Francesca

The day Harry meets Remus Lupin is a strange one.  

Harry doesn't really know what to attribute the feeling of uncertainty and unease that sits in that special pit between his stomach and his lower abdomen.  

There are too many possible reasons. Dumbledore's announcement in the middle of the morning that the Dementors of Azkaban would be arriving on the Hogwarts grounds within a few hours by order of the Minister of Magic in an attempt to protect the students and capture the fugitive Sirius Black, the strange interest the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor seemed to have in him and the obvious annoyance in Severus' expression because of it, or the fact that Tom, after not seeing Harry for what he thought was a long time, could keep his cool so well and just...end the conversation so abruptly. 

Harry had many things to tell him, he had many questions, he wanted to know how he was feeling and what had happened in the time he hadn't been able to see him. Harry had been excited, anxious and eager to see Tom again. He had walked around with a head wound completely desperate to make sure of his well-being, he had begged Professor Dumbledore to give him a chance to prove that Tom was different from the being that plagued his nightmares and, shamefully, he had spent almost the entire summer talking to Severus about their friendship, about his bond with Tom as if it were something almost sacred, as if.... 

Harry runs away from his own thoughts. Well, maybe he was exaggerating. Harry, after all, knows Tom. The older boy's reaction completely aligned with his personality, after all. Harry had simply hoped that, after saving him, Tom would open up to him a bit more...but he was asking too much. Tom simply wasn't like that, and Harry had fallen victim to his own fantasies.  

But it didn't matter, Tom was Tom. Harry appreciated him just the way he was.  

“Dementors!” Hermione exclaimed, for the fifth time on their way to the next class. “How could Professor Dumbledore agree to something like that? It's terrrible! What was the Minister thinking?” 

“He clearly wasn't thinking.” Ron muttered, wrapping his arms around himself. “Harry feels the same way, doesn't you?” 

Harry turns his head immediately. “Oh, yes.” Hermione raises an eyebrow, not at all believing him that he heard any part of the conversation. Harry snorts in offense. “Dementors have no business at Hogwarts, I doubt Black would be stupid enough to come to a castle full of magical protections.”  

“Regardless of whether Black comes or not, his decision is stupid.” Hermione says, with complete determination. “Merlin, it's too cold.”  

“It's because of the Dementors.” Ron says, looking fiercely at a point somewhere in the sky. “There are so many of them that the temperature drops several degrees. I don't even want to think about what it will feel like in the winter.”  

 “Do you even think, Weasley? It's the reveal of the year!” Draco Malfoy's mocking voice startled them, Harry turned around utterly annoyed, but trying to remain calm.  

Since the entire fiasco last year with the supposed Chamber of Secrets, the Slytherin heir and the unusual petrification that vanished into thin air because it never happened again, Harry and his friends' relationship with Malfoy had changed significantly. Harry simply ignored everyone other than Ron and Hermione, occasionally Neville, when the boy seemed to take enough courage to approach them. The event had taught him to hold grudges (something Hermione greatly disapproved of, even if she didn't tell him), but it had also served him well in building character (with Tom's help, though Harry definitely didn't want to think about him now, he really didn't) and cleverly reply to Malfoy's insults and provocations.  

The few past confrontations had ended in Malfoy being completely red in the face with anger when Harry didn't fall for the provocations and remained silent until he left. Apparently, he had now changed his target by attacking Ron in the hope of getting a reaction from Harry.  

Unfortunately for the Slytherin, Ron had also matured over the summer. Harry doesn't want to feel proud because his improvement had been purely his friend's decision and work and he had nothing to brag about, but seeing Ron keep his cool in front of the open insult was so wonderful that a wide grin spread across Harry's face.  

That seemed to anger Malfoy even more.  

“Mouse got your tongue, Weasley?” Malfoy said again, stepping closer to the Gryffindor's personal space. “Or is your stupidity so great that you forgot how to speak?” 

Hermione seemed to want to answer, being the most voluble of the three at the moment. Harry discreetly shot her a warning glance that did not go unnoticed by the Slytherin and his friends.  

“Oh, the little mudblood wants to defend her boyfriend?” Pansy Parkinson's nasal voice seconded Malfoy's confrontation. “How cute.”  

Ron sighed. “Yes, Malfoy. I'm a complete idiot. Anything else to add?” 

Malfoy frowned slightly, clearly annoyed with the answers he was getting and disgusted with the direction of the conversation. The corridor had begun to fill with students waiting for the class, who were watching the confrontation with interest, some Gryffindor's even laughing not at all discreetly.  

“Hopefully Black will end up murdering you, Potter.” Malfoy said in a fit of anger. The moment the words were out of his mouth, even Pansy behind him flinched. 

The whispers died suddenly and Malfoy paled as he processed what he had said, turning anxiously around, noticing the looks of disbelief and horror on the faces of his classmates.  

'"That's not a nice thing to say, Mr. Malfoy.” An unfamiliar voice said from the classroom door. “Fifteen points off Slytherin, for your classmate's impoliteness. Mr. Malfoy, detention tomorrow with me, 7pm.” Malfoy glared at the professor with large, angry eyes, but the professor ignored him. “Come in, everyone. Now.”  

Harry walked to the door past Malfoy, making sure to maintain eye contact at all times until the boy looked down. “How delightful to know that someone so fervently desires my death.” He said, dryly.  

Hermione pulled on his arm to make him walk faster.  

Harry directs his attentive gaze now to the professor. Remus Lupin. Harry knows absolutely nothing about him, except that the man wore robes almost as poorly kept as Harry's clothes when he lived with the Dursleys and that his face is completely haggard, as if he hadn't slept in days or eaten properly in weeks.  

The professor seemed oblivious to the inquisitive and doubtful looks from the students, and he took his position in front of the group who stood awkwardly as there was not a single seat in the classroom. “Very good morning students, my name is Remus J. Lupin and this year I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Under other circumstances, I would take the time to ask for your names and have a pleasant chat; but I'm afraid you are so far behind in the curriculum that I had to go ahead and familiarize myself with you to begin your education immediately. I'm very sorry if you were expecting a different class in the week of...ah, what do you call it, Dead Time Week?” several students complained, some muttering that they were not to blame for having had incopetent professors, the occasional Gryffindor bringing up the stupid things Lockhart had said and done during his time as a teacher.  

Professor Lupin raised his hand, silencing them all. “Today we will be studying a fascinating phenomenon...” 

The professor's explanation began under the perplexed gaze of the students and a shocked Hermione who looked to her sides in desperation trying to find a surface on which to rest her parchment to write. Harry discreetly does the same, as well as several others of his classmates. The professor sighed. “I will hand out the theory to each of you at the end of class. There's no need to take notes, just pay attention. It's a practical class.”  

Harry stares at the professor with a whole new interest. Although Professor McGonagall also taught lectures leaning more towards practice than theory, usually the first hour of class was preparation and theory, where she gave detailed information on how to perform a perfect transfiguration. The past two years the Defense class had been terrible; with one professor (ehem, a parasite in the head) reciting theory until boredom and another who spent the entire year talking about himself and hurting the students' heads (Harry has so many things to say to Lockhart if he ever sees the man again) that the difference was overwhelming.  

Lupin explained patiently and the information made sense and that was already a complete victory for Harry, mentally grateful that the professor took the trouble to quickly go over key and important points from past term lectures.  

“Boggart.” He said, suddenly. “Anyone want to tell me what it is?” 

Hermione immediately raised her hand.  

“Miss...” 

“Granger, sir.” Hermione replied happily. “A Boggart is a being that changes shape to take on the image of what the person who sees it fears the most, so its actual appearance is unknown, as it quickly changes shape when it encounters someone.”  

“2 points for Gryffindor. Thank you Miss Granger.” The professor, with a snap of his fingers, made the cloth covering the object behind him fall to the floor revealing an old, unkempt wooden closet. “As your classmate explained, a boggart is a being that attacks using the deepest fears of its victims...so it couldn't be fairer that the way to defeat it, is to show it that we are not afraid. Riddikulus is the spell that will help us do that, who wants to try it first?” 

Several students took steps back, doubtful to know what would be behind the closet doors. Harry looked carefully at the now violently moving piece of furniture, and took a step forward. Harry frowned in annoyance as Lupin's face darkened and he focused his attention on the other person who had decided to participate.  

Harry watched as Neville trembled nervously, but keeping his stance of trying to face his greatest fear. “We have two brave boys...Mr. Logbottom, why don't you come closer? I have something to tell you.”  

Neville took small steps, leaning closer to the professor in the center of the room. Harry watched as the older man murmured instructions in Neville's ear until Neville paled in terror. “Professor...I don't think that...” 

“If your fear is the one you've confided in me, I assure you there will be no repercussions against you.” Lupin said, kindly. Before stepping aside. “Very well! Are you ready? Let's begin!” 

Neville let out a groan, but held his wand tightly. With a wave of his hand, the professor opened the closet.  

The thing that came out of it was a dark mass that immediately transformed into Professor Snape. Harry looked at his guardian's impersonator in stupefaction.  

“Ri...” Neville gulped, before saying with more conviction. “Riddikulus!”  

The creature changed again, maintaining Professor Snape's appearance, but in different clothes. Now the man wore a hideous neon green outfit with a brown robe and a red bag that hurt Harry's eyesight. Laughter erupted, and the creature took several steps backwards.  

“Laughter, guys! Happiness is a very powerful weapon!” Lupin exclaimed, also laughing discreetly. Some Slytherin were glaring at him with hatred, others, too, seemed to be enjoying themselves. “Who's next? Line up!” 

Harry immediately positioned himself at the head of the line. Lupin made a grimace that annoyed Harry again.  

“Is there some reason I can't participate, Professor?” Harry asked, arms crossed, his voice full of sarcasm.  

Lupin stared at him before answering. “None, Mr. Potter. Go ahead.”  

Harry nodded, holding his wand tightly and stepping in front of the creature.  

Unlike Neville, it changed shape several times, without holding one of them too long to recognize what it was. Harry has his guesses, he thinks he sees the figure of his uncle with a belt in hand, he thinks he sees Professor Quirrell's turban and even the black dog (Sirius, his godfather, a traitor, a...) the figure shifted and changed shape until it finally stopped.  

Harry's face narrowed.  

“I'm going to disappear, Harry. I'm losing my memories, my control over this place, I don't know who I am...Harry...”. Tom's desperate voice seemed to echo through the classroom. Harry's breath hitched, at the same time as Tom's figure winced in pain dropping to his knees at Harry's feet. “You need to get out of here and never come back, do you hear me? I never want to see you again, I hate you, you disgust me, I don't want to see you, I don't want to see you, I don't want to see you, I don't want to see you, I WANT TO KI...”  

Harry shivered looking at him in horror and his wand moved instinctively. “Riddikulus!” 

Tom's figure dissolved and became something completely different, a strange version of Professor Quirrell with a head as big as a party balloon that made a portion of his classmates laugh and that was enough for the creature to try to run away and hide.  

Harry quickly stepped aside, trying not to make eye contact with Professor Lupin.  

Some of his classmates looked at Harry oddly, and Ron and Hermione's faces were full of concern; Harry ignored it completely and tried to keep a serene expression as he stood at the back of the classroom, next to Neville.  

His heart was beating fast, Merlin, what was Tom wearing? What did he look like? Was it possible that any of the Slytherins recognized him? 

“Friend of yours?” Neville muttered, looking at him shyly. “'The boy from your Boggart.”  

“Yes.” Harry replied quickly. “He, uhm, lives near my aunt and uncle.”  

Neville nodded and asked no more questions, silently watching the Boggart of the rest of his classmates. Spiders, clowns, snakes, oddly enough Professor McGonagall (Hermione's face was red with embarrassment), some parents, and even a rat; so much happened that the shock of Harry's Boggart died impressively quickly.  

Professor Lupin, however, asked him to stay for a moment after class. Hermione and Ron turned frequently, walking slowly and discreetly waiting for him a few feet from the open classroom door.  

“The reason I asked you to stay, Mr. Potter, is to apologize. I'm sorry for giving you the impression that I didn't want you to participate in the activity, but due to the nature of the exercise, I was afraid that your boggart would turn into...well, You-Know-Who.” Harry stared at him nervously. “I didn't want to put you in an awkward situation, but I couldn't deny you the right to participate either. I should have talked to you before, but I didn't. Forgive me.”  

“Ah, there's no problem, Professor.” Harry replied, uncomfortably. “I understand the reason for your concern, eh, I appreciate it? But I don't want to lose the opportunity to learn. He's already taken so much from me, I can't be afraid of him all my life, don't you think?” he joked, trying to ease the tension between him and the professor. 

“Certainly.” The professor's gaze filled with regret. “If it's no trouble, may I ask who your Boggart's person is? For a moment, I was afraid I'd have to step in, you looked gravely distressed when...” 

“With all due respect, Professor, do you ask such personal questions to all students?” Harry replied, defensively. Mentally scolding himself, he sighed and shot an embarrassed look at the professor. “Forgive my rudeness, I've had a...rather tense day. My Boggart's person is a very precious friend who finds himself in a delicate...situation? And I, uhm, I'm a little worried about him.”  

“Oh.” The professor replied. “I'm sorry about your friend's illness.”  

Harry didn't bother to correct the professor's thoughts, he simply nodded with a slightly strained smile. “Uh, thank you, may I be excused?” 

The professor nodded, extending his hand toward the exit. Harry awkwardly waved goodbye until he exited the stuffy classroom. Hermione and Ron immediately approached him.  

“He wasn't wearing the uniform.” Hermione said quickly under her breath, looking around. “His face looked kind of blurry too, so you don't have to worry, really.” 

“Mate, for a moment there I thought you'd collapse...some of the Slytherin's are definitely going to notify Snape about this. Malfoy is furious! Not only did he lose points and have detention, his boggart was his father!” Ron's expression visibly twitched. “Merlin, Snape is your guardian, if any of them mention that you almost fainted...” 

“I wasn't going to faint, Ron.”  

“You didn't see you.” Ron retorted. “You almost got down on your knees to hold the creature.”  

“It took me by surprise.” He defended himself. “I didn't think it would be Tom. Besides, McGonagall, Hermione?” 

The witch snorted, annoyed that she was now the center of attention.  

X 

Harry was afraid someone else would ask him about his boggart, but no one did. It made him feel like a fool, giving so much weight and importance to what happened when to everyone else it seemed like an ordinary day.  

As they walked back from the Forest after the Care of Magical Creatures class, Hermione grabbed him by the shoulders and stared at him. “Harry, I do love you, but I have to tell you this even if it pains me. You are not the center of the universe, although many seem interested about your life, their interest is purely superficial. I hate it, but they are interested in you one moment and the next they are not, Alas, that's life. And I assure you that by lunch all our classmates will have forgotten it just as they forgot that you speak Parseltongue. So can you take that look of utter terror off your face?” 

Hermione was right.  

Truth be told, most of the Gryffindors in their year seemed more interested in making fun of Malfoy being so afraid of his father, while the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were eager to have the class that the topic of Harry never came up.  

Hermione looked at him victoriously. Harry simply rolled his eyes and continued eating.  

The note Severus had sent him along with the food and potions he had to take, however, reminded him that while his classmates somewhat easily forgot things; adults not so much. 

“Harry,  

It has been brought to my attention that you had a difficult time during one of your classes today. If you wish, I can speak to Madam Pomfrey and reschedule appointments if you feel it is necessary, are you all right?  

I told the Headmaster about his terrible choices in teachers, but the man never listens. If you want me to do anything about it, feel free to tell me.”  

Harry folded the note and put it in his pocket. 

“Are you going today...you know where?” Ron asked, in a lousy attempt at discretion.  

Harry chewed slowly. Of course, he was dying to see Tom. But he didn't know how to feel about seeing the boy, being now fully aware that somehow his rejection and the thought of losing him had become his greatest fear. Besides, after yesterday's disappointing encounter, he wasn't even sure Tom wanted to see him. 

“I don't think so.” Harry admitted. “I want to, but I don't think it's a good idea.”  

“Why?” Hermione asked, looking at him intently. “Did something happen yesterday?” 

“No.” Harry said. “Really.” 

His friends didn't look too convinced, but Harry managed to divert the conversation to Quidditch. 

X

Harry did not visit Tom all week.  

Dumbledore, clearly, seemed to want to inquire into the reasons. Harry assured him that he had not changed his mind about his desire to save Tom, but that he needed some time.  

Severus, on the other hand, was very pleased with his decision. His guardian had begun to teach him Occlumency, claiming that the information about Tom was too sensitive to be in a mind as unprotected as Harry's. Harry asked if Ron and Hermione would also be tutored, but Snape rolled his eyes and said that he only needed to take care of one problem child, not three. He did, however, provide him with a book that could help them. 

Hermione, delighted, began practicing Occlumency with Ron, despite Ron's complaints about studying in his free time as well.  

After the second week without visiting Tom, Harry again found himself a few steps away from the glass box where the diary rested, with Dumbledore watching him from the doorway, in a lousy attempt at privacy.  

When his hand touched the diary, Harry was taken back to Tom's world. 

He was back in the library, but the usual order Harry was used to had been replaced by books lying all over the place, some with pages torn and scattered on the floor. Tom was staring at him coldly sitting in the farthest chair, arms folded, his hair messy and his eyes so dark they looked like two endless, almost lifeless pits.  

Almost...almost, like the first time.  

Harry cringed.  

“Tom?” 

“You said you were coming the next day.” The abrupt reply took him by surprise. Tom's voice had returned to being distant, monotone. Harry's heart pounded with fear.  

“Well...” 

“It's been a fifteen days.” Tom continued, not taking his eyes off him. “Fifteen, Harry.” 

Harry rolled his eyes involuntarily. “I didn't say I was coming the next day.” He replied, crossing his arms as well. “You decided it would be like this, dragging me out of here without even asking if I agreed, like I was a bloody nuisance. If you forgot, I came to see you as soon as I could, Tom!” 

“Oh? Was your desire to see me so great that you stopped coming then? My, how wonderful.” He replied, his voice full of venom.  

Tom laughed, staring at him, until his expression darkened and he let out an angry groan. “Occlumency, Harry? You stopped coming here to practice Occlumency? What is it that Dumbledore wants to hide from me so desperately that he has you practicing mental arts? Huh? Are you here, under his orders, trying to finish the job that he could never do?” Tom's voice began to gradually increase, along with his anger.  

Harry looked at him sadly.  

Tom had too many trust issues and such a deep hatred for the Headmaster that it prevented him from thinking reasonably. Harry thought he had improved, and he had, to some extent. But Harry had made a mistake; in the hope of protecting his own secrets and feelings, he had forgotten about the person who needed help dealing with the new emotions he was experiencing; emotions that were somehow Harry's fault, it seemed. 

Tom didn't believe in words, only facts.  

Sighing, Harry closed his eyes and lowered his mental barrier completely. Opening his eyes again he approached a very tense Tom, taking his face in his hands and staring at him.  

“Take a good look at that thing you want to see so badly, jerk.” Harry said, smiling widely.  

Tom didn't hesitate, just as he expected. His mental intrusion didn't hurt at all, and Harry could see what Tom saw. Tom quickly looked back over the last fifteen days, stopping occasionally at the Occlumency lessons, at Harry eating lunch with his friends, Harry studying, Harry laughing until.... 

Tom saw himself kneeling on the floor in front of Harry. The memory flowed easily until the end, when Tom broke eye contact and blinked in confusion. 

His dark eyes seemed to have regained a little light, and his pale face looked less gloomy now that his expression was neither completely indifferent nor contracted in terrible anger. 

“Am I your boggart?” Tom asked, in a low voice.  

Harry pulled out one of the chairs at Tom's side, and sat down calmly. “Yes.” He admitted, unamused. Harry had had a fifteen days to come to terms with that fact. “You forgetting me is, I think. Dumbledore mentioned that he thought...well, that over the summer you'd reverted to your original state. Whatever that was.” Harry said, carefully. That Dumbledore's name was coming from his lips seemed to upset him greatly. Harry was quick to add. “I think the thought of losing you, in general, terrifies me.”  

Tom stared at him, before asking. “Why?” 

Harry lifted his shoulders, feeling calmer now that the tension Tom radiated, along with his oppressive magic, seemed to have disappeared.  

Harry spent a full year with this unstable boy, enough to not be at all surprised when the books began to slowly rise into the air settling into place. Harry sighed. “I care deeply about you, Tom. You're a great friend, my best friend.”  

Tom nodded, as if the concept of Harry liking him was the revelation of a lifetime.  

“Oh. I see.” Tom said, again adopting his characteristically cocked smile. “Still, not coming to see me is terrible of you, Harry. Very childish. Don't do that again.”  

Harry snorted. “Yes, yes Tom. Anyway, did you find what you were looking for?” Hurrying to change the flow of the conversation, Harry looked at several notes scattered on the wooden table.  

"Partially.” Tom admitted, bitterly. “I read a lot about the subject; but apparently nothing I looked up at the time can give me the answers I want. In the first instance, it shouldn't even be possible.”  

“Dumbledore said the same thing.” At Tom's grimace, Harry shook his head. “Hey, no matter how much you hate him, you're smart enough to recognize that Dumbledore is a very capable wizard.”  

“I'd rather eat a centaur's paw than admit to such stupidity.”  

“Is that possible?” 

“Harry.” 

“Ah, it's sarcasm.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Sorry, it's hard to recognize your sarcasm when you use the same usual tone of voice. I, on the other hand, am very serious with you. Dumbledore has an idea of what might have happened to you, the diary, and me. And if that worries you, he seems to know what you are...even if he refuses to tell me. Maybe it might help if you two talk, you could come to an agreement, a theory, something.”  

Tom looked at him for several seconds. “How have your Occlumency classes been, who is Sirius Black?” 

Harry let Tom win that time, indulging his curiosity and telling him in great detail about everything he knew and felt about it. Tom seemed to share Hermione's complete opposition to the Dementors surrounding Hogwarts, paling considerably. Harry swore he saw pure and utter terror sweep across his gaze before fading just as quickly. When he told him about Black, Tom began furiously writing down a series of titles with potentially illegal books with a whole lot of curses that would, in his words, help him defend himself.  

They talk and talk until they get tired, Tom's research forgotten on the table. Harry can feel that something changed inside Tom, he doesn't know how and he doesn't know what, but something changed.  

The smile on the Slytherin's face falters. “I think it's time for you to come back, Harry.” 

“Why?” 

“I can feel Dumbledore's magic all around. Time passes differently inside the diary, but I can conclude that it has been hours out there. That he dared to approach must be his way of saying you must return.” 

“I want to stay with you.” Harry admitted, sheepishly.  

“That's not possible, Harry. If you fall asleep, you'll immediately go back out there. Besides...if staying were possible, you won't be able to see your guardian or your friends. Would you be willing to do that?” 

“Yes.” Harry replies in a heartbeat. His chest fills with guilt.  

Tom smiles slightly. “You little liar.” Rising from the chair, he extends his hand to Harry. “Go on, take it. You'll be here tomorrow anyway, won't you?” 

arry stood up as well, admiring Tom's extended hand. “As long as you want me here, Tom.” 

Before Harry could take his hand, the older boy asked. “Are you sure Dumbledore is looking after the diary?” 

“Of course.” Harry replied, firmly. “If he wasn't, I would have taken it from him immediately. I would never, ever, put you at risk.”  

By the time their fingers touched and Harry opened his eyes, night had come to Hogwarts. 

X

Harry quickly fell into a daily routine. Classes in the mornings, Occlumency lessons in the afternoons and visits to Tom in the evenings; except on days when he has Quidditch practice or a match. Harry's life is partially quiet, visiting Hogsmade with his friends and with no sign of Black, who seems to have vanished. 

It is in mid-December that Harry's tranquility is broken. It's been such a good few months that Harry has forgotten that he has bad luck.  

It is just as he is walking alone on the castle bridge that a cold air sweeps over him. Harry has a coat and several heating spells on him, but the coldness that suddenly sweeps over him is something he has never felt before.  

Turning around, Harry watches as the wooden edges of the bridge begin to fill with ice, his instinct tells him to run, so he runs.  

He runs and runs, but the creature is faster. Harry is on his knees in the snow screaming in complete pain and the next moment he is surrounded by several classmates and Professor Lupin. 

“By Merlin, Potter, are you all right?” The distress-filled voice of a Hufflepuff makes him blink, confused.  

“Of course he's not alright, Diggory, a Dementor was having a feast with him!” Harry doesn't recognize the Ravenclaw either, but the information he provides is enough to make him panic.  

“Dementor?” 

“Mate, you were screaming horribly. We heard you from the dueling club, a Dementor was on you and...” 

“That's enough, Mr. Andrews.” Lupin stepped in, helping Harry to sit up. Without asking, he hurriedly placed a huge bar of chocolate in his hands. “Eat it, it'll help.”  

Harry automatically took the chocolate into his mouth.  

“Don't worry, Potter. The Headmaster already knows what's happened and he's furious, Fred and George Weasley say he kicked them out of the castle and that he's confronted the Ministry to put pressure on them to limit them at Hogwarts!” Harry doesn't understand a single word the Hufflepuff says, but nods.  

“Mr. Potter, do you think you can get up?” Lupin says, gently.  

Harry makes an effort, standing up feeling slightly dizzy. His ears are ringing and in his mind he can still hear the distant scream of a woman. 

“Hermione was here?” 

“Miss Granger has been informed of the accident, but she was not present.” Lupin says, carefully. 

“Oh.”  

Harry says nothing more and lets Lupin lead him through almost empty corridors of the castle to his office. Harry swears there are some corridors he has never seen before, has there always been an entrance through the painting of the three wizards playing magic poker? 

“Mr. Potter.” Lupin says, closing the office door. “How are you feeling?” 

“Dizzy. Weird. Wasn't there someone else with me?” 

“No, Mr. Potter.”  

“A woman was screaming.” 

Lupin's face contorts in sadness. “Oh, Harry...” 

It is the first time the professor has called him by name, yet the way he says it is strangely familiar. 

“Sometimes, Dementors can make us relive our most traumatic memories.”  

The professor doesn't need to explain further, Harry knows what he's referring to. The blurred vision of intense red hair comes to his mind.  

 “I can help you, if you wish.” Lupin said, suddenly. “There is a spell that can help you. It's somewhat...complicated, but I don't doubt you have the talent to pull it off. Would you like to try?” 

“Yes.” Harry replies, with surprise. Tom had never mentioned a spell that could control a dementor before.  

“I'll help you Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, what do you say?” 

“Blimey! Yes! Thank you very much Professor!” 

Lupin is about to speak when the door slams open.  

Severus Snape stands in all his glory in the doorway, wand up and face heavy with worry.  

Harry runs up to him.  

“Professor!” Harry exclaims, leaning slightly to the side. Severus holds him close. “A Dementor...” 

“I'm aware of the news.”  

Severus' cold tone causes the slight smile on Harry's face to drop. “Oh. I'm sorry to make trouble, sir.”  

“It's not your fault Dementors are surrounding the castle, insufferable child.” Snape turns his gaze to Professor Lupin, who witnesses their interaction in complete silence.  

“Professor Lupin offered to teach me a spell against Dementors.” Harry said, trying to appease his guardian's growing temper. 

“Wonderful.” He replied, not taking his eyes off the other professor. “I don't see anyone more suitable...for the position.” 

The professor flinched. Harry looked at them both. “Okaaaaay. Well, I'm fine! A little dizzy, and I definitely don't want to run into one of those things again, but I'm fine, okay? I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will do something about it.”  

In fact, Professor Dumbledore doesn't do anything about it.  

Or well, he does, but it doesn't work. The Minister's word is total: the Dementors would continue to guard Hogwarts. It was clear that the man was losing his mind trying to catch Sirius Black, judging by the frequent news articles in The Prophet where his government is severely criticized over and over again.  

Certainly, the Headmaster's expression is weary as Harry meets him at the foot of the stairs, as he does every day. He has had to sneak out of Professor Lupin's office and walk as fast as his shaky legs will allow to avoid bumping into Ron and Hermione.  

If he did, he'd probably end up locked in Gryffindor tower under the watchful eyes of the two.  

“My boy.” Dumbledore says, as a welcome. “I'm sorry for what happened today.”  

Harry feels like saying that the Dementor isn't the worst thing that has happened to him within the castle walls, but instead he smiles and denies. “It's all right, Headmaster. Professor Lupin has been very kind to me and has offered to teach me how to deal with Dementors.”  

“Oh? How thoughtful of him. I'm glad you two are getting along so well, Harry.” Dumbledore smiled. “Are you feeling well enough to see Tom today?” 

“Of course. I always want to see Tom!”  

The Headmaster's office is as quiet as ever, and Harry doesn't wait for Dumbledore to speak. He simply walks to the glass box and picks up the diary.  

Tom receives him with a semi-alarmed expression.  

“Your magic feels different.” Tom says, folding his arms. “Did something happen?” 

 “I was almost Dementor food.” Harry joked, turning away when he didn't hear Tom's laughter.  

Tom looked at him with some horror. “You've got to be kidding me.”  

“Well, uhm, no.” 

“Don't play with that, Harry.”  

“It's not a joke.” Harry replied carefully. Bringing a hand to his hair. “I was walking across the bridge and a Dementor suddenly appeared. I honestly don't remember much, apparently I fainted? But I'm fine! I really am! The teachers helped me and one of them offered to teach me how to defend myself so it's all good, no big deal, really.”  

“Do you know how dangerous Dementors can be?” Tom asked, suddenly feeling too furious. “They feed on the soul, Harry. It's an insufferable thing, a terrible pain, the most painful death of all. It's...” 

“But I'm all right!” 

“But you could have been not!” Tom retorted. “Harry, a Dementor attack is not something to be taken lightly!” 

“Well, it's not my fault those things are out there!” Harry grumbled. 

“No.” Tom said, with sudden conviction. “You're right, it's not your fault. It's the fault of incompetent excuses of wizards who apparently, can't get you to safety. How am I supposed to be calm when...”. Tom inhales. “I've got to get out of here.” 

“Huh? From the library?” Harry looked around.  

“From the diary.” Harry froze, and looked at Tom in disbelief. “I must get out of the diary.”  

“I thought you couldn't do that.” Harry said, slowly.  

“I'm not supposed to be able to. But neither should it be possible for you to be here, and here you are. Magic has no limits. I must try.”  

Harry blinked, then nodded frantically. “Yes, all right. What do we do to get you out of here?” 

Tom stared at him. “You may not like what I'm about to tell you.”  

“Or I might, who knows.”  

“It's magic too dark, Harry. I'm sure more than one would fight tooth and nail to keep you away from this.” Tom said slowly. Harry rolled his eyes, annoyed.  

“It's my decision.”  

“You might hate me.” Tom muttered.  

“There's nothing you'd say that could make me hate you.” Harry replied, softly. “I know you, Tom. And what I don't know, I can imagine. I know you're no saint, and I don't expect you to be. No matter what you say, you're not going to scare me, I'll still be here when you're done talking.”  

Tom looked like a cornered wild animal, and when he looked up, Harry knew he had won. “First, I must speak to Dumbledore.”  

X

When Harry opens his eyes, Dumbledore is sitting on the usual couch drinking tea. When the headmaster looks up at him he opens his eyes in surprise, letting the cup hover in the air.  

“Oh, Harry! Earlier than usual?” He says, standing up.  

Harry wastes no time. “Tom wants to talk to you, Professor.”  

The cup falls to the floor with an outrageous noise, at the same time Dumbledore looks at him in disbelief. “Tom?” 

“Yes.” Harry says, firmly. “But not alone. Tom doesn't trust you, but he's willing to talk...if you're willing to listen.” 

Dumbledore seems to know more than Harry does about the thing Tom wants to talk about, because Dumbledore looks at Harry regretfully.  

“I understand, my dear boy.” With a wave of his hand, the mess on the floor disappears. “When can we talk?” 

X

Tom asked for two days. So, even though Harry is dying to see him, he must wait patiently.  

The hours pass painfully slowly, Harry almost ruins his potion three times, and Severus's disapproving look makes him close his eyes and focus or that summer he would be sure to make him study to exhaustion.  

The one thing that excites him, without a doubt, are the lessons with Professor Lupin. The man is definitely a good teacher, and Harry understands the theory of the Patronous Charm almost instantly. 

“You have a very good control of your magic, Harry. All too natural, have you had lessons in magical control?” Lupin said, surprised.  

Harry smiled apologetically. “My guardian has taught me over the summer. And I have a friend who is too good with magic, both of them have taught me well.”  

“I can see that.” Lupin said, a small smile on his face. “You might not need as many lessons as I thought, you're almost as talented as...” 

Harry didn't let the professor off the hook. “Like who?” 

The professor hesitated, before sighing. “Like your parents, Harry.”  

Harry closed his eyes.  

Merlin, how many other people?  

“Were you friends with my parents, Professor?” Harry asked, almost sensing the answer.  

Lupin looked at him. “We were...we were very good friends.”  

Harry didn't want to; but he knew he had to ask. “Why didn't you seek me out earlier, then, why until now?” 

“I...I'm not fit to be a good guardian.” Lupin admitted. “Dumbledore knew that all too well.”  

“Dumbledore doesn't dictate your life, Professor.” Harry replied, bitterly. “Dumbledore doesn't dictate anyone's life. If you had wanted to, you would have seek me out. But you didn't, and that wasn't decided by the Headmaster, it was decided by you.” Harry looked at him with an uncomfortable smile. “But like everyone else, I imagine you must have your reasons, don't you?” 

Lupin nodded, silently.  

Harry tilted his head to one side. “It bothers me a little, you see. The idea that everyone seems to have a bigger reason than taking care of a baby. I imagine it bothers me because I was that baby, selfishly. But I understand, too, what you mean to tell me.” Harry looked at the professor, with a small smile. “Perhaps we started out the wrong way. I am, Harry, sir.”  

 “Remus Lupin.” Extending his hand, Harry took it. “And it's a complete pleasure to meet you, Harry.”  

Severus sometimes talks about Lily Potter, but this time Harry finds himself fascinated listening to wonderful stories of James Potter. Harry is enchanted.  

Near the end of the lesson, and after several stories, laughter and attempts, the spell that came from Harry's wand dazzled the two in the room. The memory Harry chose is all too clear.  

The lake, the grass, the winter cold, Tom sitting next to him and a few words: 

I'm happy to have met you. 

So am I, Harry, so am I.  

When Harry opens his eyes, in front of him is a small silver penguin.

X

“Harry, it's too late at night already. Is everything really all right?” Ron whispers, sitting next to him in the common room. Hermione nods frenetically, hands clasped together in her lap.  

“Everything's fine, I just need to talk to the Headmaster.”  

“At this hour?” Hermione pressed, nervous. “Does it have something to do with Black?” 

“Guys, everything's fine. If it was about Black, I would have told you already.” Harry tried to calm them down. “Trust me.”  

Professor McGonagall calls him from the door, Harry quickly waves goodbye to his friends until he keeps up with his Head of House.  

“Potter.” The teacher said, suddenly. “If you need to talk to someone, feel free to come to me.”  

“Thank you very much, Professor. But everything is fine.” Harry smiled at her, trying to sound convincing. Whether it worked or not, McGonagall said nothing. She simply escorted him to the Headmaster's office, who was already sitting on the same couch as usual.  

“Harry, wonderful evening, don't you think?” 

“Certainly, Professor.” Harry said, sitting down in the seat opposite the Headmaster. The little glass box now on the little wooden table in their midst. “Are you ready?” 

“Of course.” 

“Place your hand on the diary, Professor.” Harry instructed, directing his own hand to the cover. Harry watched Dumbledore's actions carefully, and when Dumbledore touched the cover, Harry pressed down.  

When he opened his eyes, Harry found himself in a place he never thought he would see again.  

A small room, unpainted walls with mildew stains, a musty-smelling bed, and a boy sitting on the edge of that same bed, staring at a closet lit on fire. Harry paled.  

Tom was sitting in a chair too small for him, at a desk too small for any of the three of them. Harry knows him well enough; Tom is sending a message, a provocation. He is reliving a memory, a moment, an event.  

Tom is saying without words: look at me, look at him. Look around you, how bad do you think it could have been? How bad do you think I was? How much do you think I deserved it? How much do you think I still deserve it?  

It's a threat at the same time.  

Will you do the same? Why should I trust you? Why should I believe you will help me?  

Dumbledore is looking around the room as if it's his first time there, though Harry knows it's not. The wizard's eyes seem to follow the pattern of every damp stain that runs from the window to the floor, he seems to hold the unbearable smell deep in his lungs, and in his dull eyes are reflected the flames of a closet that never seems to burn out.  

“I was just a kid.” Tom's voice echoed through the four walls. “How bad could I be, did you ever wonder, why?” 

“Tom.”  

“They carved the word demon and Satan into my skin, you know? Right into my chest, right next to my heart. It scared them to death to see them disappear, no matter how many times they wrote them with burning iron, my magic healed it all. But I will never forget that pain.” Tom said, not taking his eyes off the boy at the edge of the bed. “A war. Starvation. Religion. Stupid children and stupid adults with miserable lives who enjoyed having someone to point fingers at. A pariah. A stranger. That was me. Muggles looking over my shoulder, people with crosses around their necks claiming to be the salvation of the world, they were the real monsters.” 

Tom, finally, looked at Dumbledore. “Imagine how I felt when you walked through that door. I thought my true savior had arrived. If there was a God, I thought you were his incarnation. But as soon as I thought that, you proved to me to be just like the others. Arrogant, prideful, a false savior; an unjust being who gave me no chance, ever since you set eyes on me.” Tom said, without pausing. “Alas, the magical world was exactly the same. An unfortunate child with no perfect pedigree to back him up; no matter my talent, it was never going to be enough. And what's that Muggle saying? If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." Tom smiled, the smile didn't reach his eyes, it wasn't the same smile he gave Harry. “Only I was going to be worse. Superior to all of you. I was going to bring them to their knees and they would kiss my feet; and when the light faded from their eyes, they would look at my face and think they saw a savior, but it would be the devil himself claiming their souls. Their eternal Dementor.  

 “Are you afraid of me, Professor?” Tom asked, wryly.  

Harry looked at Tom with teary eyes, but lips pursed in restrained fury. Dumbledore stared dumbfounded at Tom, who looked as nonchalant as usual.  

“I'm not afraid of you, Tom.” Dumbledore said, slowly. “I pity you.”  

“I don't need pity or your forgiveness.” Tom replied.  

“And yet, I pity you.” Dumbledore said, looking at him intently. “I was wrong, Tom. I'm sorry.”  

“An empty apology isn't going to solve the problem between you and me. It won't turn back the time or stop him from losing his head. You can't do anything about what happened and what already exists.” Tom replied, rising from his chair. “I find myself in the unfortunate position of approaching you, because we have an interest in common.” Tom said, glancing quickly toward Harry. “I don't trust you or your people. And I don't trust that you can keep Harry safe. I need to get out of the diary.” 

“You know that's not possible.” 

“It can be possible. I can make it possible.” Tom said, straightening his posture. “You know damn well I'm going to make it. And that's why I need to know if you're going to get in my way, or for the first time in your life be the good man you claim so much to be. Not for me, and definitely not for Voldemort. For Harry.”  

“Tom...” Harry tried to approach him, but the older boy held up his hand. Harry stopped himself. 

“Well, Dumbledore?” 

Dumbledore looked gloomily at Harry, then at Tom. “How can I be of assistance?” 

Tom kept his gaze fixed on Dumbledore for several seconds, tense. Until, with a snap, he led them to the familiar library Harry knew.  

“There are objects out there that you must find for me.” Tom said, coldly. 

Dumbledore looked at him. “How many?” 

Tom hesitated. “I'm not sure. But I can...feel them. More than two, that's for sure.”  

“Oh, Tom...” Dumbledore denied, full of regret. “ What have you done to yourself, Tom?” 

“A powerful being.” He replied. “Or so I thought.”  

“What objects?” Harry asked, looking at them intently. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“Harry's too young, Tom.” Dumbledore warned.  

Harry burst out in anger. “Oh, but I wasn't too young when you allowed me to face the parasite in my professor's head after I got past the traps you set yourself? Please, professor. Tell me something more convincing.”  

“It is too advanced and Dark Magic, Harry. Many fall to it, I don't want to risk you to this.” Dumbledore said, with complete honesty.  

“I'm not as easy to break as you think.” Harry said, with conviction. “You made sure that was the case, didn't you?” 

“I don't want to risk you either, Harry.” Tom admitted. Harry looked at him completely betrayed. “This magic...it's dangerous. Your magic is too pure for something like this.”  

“I don't mind using Dark Magic if it means bringing you into the real world.” Harry said firmly. “And I don't mind using it against Voldemort either. A being like him can only be destroyed by the very thing that created him.”  

Tom laughed a little, making Dumbledore flinch. “You're wonderful, Harry.”  

Dumbledore tried to ignore Tom's clear display of affection, considering that Tom himself had totally ignored Dumbledore's presence when he said it.  

One thing was clear. The person with the most power in that place, was Harry. And he didn't even seem to realize that.  

Dumbledore decided not to comment on it. “Severus will be very angry if he finds out.”  

“If he does, I hope it's from my mouth, Professor.” It wasn't a threat, but close to being one.  

“Certainly, my boy.” Dumbledore replied. Tom snorted.  

“So?” Harry pressed. “What objects should we be looking for?” 

Horcruxes.  

Harry, after almost two years of knowing Tom, finally knows what he is.  

An aberration. According to Dumbledore. The biggest taboo in the Magical World, according to the books. His best friend, that didn't change for Harry.  

Horcrux. A part of the original Tom's soul. The young part, trapped in a diary for years, forgotten somewhere like it was...like it was nothing.  

And there were more, more parts of that Tom until he became the monster he is now. Tom has no idea how many there are. The thought is chilling.  

“I'm sure He had no idea about the last of them.” Tom said, more slowly this time. “He probably never planned it.”  

“Which is the last one?” Harry asked, genuinely curious.  

Tom looked at him. “You, Harry.”  

“Excuse me?” 

“You were one until a few months ago.” Tom made sure to explain. “It's not supposed to be possible to make a Human Horcrux, but you exist. Dumbledore must have had his doubts, too.” 

The headmaster looked at him, bowing his head. “I didn't want to confirm it, but I got my answer when I saw his scar after you expelled him from the diary.”  

“A part of Voldemort is inside me?” Harry asked again, shocked.  

“Was.” Tom repeated. “I absorbed, unintentionally, the part of his soul while I was making you sick. I totally abosrbed it in the end, and you stopped being a Horcrux.”  

“Oh.” Harry said, stupidly. “Oh! That explains your emotions!” Harry concluded, feeling victorious. Tom stared blankly. 

“Tom, think about it! You absorbed a soul part, but you already had a consciousness of your own...so it's simply making you more human. And I'm not just talking about a human body.”  

“Harry's right.” Dumbledore agreed. “I understand what you want to do with the pieces of the original soul. But the piece that was in Harry grew with him. They are the pure emotions of a child, and they are the first ones you got and adapted. You are, essentially, a new soul.”  

Dumbledore stared at Tom. “Being the first piece of his soul, you are the biggest piece. Are you sure you can overpower the rest of your peers? They are a more powerful, vicious and violent part.” 

“In the blink of an eye, Dumbledore.” Tom smiled sadistically. “I am, after all, a superior being.” 

X

The end of the school year is approaching and Harry finds himself packing his trunk with Ron's wailing in the background. Regularly, he always made sure he had everything ready. But Harry had spent much of the morning saying goodbye to Tom. 

His friend is devastated after mysteriously losing his rat. Harry has promised to give him an owl as his next buddy, though Ron doesn't seem too happy to forget about Scabbers so quickly.  

Dumbledore had been right. Severus had fervently opposed to let Harry get close to the Horcruxes, even after learning that Harry had been one.  

Finally, he had reluctantly agreed after pleas on Harry's part and endless explanations about what Tom meant to him. Harry knew Severus would never understand, but the man respected his decision, and that's all Harry needed. Harry had only one condition: to return home alive.  

Harry had told him to help him in his research, but Severus rejected the idea, claiming that it wasn't possible for him to do such a thing.  

Harry hated keeping secrets from Ron and Hermione, but he couldn't tell them about his new mission. Not yet. Not when he didn't know how far they could follow Harry on the selfish path he had decided for himself. Besides, both Dumbledore and Tom didn't seem happy to add the two Gryffindor's into the equation, albeit for different reasons.  

Dumbledore, because of the hope of giving them time to remain children. Tom, because he didn't want to risk his plan to unknown hands, even if they were people precious to Harry.  

In the end, Harry keeps the secret until the right time. Maybe forever.  

“Mate, will you go to the Quidditch World Cup with me?” Ron asked, throwing clothes into his trunk. “Fred and George say we can go this time. I'm really excited and...honestly, it would make me really happy if you and Hermione would go with me.”  

“Wow, that sounds fantastic!” Harry exclaimed, happy. “I have to ask my guardian, but I'll be sure to answer as soon as I can!” 

“Sounds good.” Ron said, turning to look at him. “It's a pity you won't be joining us on the train.” 

“We'll see each other soon.” Harry said, sounding hopeful as well. “Really.” 

Harry says goodbye to Ron and Hermione with a tight hug and waits for Severus to show up to take him home. He sleeps peacefully on the couch in his office. 

As night falls, and Tatie is about to serve dinner on the small table in the living room, Severus tenses.  

Harry can feel it, too, two unfamiliar presences outside the barrier surrounding the property.  

Harry insistently follows Severus, though the man prefers him to stay behind, to lock himself in, to hide. Harry still follows him, wand up, defensive stance. 

Disbelief fills his face when he sees them. 

Behind the barrier, Remus Lupin and a familiar black dog are waiting for them.  

End of Prisoner of Azkaban. Continues in the Goblet of Fire.