Sunny Suzuki and the Stupid Traitorous Rat

The Great Hall was lively with rumbling conversation, and Sunny did his best to stay in his little corner without drawing much attention to himself. He didn’t really eat much dinner, but it wasn’t completely his fault. He managed to stuff in a bit of food, just enough to balance the fine line between passing out and throwing up, but before he could contemplate about eating more or less or bringing food to his bed, a letter materialized right in front of him. 

He blinked, his hands quick to catch the small piece of paper before it fell on his empty but crumb-filled plate. 

Written in neat letters was a short note. 

Mr. Suzuki, meet me in my office for your tutoring session as soon as you are finished with your meal, by no later than 20:00 tonight. Please, feel free to bring food if you are so inclined, but do keep in mind that plates and cutlery are not to leave the Great Hall as to not make it harder for them to be cleaned later on. 

Bring your wand, and any questions you may have, 

I’ll see you soon

Professor R. J. Lupin.

He didn’t eat anything more after that. 

One quick glance at the professors’ table– don’t look at Dumbledore, don’t– told him that Lupin was already in his office and wasn’t busy eating. Deciding not to waste any time by force feeding himself more food, Sunny jumped to his feet, swinging one leg over the seat to leave before speed walking out of the Hall. It was barely half past six, an hour and a half earlier than the set time, but it wasn’t like he had company to linger around for anyway. 

A few people from his House glanced up from their meals and conversations to look at him, his flurry of movement attracting a blip of their attention. But since he had kinda shunned basically all of them at least once (lunch was… rough. Who knew thinking about how to stop a possible time-travel-impeded death would make someone look/act grumpy and unapproachable) they quickly lost interest once they realized who was leaving dinner so early.

Sunny knew where Lupin’s office was, thankfully enough. 

After classes ended, his first goal was to get familiar with the grounds, and after hours and hours of wandering around and getting lost and wandering around some more, not only did he have a clearer mind and sore feet, but he also had a much better idea of where to go and what to do. Turner’s advice from earlier in the day was also super helpful, and it only took fifteen minutes for him to find his way to the office. Much better considering it took him thirty eight the first time he tried looking for it during his exploration. God, he was so lost before. Still was even now, but less. 

He entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts room, went up the stairs leading to the office door tucked in the corner of the classroom, and stopped in front of it. One hand gripped the strap of his bag tightly– a new nervous habit was forming, and he wasn’t thrilled about it– and after a small sigh out his nose and a resigned slump of the shoulders, he stepped forward and knocked. 

Thuck thuck thuck 

A short pause. 

Footsteps approached from the other side, and soon enough with a click the door swung open. Lupin was on the other side, wearing the similar ragged robes to the ones Sunny had met him with, a warm smile on his scarred face and a hot steaming teacup in his hand. 

“Mr. Suzuki!” he greeted with a small bow of his head, sounding absolutely delighted. A hint of surprise trailed behind in his tone, though he hid it well enough for Sunny not to mind. “It’s wonderful to see you again. Did you have a nice dinner?”

At Sunny’s nod, Lupin’s door opened even further as the professor stepped back to give him room to enter. 

“I’m glad to hear it. Now, come in, come in, we can get started right away if you so wish.”

Sunny slowly walked inside, and he only made it three steps in before he could hear the door swing closed with a resounding thud. He successfully held back a flinch at the noise and took the time to look around. 

Lupin’s office was simple and charming. 

It was large enough to feel big when there were only two people inside, and it was moderately spacious in general too, with a tall bookshelf on the right wall and a few tables carrying potted plants and magical trinkets Sunny didn’t know the names of. To the left was a short half-circle shaped window with its curtains drawn shut, a drawer below it. The large center of the room only had a huge spinning globe, but despite that bold addition there was plenty of empty space to move around and walk. 

At the wall opposite to the entrance was, finally, Lupin’s desk. Very messy and personalized with plenty of papers and books and plants, two red bergère chairs in front of it, and a door leading to what was probably his private bedroom right behind it. A dim white-yellow light from an unknown source made it easy to see the entire room with clarity, but the light was soft enough to not be painful to the eyes, which Sunny liked. 

“In any case, I suppose introductions aren’t necessary again,” continued Lupin, walking over to sit on the corner of his desk as he turned to Sunny with an easy smile. “Unless you’ve forgotten all about me of course. In which case, pleasure to meet you, I am Professor Lupin. I am both your Defence Against the Arts teacher, and, thanks to your… ah… circumstances, I will also be your private tutor for the year.”

Sunny lingered right where he stood, giving him a stiff nod. 

This was shit he knew already, but it was good to have them all confirmed one more time. 

Lupin watched him quietly for a few more seconds, and only when the silence stretched and began to turn awkward did Sunny begin to wonder if this was his cue to talk, but then the professor took a sip of his tea and nodded his head at the cup, gesturing towards it. 

“Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Suzuki?” 

Sunny shook his head, swallowing. 

“No,” he whispered thinly, cringed, and then cleared his throat, forcing his voice to be louder. “Uhm– no, it’s okay, I’m fine. I like coffee better.” After barely four hours of sleep last night, a drop of coffee sounded heavenly. Maybe this was Kel rubbing off, he didn’t mind tea typically, but right now if he had to force any liquid through his throat it would have to be that black steamy goodness. 

Lupin didn’t seem deterred by his awkwardness, bless his soul, and he tilted his head with a soft chuckle. “I reckon caffeine at this hour would make for an unfortunate night of sleep, don’t you?”

Sunny shrugged. He’s had worse. 

His lack of a verbal response allowed for silence to fall again, and this time it seemed Lupin wasn’t exactly sure how to break it. It spiraled into discomfort much quicker than last time, and he shifted his weight between his feet. 

“Tea has caffeine too you know,” Sunny blurted out, sounding more cocky than he meant to, his mouth wanting too desperately to continue the conversation before his mind could filter a single word. He fought hard not to slam his head against the wall. “...sir,” he added after too long a pause, in the shittiest attempts to be more respectful. 

If dad were here to see him now, he would have a stroke. But dad wasn’t around anymore, thanks to him. Sunny focused on the weight of his wand inside his cloak’s pocket, and stopped thinking about it before he ruined his mood further. 

There was a second of silence, and then Lupin just offered him a smile that was trying too hard to not look amused. 

“Hm. Yes, I suppose it does.” He nodded and then got off his desk, gulping down the rest of his tea before setting the cup down on his desk. “Should I offer water, then?” He turned around, and a small frown made its way to his face. “And, ah, forgive me for asking, but are you alright? You’ve gotten rather… pale.” 

The cautious concern reminded him so badly of Diagon Alley that he wanted to laugh. 

And throw up. 

But he was wise with his measure of food, and he did not want to do so in Lupin’s office of all places. 

Sunny only nodded, not trusting his voice to fuck it up. 

Lupin continued to frown for a bit longer, but then he nodded, thankfully willing to drop it for now. 

“...very well. In any case, shall we begin discussing your lesson plans then?”

A scroll of paper materialized in the air before Sunny could agree. 

“So, here is what I had in mind for your studies…”

—

“Try one more time, that was splendid– especially for your first try! Wave your wand, and try speaking with more clarity now, enunciate the vowels. Really think about it in your head, this feather weighs nothing. Wingardium Leviosa.” 

For some reason, instead of looking mildly disencouraged as Suzuki tended to be when he didn’t get a charm completely first try, a smile nudged at the corner of his lips. 

If Remus didn’t know any better, he would’ve read that expression as amusement. But after a week of studying with him, he did know better. Suzuki never got amused. No, no, his reactions were always a tad stranger in any given context, for reasons he was rather unsure of. What Suzuki did get was nostalgic. Which wasn’t all that better from amusement, truth be told… it was confusing all the same. 

Before Remus could ask, Suzuki waved his wand again, a glint in his eye. 

“Wingardium Leviosa.”

The feather lifted from the table, and began to float serenely to the ceiling. Remus grinned. He expected nothing less, yet still a surprised pride still warmed his chest. Suzuki was a marvellous charms caster. 

In an attempt to gauge how much Suzuki needed to learn in any given class, which Remus correctly suspected was a lot, he’d given him a fair amount of practical and theoretical tests of various things. While he failed essentially every single theoretical test, there were two classes he was surprisingly adept at when it came to hands-on work. Potions and Charms, especially the latter. After Suzuki successfully casted the unlocking charm Alohomora in his first try, Remus enthusiastically had him try more charms. He’d gotten many, many spells from the first and second year curriculum right only the first or second attempt. Not all of course, but many. Enough. It was astonishing. 

“Wonderful work, Mr. Suzuki. Do you reckon we can do that again?” 

Suzuki nodded, that nostalgic smile fading into his typical neutral mask. Or maybe it wasn’t any form of mask, and just his resting face, one that just so happened to successfully hide every single hint of emotion behind a facade of apathy. Remus genuinely couldn’t tell when it came to him. The boy was a bit… quainter than most. Not in a bad way by any means, and there wasn’t anything glaringly wrong in any way, but there were enough little things that added up throughout the past few days for him to fall into that conclusion with regretted confidence.

It started all the way back to the mess that was Diagon Alley, with his airheaded behaviour and concerningly ill-made alibi. Remus had known back then that the child wasn’t telling him something, but he had been in no position to step in when it was clear that Suzuki wanted him to leave. After what Dumbledore told them about the boy’s circumstances, he was sure by now that honesty was not Suzuki’s strongest suit, which coming from a child that likely grew up in Knockturn wasn’t entirely surprising. 

He didn’t fault Suzuki for lying about his family– the boy seemed kind and polite, albeit very anxious. And it’s not like he could’ve told him that he was returning to Providence of all people. Suzuki was likely just as aware as Remus was how the truth would’ve come off at the time. He was a good kid. A smart one too, given his House and his knack when it came to Charms. 

…Providence.

Remus knew the reservations Dumbledore had of him, though he didn’t know why or how Providence earned so much trust. He had faith in the Headmaster, but he was also very aware of the old potion maker’s history within and outside of Knockturn. And it wasn’t any good. 

He just hoped Suzuki had a safe place to return to in the holidays. 

Regardless, once Dumbledore offered the role as mentor to the staff after his (admittedly vague) explanation of the boy and his circumstances, the choice to volunteer was one Remus didn’t regret at all. And a week worth of enjoyable lessons strengthened that resolve tenfold. 

He knew a thing or two about having to attend Hogwarts with… additional support. Both as a student then, and now as a Professor. He knew the rest of the staff each had their own opinions when it came to the boy, from indifference to pity to intrigue, but just like Dumbledore he tried to keep himself as mentally neutral as he could. And so far, nothing had gone wrong.  

“Finite Incantatem,” said Remus with a flick of his wand, bringing himself out of his thoughts, and the feather drifted back down to the desk he’d placed at the centre of the room beside the globe. “Alright, do it again.”

And so, Suzuki did, with ease and a spark of wonder that sometimes shone through those unnervingly empty eyes of his. He swung his wand, repeated the incantation, and up the feather went, drifting higher and higher. Remus grinned, and then raised his own wand–

“Finite Incantatem,” said Suzuki before he could, and the feather swayed back down. 

Remus blinked, surprised, but that only lasted a second before he laughed, shaking his head. 

“Brilliant work, Mr. Suzuki,” he encouraged, picking up the feather and setting it aside. “I think we’ve done enough charms for a day.”

At this, Suzuki did wilt. While he was never quite amused, there was one thing he did get: disappointed. It was an emotion Remus got familiar with quite quickly each time they had to shift topics. He couldn’t simply let him play around all day, no matter how fun it was to watch him do so. His skills in Charms were more than developed enough, the boy was quite precocious in the matter to the point where those kinds of spells were a ‘warm up’ during their lessons. 

Unfortunately, warm up time was over now. Time to learn, Suzuki, time to learn. 

“How have you fared with the reading Professor McGonagall assigned you?” asked Remus as he walked to his desk to grab his box of matches. It still felt a bit strange referring to Minerva as his colleague, after years of being her student himself, but he was slowly growing accustomed to the change. 

The deep sigh he heard from behind him answered that question well enough, and he held back a laugh, mostly because he was unsure if the boy would be upset if it escaped. The last thing he wanted was to hurt the child’s feelings. He was so similar to Peter, and he used to always be so nervous about his own skills back when they were younger, no matter how many times James or Sirius would encourage–

An invisible fist clenched his heart, and Remus sucked in a quietly sharp breath, closing his eyes. 

He breathed out his nose. 

Don’t think about them. 

Before Suzuki noticed, he turned back around, a bright smile on his face and a box of matches in his hand. 

The child visibly pouted at the idea of practising the assignment. 

At that, Remus did laugh. 

“Oh, come now, it won’t be as bad as you think. I’ll walk you through the theory again, I’m sure you’ll get it with time.”

He approached the desk, and Suzuki simply nodded, looking as unhappy as he always did whenever they did anything but Charms or Potions. 

“Alright, now, think of the physical shape of this match, how does it…”

—

.

..

…

Suzuki, 

I am surprised to have received news from you, especially so soon after your departure. I hope you are adjusting well, it is important to adapt to your new environment after all in order to succeed, in both personal and academic matters. 

The first thing I wish to do in this letter is to congratulate you on your sorting. Ravenclaw is a noble and sophisticated House, one where I am confident you will flourish in. It is truly the best house Hogwarts could have offered you in my opinion, though it may be biassed, for I was once a Ravenclaw as well during my years of study. You will find good friends there once you gather enough courage to seek them out, I am sure. 

How are you adjusting to your classes? Is the workload as strenuous as I suspected it would be? If you have any difficulty regarding History, Charms, or Potions, especially the last two, do let me know and I will attempt to offer a bit of guidance. I don’t expect you’ll need much help from me however, as Professor Flitwick and Snape are renowned in their areas of expertise, and any questions you may have I am confident they would be able to answer. Although, just in the unlikely case that Snape is unable to offer you a satisfying conclusion to your curiosity, feel free to ask me in his stead. 

Write to me whenever you wish, I don’t mind your letters. 

Enjoy your studies, and don’t forget to allow yourself time for rest. A potential burnout will only damage you further. Do not take the risk you did at work again. The generosity of your rigorous curriculum is even more limited than mine. 

Best regards,

Atticus

…

..

.

Sunny was inside of the library, sitting at a table that was tucked between three closely knit bookshelves, his Transfiguration textbook open on his desk and his pen and paper on his side. He was quickly finishing one of his catch-up essay works during breakfast, his hunger all but non-existent, wrapping up his conclusion so he could go back and edit any word or sentence. 

The first week of classes passed by in a blur once routine settled in. It was a pretty simple one. Wake up, try to eat breakfast, attend classes, skip unnecessary lunch to go to the library, attend final classes, go to the library again, try to eat dinner, meet with Lupin, and then go back to the dormitory in order to do his catch up reading until bed, which now on top of Transfiguration included Potions, History of Magic, Astronomy, and Herbology. 

Working and working and working was a song and dance he knew how to do well. He perfected the act of shutting off his brain to focus on a specific task during the summer, and when his mind was so loud, the mountains of homework and additional studying he had to do was much more of a blessing rather than the annoyance he was afraid it was going to be. 

His schedule wasn’t too different from working at Atticus’ shop, except this time he got even less sleep thanks to stress-induced insomnia. On a good night, he got four or maybe even five hours of sleep. On a bad one, he didn’t sleep at all. This meant that, more often than not, he barely had enough energy to move his body from class to class, his limbs lethargic and as heavy as his eyelids. 

History of Magic was his favorite class by far, purely because it was where he got one blessed hour of rest from Professor Binns boring and steady voice. It was the perfect ASMR that allowed for one hour of deep uninterrupted sleep which got him through the rest of the day. 

On the flip side, Astronomy was hell. He loved the stars and space, don’t get him wrong, but having to stay up until midnight when he was already dead on his feet was actual torture. If he didn’t find a way home soon, he would actually just start skipping because holy shit. It’s not like mom was here to scold him anyway, and he was good at breaking his own morals. 

All the other classes were… okay. 

Now, magic was fascinating. It was so cool to watch, like a dream come true, but missing two whole years of academic magic was taking a toll on most of his enjoyment. Right now lectures to him were like mystical shows, not actual educational classes. Which would be more than fine by him, except they were those types of shows that introverts like him despised with all their might because you had to participate in them.

Every once in a while there would be a group collaboration or some form of practical lesson and all Sunny could do was wish that he could melt into the shadows as he worked on his catch-up shit in his corner, refusing to participate. 

Some of the professors tried to get him to do the group work anyway, but quickly gave up when it became clear he wouldn’t budge. Professor McGonnagal not so much. She seemed fixated on the idea that he could catch up and excel just as much as the others, and while he appreciated the insane amount of faith the lady had on him, he hated the consequence. 

The fact that some of them still called on him and encouraged him to participate, as if expecting him to be able to do these things even with his detriment, it wasn’t fucking helping. They were probably trying to treat him with equality and all that, a nice enough concept, but what he really needed was equity. Being totally ignored was definitely the way to go when it came to helping him, but nobody seemed to agree. 

He didn’t know why he wasn’t put in with the first years, he could definitely pass as one with his stupid height. Maybe the teachers thought it would be a bigger embarrassment, being a year or two lower despite your age, compared to the utter mortification of not being able to do jack shit as everyone else did beautiful spells all around you. Well, they were wrong. Very. 

Or maybe it had to do with who you were dorming with. Awkward to have to constantly sleep with third year strangers if you didn’t interact with them because you didn’t share any classes. And in the other case, in the younger people’s perspectives, having to stay with somebody who was older than you the whole time. 

He didn’t know the reason, but he was nonetheless pissed. 

The only two saving graces were Charms and Potions. 

Potions he could handle, almost with ease thanks to his summer with Atticus. He knew more than enough of the bare basics to get around, and even though he never brewed a potion himself before this, it wasn’t uncommon for Atticus to allow him to watch him work while Sunny cleaned or organized the shop. 

Snape didn’t care that much about anything when a student wasn’t wearing a green or red tie, so every lesson went decently enough. He barely paid any attention to them, only correcting mistakes when they were blowing-up-the-cauldron level of bad, and only giving compliments when somebody made a perfect potion. Both were rare, neither having happened yet in his time there, but he heard enough stories to know it was true. Sunny was grateful for the lack of hatred, but he was low key sick of the neglect. He had enough of that from his mom, and at least she tried to be around. But oh well, it didn’t matter that much. He wouldn’t stick around long anyway, for better or for worse. 

As for Charms, it was absolutely amazing. It didn’t build off of the other years the way other classes did, it just got progressively more challenging in terms of concept and execution. The hard part revolved around vividly using your imagination and being able to shape your thoughts into reality, and, well, Sunny had way more practice with that than his classmates to say the least. He was good at it, above average level of good based off of Lupin’s exaggerated compliments, and that was saying something considering his situation. And it was so fun. He loved it. 

All the other classes had too much logic and background he needed to learn or too much work for him to properly do. But maybe he’d get used to them later. He only had a sample of his classes after all, and after days of studying in private with Lupin he felt a bit more prepared, with a few prior lessons already making some sense in retrospect. 

He still had to take two classes for the first time– Defense Against the Dark Arts today (Monday), aka DADA according to most people, and Herbology. He’d have the latter pretty soon, and the former after lunch once the second half of double Potions was over. Wizarding school’s schedules were a mess. 

Sunny sighed, slumping into his seat.  

After nights of dreading it, it was time to face the elephant in the room. 

Or rather, the boggart in the cabinet. 

Lupin mentioned yesterday he was excited to see how he and his class would perform, to learn what they would think. He was so proud of it too. He didn’t say what the lesson was about, but Sunny could guess. It was one of Mari’s favorite parts of the books and movies alike. 

And he was so, so screwed. 

God damnit Sunny really hoped he could just starve himself into passing out exactly when class started, but he seriously doubted that plan would work. His body was too horribly used to being treated the way it was, and even if he did manage to treat it even worse for his plan to succeed he knew better than to worry every adult in a ten mile radius. 

The Transfiguration essay stared up at him with pity, and he didn’t bother to go back and edit it once the conclusion was finished. Sunny sighed miserably and slammed his head against the parchment. 

Stop Pettigrew, protect Harry, stay secret, go home. 

Depending on the boggart…

Well, he was just fucked. 

Woopedity-doo. 

.

..

.

“...correct! Ten points to Ravenclaw for a perfect explanation of what a boggart is,” complimented Lupin with a grin, and Padma Patil had the biggest pleased smile on her face a few feet beside Sunny, her long elegant braid swinging back and forth as she happily shifted her weight from foot to foot. 

It was so weird seeing Lupin work as a Professor in a group setting after so many days of getting lessons one on one. He was just as unsettlingly warm and just as caring, but somehow he managed to multiply that by a thousand so that every single person in the room felt comfortable and engaged with the lesson. 

The room they were in was large and very empty, to the point where each footstep or sound of movement echoed. The only furniture was the quaking cabinet in the middle of it, which they all stood around, creating a half-circle thanks to their positions. 

By the walls were three tall and bold windows, the glass just as foggy and thick as the rest of Hogwarts’ windows. Warm sunlight spilled in and washed the beige bricks of the floors and the sills yellow. 

Another hand shot up, the third one so far in the first five minutes of the lesson, from a boy with wolf-cut-style-ish straight blond hair and fair skin. 

Lupin gestured at him with his wand. “Yes, mister… Goldstein, was it?”

“Yes sir,” affirmed Goldstein, nodding. He had a very posh and theatrical way of speaking, and Sunny felt like he was in a drama club each time the guy opened his mouth. “I have a burning question in my mind, if I may intrude upon your oh-so- very valuable time.”

“Well of course you may, we can’t have your mind burning now can we.”

That comment earned a few chuckles across the room, but Sunny was too busy trying to figure out whether or not this guy was using sarcasm when he talked. His tone was completely indiscernible. It would be impressive, if it wasn’t so annoying. He liked to think of himself as someone who was good at observing things and people– one of the reasons Observe was a skill in Headspace in the first place– but this talent of his was very limited when it came to this guy. It fucking sucked. 

Goldstein put his hand down, placing them both neatly behind his back as he tilted his head, his blond hair outlined white by the sun streaming in from the middle window. “You claim that the boggart would show us our greatest fears, yes?”

“That is correct.” 

“But what if we don’t fear anything ?”

Lupin had a patient smile on his face, though Sunny was close to letting out a heavy, heavy sigh. It wasn’t that he found the question stupid, no, not at all. But here this dude was, just wondering about things like not having anything to be afraid about, while he was shitting his pants just thinking of the very, very, very long list of fears and phobias and atrocities the boggart could nip from his mind to showcase to a bunch of soon-to-be-traumatized thirteen year olds. 

He just hoped it wasn’t Voldemort dropping in and just suddenly killing everyone, which was up there in his list of worries. That would be A Very Bad Thing, especially now. He doubted Voldy’s snake-face was even canon yet at this point in the timeline. 

“Everybody is afraid of something, Mr. Goldstein.”

“Yes, yes, of course, but theoretically sir, if we were to speak in possibilities rather than probabilities… if the boggart entered somebody’s mind who didn’t fear anything at all, would it turn into thin air? Would it die?”

Sunny had to admit that now that he thought about it, that was a good question. 

“Hmmm, a very interesting question, though one I’m afraid will have a disappointing answer.”

Lupin took a step back from the group so that everyone could see and hear him more clearly, but Sunny didn’t look at him. 

His eyes were fixed on the cabinet, which kept rattling again and again. 

His hands balled into fists, choking the strap of his bag. 

The Ravenclaws were the last House to receive this lesson. He didn’t consider that luck. 

It only meant he had to worry for more days than the others.  

“The mind is a very complex entity, one of the reasons why all branches of mind-related magic are so advanced for even the most skilled witches and wizards. Boggarts are not perfect mirrors of our fears, they are very clever actors. This means that, although the boggart will try to take the shape of your worst fear, it may not always be entirely accurate. It’s trying to behave in a way it believes will frighten you, that does not mean that it is exactly that at all. And that’s one of the reasons why this exercise is possible in the first place. It will take shortcuts, it cannot stay in your mind for long if it wants to take you by surprise, and as soon as it sees the first thing it could use against you, it will shift into exactly that. So, in theory, if a boggart were to face someone who had no fear of anything, it would simply turn itself into what it thinks would be most frightening to any other typical person, no matter how effective that actually is.”

“Oh,” mumbled Goldstein, visibly disappointed with the answer, but then he nodded. “I see. I thank you, Professor, your knowledge is boundless and I am beyond grateful to be at the receiving end.”

That made Lupin fluster a bit, blinking momentarily in surprise. It reminded Sunny of Hero whenever Kel or Aubrey made a comment about his smarts and his good grades in college or his smart sounding words, and fuck, it reminded him of that so sharply, he could see Hero’s awkward little smile, his dismissive wave of the hand, his offhand comment about hard work and good luck– 

Sunny pushed the memories down, swallowing a tight lump in his throat alongside it. 

The professor chuckled eventually with a shake of his head, wearing a smile that was significantly brighter than before. 

“Ah, I’ll have none of that, Mr. Goldstein, but thank you. Now–” he clapped his hands, the rippling sound resounding across the classroom. “Are we all ready?” Never, thought Sunny, but the entire class erupted into agreement that easily drowned out his loud, pleading thoughts. “Perfect, then! Get in a line, all of you, and remember– think of how to make it as silly as you want, wave your wand and cry out– Riddikulus!” 

With those wise words, a scurry of motion set off as everyone rushed to find a spot in the line. Sunny stayed at the back, as close to the end as he could manage. He wanted to raise his hand and ask to leave, but he couldn’t find his voice as it was. His heart thumped stronger in his chest, the beats beginning to turn painful.

If he was lucky, class would end before he had to do anything.

And if he wasn’t…

Sunny shivered. He didn’t want to find out. 

Lupin tapped the cabinet with his wand, once, twice, thrice– 

It burst open, and Sunny recoiled. 

It was a translucent mass of shifting colors and liquid air, and as soon as it lunged out of the cabinet it spun around itself, and kept spinning, and spinning, and spinning. Everyone watched in awe or horror as it molded itself into a rising rope of energy, and with a hiss it snapped into an enormous green serpent baring two sharp blades of teeth.

The first student was a white girl with wavy auburn hair, the same one who raised her hand first in class. She paled at the sight of the gigantic snake, blue eyes widening and red wooden wand trembling in her tight grip.

“You can do it, Ms. Turpin! Think of something silly!” Lupin cried out from his corner, his own wand ready to step in. He was trying to convey a sense of relaxation and trust in his students’ abilities though, by leaning against the sill of the third window and appearing unbothered. It was a trust Sunny didn’t share. 

With a shaky wave of her wand and a squeak, Turpin cried out in a stutter, “R-riddikulus!” 

A crack rang out, and the figure spiraled into an actual rope that moved and balanced black sunglasses on its raised ‘head’. Some weak chuckles rippled across the class at the sight, the ones from Lupin the loudest, though it quickly died down as Turpin scrambled off to the side wall, a triumphant and relieved smile on her face. 

Next, Goldstein went up, and the rope molded and grew into something else. 

The boggart condensed into a silver cracking mirror, something Goldstein didn’t seem surprised about. Sunny quickly looked away before his mind pulled anything funny. He hated mirrors, stupid hallucination machines, but hell at this point he should hope that the boggart would choose something like that for him too. It was certainly one of the tamer options. 

Since the manifested fear wasn’t anything aggressive, it was with calm and dignity that Goldstein waved his wand and said the spell. With a crack as the entire object crumbled into sand, he moved to the side by the opposite wall that Turpin picked and the next person stepped forward. 

And so, the kids went, one by one by one. An ugly witch, a grizzly bear– he tried not to think of Sweetheart’s castle– a scary werewolf (Sunny held back a wince when Lupin almost followed his visible urge to step in and ‘help out’), a huge cockroach, and a few more that he couldn’t pay attention to over the overwhelming sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

Only two more people were left in front of him and class still had time to continue. 

And then, one more person. 

Fuck. 

As they faced their stern mother with a tight throat but clear enunciation of the spell, Sunny could barely take his unsheathed wand out of his pocket, fingers shaking so badly he couldn’t get a proper grip. His mouth was dry, his robes tight, his skin tighter, and it was hard to breathe, so hard, so hard, so hard. He curled a fist around the handle of his wand and clutched it with white-knuckle strength. 

The angry squeaky snorts of a mother-turned-pig were quickly drowned by the chorus of laughter from the children, but it all sounded so far away, as if they were laughing in another room. 

“Great work, Mr. Boot! Now, Mr. Suzuki, if you will…”

His blood was too thick and too fast to flow comfortably in his veins. They pressured his body until he was sure he would burst if he even breathed. Not that he could. Oxygen had long fled from his lungs and his vision darkened, funneling every ounce of his focus at the shifting figure before him. His palm drenched his wand in sweat, it was almost slipping, and he held it tighter. 

It was like watching liquid terror. The translucent creature could almost be reflective, had it not been moving so fast for his eyes to catch. But time moved slowly now, and Sunny could almost see his own horrified eyes staring back at the form of that Thing that was shaping itself into—

—

—an odd, black liquidy egg-shaped thing stood still in front of Suzuki, and Remus tilted his head at the boggart. What on earth was that? It was round and smooth at the top, and… spiky at the bottom, tapering off into three separate points. Some sort of three-dimensionalized symbol, he reckoned. It was made out of a mass of shifting scribbles, looking like hand-drawn ink that somehow materialised into the real world. 

“Is that some sort of a quaint ghost? How frightening.” 

It was Goldstein that spoke, his difficult-to-read tone somewhere between genuine and mocking. Remus had to partially agree. Not in the frightening aspect, but rather in his guess. When he squinted, he could certainly see the vague shapes of a muggle’s interpretation of a ghost.

Whatever it was, it made what little blood left on Suzuki’s face drain away. 

The boy’s breath hitched, and he froze, every muscle in his body locking into place. 

Remus’ curiosity quickly shifted into concern. 

Then it skipped all the next few emotions and shot straight to alarm. 

The boy’s chest was still, just as still as his shoulders, his lips shut into the blankness of his face. 

All in all, Suzuki didn’t seem to be breathing. 

It was a split-second decision, and already Remus left his windowsill, striding across the room as his robes inflated with the breeze his speed created, his wand held high. He stepped in front of Suzuki, one arm shielding the boy as the boggart immediately began to flicker into that bloody moon– “Riddikulus!” 

A balloon wheezed and zapped around the room, bouncing against the walls and within the erupting laughter of the children. Remus waved his wand again, mumbling another spell under his breath, and the boggart zoomed straight back into the open cabinet, the doors locking themselves shut. 

“Great work, everyone!” said Remus with a bright smile as he turned to the students, trying to keep his tone cheerful. “As a reward for all of your excellent results, class will be dismissed seven minutes early. Go on, have fun and enjoy your prolonged break. I’ll see you next class. But, ah, Suzuki, I ask that you stay, we must talk about your extra assignments now.” 

Thankfully, they were all only thirteen, and most didn’t bat an eye at the circumstances behind his words, grabbing their bags and rushing out of the classroom with excited ‘Thank you!’s and ‘Goodbye!’s . 

Turpin however wasn’t smiling as widely, and she gave Suzuki a strange look before passing them without another word. 

Goldstein stopped completely. 

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked bluntly, his brows furrowing. Remus held back a grimace. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said gently but firmly, using the best Good Professor voice he could manage. “Go on ahead, Suzuki’s catch-up studies are a private affair.” 

They weren’t, as everyone and their mother knew about the boy’s circumstances and his additional work, the mystery surrounding Suzuki’s sudden appearance having been picked apart down to its core as soon as he stepped foot inside of Hogwarts. But Goldstein took the dismissal as it was and gave a curt nod, leaving the room. 

Remus breathed out a sigh of relief and turned around to face Suzuki, and he took comfort in the fact that the boy didn’t look blue. Maybe he was breathing just fine, but he was doing so… very, very discreetly. 

“Alright, Mr. Suzuki, I will touch your shoulder just so that I may guide you to a place to sit, alright?” Remus warned softly as he moved behind him, gently grabbing Suzuki’s shoulders with both hands and pushing the two of them forward towards the windowsills. They were a bit tilted, but flat enough to be sat on, and that’s all he needed. 

Suzuki didn’t startle at the touch, but Remus had a horrible suspicion that it wasn’t thanks to his warning. What he did do, however, to both his relief and his dismay, was begin to audibly and visibly breathe. 

Or rather, hyperventilate. 

Short breaths in and out, his entire body trembling with every failed inhale and exhale. 

“Alright, alright, you’re doing great, have a seat–” He plopped the boy down on the windowsill easily. Too easily, it felt like moving a doll and bloody hell he hadn’t felt this unnerved in a long while. Alright, focus, help your bloody student Remus, focus. “Suzuki, I need you to breathe with me, alright? In, and out…”

Merlin, the deja vu was sickening. 

Maybe it hadn’t been a Zonko's sweet after all, back in Diagon Alley.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. 

It took an excruciatingly long minute before Suzuki actually began to listen to a word he said, a full sixty seconds where he simply sat there next to the boy, unsure of whether touch would help or hinder, if he should speak more or less. He did the same as last time, simply allowing some space while continuing to talk. Eventually, bit by bit, Suzuki calmed down, his breathing a bit easier, a bit slower, until it finally fell into a steady rhythm. 

“There you go, you’ve done it! I haven’t any chocolate on me now, but in my office I do. We may go there if you want.” 

Acidic guilt swirled in his gut even as his smile remained bright. 

He hadn’t meant for any student to have such an intense reaction to a boggart. 

Young boggarts like the one he found were known to focus more on superficial fears, ones that linger at the forefront of one’s mind. Particularly vulnerable fears or phobias are typically dug far too deeply in someone’s unconscious for a boggart to see the breach and act on it. And for a confused boggart to be able to find something that would upset Suzuki to this degree– it had to be something he would constantly think about, all of the time. 

Remus hated the implications of that, and so he didn’t linger on them. 

He wasn’t sure what the symbol was, but it couldn’t be anything good. Especially with Suzuki staying in Knockturn Alley, perhaps it was something obscure and dangerous that Remus missed in his visits there. 

Maybe Dumbledore would know something about it. 

But no, he shouldn’t go out and spread this to anyone else. At least not until it actually became a problem. This was Suzuki’s business, whatever that may be, and he had no right to meddle with it. 

“...‘m sorry,” a quiet whisper said, and it took him a solid five seconds to process Suzuki’s voice. It was so rare to hear it, even after so many one-on-one lessons with him. The boy let out a deep shaky exhale, sniffing slightly and wiping his red-rimmed eyes with the sleeves of his robes, purposefully not blinking and staring off into the side to stop any tears from dropping. “S-sorry,” he repeated, a bit louder this time though still barely a mumble. “Didn’t mean to ruin the class.” 

“It’s quite alright,” assured Remus immediately, offering his kindest smile. It felt safe enough to put a hand on Suzuki’s shoulder now, so he did, keeping his hand light. There was a small flinch of surprise but Suzuki didn’t seem to mind, simply a bit startled, and he kept the touch and soft pressure, hoping it was helpful. “You didn’t ruin anything, Mr. Suzuki. Class went perfectly well. I, however, am deeply sorry to have put you in a situation like this– if I had known, I would’ve allowed you to skip your turn.” 

The words were both an apology and an attempt at comfort, but the last part made Suzuki’s face twist. He dropped his face into his hands, his long bangs draping over his fingers and knuckles as he groaned into his palms. 

Ah. 

So the boy knew he wouldn’t react well to the boggart. And he didn’t tell Remus, for one reason or another.

Maybe he didn’t feel safe enough with him to tell him something like that. 

…He was a failure of a teacher. 

Remus continued to sit beside him for a few seconds longer, and once he was sure Suzuki was well enough to breathe and stand at the same time, he stood up, tugging the boy along with him. There was a small stumble, the boy still disoriented it seemed, but that had occurred last time as well so Remus was prepared to balance him immediately. 

“Careful, watch your step. You wouldn’t want to fall.”

For some reason, that last part earned him a quiet laugh/scoff(?) as Suzuki dropped his hands from his face. Remus raised a curious eyebrow. 

“Did I say something funny?”

“...n-no, nothing, it’s nothing, uhm,” muttered Suzuki, before he cleared his throat and spoke in a clearer voice. Remus tried not to feel surprised at the American accent. Sometimes he genuinely forgot, with how little he spoke. “It’s just, uh, something ironic popped into my head. Nothing important. Thanks.” 

With that, Suzuki successfully stabilised himself, taking a step back so that he was out of reach from his hand. Remus let it drop to his side soon enough, it was clearly unhelpful, absentmindedly reaching for the neck of his wand to fidget. “Very well, if you say so. Do you want chocolate? And perhaps some tea along with that? I truly did mean my offer. And you look like you could use a break before our scheduled lesson.” 

He would do about anything to cheer him up right then. 

Bloody hell, he gave the poor thing such a fright it caused an actual panic attack. Thank Merlin Peter used to have those frequently before and during the war, as dark as that thought was, or else Remus wouldn’t have known where to start when it came to offering help. 

“...you offered chocola–?” started Suzuki in a confused whisper, though then he cleared his throat and nodded, cutting himself off quickly, but not quickly enough for Remus to miss it. “Yeah, sure, I’ll, uhm, take some chocolate. Don’t have any classes after this anyway…” 

This airheadedness was getting concerning. 

Frankly, a lot of things about this child were getting rather concerning. 

Remus held back a sigh and nodded, keeping his smile. “Right then, let’s go… what kind of tea do you want?”

Suzuki coughed. “Uhm, coffee.” 

That got a laugh out of him, of course, as always, why did he bother asking, and Remus chuckled, nodding with a more genuine grin. 

“Coffee it is. Don’t tell Professor Flitwick, children your age oughtn't drink it.” 

He tried not to feel too proud at the tiny smile that appeared on Suzuki’s face. He failed. 

—

As always, the Great Hall was live with chatter well into the late hours of the night, though it had trickled down by now as it was getting dangerously close to curfew. Ron and Harry were enjoying a great game of chess– or at least, great for Ron who had eaten about half of Harry’s pieces. 

He kept his smug smile to himself, knowing it would only piss his friend off and he was already in a bad mood as it was. Which was unsurprising, after the sour morning they had with Snape. Malfoy’s hair and eyes hadn’t yet been fixed by Madam Pomfrey, the potion she gave as medicine a slow-working one, and the prat insisted on that stupid lie that the effects of whatever jinx/curse(?) was put on him “impaired his vision”, resulting in the role of babysitter (or in other words, making the potion for him) to fall right to his and Harry’s lap. Bloody moron. 

Goldstein approached them a few minutes into their game, once most Ravenclaw students had already left and they were almost done. Ron noticed his figure growing closer out of the corner of his eye, which was something he tried to ignore. He was so close to winning again! 

Unfortunately it was hard to ignore him when they were closer to the professors rather than the exit, where Goldstein should’ve been headed, and so soon enough they were forced to pay attention to the other.  

“Hello there,” is how he started off once he arrived, standing upright with a smile on his face. “I apologise in advance, but I must borrow a singular moment of your time. It won’t take long, I assure you, so please give me the kindness of this endeavour.”

That must’ve been the strangest bloody way to ask for something like that, but before Ron could reply with a short and perfectly appropriate “Piss off, we’re in the middle of something!”, Harry answered the question with a frown and a thick swallow of food, setting his raised chess piece down. 

“Erm…hi?” said Harry slowly, “do you… need something?”

“Yes.” Goldstein nodded. “I have a burning question that unfortunately can only be answered from its original source. Have other tongues deceived me, or is it true that Professor Lupin didn’t allow you to fight your fear?”

Ron didn’t stop himself from making a face, his lips mouthing the first few barmy words to himself. Have… other… tongues…

“Oh. Uhm. Well, no, it’s– it’s…” Harry made a vague gesture with his hands and a non-committal sound in the back of his throat, visibly hesitant to admit something Ron knew he was embarrassed about. “It’s complicated, but, erm, yeah, it’s true. Why…?” 

While it was the notoriously gossipy Goldstein, this wasn’t a Slytherin, so the length of Harry’s suspicion was narrowed to squinting his eyes at the other’s devilish little smile. But his was a question Ron shared. He only knew the bloke’s name thanks to osmosis by sharing Transfiguration with him and the occasional rumour. They’ve never talked face to face before, much less to ‘confirm’ gossip or something. In two years. Never. 

“Ah, so it is true. Well, what was your boggart if I may ask such a thing?”

“A dementor. Professor Lupin stopped it before I could.”

“A dementor? Truly? Well– that’s quite fascinating actually, did it have the same effects on you as a typical beast of such a kind…” Goldstein trailed off, sounding genuinely surprised before stopping himself from rambling. He cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “I apologise, that’s not what I’m here for. I’ve gotten what I wanted to know. Thank you.”

Before he could just turn around and leave as if that was the most normal interaction in the world, Ron spoke up, shifting in his seat so he could turn and face Goldstein instead of the chessboard. His hand shot up, reaching out. “Hey– hold on, what was that for?”

Goldstein blinked, no longer backing away to go. There was a beat of silence, and his eyes widened, a grin splitting across his face. “Oh, you don’t know?”

Obviously not if they were asking, but Ron indulged anyway. Conversation should hopefully end quicker that way. 

“Clearly not. Care to share?”

There was a pause, and he had the inkling suspicion that this bloke was doing that on purpose to make his answer dramatic. 

“Well, I was asking to see if Harry’s and Suzuki’s situation had any similar qualities… Professor Lupin’s reactions were identical after all. Call it a correlational study.”

“Suzuki’s situation?” 

It was Harry that asked this time, something which Ron found a bit surprising. 

His appreciation of the way Suzuki stood up to the Malfoy pig was rather stifled by Harry’s very clear… erm, dis like of the Ravenclaw. He wasn’t sure what happened, as Harry kept it fairly vague, but the consequences were the same so Ron didn’t care much for how it occurred. Harry was still upset even after almost two weeks since summer, enough for him to always avoid the topic about the new student as much as possible, and that was more than enough reason to back his friend up and avoid Suzuki as well. 

But he had to admit, with the way Goldstein was grinning like a madman, Ron would be curious too even if this information was about someone like Malfoy. 

“He froze up when he saw his boggart. Professor Lupin ended class early, a tragedy for something so fascinating, and then kept him so he could comfort him. He didn’t do that to you, did he? And his boggart wasn’t even anything scary. It was a blob, really. Stupid thing in my opinion, but so intriguing how something so small can cause a reaction so large.” 

He gestured at the Slytherin table with his head.

“And I may not care, but they will. Suzuki stepped on the snake’s tail, and when the story spreads, as it always does, it will finally have the fangs to bite back.” Goldstein giggled, sounding absolutely delighted. “Nothing can beat Potter being the Heir, but this should be interesting enough, don’t you reckon?”

Neither of them answered.

Ron looked over. 

The Slytherins laughed and chattered and played, eating their food and enjoying their games at their own table. 

Malfoy, however, was quieter, still wearing that enchanted necklace that changed the colour of the flaming pink hair and eyes Pomfrey couldn’t immediately fix. On top of his usual spoiled self, he’d been horribly irritated the past week, always snapping at the smallest of things, always glaring at Suzuki's way when he thought nobody else was looking. 

Ron grimaced, a shot of sympathy making him wince. Harry seemed to agree to the sentiment, if his deepening worried frown was anything to go by. 

Goldstein walked away then, heading out the Hall with a smile on his face.

“This won’t be any good,” mumbled Harry. Ron nodded gravely, and let out a heavy sigh. 

Blimey… this was going to be a long, long year.