Just Plain Harry

Chapter 25 Fear and Laughter

             
“Hermione, when’s Ginny’s birthday?” Harry asked. He, Hermione, and Neville were sitting in the library, supposedly studying. They were scheduled for an afternoon double Potions, but Professor McGonagall had told the fifth years as they were finishing lunch that the lesson was cancelled. When Hermione had asked why, all she had said was that Professor Snape was currently unable to teach the class. She’d then told Ron to report to Professor Dumbledore, instead. Hermione had decided to go to the library to study, and had encouraged the rest of them to go with her, but only Harry and Neville took her up on her offer.

She and Neville were both working on an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Figg, having pushed the fifth years unmercifully for months to catch them up, had turned to the whys of defense instead of the hows. They’d been writing a series of essays: “Why is a vampire easier to kill than a werewolf?”, “Why are Hogwarts students taught hexes and curses, if they can only be used for harm?”, “Why is Lord Voldemort more feared than Grindelwald was?”, “Why is a werewolf considered a beast, when he/she is a human for most of the time?”, and then discussing them in class. The essays hadn’t been marked, but Professor Figg wrote long comments on each of them, and Harry thought that he’d never before taken so much away from a class. The essay assigned this week was “Why is Avada Kedavra an Unforgivable Curse?”, and Harry had already finished his. It was probably the first time he had ever finished a piece of homework before Hermione, though he suspected that her essay would be much better thought-out and researched than his. His had come from the heart - he wasn’t sure that Professor Figg would like it, but he knew that he’d had to write it. Neville, too, looked like he wasn’t over-analyzing what he was writing - his quill fairly flew across the parchment, and his face was set.

Harry had his History of Magic book open in front of him - he was trying to memorize the key dates in the Forty Year Goblin War, which had somehow occurred in the middle of Queen Victoria’s reign without the Muggle world noticing - but he couldn’t concentrate. He kept thinking about Professor Snape, and why he wasn’t able to teach today. The possibilities were endless, and most of them were horrid. Hopefully, Ron would ask Professor Dumbledore what was going on, but when Harry had mentioned it to him, he hadn’t sounded enthusiastic. Harry tried not to compare the situation to Hagrid's, who had left for a routine mission and never come back. Not that Harry would mourn Snape the way he was mourning Hagrid, but, objectively, he knew that losing Snape would probably hurt the war effort even more than losing Hagrid had done. So, to take his mind off it, he thought about Ginny. He did this a lot nowadays, since he now felt that he was justified, knowing that she also felt the way he did. And sometimes, it was the only way he could keep himself from becoming completely morbid. Valentine’s Day was coming up, and he wondered if he should get her something. He probably shouldn’t - that wouldn’t be giving her distance - but he wanted to. Maybe something anonymous? Or maybe he should wait for her birthday. That’s when he realized that he had no idea when her birthday was.

Hermione looked up from her essay, her eyes not quite focused. Sometimes, she immersed herself so deeply in her studies that it took her a few moments to come back to earth. Harry waited patiently.

“Ginny’s birthday?” Hermione said finally. “Why do you want to know, Harry?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Because I want to get her a gift - why else would I want to know?” He exchanged a glance with Neville, who was having a hard time not laughing. Neville rarely laughed at Hermione - he didn’t want to offend her in any way.

Hermione rolled her eyes back at Harry. She lowered her voice even further than her usual library whisper. “It’s just that Ginny doesn’t like her birthday. She doesn’t want people to know when it is.”

“Whyever not?” Neville asked.

“If I told you that, you’d know when it was,” Hermione said.

“But we won’t tell anyone, Hermione,” Harry said. “And how am I supposed to get her a present if I don’t know when it is?” Beside him, Neville nodded enthusiastically. He might be dating Hannah Abbot, but he and Ginny were friends, too.

Hermione sighed. “Oh, all right. But don’t spread it around. It’s February 14^th.”

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle. Here he was, wondering if it would be more appropriate to get Ginny something for Valentine’s Day or her birthday, and they were the same day.

“Why wouldn’t she like that?” Neville asked.

Hermione sighed again. “It’s like being born on Christmas - it’s a holiday for everyone else, too, so it’s not your special day. Not that she had to worry about that much when she was younger, but now…” She trailed off, and didn’t look at Harry.

Well, that answered that. If Hermione expected him to give Ginny something for Valentine’s Day, then Ginny did, too. So he would, and he’d even give her something else for her birthday, too.

“Wait a minute, Hermione,” he said, suddenly remembering. “All that stuff that happened on Valentine’s Day second year - the singing valentine, and Malfoy making fun of her, and…and the diary - that all happened on her birthday?”

Hermione nodded, a small smile playing about her lips. Harry just shook his head. He’d just have to make up for it.

The three of them returned to their studies, and actually did quite a lot of work before Harry and Hermione had to go to their Auror training. Luckily, Hannah Abbott had entered the library some time before with some of her Hufflepuff friends, and Neville had naturally waved them over to join the Gryffindors’ table. Hermione looked put out at first, but Harry whispered, “Remember what Ginny said about the Houses,” to her, and, though she gave him an ironic look, she subsided. So Neville didn’t care when they left without him.

When they reached the classroom, they were thrilled to see Remus there with Professor Moody. That is, until he told them that what they’d be doing was facing a boggart.

“But we’ve already done that, Professor Lupin,” Brenna said. Her face, normally pale, had turned almost translucent. George, who was sitting next to her, reached over and took her hand under the desk. Harry was probably the only one who could see this, because of where he sat. Brenna didn’t look noticeably happier, but she didn’t hyperventilate, either, which Harry had thought she was going to do a moment before.

“Ah,” Remus said, his eyes looking over all of the students. “But facing a boggart is something that is good to do every few years, if not more often. Does anyone have an idea why that might be?”

To nobody’s surprise, Hermione spoke up. They had long ago done away with the formality of raising hands; since the class was so small, and the subject matter so serious, there was never any chance of speaking out of turn. Even Fred and George usually behaved themselves. Professor Moody encouraged questions, and never minded going off on tangents in class. Anyone who thought that he’d lose the track of his lesson, though, found out quickly enough that he didn’t. It might not be until the next class, but he always found it again. Now, all Hermione had to do was speak, especially because no one else seemed talkative.

“Because our greatest fears will change as we grow and mature,” she said.

“Very good,” Remus said. He looked like he was struggling not to say something else, and that made Harry smile, even though he really didn’t like the idea of facing another boggart. Professor Moody had told the students at the beginning of the year that they would not be receiving or losing house points for anything that happened in his class; he wanted everyone to be concentrating on what they were learning, and why they were learning it, and not their petty house rivalries. In view of his order to Harry back at the Burrow - to live a normal life - Harry thought that that was ironic, but he hadn’t called him on it. Apparently, Remus didn’t agree with Moody, who took advantage of his silence.

 “Not only as you grow,” he said, his voice even more gravely than usual. “Your boggart will change throughout your life, as your experiences change you. Some people, it is true, have the same boggart for much of their lives, but most people do not. This lesson is two-fold. You each need to face your greatest fear, because once you know what it is, you can try to work through that knowledge. But, in addition, what your greatest fear is can tell you a lot about yourself, and self-knowledge is very important.”

 “This will be slightly different from when you faced a boggart before,” Remus said. “We have two boggarts, one in each of these cupboards.” He pointed to two large cupboards on one wall of the room. “Each of you will enter the cupboard and face your boggart, without anyone else seeing it. After that, you'll have the chance to discuss it with Alastor or myself, with a Silence Charm around us. You are free to tell your friends what your boggart was or not, as you choose.” He paused and looked around to make certain everyone understood him, then smiled. “We’ll start with the eldest. Theo and Fred?”

As Theo and Fred stood and walked over to the cupboards, Harry turned towards Ginny. She had told him that Remus had not allowed her to face a boggart in class, either. The second years had been given the chance to face one, even though they would not be on their exam, which had surprised Harry when Ginny told him, but now he thought he understood why Remus had done it. Ginny had been angry with Remus, and had stayed after class to demand the chance to face the boggart, and Remus had let her. As they both expected, her boggart had been Tom Riddle, emerging from his diary. Ginny wouldn’t tell Harry how she made Riddle look funny - in fact, she’d said that it hadn’t really been funny at all, and that Remus had given her twenty points for a highly original use of Riddikulus. But she still wouldn’t tell him what it was.

When Harry turned towards her, though, he saw that she wasn’t thinking of her own boggart at all; she was too concerned with Hermione, who looked like she might faint at any moment. Harry jumped up and started towards her, but he was very surprised. He couldn’t understand why she would be this afraid of her boggart now - surely, she was beyond being afraid of what Professor McGonagall thinks of her marks. Ron evidently felt the same way. He knelt down next to Hermione, grasping her upper arms and looking into her eyes.

“You know you’re more than your marks, Hermione, don’t you?” he said, not seeming to care about his audience. “You don’t need to be frightened of that old cat.”

Hermione opened her mouth, probably to reprimand Ron for calling her favorite teacher an ‘old cat’, but then she just shook her head, looking incredulous. “You really believed me that my boggart was Professor McGonagall?”

“Well, of course I did,” Ron said. “You told me it was. Why shouldn't I believe you?"

Hermione gave an almost bitter laugh, which would have surprised Harry if he weren't having such a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that Hermione had apparently lied to them. To them.

"Remus told me that I was a terrible liar, and that I shouldn't do it much," she said, glancing over at their teacher. Everyone else's gazes followed hers, to see Remus smiling gently at them. Harry suspected that this conversation was the reason why he had had the eldest students face their boggarts first.

"So...what was your boggart, Hermione?" Ron asked. He stood up, and turned away from her. Harry took one look at her face, and then fixed his eyes on Ron's back. He didn't feel right, seeing that look of intense love and need.

"I had listened to you, you know," Hermione said, not taking her eyes off of Ron, "when you told me that it would be about my marks. I didn't agree with you, but I did think that it might be Professor Dumbledore telling me that I'd lost all my magical ability. That would have been horrible, but I knew I could laugh at it - after all, if I was facing a boggart, I had to have some magical ability. But when I climbed into the trunk, I saw a corpse. I thought, well, that's creepy, but I'm not really squeamish, so I just need to think of something to make it funny. I didn't know what, right at that moment, but I knew I'd think of something."

Harry could feel Ginny nodding next to him, and he wondered again just what her boggart had been, but Hermione continued speaking.

"Before I could, though, the corpse turned over - you know, the way boggarts move and change without a real reason - and it was Harry."

Ginny gasped, Ron's back stiffened even more than it had been before, and Harry turned his face away. He couldn't believe it. Hermione had faced that in their third year - she had been fourteen, and she'd already been thinking about one of her best friends’ death as the worst thing that could happen to her. He thought of Remus telling him that having his greatest fear be fear itself was intelligent and mature, and wondered what Remus would have told Hermione. George and Brenna were listening, too, Harry could see now, and both of them looked like they understood Hermione's boggart quite well. But then, they had been older when Remus taught at Hogwarts the first time, so maybe their boggarts hadn't been mummies or banshees, either. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Theo come out of the cupboard. He looked a bit shocked, and his hair stood on end, as though he’d been running his hands through it, but he also looked satisfied. Apparently, Harry thought as he watched Theo and Professor Moody start talking behind the Silence Charm, he had vanquished his boggart. Hermione was still talking, though, almost as though, now that she had started, she wanted to tell them everything.

"I still knew it was a boggart - Harry was outside the trunk, alive and well, I knew it - and I still thought I could handle it. I had no idea how, but I thought I could. But then..." She trailed off for a moment, looking anxiously at Ron's back, before taking a deep breath and hurrying on. "Then, it turned into you, and you were dead - there was blood pooling near your head - blood everywhere - and I felt you saying, "Hermione, you left us. You left us." I knew you were dead, but you were still saying it, and I knew that there wasn't anything that could make this funny, and I dropped my wand, and -"

She was still talking, but Harry couldn't hear her anymore, because Ron had turned around suddenly, and taken her in his arms. Her face was crushed against his chest, one of his hands holding her close, while the other one stroked her hair, and Harry, Ginny, George and Brenna turned away as one. To keep himself from thinking about what was happening behind him, Harry turned his mind back to their boggart exam in third year. Hermione had come bursting out of the trunk, white-faced and screaming. She hadn't been able to tell them what she'd seen at first, but then she'd burst out with the story of Professor McGonagall telling her that she'd failed everything. Thinking back on it, Harry wondered how he'd ever believed her. Even Hermione wasn't that focused on classes and marks. And then, he remembered, later that night, Sirius had shown up and taken Ron down the passageway under the Whomping Willow, breaking Ron's leg in the process. He couldn't imagine what Hermione had been going through that night. She must have thought her boggart was coming true.

Suddenly, Fred came out of his cupboard, his hair wet with sweat, and his face so white, his freckles looked almost black. Something about the way he looked told Harry that he had vanquished his boggart, but he didn't have the satisfied look Theo did. Remus motioned him over, and Fred went, though, once they were behind the Silence Charm, they appeared to be arguing.

Harry saw Ginny risking a glance over her shoulder and then turning around, so he assumed it was safe to do so, too. When he did, he saw Hermione sitting down in her chair again, and Ron perched on the desk in front of her. Ginny walked around to join her brother, making him move over so she had room. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at Hermione seriously.

“You said that Remus told you you were a terrible liar,” she said, glancing quickly over her shoulder to see Remus still talking to Fred behind the Silence Charm. Fred looked much calmer. “Ron told me that Remus gave you partial credit for the boggart, because you told him what it was. How did he know you were lying, when Harry and Ron didn’t?”

Hermione said, “He just did,” but she didn’t seem to want to meet Ginny in the eye. Just like everyone else, though, she knew that Ginny wouldn’t give up, so she finally said, “He said that Sirius’ boggart had been similar.” She said it in a very low voice, and didn’t look at Harry, but he heard her, anyway.

“What was Sirius’ boggart?” he asked, moving around to perch on the desk on Ron’s other side.

Hermione sighed, but she answered him. “It was James and Remus, dead. He told Remus that there wasn’t anything in the world that could make that funny. And he was right, because there just isn’t.”

“There has to be.”

All four of their heads’ whipped around to see who spoke. They saw Brenna standing beside George, as though she had just jumped up from her chair.

“There just has to,” she said, her cheeks going from white to red and back again. “I can’t go through that again, I just can’t.”

“You’ll be fine,” George said, standing up beside her. He took her by the upper arms and turned her so she had to look at him. “Anything can be made funny - haven’t you learned that from spending time with me?” He grinned at her as though he expected her to grin back, but she didn’t.

“How?” she shot at him, surprising Harry. Brenna was always so quiet and shy that it shocked him to see her going stare for stare with George. “How can I make the death of my whole family funny? Especially when they die without ever forgiving me? Or what if it’s you this time? Tell me, George, tell me how to make that funny.”

When she mentioned the possibility that her boggart could be him dead, George looked like someone had punched him in the stomach. He recovered gamely, though. “You know I don’t mind that you’re magical, so I can’t die without forgiving you, anyway.” He saw that she still wasn’t smiling, and his own smile faltered. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I just know that anything can be funny. That’s how I live my life, Brenna, that there’s humor in everything. I don’t know any other way to live. I’m sorry.” He took his hands from her arms, as though expecting her to reject him because of what he’d said.

Instead, she reached out and took his hands in hers. “Don’t be,” she said. “I think it’s wonderful.”

They stood there like that, holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes, until Remus came up behind Brenna and cleared his throat. Then, they split apart hastily, Brenna blushing furiously, and George grinning unrepentantly. Remus didn’t seem to mind, just indicating that it was their turns to face their boggarts, but Fred, who stood beside him, had a grin on his face that told Harry that George was in for some intense, Weasley-style, teasing later on. George didn’t seem to notice. With a last look at each other, he and Brenna turned away and walked to their respective cupboards.

“Well, it looks like there’s something good old George isn’t telling his loving family,” Ron said. Fred just laughed, patted both Ron and Ginny on their heads, and left the room. The two youngest Weasleys just stared after him for a moment.

“Would you expect him to?” Ginny finally said, first shooting an annoyed glance at the door through which Fred had just left, and then at Ron before leaning over close to Hermione and speaking softly to her. She obviously didn’t want the boys to hear, so Harry turned to Ron and spoke equally softly.

“Can you believe Hermione actually lied to us, and we believed her?” he asked.

“Can you believe her boggart was us dead?” Ron asked in return. “Who would have thought?”

Harry just shook his head. He couldn’t understand how Ron could consistently undervalue his importance to his friends and family, and he knew that he couldn’t say the things Ron needed to hear to convince him otherwise. Especially not with Hermione and Ginny right there, and Remus and Professor Moody just across the room. Luckily, just then, Brenna opened the door to her cupboard and stepped out.

Six heads whipped around to stare at her. The only emotion showing on her face was complete and utter shock, which Harry shared. She had sounded convinced that she wouldn’t be able to handle her boggart before she’d entered the cupboard, and here she was, the quickest to dispatch it. Remus recovered from his own surprise and motioned her over to him.

As they began speaking behind the Silence Charm, Hermione said, “How did she do it? How did she make the death of her family, or George, funny?”

“How do you know that was her boggart?” Harry asked.

Hermione just raised her eyebrows at him, but Ginny said, “What else would it be? It was obviously something she was expecting, or she wouldn’t have handled it so quickly.”

Harry shrugged. He wasn’t completely convinced, but he was willing to go along with them. “All right,” he said, “then how did she do it?” He looked at Ginny, and found that she was looking back at him.

“Easy, isn’t it?’ Ron said, making everybody else stare at him. Hermione, in particular, gazed at him wide-eyed, and it was to her that he seemed to be primarily speaking. “It’s a boggart. That means that your mind is what controls it. That’s how Riddikulus works, isn’t it? You change the boggart into something else, or at least change it enough to make it funny.”

“Yes, but Ron, how do you make the death of someone you care about funny?” Hermione asked.

“Think about it, Hermione,” Ron said. “It doesn’t really even have to be funny - you just have to laugh at it. That’s what defeats a boggart - laughter.”

She looked up at him, obviously not understanding, but just as obviously determined to figure this out.

“All right,” she said. “I need to laugh at it, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be because it’s funny...” She trailed off and closed her eyes, thinking furiously.

“Why don’t you tell Hermione about your boggart in your second year, Ginny?” Remus said from behind Harry, making him jump. Looking around, he saw that Brenna had left, and that George was now talking to Professor Moody.

Ginny looked around, too, and seemed about to protest, but then shrugged and turned back to Hermione.

“My boggart was Tom Riddle, of course, coming out of the diary,” she said.

Hermione nodded. “How did you defeat it?”

Ginny smiled at her. “Remember who I told you Tom looked like?”

Hermione gasped. “So, you...”

“I convinced myself that it wasn’t Tom,” Ginny said, as though that was the simplest thing imaginable. “And it was such a relief that I laughed.”

“Relieved laughter,” Hermione said. She took a deep breath and let it out. “All right,” She added, turning to Remus. “I’m ready now.”

Remus smiled at her and led her over to the cupboard. Professor Moody was waiting for Ron, too, which left just Harry and Ginny waiting.

Harry didn’t know what to say to her, so he sat down in the chair that Hermione had just left and fixed his eyes on the desk in front of him. He certainly remembered who looked like Tom Riddle - he did. So, Ginny had forced the boggart to turn into him, and that had made her laugh in relief? In her second year, when he was still ignoring her, and, he realized suddenly, not really treating her the way he treated the rest of the Weasleys? She’d been so happy to see him that she’d laughed? Well, he supposed it had been the other way around - she’d been so happy not to see Tom anymore that she’d laughed. That, he could understand. He stole a look at her, and saw her watching him, a small smile on her face.

“Ginny,” he said, but then he had no idea what to say. She seemed to understand, and leaned close to him, so she could whisper in his ear.

“Thank you for saving my life in the Chamber of Secrets, Harry,” she said, and kissed his cheek.

Harry felt himself blushing and stiffening with shock and delight. He watched Hermione come out of her cupboard, looking satisfied, but he didn’t really see her. Kissing Ginny’s cheek in her bedroom on the night of the Creeveys’ memorial service had been wonderful, but it hadn’t prepared him for what he felt now. He could still feel the spot where her lips had been - he thought that he’d probably be able to feel it forever.

“Harry?” Remus said, and Harry looked up, surprised to see him standing so close. “Ready now, Harry?”

He stood up too quickly, and almost fell over the desk in front of him, but he was steadied by Hermione, who stood next to him. Once he was all right, she smiled at him and patted his arm.

“You’ll be fine, Harry,” she said, causing him to roll his eyes at her. She had been the worried one, and now she was concerned about him? He’d already vanquished his boggart - he hadn’t even had trouble with it in the middle of the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, and that was less than a year ago. Hermione shook her head and continued to smile, but she didn’t say anything else.

Harry nodded at Remus, and followed him over to the cupboard. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron and Ginny with their arms around each other, while Professor Moody looked on with what Harry would have thought, if he didn’t know Moody better, was a benevolent eye. He wasn’t sure just who was comforting whom in that hug, but he didn’t have much time to think about it, because Remus opened the cupboard door.

Darkness. Right, of course, he thought. He should have expected that. He drew his wand, murmured, “Lumos,” and looked around for the dementor.

Instead, he saw Ron, lying on the ground, without a mark on him, but obviously dead. Avada Kedavra. Next to him was Hermione, with that same look of arrested movement, of sudden death. They had their arms around each other, much like Ron and Ginny had had outside the cupboard. This is a boggart, he told himself. It’s not real, Ron and Hermione are still alive, just outside the door, waiting for you. This too shall pass.  

Then, he saw the Burrow. It was utterly destroyed, a burnt-out shell, and the Dark Mark floated above it. I didn’t know that a boggart could be this elaborate, he thought, but that was his last coherent thought for some time. Instead, his mind grappled with the fact that everywhere he looked, there were dead Weasleys. Mr. Weasley lay by the front door, and Mrs. Weasley hung over the sill of the kitchen window, her hair trailing in the dirt below, which sickened Harry so much that he had to look away...to see Fred and George lying under a tree, Bill half-way down the drive, and Charlie half in and half out of a flower bed near the kitchen window. Close to him, Harry saw Remus, who had obviously died trying to protect Mrs. Weasley, and, suddenly, he realized that Sirius lay near Ron and Hermione, his wand dropped from his outstretched hand. Harry picked it up, turning it over and over in his hands, as he stared around at the death and carnage. All these people, this whole family, dead because of him. His family...

Except Ginny. Where is she? he thought, frantically looking around from one dead Weasley to the next. She definitely wasn’t there, but she had to be. She wouldn’t be anywhere else, not with the Burrow attacked...

Suddenly, the front door opened. Harry had thought the Burrow completely lifeless, but now someone was coming through the doorway, and Harry looked up, hoping against hope to see Ginny.

And he did see her, but she was being carried in Voldemort’s arms.

She was alive, he saw immediately, and he watched her chest rise and fall with each breath as though he could will it to keep moving. And her eyes were open, though her head hung limply. That’s not right, part of his mind said, but the rest of it was too busy paying attention to Voldemort.

“You didn’t think you could really escape me, did you, Harry?” Voldemort said, his now-human eyes somehow managing to glow red. “I said that I would kill everyone who was close to you first, so you could see all their deaths, and then come after you. But you made it easy - you came to me. I have to wonder why...but I suspect that she might have something to do with it.” He looked down at Ginny, still lying in his arms. She didn’t look back, didn’t move, just lay there.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, Harry’s mind said, but Voldemort wasn’t done yet.

“I can’t say I blame you, Harry,” he said. “She is luscious, isn’t she?” He bent his head to nuzzle at Ginny’s neck, while she just lay there and took it...and something snapped in Harry’s head.

Ginny wouldn’t just lie there, she would not, and so she didn’t. She sat up and slapped Voldemort, a resounding smack that whipped his head around, and caused him to drop her. She landed on her feet, like a cat, put her hands on her hips, and glared at Voldemort, looking so like her mother that, as improbable as it all was, Harry had to laugh.

Once he started laughing, he kept going - it felt so good, so necessary, and suddenly all of the dead Weasleys, Hermione, Remus and Sirius disappeared. The Burrow followed a moment later, then Voldemort, until all that was left was Ginny, calmly watching Harry laugh. Then she winked, and disappeared. Harry quickly left the cupboard, wiping his eyes, to find Remus waiting for him.

“Well done, Harry,” he said, motioning him over to one side of the room. They both sat down, and Remus invoked the Silence Charm around them.

“I take it this boggart was not a dementor,” he said, then chuckling a bit at Harry’s surprised face. “You were in there a full fifteen minutes, Harry,” he added. “I had to threaten Ron and Hermione with detentions before they would leave.”

“No...not a dementor,” Harry said after a moment. He was remembering Remus’ lifeless face in the cupboard, and contrasting it with the one across from him now, the one that was concerned, and caring, and alive. And it would stay that way, if Harry could have anything to say about it. He wasn’t sure, though, if he wanted to tell Remus what he’d seen - should he burden him with even more than he already was? But then, he remembered Sirius’ boggart, and how understanding Remus had looked when Hermione told about hers.

“It was you,” he said abruptly. “And Sirius, and Hermione, and all the Weasleys. You were dead, and the Burrow was destroyed, and...” he trailed off, not wanting to explain about Ginny. “What does this say about me?” he asked, instead.

“What do you mean, Harry?”

“Well, Professor Moody said that what our greatest fears are says a lot about us, and you said back in my third year that having my greatest fear be fear itself showed my maturity. Does that mean I’m less mature now than I was two years ago?

“Do you think that Hermione was immature to have the boggart she described?” Remus asked, his head slightly tilted as he studied Harry.

“No, of course not.”

“Then why do you think that you are?”

Harry thought about that for a moment. “It just feels like I’m going backwards,” he said finally.

Remus shook his head. “I think you’re going forwards,” he said, his voice firm, and his eyes fixed on Harry’s. “In your third year, you were more focused on yourself, on your own problems, which was completely understandable, considering the life you had lived. Now, you’re opening up and letting more people in. That’s always a risk, of course, because the more people you allow to be important to you, the easier it is for you to be hurt. But it is necessary, Harry, to live a fulfilling life.”

Harry nodded, but he couldn’t help thinking that, however true that was in general, his case was a bit different. The people he let in were automatically put into grave danger, just because he did.

“How did Ginny do?” he asked, not wanting to talk about his boggart anymore.

Remus’ expression, already serious, turned grave.

“She hasn’t come out yet,” he said. “I sent a house-elf to fetch Toby -” He broke off as Miss Stuart entered the room and walked over to them. Remus immediately dropped the Silence Charm.

“Hello, Harry,” Miss Stuart said. “I hope your boggart wasn’t too difficult.”

Somehow, Harry managed to smile at her and say, “Not too difficult,” but all his thoughts were now on the other cupboard, where Ginny was facing her own boggart.

“Harry,” Miss Stuart said, breaking into his concentration, “I know what Ginny’s boggart will be.”

That got his attention. As soon as he fixed his eyes on her, Miss Stuart continued.

“Seers’ boggarts are always similar, once they begin to have visions,” she said. “And especially right after the Seer has, as she sees it, failed, which Ginny feels she has.”

Harry thought about that. He thought about Colin and Dennis, and Hagrid. About the Dark Mark over Privet Drive, and the Burrow. About Ginny, immediately assuming that her vision meant that he was dead.

“You want me to leave,” he said.

“I know this is difficult for you, Harry,” Remus began, but Miss Stuart put her hand on his arm, and he stopped.

“Please, Harry,” she said. “I believe it’s what Ginny would want.”

And because Harry believed it, too, he nodded his head, turned, and left the room.