayed his usual friendly self.

"So, wha's on yo'r min', Harry? Not tha' I'm no' happy t' see yo', but hones'ly didn' e'cpect a vis't jus' now, with all thos' nas'y talk..." Hagrid asked, having positioned a large mug of tea in front of the boy.

It might have been the dim light, but for a moment or two, Harry was sure that Hagrid looked distinctively uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat and, trying to sound casual, started to speak, determined to come straight to the point. "Actually, these rumours... well, I was starting to wonder whether this really is what these rumours are, rumours... you've probably heard about the forms my Boggart assumed and, well, then there are the things I can see when the Dementors are close..." Harry trailed off, not yet prepared to reveal that he was well aware about the missing twenty-four hours. Yes, he had always trusted Hagrid - more than most people, actually - but the last few weeks had already left their mark on him.

"Ah, well, 'arry, yo' shouln' worry 'bout this. 'f cours' thes' are rumours. Yo'r mom 'n dad loved yo', 'arry, never eve' dou't this! An' don' yo' think I'd hav' noticed if som'thin' had bee' off when rescu'ing you from Godric' Hollow? No, 'arry, no need t' worry 'bout some stupid rumour'." The half-giant shook his had in what he believed was a reassuring manner.

"You really didn't notice anything unusual when you took me away from there? Anything at all? I mean, there must have been muggles who have heard the explosion and everything..."

"Na'. Nothin' un'sal at all. Was ther' befor' all those muggl's, yo' know. Got yo' out 'f ther' and straigh' to Prof'ssor Dumbl'dore. Would've seen if any... would've seen any wizardin' scum. O' cours', ther' was.. but no, couldn' have known, could'e? Don' worry, 'arry, yo'r classmat's ll stop soon 'nough."

Harry decided that it was time to leave shortly after this statement. If Hagrid wasn't even prepared to acknowledge that more than one or two hours had elapsed between the attack and him rescuing baby Harry out of the ruins, he would never tell him if he had seen other things. Things that might help Harry to piece together the puzzle of what had happened to him.

It really seemed that he was on his own when it came to finding out the truth about this crucial part of his past.

It was still early when the gamekeeper walked Harry back to the castle, and Harry was glad for it. He would never admit it, but the thought of having to pass the Dementors - however distantly - when he couldn't even see them properly was even more scary than seeing the looming forms of the black creatures in the distance turning around when they sensed the boy's presence on the grounds. Harry shivered at the mental image of the predatory looks he was sure they were eyeing him with.

When they had reached the flight of stairs that led to the entrance doors, Hagrid wished Harry a good night and took off towards the gates, presumably to have a pint or two at the Three Broomsticks.

"Hello Harry Potter. I didn't know that you meant that we would see each other this soon again. It's quite fortunate that third years start with Divination, isn't it. It's really important for seers to start practising their inner eye early on."

"Oh, ehm, hey Luna," Harry greeted the strange girl. He hadn't noticed her before, but this wasn't really surprising. The setting sun was bathing the stairs into a bright warm light and it was difficult to make out anything. In fact, the blurred outlines of the second year against the last beams of sunlight had something unearthly, ethereal. The soft music that was coming from the girl's direction only increased the sense of... unreality.

"Uhm, what are you doing out here? Aren't we supposed to stay inside, unless a teacher or older student is with us?" Harry finally asked when Luna just continued so stare at him - at least this was what he thought she was doing, though it was difficult to tell when you could only make our her slim dark form against all the brightness.

"The Professors told me I couldn't visit the Eudaimonies, they didn't say that we weren't allowed to sit on the stairs," she didn't sound offended in the slightest at Harry's suggestion that she might be breaking the rules. "I don't think they really know what they are doing, though, when prohibiting us from being on the grounds. Don't they know that without being in the sun, we will just die?"

"Eh, will we?" by know, Harry was somewhat used to Luna's quirks, but still, her last statement had taken him by surprise.

"Yes. We simply need the sun - all living beings do. Without the sun, non of us would be alive. Without the sun, magic wouldn't exist. Have you never noticed how it becomes more and more difficult to cast spells in winter and spring? I don't understand why the Founders chose Scotland of all places to build a magical castle... still, I don't want to be too far away from my dad in case he needs me, so I agreed to attend Hogwarts. That doesn't mean that I'll allow the teachers to stop me from developing my magic, though."

"Oh... right. Uhm, do you mind if I join you?" Harry didn't necessarily believe in being out in the sun being important for one's magic - he had always attributed the fact that it became more difficult to cast new spells correctly the longer the school-year continued to the material they covered becoming more and more difficult when the school-year progressed. Nevertheless, it felt good to be in the warm sunlight for once instead of the constant clamminess of the ancient castle. And he liked the music Luna was listening to.

"Of course not. You of all people need the sun, with all that darkness surrounding you."

Harry chose not to reply to this comment. It was a little too close to home just now.

"I thought that electronic devices didn't work at Hogwarts," Harry nodded at the small box next to Luna where he had discovered the music was coming from. It looked rather like the cassette recorder Dudley had owned before he had insisted on having a state-of-the-art CD-Player.

"Your friend's Ronald Weasley's dad fixed it for me. He's rather good at combining muggle technology with magic, you know."

Harry gave a non-committal grunt. Well, the car had worked almost flawlessly, and it wasn't Mr Weasley's fault that there were no petrol stations in the air.

"What are you listening to?"

"Bob Marley."

The name sounded vaguely familiar to Harry. There had been that programme on TV Dudley had insisted to watch, but Uncle Vernon had forbidden him to do so. One of the very few occasion where Dudley had been denied what he wanted - that's probably why Harry remembered it. Anyway, Uncle Vernon had complained to Aunt Petunia about the kind of people they showed on TV nowadays, corrupting the youth and promoting drugs, or something like this.

Harry decided that he liked the music. The fact that his relatives considered it trash only was an added bonus.

"Do you want some?" Luna asked after five minutes of comfortable silence.

Harry hadn't realized until this very moment that Luna was smoking what had to be a misshapen cigarette. It didn't smell like a normal cigarette either - which probably was why he hadn't realized it sooner.

"No, I don't smoke. Thank you, though."

Luna shrugged and took a pull on her cigarette.

"I didn't know that smoking was allowed at Howarts," Harry said carefully when he couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. Luna was twelve, thirteen at the most - there was no way that the teachers - or her parents, for that matter - would allow her to smoke on the school grounds, was there?

"It isn't." she didn't offer any explanations.

"Don't you worry that some of the teachers will catch you?" Harry asked, slightly bewildered at the girl's calmness. Not that he minded - Luna's behaviour had something soothing. It made him almost believe that no matter what, everything would be all right in the end.

"Oh, but they already know. I think Professor Dumbledore is quite happy that I decided to follow traditions and allow my magic to become more unique. The Slytherins always talk about blood purity, they forget that you have to try to ally with magic, being united with nature to become a strong magician."

Fortunately, Luna didn't seem to expect a response (Harry wouldn't have known what to say), and the two of them just continued to watch the setting sun, listening to the soft music, until it was nearly curfew.

When he made his way back to the tower, Harry felt slightly unsteady on his feet.