Chapter 11
September moved into October, bringing the winter cold of the highlands and giddy excitement for Hogsmeade Weekends with it, even with the shadow of the Dementors lurking on the edges of the wards.
As promised, Harry had written home to Miss Ana weekly, more than weekly if he was honest with himself, and had discussed anything and everything going on with her. It was like having a mom for the first time. Even if neither of them brought up the fact that he had actually called her that in a fit of embarrassment and exasperation on the platform. It was a strange feeling for Harry. He hadn't told anyone about Miss Ana but Neville had stopped raising his eyebrow whenever Harry got a new letter at breakfast. This was the first year that Harry had gotten mail and he treasured every piece. The best ones included drawings, scribbles really, from Lule always captioned “for my Ree" in Miss Ana's delicate script at the bottom.
The last Saturday in October, all third years and above crowded into the Entrance Hall, queuing for Filch sign them out and head off to Hogsmeade.
Harry walked down with Neville, passing him a small cotton pouch of galleons and a slip of parchment. Without the Dursleys signing off before he blew up Aunt Marge, there was no way he was going to be able to go. And after a terrifyingly blunt conversation with Miss Ana about the last war and Sirius Black after his face appeared on the news, yet again, Harry had made peace with not joining his friends on the cold walk to the wixen village. Neville had promised to pick up things for him though, hence the parchment.
Waving to Neville as he stumbled toward the gate to catch up with Hannah and a few other non-Slytherins from their study group, Harry could only chuckle. Poor bloke was still embarrassed about McGonagall announcing the previous evening in front of the very full common room that his grandmother had sent his in directly when she asked for all the permissions slips for Hogsmeade.
On his own, Harry ambled through the corridors, his latest letter from home – HOME! – burning a hole in his pocket. He climbed a staircase, passing Myrtle's bathroom and quickening his pace, heading vaguely toward the Owlery. He owed Hedwig a visit, especially since his letters were coming with Post Owls as Miss Ana didn’t have her own and insisted on Hedwig not waiting on replies “In case he needs to send her a message in an emergency”.
He was shuffling down the defense corridor when a voice from one of the rooms said , “Harry?”
Harry doubled back to see who had spoken and met Professor Lupin, looking around his office door.
“What are you doing?” asked Lupin.
“Um, just, you know…”
“Ah. Hogsmeade, yes?” Harry gave a quick nod.
Lupin considered Harry for a moment. “Why don't you come in? I've just taken delivery of a grindylow for our next lesson.”
“A what?” asked Harry.
He followed Lupin into his slightly musty smelling office. In the corner stood a very large tank of water. A sickly green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers.
“Water demon,” answered Lupin, surveying the grindylow thoughtfully. “We shouldn't have much difficulty with him, not after the kappas. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle.”
Oh goody, another creature for Miss Ana to have an aneurism over that doesn’t actually address any defense against the Dark Arts. Harry thought over the Defense texts that he'd been ordered to pack in addition to his school text to supplement the bare bones curriculum. He had learned that Miss Ana's opinions were strongest when muttered and then followed up with long rants not in English.
Harry's head shot toward the professor. “Sorry?”
“Cup of tea?” Lupin asked, looking around for his kettle. “I was just thinking of making one.”
“Oh…um. Yeah, alright,” said Harry awkwardly, licking his chapped lips.
Lupin tapped the kettle with his wand and a blast of steam whistled silently from the spout.
“Sit down,” invited Lupin, taking the lid off a dusty tin. “I've only got teabags, I'm afraid. But I daresay you've had enough of tea leaves?”
Harry looked at him in confusion. Lupin's eyes were twinkling.
“I s'pose,” Harry shrugged, confused.
Harry wasn't sure about how to respond to that. Plus, Miss Ana's letters had put him on edge around the Defense Professor. She had not taken his detailed account of the Boggart lesson well. Between the ongoing taunting from the Slytherins about Neville being scared of their potions professor and Harry not facing it at all, and his boggart turning into a Dementor, he was really glad she hadn't sent the professor a Howler. Or a Howler to Professor Snape.
Something of Harry's thoughts seemed to have shown on his face, because Lupin said, “Anything worrying you, Harry?”
“No,” Harry lied. He drank a bit of tea and watched the grindylow brandishing a fist at him. “Yes,” he said suddenly, putting his tea down on the professor's desk. “You know that day we fought the boggart?”
“Yes,” said Lupin slowly.
“Why didn't we do those privately? And why didn’t you let me face it when it was my turn?” asked Harry abruptly.
Lupin raised his eyebrows. “I would have thought that was obvious, Harry. I assumed that if the boggart faced you it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort. And I didn't think it was a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staffroom. I imagined that people would panic.
“And why would you need to do it privately?” he said, sounding surprised.
Harry was taken aback. “Seriously? You had us stand up in front of everyone and show our deepest fears!”
The professor winced but still looked confused about why Harry was so upset about that trivial fact. “I see. Well. You've given me a lot to think about. Thank you, Harry.”
Harry didn't know what to say, so he picked up his cooling tea from the desk, slowly bobbing the over-steeped bag up and down.
“So, you’ve been thinking that I didn't believe you capable of fighting the boggart?” said Lupin, eyes now shrewd.
“Well…yeah, a bit.” Harry didn't raise his head, continuing his fascination with the soggy teabag as a thought slowly started to form. “Professor Lupin, you know the dementors --"
He was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Come in.” called Lupin.
The door opened, and in came Snape, a faintly smoking goblet in hand. He stopped at the sight of Harry, eyes narrowing.
“Ah, Severus,” said Lupin, smiling. “Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?”
Snape set down the goblet, his black eyes wandering between Harry and Lupin.
“I was just showing Harry my new grindylow,” said Lupin pleasantly, gesturing toward the tank where the green creature was gesticulating rather rudely.
“Fascinating,” said Snape flatly without looking at the tank. “You should drink that directly, Lupin.”
“Yes, yes. I will.”
“I made an entire cauldron full,” Snape continued, “if you need more.” Without waiting on further response, he swept from the room, robes flying around him.
An uncomfortable silence fell as Lupin reached for the smoking goblet. The smell from it burned the inside of Harry's nose and back of his throat. The strangeness of him being alone with his professor started to press on him, causing Harry to stammer out a quick “Thanks for the tea, I've got homework" before beating an almost hasty retreat back into the corridor and down the stairs. He needed space to think and be alone. Somewhere no one could find him. And, unfortunately, he knew just the place.