The Boy Who Lived

Haunted Snowballs and Full Moons

Mind you, it was a good thing he'd sworn Vince and Greg to silence over what they'd done in Hogsmeade. Actually, he'd threatened them with an ancient curse that he'd heard his father talking about. Not that he knew how to cast it but that was beside the point. Anyway, they were sworn to secrecy, not just about Zonko's but the whole petrifying ghost encounter up near the Shrieking Shack after they'd followed the Weasel and that Mudblood through the snow up there. He didn't need the rest of his House knowing that he'd practically pissed himself in fright when he got pelted with snowballs by an invisible force or that he couldn't get away fast enough. He was ashamed by his whole cowardliness regarding the incident, especially as the Weasel and Mudblood had just stood there laughing and weren't scared at all.

At least he'd get his revenge on Potter at the next Quidditch match. He wasn't sure what it was revenge for but, anyway, that was irrelevant.

After the second Hogsmeade trip, Minerva was in a quandary. She watched Harry pick at his dinner, barely talking to Ron and Hermione, he was brooding and it didn't help that Harry received a Firebolt out of nowhere on Christmas morning. There was no note, no identification or way of knowing who had sent it. She could only take one course of action, as much as it broke her heart; she had to confiscate it and get it checked properly. She had her suspicions as to who it might be from and it didn't make sense. She was fairly certain that the sender had sneaked into the grounds to watch Harry play. Again, it didn't make sense.

She admired the international-standard broom as it sat on her deck. No matter what, she needed to have the broom thoroughly checked in case it was jinxed in some way to cause Harry harm. Still, Ron Weasley was right to be horrified at the thought of Rolanda and Filius 'stripping it down' to check it thoroughly but Harry's life was far more precious than this magnificent broomstick. She couldn't risk it.

After the Christmas break was over and after he'd recovered from his latest cycle, Remus removed the Boggart from Filch's filing cabinet and transported it in a large packing case to the History of Magic Classroom where he and Harry were unlikely to be disturbed.

'So...' Remus said. 'The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, Harry - well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm.'

He explained how it worked as a shield between the caster and a Dementor, and had Harry practice the incantation a number of times until he produced a wisp of silvery gas which sprung from his wand in a sudden whoosh. Remus had to admit he was impressed. Harry had mastered the basics far quicker than he expected.

'Ready to try it on a Dementor?'

'Yes,' said Harry.

Remus grasped the lid of the trunk and pulled it open.

A Dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned towards Harry, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps in the classroom flickered and went out as the Dementor stepped out of the box and glided towards Harry.

'Expecto patronum!' Harry yelled twice before collapsing and Remus stepped forward, banishing the Dementor back into the box before the Boggart had a chance to even change into what Remus feared.

He was determined, Remus had to give Harry that. And in a very James kind of way, the determination came from the fear that if he fell from his broom again then Gryffindor would lose the Quidditch Cup. Remus thought ruefully that the Patronus Charm was bigger than Quidditch, it was about saving Harry's life. Apparently though, Harry's actual life was secondary to Quidditch.

On the second attempt, Harry caught Remus off guard when he said he'd heard his dad's voice.

'You heard James?'