Malfoy reappears in classes on Thursday morning. He struts into Potions, the class already halfway done, and is acting as though he's the heroic survivor of a battle. Harry, who is the heroic survivor of two battles, thinks it's extremely infuriating.
"How is it, Draco?" Harry hears Pansy Parkinson say. "Does it hurt much?"
"Yeah," Malfoy says, forcing himself to sound in pain.
"Settle down, settle down," Snape says lazily.
Harry scowls. If he had walked into Potions late, it would've been a much bigger deal.
Malfoy sets his cauldron up at Ron and Harry's table. Today, they're making a Shrinking Solution, and so far, Harry and Ron have been dutifully preparing their ingredients, and it doesn't seem to be going half bad.
"Anyway," Ron mumbles, continuing his and Harry's conversation (gossiping) that was rudely interrupted by Malfoy, "Somebody told me she —"
"Sir," Malfoy suddenly calls, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm —"
"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," Snape says.
Ron's knee hits the underside of the table in his attempt to keep his anger at bay. "There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hisses.
"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots."
Harry scowls to himself and continues crushing up his rat spleen.
"Professor," Malfoy drawls, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."
"Ron," Harry hisses.
Ron kicks his shin under the table.
"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."
"But, sir —!"
"Now."
"And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," Malfoy adds, sounding all too pleased with himself.
"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig."
Harry seizes Malfoy shrivelfig, skins it as quickly as he can, and then throws it back at Malfoy.
"Idiot," Harry mumbles, kicking Ron back.
"Dumbass," Ron knocks his elbows against Harry's arm.
"You're the one who —"
"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" Malfoy says quietly, interrupting them.
"None of your business," Ron says shortly. Both his and Harry's temper are boiling over at the moment and it's honestly a miracle neither of them have snapped yet.
"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," Malfoy says, faking sadness. "Father's not very happy about my injury —"
"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," Ron growls.
"– he's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this" — he gives a huge sigh — "who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"
"So that's why you're putting it on," Harry says through his teeth, "to try to get Hagrid fired."
"Well," Malfoy says, lowering his voice to a whisper, "partly, Potter. But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for me."
"Do it right," Harry hisses.
"I am," Ron grits.
"Orange, Longbottom," Harry hears Snape say, momentarily distracting him from Ron. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"
"Please, sir," Hermione says, "please, I could help Neville put it right —"
"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," Snape says coldly. Harry scowls. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."
"What the fuck?" Harry mumbles.
"Hey, Harry." Harry turns his head toward Seamus. "Have you heard? Daily Prophet this morning — they reckon Sirius Black's been sighted."
"Where?" Harry and Ron both say, anger quickly forgotten.
"Not too far from here," Seamus says, sounding excited. "It was a Muggle who saw him. 'Course, she didn't really understand. The Muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she phoned the telephone hotline. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone."
"Not too far from here..." Ron repeats.
"I can feel you looking at me," Harry says.
"Yeah, I am. Feel it a bit more, you might understand what I'm — Merlin, what, Malfoy? Need something else skinned?"
Malfoy doesn't answer this question and instead directs his words at Harry. "Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?"
"Why does everybody think that?" Harry mumbles.
"Of course, if it was me," Malfoy says quietly, "I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy, I'd be out there looking for him."
"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Ron says.
"Don't you know, Potter?" Malfoy breathes, absolutely delighted to have knowledge that Harry doesn't.
"Know what?"
Malfoy laughs. "Maybe you'd rather not risk your neck. Want to leave it to the Dementors, do you? But if it was me, I'd want revenge. I'd hunt him down myself."
"What are you talking about?" Harry says angrily, but at that moment, Snape calls, "You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's..."
Harry helps Ron pack their things away and then walks over to the sink with him.
"What did Malfoy mean?" Harry says out of the corner of his mouth. "Why would I want revenge?"
"He's just trying to get you to do something stupid, don't listen to him," Ron says.
"No, he knows something, Ron, he has to."
"What does that mean?"
"Black worked for Vol —"
Ron smacks his shoulder.
"— demort," Harry says firmly, "and so did Malfoy's parents —"
"That's a rumor."
"Well, it's probably true!" Harry hisses. "And his parents probably tell him everything, the spoiled fucking — and even if he is just trying to make me do something stupid, he has to know something."
"Careful," Ron says instead of spurring Harry on with questions, "he might hear you."
"I don't care, he is a spoiled fucking brat," Harry shakes his head. "And don't try to convince me I'm wrong —"
"I didn't say anything."
"You were going to."
"You need an outlet for all that anger, I swear."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Ron scoffs.
"Everyone gather 'round," Snape says when the end of class gets nearer, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned."
"I'm pretty sure this is illegal," Harry mutters. Ron pinches his waist. Harry stomps on Ron's foot.
There's a small pop. The Gryffindors burst into applause and Harry assumes that Trevor the Toad just turned into Trevor the Tadpole.
"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape says, ruining the celebration. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."
Harry, with Malfoy's words still in the back of his mind, is positively seething as they walk to lunch.
"Five points from Gryffindor for the potion being right!" he hisses. "Hermione, you should've lied or something, told him Neville did on his own, that's ridiculous!"
"Hermione?" Ron says. He grabs Harry's sleeve and tugs him to a stop.
"Huh?" Harry turns around.
"She was right behind us," Ron says.
"Did she walk ahead?" Harry turns back around.
"There she is," Ron says. Harry hears her stop in front of them, panting slightly. "How did you do that?"
"What?" Hermione says, starting to walk with them.
"One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again."
"What?" Hermione says. "Oh — I had to go back for something. Oh no —"
Harry winces when he hears what sounds like a dozen books hit the floor.
"Why are you carrying all these around with you?" Ron asks.
"You know how many subjects I'm taking," Hermione says breathlessly. "Couldn't hold these for me, could you?"
"But —" Ron laughs. "You haven't got any of these subjects today. It's only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon."
"Oh yes," Hermione says vaguely. "I hope there's something good for lunch, I'm starving," she adds, and she starts walking again.
"Harry... d'you get the feeling Hermione's not telling us something?"
After lunch, which was full of Ron trying to wheedle information out of Hermione and Hermione ignoring him, they head to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin isn't there when they arrive, so they sit down and pull their books, quills, and parchment out.
"Oh!" Ron perks up a few minutes later. "So, as I was saying in Potions, somebody told me that she —"
Ron is again interrupted.
"Good afternoon," Professor Lupin says. Ron sighs. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."
Harry hopes that Lupin at least knows what he's doing, because the last practical lesson they had in DADA was when Lockhart set a bunch of pixies on them and then left Harry, Ron, and Hermione to deal with them.
"Right then," Lupin says when everybody is ready. "If you'd follow me."
Confused but more than a little interested, the class gets to its feet and follows Lupin out of his classroom. They walk for a moment before stopping. There's a moment of silence before the familiar voice of Peeves begins to sing.
"Loony, loopy Lupin. Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin —"
"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves," Lupin says pleasantly, a stark difference from how most of the professors would act if Peeves started making fun of them. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get into his brooms."
Peeves blows a loud raspberry.
Lupin huffs a laugh. "This is a useful little spell," he tells the close. "Please watch closely."
Lupin clears his throat, "Waddiwasi!"
Harry only hears Peeves zoom away, cursing, but he imagines that whatever just happened was amazing, because Dean loudly says, "Cool, sir!"
"Thank you, Dean," Lupin says. "Shall we proceed?"
They continue to walk and a minute later, Lupin directs them into a room. Harry leans his cane against the wall next to the doorway and mumbles to Ron not to let him forget it. Ron hums.
"Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this," Snape's voice says. Harry jumps and then scowls.
A second later, he continues talking. "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."
Harry's scowl deepens. It's bad enough that Snape bullies Neville is in his own class, but to do it in front of other professors is just unbelievable.
"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," Lupin says, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."
Snape leaves without another word, closing the door with a snap.
"Now, then," Lupin says. They follow him to the end of what Harry now assumes in the staffroom. Something gives a sudden wobble. "Nothing to worry about. There's a Boggart in there."
Harry thinks he remembers Hermione ranting to him about boggarts one time, though he can't remember any of the details.
"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," Lupin says. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks — I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved into this wardrobe yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.
"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart?"
"It's a shape-shifter," Hermione says. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."
"Couldn't have put it better myself," Lupin says. "So the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. It does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when it is alone, but when I let it out, it will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.
"This means that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"
Harry jumps. He hadn't expected to be called on.
"Um... there's too many of us," he says after a moment. "It wouldn't know what to change into."
"Precisely," Lupin says. Harry smiles. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a Boggart. It becomes confused. Which should it become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake — tried to frighten two people at once and turned itself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening.
"The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing.
"We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please... riddikulus!"
"Riddikulus!" the class says together.
"Good," Lupin says. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."
The wardrobe gives another wobble.
"Right, Neville," Lupin says. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"
There's a beat of silence.
"I didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," Lupin says cheerfully, a little too happy to be asking about somebody's worst fear.
"Professor Snape," Neville says, his voice barely a whisper.
Harry takes a deep breath. Ron scoffs next to him.
"Professor Snape... hmmm... Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"
"Er — yes," Neville says nervously. "But — I don't want that Boggart to turn into her either."
"No, no, you misunderstand me," Lupin says, amused. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"
Neville pauses and then says, "Well... always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress... green, normally... and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."
"And a handbag?" Lupin says, as if he knows Lady Longbottom personally. With the way Lady Longbottom was talking to Harry that time they met in Diagon Alley, he assumes that Lupin actually does know her personally.
"A big red one."
"Right then," Lupin says. "Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"
"Yes?"
"When the Boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape," Lupin says. "And you will raise your wand — thus — and cry 'Riddikulus' — and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag."
Harry snorts as the class starts laughing.
"If Neville is successful, the Boggart is likely to shift its attention to each of us in turn," Lupin says. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical..."
Harry purses his lips. Is it worth it to put the work in to think about that when he won't even be able to see the Boggart? Too bad, he's already thinking about it. What scares him the most? His first though is Voldemort, but that's dumb, so he continues thinking. His mind sifts through a lot of things — his relatives, his cupboard, dogs — but ultimately, it lands on dementors. Specifically, that cold, horrible feeling he felt on the train when one entered his compartment. The feeling of his magic, his very being, being sucked out of him. He shivers.
"Everyone ready?" Lupin says. Harry's eyes widen. No, he absolutely isn't ready. How can you make a dementor amusing?
"Neville, we're going to back away. Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward... Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot —"
"On the count of three, Neville," Lupin says once the class has backed away from him. "One — two — three — now!"
Harry, though, backs up until he's behind Hermione and Ron, desperately trying to hide himself from view. He hears Neville shakily say, "R — r — riddikulus!" and the class bursts into laughter. Lupin calls Parvati up next, then Seamus, then Dean, and then Ron. Harry becomes aware of the fact that he's out in the open and definitely up next. He scrambles for his wand but Lupin jumps in front of him and says, almost lazily, "Riddikulus." He then calls Neville back up. Harry, regardless of the fact that he didn't even want to face the Boggart in the first place, feels offended. Very offended.
"Excellent!" Lupin cries. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone... Let me see... five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart — ten for Neville because he did it twice... and five each to Hermione and Harry."
"Harry and I didn't do anything," Hermione protests.
"You and Harry answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Hermione," Lupin says. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarize it for me... to be handed in on Monday. That will be all."
Harry tucks his wand back into his robes and follows his friends. Ron hands him his cane as they walk out of the door and Harry harshly takes it from him.
"Whoa," Ron says. "Who pissed in your knickers?"
"Ronald," Hermione hisses.
"You didn't see that? Professor Lupin didn't let me take on the Boggart," Harry says angrily.
"Well... I mean, you —"
"I am perfectly clear on the fact that I am blind, Ronald, thank you very much," Harry growls. "But it is also perfectly clear that I am more than capable of handling myself!"
"Professor Lupin was probably just being careful," Hermione says gently. "Who knows? Maybe it had nothing to do with you being blind. Maybe he just didn't want to see what you feared the most."
That's more likely than what Harry is currently thinking, he can at least recognize that, but it doesn't do anything to make him less angry. Seeing that nothing she'll say will change his mind, Hermione changes the subject. "So, somebody told you that who did what, Ronald?"
"Oh, right —"