Adaptations

Adaptations Part 18

Monday afternoon, at the conclusion of his Charms lesson, Harry asked Professor Flitwick if he could speak with him for a moment.

"Of course. Is there a problem, Harry? You didn't seem to be having any problems with today's assignment."

Harry walked up to the front of the room and took a seat directly in front of the teacher. "Well, sir, it's not really about what we are covering in class." Harry hesitated for a moment before continuing. "It's more for my detentions."

Flitwick's usual grin seemed to disappear as he answered dourly. "What about them, Mr. Potter?"

Harry was caught off-guard by the sudden change in his teacher's demeanor. "Well," he began hesitantly, "you see, the thing is... I've heard that you used to be a dueling champion." Flitwick nodded his head solemnly which reassured Harry somewhat. "And I really think that the students could use some intense instruction in dueling and I'm not really qualified..."

Flitwick's eyes grew suddenly sad. Harry had never seen the man looking anything other than chipper and so this sight disturbed him deeply. Flitwick climbed down from the pile of books that always rested on his chair and approached Harry.

"Harry," he said in a deadly serious demeanor, "Have you ever wondered why I'm not a part of the Order of the Phoenix?"

Harry's eyes did a search of the room while he was thinking. The Order was both secret and made up solely of people dedicated to the light and to fighting dark magic. If Flitwick knew about the Order but yet wasn't a part of it, then that meant that he...

Harry rolled out of his chair and leapt back to his feet with his wand drawn. He was expecting to enter into a duel that he had no chance of winning. Instead, he saw the tiny wizard chortling at his reactions.

"Oh no, my dear boy," he said between chuckles, "I am most certainly not a dark wizard. Dumbledore would never have permitted me to be on the staff if that were the case."

Harry thought for a moment of Quirrel with Voldemort inside his head, right under Dumbledore's nose, and then Crouch posing as Moody for an entire year. He was glad that Flitwick could have such confidence in old Albus but Harry could not. Still, Harry lowered his wand, realizing that, if Flitwick was working for Voldemort, he wouldn't announce the fact before attacking. "Then why aren't you in it? And how do you know about it at all?"

Flitwick heaved such a deep sigh that Harry was a bit surprised that his small lungs could hold so much air. "I know about it because I was asked to join back during You-Know-Who's first rise." Flitwick hopped up onto the desk next to Harry and settled himself. "I declined the offer then, as I would decline it again today if Albus were to ask."

"Why?" Harry asked, perplexed.

Little Flitwick sighed again. "Have you ever killed anyone, Harry?" he asked sadly.

Harry immediately thought of seeing Sirius fall through the veil, and Cedric falling to the killing curse for the crime of standing beside him. Flitwick saw the emotions on his face and reacted.

"I know, Harry, that you have seen death and that you feel responsible for it, but have you ever directly taken another's life? I have."

Harry tilted his head in confusion as Flitwick shifted his position on the desk. He heaved a great sigh before beginning to speak.

"Yes, Harry, it is true that I was at one point a dueling champion; four years running in fact. I used to be quite proud of that accomplishment." Harry was about to assert that he ought to be when Flitwick stopped him with a raised hand. "This was before the rise of Grindlewald. I was quite impressed with my own abilities." Flitwick shook his head at the memory of his own youthful pride. "When the war came to England, I was one of the first to join the fight. I was, indeed, quite skillful and brought many dark wizards into custody. Then one day, it all came to a halt." Flitwick stopped for a moment and drew a deep breath while staring at the ceiling as if for guidance. "I was involved in a raid on a nest of Grindlewald's supporters. The assault wasn't going well but we were holding our own. Suddenly another group of the enemy appeared to my right. There was no option, no other course of action." He stopped for a moment to rub his hands over his face, struggling to go on. "They attacked us using the Unforgivable and we... we responded in kind." Harry saw Flitwick's eyes start to swim as he spoke. "One particular masked figure came directly at me. I was in the middle of dueling with someone else and had no time to react otherwise." His breath caught as he struggled not to lose control. "I simply turned and fired the Killing Curse. He, of course, fell and his hood dropped back revealing his face. He... he was just a boy... no older than you are today, Mr. Potter. Nothing more than a lad, but I killed him just the same."

"But he was trying to kill you," Harry rationalized. "It was his choice to turn dark."

"Yes," Flitwick said as a tear ran down his cheek, "he made a wrong choice, and I made certain that he never had the chance to repent for it." He rubbed his hands over his face once more and hopped down off of the desk. "I will never raise my wand against another being again."

Harry seemed stunned by this. "But what if you're attacked? What would you do? Wouldn't you fight back?"

Old Filius just shook his head. "If I am attacked, then I shall be killed. I will not... I can not defend myself. I will not add to the blood already on my hands."

The Charms Professor looked up at his student to try to read his reaction but could not.

"Do you think that makes me a coward, Mr. Potter?" he asked.

Harry sat still, considering this for a moment. "No," he answered finally, "I don't suppose it does." Flitwick looked at him questioningly, as if he had given an incomplete answer to an oral quiz. "It's a natural response, I suppose, to fight back. Or else to run away."

"It's called 'Fight or Flight' by naturalists," Flitwick added.

"Yeah, I heard of that," Harry commented before continuing. "Some people seem more likely to run away from things, even when it makes more sense to stand and fight." He chuckled dryly and without humor. "I learned that with Fudge. And then there are folks like me who seem more inclined to stay and fight even when running away is the better option."

He turned and looked at his teacher with understanding and an odd respect growing in his chest. "But you have made a choice, regardless of provocation or what others might call justification, you won't fight. I somehow don't think you would run either." Flitwick gave him a thoughtful look. "If some Death Eaters came and attacked a group of students, I don't think you would run away to protect yourself. You'd do your best to get them away instead, to protect them, but you wouldn't attack." Harry tilted his head as if considering the next step in his chain of deductions. "You'd be more than willing to sacrifice yourself to save even one of them but you wouldn't break you word." Flitwick returned Harry's look but didn't say anything. "That pretty much makes you the furthest thing from a coward. I really sort of envy you."

"How so, Harry?"

"You see, you've made a choice. It might not be the popular decision..."

"Or even the correct one," Flitwick added.

"No, maybe not, but at least you had the chance to make that choice. I don't."

Flitwick looked deeply into the young man's eyes. "What do you mean, Harry? There's always a choice."

Harry shook his head. "Not for me there isn't. My fate was decided for me before I was even born. I have to fight him and I have to win... or else everyone loses."

Filius patted Harry's leg reassuringly. "I don't know what you're talking about, Harry. Not exactly, anyways, and I'm not sure if I even want to know, but I do know this: there's always a choice."

Harry hopped off the desk he was sitting on and turned to leave. "I wish that were true, Professor, I really do."

Harry was halfway to the door when Flitwick called to him. "Wait a moment, Harry. I won't help to train anyone in how to fight, but maybe there is something I can do." He turned to a bookcase behind his desk and with a complicated tapping of his wand on a pair of doors at the bottom, he opened a small cabinet. Harry was puzzled when he turned back and Flitwick held out a trio of slim books bound together with string. They were old and obviously well-used. He held them out for Harry to take. "These are probably the best texts on dueling anywhere in the world. They are very rare and even banned in some places. I haven't looked at them for fifty years but perhaps they will do you some good."

Harry looked down at the volumes in his hand. 'The Art of the Duel in Three Volumes by Orfeo Torre. Volume One: Offense" A quick glance at the spines told him that volume two was about defense and three concerned knowing your opponent. Harry looked back at his teacher with a frown.

"Now some of the curses he talks about in those books are quite dark, even illegal, but nothing unforgivable. Please, Harry... take care of our students." Flitwick quickly turned away and disappeared into his office before Harry could say a word.

* * * * *

The students in that Thursday's Detention session had worked up quite a sweat by the time Harry called a brief break. They collapsed in a group breathing hard and wiping their foreheads.

"That was some workout!" Ron gasped as Luna reached over and wiped his brow with her sleeve. Ron blushed and quickly pulled his head back out of reach. "Oi, Harry!" he called. "What's with all the drilling?"

Harry had had all the students perform a simple drill from the second volume of the books Flitwick had given him. It was a basic Block/Counter drill. The students paired off and one would fire a stinger jinx at his partner, who blocked it and immediately countered with a stinger of his own. The first would then block and counter as quickly as he could. Back and forth they would go until one of them would miss the block and get hit. Ron had partnered with Neville and had come out sorely on the short end of the match up.

Harry looked down at his friends as he paced back and forth in front of them. "The thing here was to get you all to start thinking in terms of combinations. In a real fight you can't just block a hex and then think about casting a counter of your own. You need to use combinations... to immediately counterattack without pausing to think, just react." He was addressing the entire group now. "Your blocks should always be followed by an immediate attack of your own. You want to keep your opponent off balance at all times and not the other way around. You can't win a fight with defense."

"Well," gasped Ron, "at least it was a nice break from constantly doing the Patronus." Several people chuckled with exasperation.

Harry nodded at them all. "Yes, well it was only a short break." Everyone seemed to groan. "After we all catch our breath, we're going right back to it."

Everyone groaned again as Ginny voiced their common complaint, "I don't see why we're bothering. It's hopeless."

"It's NOT hopeless!" Harry shouted, his exasperation at their lack of progress bringing his temper to the fore. "Losing your soul isn't something to just accept! The Dementors are out there and they won't hesitate to Kiss any one of you. The only chance you've got is to learn to cast a Patronus." Harry stopped his pacing and stood in front of the group. He took a deep breath and tried to reel his emotions back under control. "But before we start trying to cast it, why don't we spend some time just talking." A hand was raised in the back of the group. Harry noticed it was from a fifth year Ravenclaw. He nodded for her to ask her question.

"Mister Potter...er, Harry, how should we go about choosing the form of our Patronus? Should we just pick the biggest or fiercest animal we can think of?"

"No," Harry answered then paused to think for a moment. "No, you don't choose your Patronus' form, or at least you don't do it consciously." He looked around and saw that many of them were confused.

"Do you all know the form of my Patronus?" They all nodded as Harry had often cast his own Patronus to demonstrate the charm. "It takes the form of a stag. Do any of you know why it takes that form?" He saw a gleam in the eyes of Ron, Hermione, and Ginny but none raised their hands, understanding that the question wasn't intended for them.

"Because a stag is a large animal and can easily overpower a Dementor?" the Ravenclaw girl speculated.

Harry shook his head; he didn't really want to discuss this but he knew that he had to. He had to open up to them to help them to understand. "The stag, my Patronus, represents my father. My father died to protect me and my mother. How could anything symbolize protection more to me than that?

"And before you ask, my father was an animagus and his animal form was that of a great stag. So my Patronus, my protector, is my father, now just as he was when I was a babe."

"So you did choose the form," the girl said.

"No, I didn't. No more than I chose this wand," he said holding out the piece of holly for them to see. "It chose me. You see, I didn't know my father was an animagus when I learned to cast a Patronus, so obviously I had no idea that the stag shape represented him. That was all explained to me after the fact. Somehow my magic knew though, and it chose that form without my even knowing why." He looked at the few students who could cast a corporeal Patronus. "Do any of you know why your Patronus is the form it is?" He watched Hermione shrug her shoulders and had to choke back a snort as he involuntarily gave Ron a sidelong glance. Nearby Cho raised her hand. "Yes, Cho," he said, smiling at her encouragingly.

Cho stood, slightly embarrassed to be addressing the group, and began haltingly, "My Patronus takes the form of a swan."

"Real fierce that," Michael Corner sniggered from the back of the pack.

Cho shot him a withering glare. "You'd be surprised," she spat.

"Do you know why it chose that form, Cho?" Harry asked gently to bring her back on topic.

Cho nodded and began to speak again. "When I was just a little girl, maybe three or four years old, my father took us all to a park. There was a pond there and while I was playing near the edge I saw some baby ducklings. Well, I thought they were ducks at the time but they turned out to be cygnets, baby swans. I went to play with them - they looked so cute and fuzzy - when, all of a sudden, this swan came up and started to attack me. I was crying and trying to run but the swan just kept pecking at me, and honking, and flapping its wings. I was completely terrified. My father came up and rescued me. He swept me up into his arms to keep me safe but the swan began attacking him. My father was a fully grown wizard but the swan didn't care, it just kept attacking. I screamed at my father to kill it but he wouldn't. He finally got me far enough away from the pond that the swan left us alone and sat me down to talk to me." Cho fidgeted slightly as she paused. "He explained to me that the swan was just protecting her young. He explained that the swan thought that I was going to hurt its babies and that it fought to protect them. He said it didn't matter to her that he was a wizard and that he could have easily killed it. The swan would never give up or abandon its children. Even against a dragon that swan would have stood its ground and protected them, just like any good parent would." She looked sideways at Harry as she said this. "Ever since then, when I think of being protected, I think of that swan, willing to fight anything and everything to protect its young. I didn't choose that form for my Patronus, but it was rather obvious once I saw it."

"So," Harry spoke up, taking control of the group once again, "as you can see, sometimes you understand why your Patronus takes the form it does and sometimes you don't. Either way, it doesn't really matter. The important thing is that a Patronus, no matter what form it is, will drive off a Dementor. Now why don't we get back to work on actually conjuring them?"

The collective groan of the group caused Harry to scowl as he motioned them to form back onto a circle. He drew his wand as he spoke. "I'm sure we all know the incantation by now," he said. "So, let's all just concentrate on our happiest memories and..."

Cries of "Expecto Patronum!" rang through the room but, aside from Cho's swan and Hermione's otter, no other animals were seen. He looked over at Ginny and saw the look of sheer frustration that crossed her brow as the small cloud of silver mist she had conjured evaporated in front of her. Disappointed and frustrated himself at his inability to help, Harry turned away from her. He saw Luna and Ron in a whispered but desperate discussion. Ron's cheek's were red and Luna appeared to be about to cry. Harry was about to intervene when he saw Ron gulp and straighten his spine. Then he leaned over and planted a kiss on Luna's cheek. Harry continued to watch as Luna blushed. She turned to Ron, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. From the corner of his eye Harry saw Hermione. She seemed shocked for a second and then smartly turned her back to the couple and returned to her work.

"Expecto Patronum!" Luna's voice called out forcefully and it was soon followed by several shocked gasps. Harry turned to see the oddest sight he had seen since Peeves chased Umbridge out of the castle last June with a sockfull of chalk and McGonagall's walking stick. Standing in front of Luna was a bright silver animal. It was built like his own stag, or more accurately like a small reindeer, maybe four foot high at the shoulder, but its antlers drooped like leaves of limp lettuce, and they swung to and fro as the animal shook its head.

"What on earth is that?" he heard Marietta ask in a small voice.

Luna was glowing with pride and happiness as she answered, "Why it's a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, of course."

Harry heard Cho laughing happily and he was certain he was wearing a wide grin himself. Members of the DA were gathered around Luna congratulating her, all except two that is. Hermione was standing with her arms crossed over her chest, whether in anger or simply trying to contain herself, Harry didn't know.

Ginny on the other hand looked totally defeated.

Harry quietly walked up behind her and said in his best 'Mad-eye' Moody voice, "All right there, Weasley, I've had just about as much of this from you as I am going to take." Ginny spun to face him, first shock and then amusement shone from her eyes.

"As much of what, may I ask?" she answered saucily.

"All of your slacking off, that's what," Harry answered back. "We both know that you can do this spell, you've just been slacking off and not putting your all into it. Well, that stops right now."

Ginny's eyes dropped as she realized what Harry was getting at.

"Harry," she almost pleaded, "I just can't do it. I don't know why. I just can't."

"Nonsense, Ginny," Harry answered as reassuringly as he could. "You've just hit a block. Sort of like I did when it came to learning Summoning Charms back in Fourth year."

Ginny looked shocked. "But you're brilliant at Summoning things, Harry. I still remember how you Summoned your Firebolt all the way from the castle for the first task of the tournament."

"Yeah, I'm pretty good at them now, but I was rubbish then. Hermione had to stay up with me for three straight nights just to get me to Summon a book from across the room. But once I got over that block, the spell became second nature to me. And it's gonna be that way for you, too," Harry said encouragingly. "You can do this! I know you can! You just have to convince yourself, that's all."

"But how?" she whinged. "I'm even worse at the spell now than I was last year." She flopped her arms down to her side in defeat. "I'll never get it right."

"Sure you will, Gin," Harry answered. "We'll just start over from the beginning. You know the incantation, right?"

"Expecto Patronum," she replied dully.

"Maybe try it with a bit more enthusiasm the next time, eh?" Harry answered and she almost smiled at the comment. "And the wand movement is just a simple wave." Ginny responded by giving her wand a listless flick.

"So all that's left is choosing a happy memory, you should have plenty of those. Just think of the twins at any family Christmas."

Ginny did smile at this, albeit a wan one. "I've tried that. And birthdays. Even the one when they slipped Ron a wheeze that made him fly every time he raised his voice." Harry looked at her quizzically. "You know his temper. When he found out what they did, he just started screaming. He couldn't get a handle on himself long enough for the gag to wear off. Dad wound up having to chase him down in that old flying car of his and tie a rope around his waist! Ron was bobbing like a balloon around the house for three full days!" Both Harry and Ginny chortled over this for a minute until Ginny broke the mood. "It wasn't enough."

"Well, what about a different type of memory?" He looked at her and she returned the gaze questioningly. "Try for something calmer, not as rambunctious. How about thinking of snogging that new beau of yours?" Ginny shot him a look of the purest venom. "OK, not that. Something else then. You like to fly, right?"

"Tried it," she said flatly. "Tried when we won the cup, even when I snatched the snitch right out from under Cho's nose." She shot Harry a guilty look but he was busy with his own thoughts and didn't notice what she had said.

"So let's try coming at this from a different angle then," he said, almost to himself. "Let's try more for a feeling than a specific occurrence." Ginny nodded silently as Harry stepped behind her and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. "How does it feel to fly?"

"It's wonderful. It's like I'm free."

He spoke quietly, soothingly into her ear, as if his words were only for her to hear. "Yeah, it's like that for me too." She closed her eyes and gave herself over to his soft voice. "It's like all my cares and troubles are too heavy to follow me. I kick off from the ground and leave them all behind." He swayed slightly as he spoke and she rocked along with him, his hands still softly resting on her shoulders.

"I'm suddenly free and nothing can hold me. The wind flies past my face." She could almost feel it, the breeze blowing her hair back and the warmth of the sun shining on her face. "It's all so effortless as the world passes below me." She could see in her mind's eye, the sun dappled pasture back home as she circled high above it. The summer sun was on her back as she watched the Burrow pass below her. She leaned over to get a better view of it. You'd think she'd be frightened but she knew nothing could harm her here. She felt the hum of the motor beneath her. The yellow bodywork of the motorbike gleamed almost blindingly as Harry leaned it over even further to tighten the turn. She wrapped her arms tighter around his waist, hugging herself closer to him. Nothing could ever hurt her here. A couple waved up at her from the ground but she had neither time nor inclination to wave back. The motor was louder now, roaring with power as they nosed down into a dive. The speed whipped at her hair and she laughed at the sheer exhilaration of it all. She was free and she was safe. There was nothing binding her anymore. No fears, no troubles, and no memories.

Without even thinking about what she was doing, Ginny raised her wand and called out, "Expecto Patronum!"

Silver magic sprang from the tip of Ginny's wand and everyone in the room turned to see what was happening. The magic shot forward and began to coalesce, and as it did it shrank slightly into itself. The Patronus was forming, but what kind of animal would it be? It obviously wouldn't be an animal as large as a stag or even Cho's swan. It shrank, forming a long lean body covered with silvery hair. Four short legs and a long bushy tail could be seen. The head formed last; a sharp snout and small rounded ears hugging close to its skull. It rose up onto its hind feet and looked back at its creator. The tail grew brush-bottle stiff and quivered, drawing Ginny's attention.

Ginny looked back to its face. The animal bobbed its head and twitched its whiskers. Ginny could almost hear the 'Snick... snick... nick' sound it would be making. Mesmerized Ginny stared as the tail quivered and the head bobbed up and down. "Snick, nick, ick, ick," it seemed to say again.

"Oh, look Ginny," Hermione gushed, "you've got an otter just like me!"

Ginny shook her head slowly and was about to respond when Michael Corner guffawed and said loudly enough for all to hear, "No, that's not an otter. It looks more like a ferret to me!"

Ginny turned towards her ex-boyfriend and saw all the students staring at her. She blushed beet red and fled the room, her Patronus dissolving as she did.

Cho gave Harry a half-curious, half-disturbed look making him swallow hard. "Well, I guess that's enough for one night. All of you get back to your common rooms now, before curfew rings.

"Curfew Shall Not Ring Tonight!" Hermione intoned solemnly and then, noticing that none of them got the joke, she retreated to gather up her things and go.

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair. Ginny wouldn't speak to anyone. She sat alone and silent as a stone while everyone ate around her. Harry was baffled, the revelation of her Patronus last night had shocked him and he didn't know how to deal with it.

As the student body began to drift out of the Great Hall to head off to their classes. Harry saw Cho almost hiding in a group of Ravenclaws; he struggled through the crowd around him to try to reach her, but to no avail. She slipped down a flight of stairs heading to her Potions class.

Ron and Hermione exited the hall in time to see Harry duck into a darkened alcove and hurried over to speak with him only to find it empty.

"Where did he go?" Ron asked while tapping the bare walls. "There's no secret passage here, is there?" Hermione just shook her head in confusion.

Two floors below, the groups of seventh years were approaching the Potions classroom with the reluctance any wise student felt when nearing the realm of the Potions Master. Cho was looking back over her shoulder, as if checking to see if she was being followed when Harry reached out and tapped her on the arm.

With a soft squeal she turned. "Oh Harry," she said. "You startled me!"

Harry's head hung low and concern shone in his eyes. "I just wanted to say good morning. You look like something's bothering you, anything I can help with?"

The girl just shook her head. "Class is starting; I've got to run or I'll be late." Harry leaned in to give her a kiss but she had already turned away and was gone.

On the third floor, Ron and Hermione were heading towards Transfiguration.

"Where do you think Harry disappeared to?" Ron asked.

"Don't know" was Hermione's reply.

"Maybe he went off to say 'Hi' to Cho or something."

"Maybe," Hermione said as she pushed open the door to the classroom. She stopped short and Ron bumped into her from behind as she stood there gaping.

"How'd you get here so fast?" Hermione asked.

"Through the door there," Harry answered from his usual spot in the third row. "The one you're blocking right now."

Still stunned and slightly embarrassed, Hermione moved into the room and the rest of the class filed in behind her.

* * * * *

The next two weeks were difficult ones for Harry personally but productive. Cho had been cold and distant but gave no indication of what Harry had done to upset her. On the other hand, Ginny and Luna's accomplishment had spurred on the DA students and now a good many of them were able to cast a true Patronus. And so Wednesday evening found Harry Potter sitting once again in the Headmaster's office.

"So, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said quietly, "do you really think this is wise?"

"Well, it might not be the wisest thing I've ever done, but it certainly wouldn't be the most foolhardy," Harry replied staring at the rattling trunk on the floor in the corner of the staff room. "And in either case, I think it's necessary. They have to know what it's like to face one of those things. They have to see how hard it is to keep a happy memory when they're coming for you."

"But, are there enough students who can cast a corporeal form to make the exercise worthwhile?"

Harry took a moment to run through the sum in his head. "Almost a dozen now," he said. "Neville cast one last night." Dumbledore's eyebrows rose at this news, the DA met on Thursdays and this was only Wednesday. "He asked for a little extra tuition," Harry said in answer to the unspoken question. "It took the form of a lion."

"Gryffindor to the core," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. Neville had certainly come into his own since his sojourn into the Ministry last spring.

"Just like his father," Harry said in a remarkablely accurate imitation of Neville's Grandmother.

The headmaster chuckled, "Indeed."

"In deed," Harry corrected.

"And what about young Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore asked with his eyes twinkling brightly.

Harry didn't know what to say. Ginny had cast a very clear and powerful Patronus but after seeing the form it took she had completely refused to attempt it again. She had refused to even speak of it. The Headmaster just sat there grinning as if he knew something no one else did.

Which was likely the case.

Dumbledore grew serious again and pointed his wand at the trunk. "You don't have to do this, Harry. I know how badly these things affect you."

Harry looked up into the old man's eyes and saw the concern there. His heart hardened in his breast. 'Where was that concern when I was locked away in a cupboard?' he thought to himself. He spoke harshly, "It's a little late to be getting squeamish, isn't it? Anyways, it's not like I have any choice."

Dumbledore understood more than Harry realized and shook his head sadly. "Well, shall we?" Harry nodded and stood as Dumbledore waved his wand and the lid of the trunk raised. A cold wind blew through the room, causing the candles to sputter. They would have gone out if they hadn't been enchanted by Dumbledore himself. A dark figure in a flowing tattered robe began to rise from the depths of the trunk. Harry began to shudder as the echoes of his mother's screams rang in his ears. Seeing the Dementor rise up and wishing to cut Harry's discomfort as short as possible, Dumbledore chanted "Riddikulus" sending the Boggart back into the trunk. He slammed the lid as Harry collapsed back into the chair.

"Merlin, I hate those things," he said quietly. "I think I hate Boggarts even more than Dementors themselves."

Dumbledore looked over at his pupil curiously. "Why is that, Harry?"

"Well, a real Dementor is a real threat, isn't it?" Harry replied after a moment's thought. "It can suck out your soul, so the other effects are as much a warning as anything, aren't they?" Dumbledore nodded. "But a Boggart is just the threat. There's nothing there to be afraid of really. You ought to be afraid of a Dementor, but a Boggart shouldn't be worth the effort. It doesn't deserve the fear it causes."

Dumbledore took a deep breath, considering this. "An interesting proposition, Harry."

"Yeah, life's just full of them," he said crossly as he rose from his chair to leave.

"Would you like me, or perhaps one of the other Professors, to be there for your next lesson, just as an added precaution?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry looked over at the old Headmaster. 'Again,' he thought, 'all this concern when nothing is at stake but when it danger is real...' All he said out loud was, "I don't think that will be necessary. After all, it's just a Boggart."

* * * * *

The next night the students gathered for the DA were working hard on their dueling skills. Many of them had progressed past the simple block/counter and had begun to drill on combinations of hexes. They seemed to enjoy this part of the class and were working up quite a sweat when Harry called for them to stop.

"All right everyone," he called, he stood at the far end of the classroom with his foot resting on the trunk that contained the Boggart. "Gather round and we'll get started on the second portion of tonight's class. We've got a bit of a treat in store for tonight. Well, a couple of them actually. You've been working hard on your Patronuses and now it's time to take it to the next level. Holding on to a happy memory is easy here when you're safe and warm in the castle, but it's a whole different matter when you are faced with a Dementor and they start leaching the warmth from your very soul."

The frightened voice of a fifth year Hufflepuff spoke up, "You mean you've got an actual Dementor locked up in that case?" The trunk gave a particularly violent shudder as if to reinforce her fears.

Harry grinned evilly then broke into a genuine smile. "No, I wanted to but Snape wouldn't leave his dungeons." The group tittered nervously. "What I have here is a Boggart. Some of you might remember back a few years when we learned about Boggarts in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. A Boggart is a shape shifter; it takes the shape of whatever scares you the most. For me, a Boggart takes the shape of a Dementor, so that will be what you are going to be facing." The group began to migrate towards where Harry stood. He waited until they formed a semi-circle around him.

"All right now, everyone to stay behind me so that when the Boggart comes out it will concentrate on me. Remember, I don't want anyone to actually cast their Patronus but get ready to. I want you to find and hold on to that happy memory. It's going to be tough. Things will get dark and really cold but you have to fight to keep that memory because if you don't then the Dementors win. I'll try to hold the Boggart here as long as I can to give you as much experience as possible. And remember, it's not a real Dementor. It can't hurt you, just scare you. And we've got plenty of chocolate on hand to patch us all up when we're done." Harry waved his hand at a veritable mountain of Chocolate Frogs and smiled as Ron's mouth began to water. Hermione gave him a nudge in the ribs to get him back on track.

"Ready?" Harry said as he drew his wand and faced the closed trunk. With a flick the lid popped up and the room suddenly grew dark.

The candles sputtered and many blew out as a cold wind sliced through their robes and chilled the students to the bone. Harry stood resolutely, his wand grasped firmly in his hand. The dark hooded figure rose from the depths of the trunk like a demon and stretched out one hand towards Harry while the other clutched at its robes holding them closed. Harry vaguely heard the gasps coming from the students grouped behind him as the effects of the Dementor washed through the room. Harry's ears began to ring with the screams of his mother. "No, PLEASE NO!" she called. "Kill me instead. Take me but leave my son!" Harry heard the cold, inhuman laughter of Voldemort as he struggled to retain consciousness. "It's just a Boggart. It's just a Boggart," he chanted to himself. He faced the creature as it stepped out of the trunk and drifted closer to him. Harry snarled as the thing drew back its hand. It raised the hand to its hood and slowly began to lower it, revealing its face to the world.

Slowly, as if the very air was thick as blood, the Dementor lowered its hood. Harry took an involuntary step back as the head was revealed. The students backed away, huddling against the wall as they all recognized the grey, scabbed, cadaverous face of Cedric Diggory.