A Difficult Day

Harry woke up to the green-tinted sunlight streaming over his bed. He got up and got ready for the day, pausing only to wake up Crabbe and Goyle.

Down in the Great Hall, he was just biting into a piece of toast when one of the prefects came around with their new schedules.

"First thing, Arithmancy," he said. "What've you guys got?"

"Muggle Studies," Theo said with a sigh.

"Why are you doing that ridiculous class anyway?"

Theo shrugged. "Know your enemy, and all that."

"Nothing worth knowing," Harry said.

"Well, we've all got Defence after, and then Care of Magical Creatures."

"You've got Care of Magical Creatures. I have a glorious free session."

"Seeing who the new Magical Creatures teacher is, I think you made the right choice," Draco said, nodding to Harry.

"Either way, today seems pretty chilled. Potions, History, and Transfiguration tomorrow—and then Astronomy that night, that's gonna be rough."

As breakfast finished, they all hurried out of the Great Hall, Harry trying to finish his last rasher on the way.

Professor Vector was waiting for them in the classroom. Harry hadn't really had any interaction with her before, other than saying good morning once or twice. He'd always thought she looked as serious as McGonagall, and her pinched way of talking only served to increase his impression.

After taking roll, she began talking in a lecturing tone.

"Who here is not taking Magical Theory?"

Almost every hand in the room went up.

"Who here is not taking Ancient Runes?"

Slightly over half of the hands dropped. Vector looked at them and nodded.

"Very well. These three subjects are very interlinked, particularly as we move into more advanced study. Those of you not taking Magical Theory, I want you to read the first five chapters of this book by Christmas, and to finish it by the beginning of next year."

A piece of chalk rose behind her back and began writing on the board:

Intermediate Magical Theory, by Alberta Waffling.

"Those of you not taking Ancient Runes, I expect you to read these books by the beginning of next year."

The chalk rose again:

Beginners Runes, by Bjorn Scamdring

Theory of Runes, by Alberta Waffling.

Quills scratched as the students wrote their required reading down. Harry just stretched his neck.

"Let us begin. Who here can tell me what Arithmancy is used for?"

Hands rose into the air again, far fewer than before. This time, Harry's was among them.

"Potter?"

"Spell creation."

"Correct. Davis?"

"Warding."

"Indeed. Morgan?"

"Potions."

"Correct. Boot?"

"Divination."

"Half-right. Patil?"

"Magical objects."

"Yes."

She looked around the room. No more hands were up.

"All these and more require Arithmancy. If you merely wish to follow a list of instructions, Arithmancy is not required. But if you wish to improve, to understand the principles, to cover new ground—well then, Arithmancy is your best option."

This is exactly what I've been looking for! Harry thought excitedly.

"The world is made up of numbers," Professor Vector continued. "Muggle scientists tell us the number of subatomic particles determines what the atom will be. The very foundation of reality is determined by numbers. Gravity, oxygen, water—these can all be boiled down to numbers."

Harry was writing furiously. He recognized the idea from their textbook, but she was making it so much better.

"Every number has a magical property. For now, we will simply be accepting this as fact. Whether these properties are innate to magic, whether they've been assigned by some external force, or whether our very belief in them forms these properties into existence—none of that is our concern right now. In later stages of the study, it will be. For now, we simply accept it. These properties will determine many facts—how many times a potion must be stirred in which direction, which wand movements are needed for a spell, what must be done for a ritual to be successful. The results of all this come from a number's magical properties."

She looked around the room and sniffed.

"However, we must learn to walk before running. With anything involving numbers, mathematics is required. We will be focusing for now primarily on factorials. These will affect this class greatly."

And so she went on, lecturing and explaining factorials and other mathematical functions. Due to his Muggle schooling and voracious consumption of books, Harry had heard of many of these concepts before and had a basic idea of what some of them meant. But she was taking it to a whole different level. By the time class was finished, Harry had a cramp in his wrist and at least 15 inches of tightly written parchment.

As class finished, Harry and the rest of the Slytherins in Arithmancy made their way to the Defence classroom. Some of their friends were already there. Draco was sitting in one of the back rows, parchment and quill ready.

Harry slid into the seat next to him.

"What'd you get up to this morning?"

"Not much. Read a bit, just relaxed. How was Arithmancy?"

"Amazing. Gonna be hard work, but it's cool."

Blaise snorted and turned around. "No matter how cool it is, it can't make up for the amount of work. Don't you remember Frank's little freak-out last year?"

"Yeah, but Frank always was on the weird side. Besides, we're in the house of ambition, aren't we? A little work shouldn't scare us off."

Blaise just looked at him incredulously. "A little work?"

Just then, Lupin walked in.

"Good morning, everyone," he said, taking his place at his table. "You can put away your parchments and quills. Today will be a practical lesson."

Practical? This should be fun.

"First, let's just make sure everyone's here. And give me a chance to get all your names."

Once he was finished taking roll, Professor Lupin looked around the room and spoke.

"Before we move on to the lesson, I just wanted to discuss my plans for the year. We will be focusing on Dark creatures and on spells that mimic the effects of such creatures. Now, who can tell me what makes a creature classified as 'Dark'?"

There was a little bit of silence before Daphne raised her hand.

"Yes? Miss Greengrass, correct?"

"Yes, sir. Um, they attack people?"

"Partially correct. But if that was all, why wouldn't a dog be considered 'Dark'? They've been known to attack, as have many predators."

The students seemed to be thinking it over, and it came to Harry.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"They attack without provocation? And not for food?"

Lupin smiled, brightening up his face.

"Exactly. Take five points for Slytherin. A creature is only classified as 'Dark' if it attacks without provocation and for reasons other than food. Vampires, for example, are driven by bloodlust. Even when they are not suffering the thirst, they are still pushed to shed blood."

Next to Harry, Tracey swallowed loudly.

"A transformed werewolf as well is driven by a need to attack. We will be studying many of these creatures and how to protect oneself against them. With that, if you would all follow me? And bring your wands, of course."

They followed him curiously as he walked. After a few minutes, they arrived at the staff room, where Professor Lupin held the door open and gestured them in.

As Lupin walked in, a heavy wooden wardrobe in the corner shook ominously. Everyone took a step back, and Crabbe cracked his knuckles.

"Don't be alarmed. It's just a Boggart."

Based on the looks from some of his friends, it was something to be alarmed about. The name definitely rang a bell, but Harry couldn't remember exactly what it was.

"Now," Lupin said, "who can tell me what a Boggart is? Miss Davis?"

Tracey lowered her hand as she spoke. "It's a shapeshifter. It takes the form of your greatest fear."

"Well said. Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces. As such, they are often found in big homes. If you know what you are doing, they are little more than a pest. As Miss Davis said, they take the form of one's greatest fear. They use this to paralyze you with fright, and will then—" he ran his finger along his throat.

"Now, there are a few things to keep in mind when dealing with a Boggart. One: a Boggart cannot take incorporeal form. Meaning, for someone who is afraid of heights, afraid of the dark, afraid of failure or being alone—the Boggart will take the form of something else to prey on these fears."

Glancing around the room, Harry noticed looks of apprehension and anxiety on most of his friends' faces.

"Another thing to bear in mind is an advantage we have over the Boggart. We are in a group. The Boggart will have an overload of fears to choose from and will thus have difficulty choosing and maintaining a form."

"The charm for dispelling a Boggart is a simple one, with no specific wand movement required: Riddikulus. Let me hear you say it, without wands."

"Riddikulus," they chorused.

"Excellent. Now, simply saying the spell is not enough. The Boggart's main weapon is fear, so you have to counter that. When casting the spell, imagine whatever form the Boggart has taken in an embarrassing situation—something that changes it from an object of fear to an object of humor."

Lupin looked over the blank faces and continued.

"For example, a friend of mine was absolutely terrified of flying. When a Boggart assumed the form of a Cleansweep 5—then the top-of-the-range Broomstick—she imagined it in the hands of a house-elf, being used to sweep the floors."

As the assembled students laughed, Lupin smiled and continued, "It made a most hilarious sight. Now, there is a curse that mimics the effects of a Boggart. To dispel it, one takes the same actions they would if they were actually facing a Boggart, namely, imagining their fear as something amusing and casting Riddikulus."

That sounds like a useful spell to learn.

"What finishes a Boggart off is not the spell itself, but the laughter that comes afterward. Therefore, it is imperative that you force the Boggart into an amusing situation."

Harry nodded.

"Who wants to go first?"

Blaise raised his hand. "I'll do it."

"Okay, Mr. Zabini. You know what form your Boggart will take?"

"I think so."

"And you know how you're going to make it funny?"

"If I'm right about what it is, then yes," Blaise said cockily.

"Wonderful. When Mr. Zabini is done, I will call the next person forward. When you hear me calling someone's name, whoever is currently facing the Boggart will step back, and whoever I called will step forward. Is that understood?"

There was a chorus of yeses.

"Okay," Lupin said, stepping back and gesturing for everyone else to do so until only Blaise was standing in front of the wardrobe.

"Remember, I am here. On my mark. Three. Two. One."

As Lupin reached one, the wardrobe door burst open. There was a hissing noise as a cloud of white mist poured out, and then—

Crack!

"Holy shit," Harry heard someone mutter in awe.

There was a dragon standing in front of Blaise. Glistening red scales, it stood with its head just below the ceiling. Its tail curled behind it and thumped as it lifted and fell.

"Riddikulus!" Blaise cried. The dragon tried to blow fire, but only a stream of smoke erupted. It raised its talons to its throat, looking as confused as a giant lizard could.

"Great! Crabbe, forward!"

Blaise and Crabbe switched places. The dragon raised its snout for a second, and then—

Crack!

In its place stood an enormous troll, gripping a huge club. It raised the club and—

"Riddikulus," Crabbe grunted.

The troll hit itself in the head with its club.

"Davis!"

Crack!

A dead body was shambling towards Tracey, mangled arm slowly being raised.

"Riddikulus!" she squeaked.

Its arm fell off. An instant later, its head fell off. Tracey gave a little nervous giggle as Lupin called the next person forward.

Harry closed his eyes and thought about what his Boggart would be. His first idea was the Dark Lord furious at him. As he tried to think of how he could possibly make that funny, the memory of the Dementor crept into his head. As he was thinking about that, he remembered Lockhart trying to wipe his memory. And then the Basilisk.

He had to laugh. I have no clue what I'm about to face!

A Dementor tripped in front of Goyle.

What could it be?

A vampire was advancing on Daphne.

I need to know how I'm gonna fight it! What am I most afraid of?

The answer came to him just as Theo was being called.

Being weak. I'm afraid of being weak. But how will that show? What will come? And fuck, I wanted to see what Draco got.

Theo's Boggart was a sandy-haired wizard brandishing his wand. The boy was shaking as the Boggart drew nearer, not speaking, only grinning.

"Riddikulus," he finally shouted, high-pitched.

The wizard was wearing a diaper, had a pacifier in his mouth, and his hair was set in curls.

What can I do? It'll probably be me, crying on the floor or something. How can I make that funny?

Harry was still pondering this when his name was called. He stepped forward, and Pansy's Hag flared at him.

Crack!

It was taking shape slowly. It seemed to be a small humanoid thing.

Crack!

It was tall, taller than him. Red eyes glinted and—

Crack!

It took the form of a pot-bellied man. Bulbous nose, small, beast-like eyes. He had a tweed peaked cap over his dark hair.

Harry froze.

Mr. Roberts.

It opened its mouth, revealing its yellowish teeth. Its tongue lapped out.

"You thought you'd get away from me, boy," it said, walking towards Harry.

"No," he muttered.

"You did," it said. Its one hand moved towards its belt. "You thought you could escape me. But you can't. And you don't really want to."

"Riddikulus," Harry whispered. But nothing happened.

"You like it, don't you. That's why you can never tell. Because then everyone will know just what a dirty—"

"RIDDIKULUS!" Harry shouted.

Mr. Roberts was hanging from the ceiling, robe tight around his neck. His face was blue as his eyes bulged out. The rope had left blackened marks around his throat.

There was stunned silence in the room. Harry looked at the horrified faces around him. Lupin tried to say something, but Harry ran out of the room before he could finish his words.

He was sitting at the far side of the lake, arms wrapped around his knees. He had been throwing rocks into the lake, but it didn't help. It didn't shut out his thoughts.

I can never get away. He's always following me. No matter where I go, there he is. And now everyone knows.

He screamed.

Fuck.

He conjured a rabbit. The Dark Lord had ensured they were able to do that. The Dark Lord had also taught him an effective way of dealing with anger.

"Crucio."

As the rabbit twitched and squealed, Harry felt the pleasure pouring into him. But it wasn't enough. Not at all.

"Avada Kedavra."

The rabbit died.

He screamed again.

"Diffindo," he said, slicing the dead rabbit in half. Its intestines poured out and unspooled in a puddle of blood. He kicked the halves into the lake.

He conjured another one.

"Crucio."

"Crucio."

He was almost ready to go back to the castle. Almost. Just a little bit more to get his equilibrium back.

"Crucio."

Footsteps.

He spun around, thrusting his wand forwards. Right into Pansy's face.

"Harry—"

He looked a mess. Tears had run lines down his face, and his red-rimmed eyes had a crazy look in them. He knew it. He had seen his face in the lake enough to tell, even though the night was falling now.

"Tell no one what you just saw," he said quietly.

Pansy swallowed before saying, "Harry, please. Everyone's worried about you. Everyone's out looking. Come back to the castle."

He looked at her.

She saw my Boggart. She knows. They all do.

"Draco took your stuff back. Lupin gave us all points for fighting the Boggart, and—"

"I'll come back in a few minutes, Pansy. But if I hear anyone mention anything about today's Defence class…"

Pansy looked at him with wide eyes.

"I'll kill them," he said quietly. And he meant it.