Chapter 38: Headmaster's Office

Headmaster's office

"So, Remus. Why have you requested this meeting?"

Remus looked at Dumbledore and Snape. Dumbledore looked like There was no place he would rather be, while Snape-didn't.

"As you are aware, Headmaster, I have been using a Boggart for my third-year class. It is due to the result of the Slytherin class that I wish to speak to you"

"Just to be clear," Snape said, with a sneer, "you exposed them to a Boggart?"

"Come on, Severus. You know as well as I that a Boggart is very rarely truly difficult for children. In our third year, in fact, we faced a Boggart. Or did Slytherin have a different curriculum then?"

Snape just scowled as Lupin continued.

"Besides, I was standing by"

What happened?" Dumbledore asked, calmly.

"For the most part, the Boggart's forms were normal. Expected even. Monstrous creatures and the like. But then-"

Lupin cut off, lost in thought.

"Then?" Dumbledore prodded, gently.

"Albus, are you sure the Pensieve is unavailable?"

"Quite sure. Professor Babbling is using it with the NEWT class for another two weeks at least"

"Ok, ok. Harry faced the Boggart, and-"

"You placed him in front of a Boggart?" Snape asked, in his soft voice.

"I originally wasn't going to!" Lupin said, a bit flustered, " I didn't want Voldemort" Snape flinched, "appearing in my classroom"

"What changed your mind?" Dumbledore asked.

"The Dementor. Harry suffered the most from it, and I thought his self-esteem had taken a blow. I wanted to give him a chance to recoup that loss. Also, it wouldn't be kind to him to single him out from everyone. I know that James would have-"

"He is not James" Snape spat furiously.

"Enough!" Dumbledore snacked his desk. "What form did the Boggart take?"

"It was-it was a man. A Muggle, if I had to guess. Nothing too remarkable about his appearance. But-"

Lupin looked at Snape and Dumbledore.

"It is still close enough to the full moon that my senses, particularly my sense of smell is far, far beyond someone not afflicted. I can smell emotions"

Dumbledore nodded. Snape continued to scowl.

"When there was a dragon in the classroom, I could smell fear from the one facing it. When Lucius Malfoy told Draco that he is a disappointment unworthy of the Malfoy name, he was afraid and anxious. But when Harry faced this man, this totally normal looking man-He was utterly terrified. It's difficult to explain to someone who can't smell it, but I. I haven't smelled such fear since the war" he lowered his voice slightly, shakily, "since the Vineyard". Snape and Dumbledore both flinched at that. No matter what side they had fought on, no one who had been at the Vineyard could hear mention of it casually.

"It started talking, and it just made his fear stronger"

"What did it say?" Albus asked, looking grave.

"I would rather not paraphrase. I believe it is important. I'll give you the Pensieve memory"

"At least give us an idea"

"It said how Harry could never escape from him. How Harry liked it, and everyone knows now"

A horrible silence filled the room.

"Harry tried to dispel it and failed. I was about to step in when he tried again and succeeded"

Lupin stopped as the horrific image filled his mind again. Albus must have seen something in his face.

"What happened?"

"The Boggart changed form. It was the same man, hanging. He was dead"

Snape and Dumbledore shared a look.

"He ran out of the room. What happened to him, Albus? Who was that man?"

Albus sighed, wiping his eyes. He put his glasses back on and gave Lupin a tired look.

"Harry was abused in the orphanage he grew up in. I believe his Boggart took the form of the man who raped him"

Lupin just goggled. He had suspected this was the case, but to hear Albus say it so simply. It-it boggled the mind. James would-but James was dead.

"Harry did something, some accidental magic. I don't know what exactly it was, and to be honest I don't want to. But the rapist, one Mr. Roberts, hung himself"

"Has Harry ever spoken about this? To a mind healer?"

Dumbledore and Snape both shook their heads.

"Why the hell not? he obviously needs-"

"Remus" Albus said, raising a hand and cutting him off, "you cannot force him to speak about it"

"No, you cannot" Snape interjected. "I have been slowly maneuvering him to talk more about his experiences, with the goal of having him admit that he needs professional help"

"Be that as it may, you can't simply let it fester! The longer you leave it-"

"What would you have me do, wolf? Force him to speak about something he isn't ready to? As it is, your little stunt may push him back-"

"My little stunt? I had no idea to expect this! Pomona gave me a missive about one of her house members, you could have done the same!"

Albus smacked the table again.

"Enough! Severus, make yourself available for the boy"

"As I always do"

"And Remus, you were not at fault. I should have informed you"

"But what are we-"

"Enough! Remus, Severus us dealing with Harry. He is the boy's head of house, and has had two years to build a relationship with him. Harry feels close to Severus. When he is willing to talk, Severus will know before you or me"

"Fine" Lupin said, throwing his hands up, "I will abandon Harry to his memories"

"No-one said you have to abandon him. Just don't push him to talk unless he brings it up"

Lupin left the room in a frustrated state, Snape near behind him. Dumbledore watched them go, and once the door had closed and he was alone in the office again, he allowed a single tear to slip from his eyes. As the tear fell, he thought.

' The child of prophecy finds the idea of his enemy dying amusing. There is little hope of this ending as a bloodless victory'

Slytherin third year girl's room

Pansy Parkinson lay in bed and thought about Harry.

When she had come across him torturing the poor rabbit, she had barely believed her senses. And then he spun around and had his wand inner face.

That had been more terrifying than facing a Hag.

And yet- there was something about his eyes. He had a crazed look in them, and she had been sure for a few seconds that he was going to Crucio her.

But he hadn't.

He had trusted her.

Tortured as he was, he had trusted her.

And that dangerous, terrifyingly beautiful look in eyes was now embedded in her mind.

His face-he had looked like a warrior of old, on a mission of vengeance.

The tears had made lines down his grimy face and simply caused his haunting beauty to stick out more.

The memory of how he had looked, as the sight itself did, made her feel warm.

Pansy Parkinson only realized then, that what she wanted more than anything else was Harry Potter.

And as her mother often said, a Parkinson always gets what she wants.

Slytherin third year boy's room

Draco Malfoy lay in bed and worried about his best friend.

He lay there, hands stiffly clenching one another. If they weren't holding something when he was alone, they would tremble.

His eyes stayed resolutely open.

If they closed while he was alone, he saw the muggle's face.

The muggle he had killed.

He had been such a fool, telling Harry how killing a muggle was like slaughtering a pig.

He knew different, now.

He had been waking up in the middle of the night, with the muggle's face clearly in his mind's eye. On these occasions he would stumble out of bed, and run to the bathroom.

Sometimes he made it to the toilet before throwing up.

' I don't even know his name. Anything about him'

But more than that, Harry had him on edge.

There was something-broken about Harry.

He hadn't even realized until recently.

Until he saw him cast the Cruciatus.

Until he witnessed the pleasure his friend got from killing.

When Pansy has come in and found them all, and said she had found Harry, and that he was coming back, everyone had been relieved.

When she told them that Harry said he would kill whoever speaks about the Defence lesson, there had been nervous laughter.

Draco hadn't laughed. Not a bit. In fact, he was worried Harry would do just that.

The Dark Lord's mention of people "reacting strongly" to Dark Magic hadn't calmed him either.

He knew his aunt was one of those people. And he had heard enough stories about her to be terrified of her, even though he'd never met her.

He'd heard enough stories about her, in fact, to be terrified of his friend going down the same route.

And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

The Boggart has simply made clear something about Harry that Draco had long suspected.

Well, two things.

That the abuse he had suffered in that orphanage was not simply children being mean but was rather, far more sinister and insidious than that.

And that there was something really scary about Harry.

That Harry's version of making his Boggart funny involved turning it into a corpse only served to reinforce his suspicions.

And on top of this, Draco was terrified of his own upcoming initiation. He wasn't sure he would be able to kill another muggle who had done nothing to him.

The Dark Lord would probably allow him to back out, he was a Malfoy after all. But facing his father's disappointment? That was something he couldn't do.

And he had no one to talk to about this.

Talking to his father was out of the question. It made him think of talking about wanking with his father. Something that would be simply far too embarrassing to do.

Talking to his best friend was out of the question. After everything he had said to Harry about how it isn't worth feeling bad for killing muggles, he couldn't simply eat crow and ask his advice.

His other friends wouldn't understand. Even if his father and the Dark Lord hadn't both forbidden him from speaking to them about it, they wouldn't understand.

He was alone.

Totally, utterly alone.

' No I'm not'

Draco sat bolt upright. He felt like such an idiot.

' If I can't speak to my father if I can't speak to my mates. I'll have to speak to my godfather'

Snape would be ideal to talk to. He knew what it was like to kill. He would be able to understand the issues Draco was having.

Hell, he'd helped Harry with his guilt, hadn't he?

' And I can tell him my worries about Harry'

Feeling relieved, Draco fell asleep minutes later. His sleep would not be disturbed with crying muggles.

Malfoy Manor

Lord Voldemort sipped one of Lucius expensive wines and smiled.

His Horcrux, his prophesied enemy would soon be his.

Harry was already being bound in chords he could not see, and soon it would be final.

Killing for someone is a powerful way of binding yourself to them.

Publicly killing for someone- Well, that was almost irreversible.

And when his closest friend was tied as well, it made backing out near impossible.

' Perhaps more of his friends should be recruited. After all, they are the future'

Now that was an idea. Take them young, and they would be his forever. Young minds were far more malleable than older ones. And hadn't his own original group of followers begun as little more than children?

' Not yet. For the most part, at least. They are still too young. Another year or two, and they will be ripe '

Nevertheless, it was something to plan for.

Another thing to plan for.

The potion Severus was brewing would still be another six months. He could have done it himself, but brilliant as he was, potions was not his expertise.

For Severus, it was, simple as that.

Besides. Every action he got Severus to do, especially things that interested him, bound him tighter.

If there was any wizard alive, other than himself or Dumbledore who could find a way around the oaths he had forced Severus into, it was Severus. Or Bellatrix, before Azkaban.

That was another thing. He would not be in an ideal position to free his Azkaban bound servants for at least another year. Not without revealing himself too much.

It still rankled him, to leave them in the torture of another.

They were his!

The glass burst in his hand.

He repaired it absentmindedly, pulling the spilled liquid back into it as he did so.

' At least my Horcrux is mine again. Mine, and now he too knows he is mine'

Lord Voldemort smiled as he pondered the fine nets he would form around Harry, eternally binding him.

One thought ran through all his plans. It was this thought, in fact, that drove Lord Voldemort more than any other.

' Mine'