When Hermione got back from the headmaster's office, she ended up spending almost the whole evening stuck in the noisy common room. She buried herself in homework, waiting for a chance to talk to Harry. No luck. After today, their housemates wouldn't leave them alone. Other Gryffindors kept overhearing conversations and joining in. People kept coming up to her—asking about Muggle psychics, throwing out theories... At first the attention felt nice. But soon there were too many questions. She could barely keep smiling. If she wanted to actually get work done, she'd have to camp out in the library from now on. Or learn to keep her mouth shut.
Going to the dorm was even worse. After she'd asked about magical cosmetics (Mrs. Dursley's idea), Patil and Brown had hauled out massive trunks and promised to give her the full tutorial. Soon. They were practically vibrating with excitement. And Hermione had completely different things on her mind right now. Where the hell was Harry when she needed him?!
She sighed and begged everyone to let her finish her essay.
Though... that perfume Patil had spritzed on her collar smelled amazing. Sweet and spicy. Calming. Made her think of warm summer days. Maybe she should order some?
***
Harry stepped out of the bathroom with a relieved sigh. He'd just checked in with Dudley through another notebook (yeah, they'd made one for him too). Sirius was still sitting quietly in the garage. Safe. Where else was he supposed to pee in peace and chat with his cousin? Dudley had even called home to double-check. Just a bit longer. If Sirius Black stayed put, Harry could forget about Divination for good. He needed to tell Hermione. He headed for the common room, hoping to find her there or at least figure out where she'd gone. But George Weasley caught him on the stairs with some question about Muggles, and things spiraled from there...
Hermione kept glancing worriedly at Harry. She could barely see the top of his head through the crowd of boys mobbing him. He'd barely sat down before becoming the center of attention. The guys were laughing about Weasley's stunt in Care of Magical Creatures. Ron was blushing while they clapped his shoulders—praising his bravery but hinting he could've used it better...
Then Potter launched into his favorite horror stories. Described everything so vividly he kept gathering more listeners until practically the whole house had crowded around.
The noisy common room made homework nearly impossible. Too many distractions. But since Harry was speaking quietly and everyone else was listening, Hermione finally managed to finish. She just didn't let anyone see. Eventually people started heading up to bed, giggling about the bookworm still working. Ron kept dragging Harry along, and Hermione was ready to hex the ginger git. She just hadn't picked which curse yet.
"Wait, let me check something with Hermione," Harry said, slipping out from under Weasley's arm again. He headed for his friend. "Be right back."
"Hermione, can you check my work too?" Ron immediately dug into his bag, pulling out crumpled parchment.
"Ronald Weasley, have you lost your mind?" she snapped. "Harry's work is enough."
"Oh, so that's how it is? You'll help him but not me?!"
"Then ask at a normal time! That's it—last chance!" She was already scanning his scrawl though. Easier to just do it than explain why she couldn't. "You've only done half! I'm not finishing it for you!"
She shoved the parchment back at him.
"I'm not looking until you finish. I'm not doing work for both of you." She gestured at Harry for emphasis. "Enough! You know, in Muggle schools people like me are called tutors. And they get paid!"
At the mention of money, Ron turned blotchy red.
"Then go back to your Muggle school!"
"Weasley."
Ron spun around. His friend had never used that tone before. So... cold. Distant.
Harry was staring at him the same way he used to stare at Malfoy.
"Apologize."
"What? She's the one—"
"Want me to punch you in the face?" Harry asked sweetly. But somehow that sweetness made Ron's spine crawl.
Wisps of smoke curled from Potter's nostrils. Ron sniffed. Caught the faint smell of burning.
"Harry, calm down!" Hermione rushed over. "Easy. Just breathe..."
"What am I missing?" Ron planted his hands on his hips. Granger was defending him? Fine. Let's see where this goes.
He didn't get to see. To his shock, they both told him to fuck off. In perfect unison.
"And don't come near us until you apologize!" Harry called after him.
"Yeah," Harry and Hermione chorused.
Hermione conjured a glass from scrap parchment on the table.
"Aguamenti!" Harry filled it and chugged.
"First day back. You calmed down? No heartburn?"
Harry shook his head.
"Ron's been like this before, you know. Remember the troll?"
"But he saved me then! Us..." she breathed.
"Yeah, but if he hadn't been a jerk in the first place, none of it would've happened! You wouldn't have been crying..."
"Harry, I need advice. I was at the headmaster's." Hermione switched topics—this was more important. She immediately reassured her suddenly tense friend, dropping to a loud whisper. "They called me because last year I begged McGonagall to let me take all the subjects. They gave me a Time-Turner! Can you believe it?! But I can't tell anyone."
"They didn't make you swear?" Harry looked shocked.
"When the headmaster said no one could know, I just went wide-eyed and yelled 'As if I would!'"
"Nice..."
Hermione smirked.
"Let's find an empty classroom. I want to see it! You have it with you?"
"It's past curfew! And someone could walk in any second."
"I'll grab my cloak." Harry started to get up but sat back down. "Ah, damn it. Weasley's up there. Can it wait till tomorrow?"
"Should we go to Charms early?"
"We have Potions though!"
"Oh right. Mixed them up. Day after tomorrow then."
"Then at least let me read the instructions..."
"I haven't finished them myself—can't pull it out in front of everyone."
"Then let's both finish reading first. Then we go to our mentors. Should I write them?"
Hermione hesitated. She wasn't ready for anyone—even her best friend—to share her secret.
"Let's just meet at Flitwick's... Write him that it's urgent. Set it up for the day after tomorrow?"
When Snape saw Harry's message late that evening, alarm bells went off. How had the boy found trouble already? He'd only just arrived!
Soon Flitwick's familiar handwriting appeared. Potter was requesting a meeting before Charms. Well then. Someone was getting detention tomorrow.
***
Gryffindor slept badly that night. Every room had someone waking neighbors with screams. Potter's rendition of "Nightmare on Elm Street" right before bed had been a genuine recipe for nightmares. In the morning, Gryffindors crawled into the Great Hall looking pale and exhausted. Except Harry, naturally. And Hermione, though she'd completely overslept and barely grabbed breakfast.
Harry's morning hadn't gone great either. Once again he couldn't talk to his friend—she'd simply overslept. Probably studying those instructions, he figured. He was right. He only caught her at breakfast. She seemed really keyed up. All she managed was slipping him her new schedule.
He frowned. Looked like she'd need to start time-jumping today. Well... he could only hope nothing went wrong. Her Head of House wouldn't hurt her own student, right? As long as nobody noticed. Harry glanced sideways. Ron sat apart, shooting them dirty looks. Still nursing yesterday's grudge. At least he wasn't being distracting...
Then on the way from breakfast, he suddenly started chatting like nothing had happened. In Potions he plopped down next to Harry, shoving his bag to the edge. Classic Ron Weasley. Hermione predictably ended up without a partner. She seemed fine with it.
In Potions, Snape ignored the bandage on Weasley's arm and paired him with Potter. Ruining the potion was easy—Harry just spilled half the lacewing flies past the cauldron. Here Ron actually acted like a friend. Sighed heavily and admitted he was useless today. Even tried squeaking something to Snape about his injury. Got a sardonic smirk.
Hissing "Ten points from Gryffindor. Scourgify!" came naturally to Snape. But it felt... odd. Potter had somehow become hard to hiss at. He focused on the ginger friend instead. Oh right. Nearly forgot...
"Weasley, another ten points for carelessness. Your arm is bandaged, not your eyes! You should've warned Potter."
Come on, Harry. Protest...
The boy finally stopped dragging his feet and shot up.
"That's not fair! Ron couldn't see what was on my—"
"Detention, Potter. Today at five-thirty. Weasley, you'll show up when you can actually hold a knife. I'm not wasting ingredients on your guaranteed failure."
Weasley flushed but kept quiet. Potter glowered. Offended? What did he expect? Though twenty points for one mistake was a bit much... They'd sort it out tonight.
Then he'd need to call in Malfoy. Find out what actually happened in Care of Magical Creatures. Corridor gossip left too much to imagination, and he needed facts. Lucius might ask. The man had been visiting far too often lately. Nothing good would come of that...
***
After lunch—where Harry only managed a quick word with his friend—they headed to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Professor Lupin, still shabby but looking slightly better, met them in the classroom. They dropped their things and he led them toward the staff room.
The moment they entered, Weasley whispered:
"Are we getting defense from Snape?"
"Learn to make jokes?" Harry asked coldly. Then flinched at nearly the same tone from Snape himself. Once again trampling Neville Longbottom's self-esteem, he shoved some journal in the wardrobe and swept from the room, robes billowing dramatically.
Ron shot his friend a look, shrugged, and edged away. Hermione quickly claimed the spot. Harry started whispering to her while listening to Professor Lupin's explanation. Ron strained to hear but couldn't catch anything.
"I want Freddy Krueger," Harry murmured. "Talked about him yesterday. Today would be perfect to show everyone!"
"Brilliant. Because we definitely need everyone knowing our worst fears. The horror movie thing was genius though. Like you knew..."
"What are you picking?"
"Not sure... Pennywise, probably..."
"Oh, this'll be fun."
"Harry, what if my actual fear comes out?"
"But you are scared of Pennywise, right? Just imagine you're in the movie!"
Hermione paled slightly.
"I think it worked. No more! I call first!"
"Go for it." Harry cleared her path to the wardrobe. Poor Neville was still hovering there, approaching the door as slowly as possible.
"Excuse me, Professor... may I try?"
"Um... yes, of course, Miss..."
"Hermione Granger, sir."
"Remember, I can step in anytime."
"Thank you, Professor."
The wardrobe door creaked. A bleached clown face emerged. Someone giggled. But when the clown climbed out completely, silence fell. Nobody felt like laughing anymore.
"What is that?..." someone's voice trembled.
Then the clown grinned. Multiple rows of horrific bloodstained teeth. It hissed.
Hermione screamed "No!" and transfigured some ghastly rusted metal rod, jamming it into the creature's teeth. The thing grinned maniacally and started chewing. Dragging her closer.
Someone shrieked. Neville dove behind a table. Brown and Patil darted after him. Lupin stood frozen.
Then Harry stepped up beside his friend.
"Move over. I want a turn too!"
The horrible white figure, splattered crimson, rippled...
A hand appeared. Fake iron claws dripping blood... A terrible burned face under a battered hat...
"Freddy Krueger!" several voices yelled.
The Gryffindors panicked. Stampeded into the corridor carrying the table with everyone behind it, Professor Lupin, and even the staff room's heavy door. The professor ended up at the bottom.
When Lupin finally crawled out from the pile and charged after the boggart, the Gryffindors caught their breath. Then immediately rounded on Potter.
"What? I'm scared of him too!" Harry grinned, sitting on a table and swinging his legs. "But showing you was awesome, right? Better to see once than hear a hundred times."
"I'd have been fine not hearing!"
"Then why'd you stay in the common room?"
"It's fascinating... terrifyingly fascinating."
"Exactly. Terrifying."
"Yeah."
Everyone gradually followed Potter's example. Chairs were scarce—some Harry had knocked away fighting Freddy, others just got destroyed. Gryffindor third-years kept complaining.
"We couldn't sleep tonight anyway! And you pull this!"
"Granger, I didn't expect this from you!"
"How are we supposed to live now?!"
"You mean sleep?"
"That too."
"Wait—Muggles sleep fine after watching movies like that?!"
"Well..." Harry hesitated. "Not always. The key is knowing how to beat it. Gang up on the clown. Don't be scared. He'll vanish."
"I'd rather beat someone else right now..."
Naturally, that's when the boggart appeared in the doorway. The poor thing was fleeing toward its wardrobe from the pursuing professor.
And Granger sat closest to the entrance. The round cloud bleached white. A head formed. Blood-red mouth...
"Get him!"
"Hit it!"
"Stab it!"
The remaining furniture descended on Pennywise... along with student creations. Someone had a sword. Someone a club. Brown brandished a huge kitchen knife. Finnigan swung a baseball bat. Patil unspooled dangerous-looking wire. Weasley flailed with both hands—one gripping a massive ladle, the other a wickedly curved blade. His grin was feral.
The boggart squealed and bolted into the wardrobe, slamming the door.
Professor Lupin stood panting, wild-eyed, watching his students high-five each other. He finally rasped one word:
"Where?"
They pointed at the wardrobe.
No. Not today. He wasn't...
Lupin gathered his strength.
"Who?"
"Everyone," Harry said cheerfully. "Easy when there's a bunch of us, Professor."
Lupin groaned and slumped against the wall.
"Don't worry, Professor, we'll clean up!" That girl with the terrible nightmare bounded over. Merlin. Where had children seen such things? What inhuman creature... Did such beings exist? Where? Why?
Lupin swallowed hard. His throat was bone-dry. His pulse hammered in his skull, questions piling up. And the children... these extraordinary children were calmly tidying up. Like they hadn't just witnessed... that...
"Reparo... Reparo..."
"Tergeo..."
"Scourgify..."
"Reparo..."
He could only join in.
"Scourge..."
The wardrobe shuddered. Its door swung open.
"Scourge!" Five students aimed their wands inside. Only bare shelves.
"It's gone?"
"Are boggarts ectoplasm?"
"A type of it..."
"Then why bother with Riddikulus?"
By the end of class the staff room was restored. The students looked at their professor expectantly.
"Oh. Right... ten points to Gryffindor. Each. Five more for cleaning." He sighed. "Also each."
"YES!" The third-years roared, nearly deafening Lupin.
***
After classes, Harry prowled the corridors hunting for empty rooms. Plenty existed. But someone always showed up within minutes. Sometimes Filch or Mrs. Norris. More often other students. Apparently he wasn't the only one seeking privacy. Even the upper floors were packed. Mostly couples looking for snogging spots.
Hermione had started using the artifact! They needed to figure it out fast. Because once Hermione dug her heels in, that was that.
Then there was Professor Lupin. Something about him... Harry didn't like the man. Couldn't figure out why yet. And honestly, today's spell seemed pointless. Though maybe he just didn't want to hunt down fresh boggarts for other classes? And why start with Neville when he was clearly terrified? Why not explain everything in the classroom first?
The notebook on Snape's desk jumped. He opened it, teacup in hand, expecting nothing good. Took a calming sip.
Can professors hurt students?What creatures have bright yellow eyes?
Snape choked on his tea. Barely stopped himself from charging toward Gryffindor Tower. He coughed, cleaned up, dried his jacket. Scrawled a response.
Then grabbed the notebook and stormed toward the headmaster's quarters. Muttering magnificent horror film scenarios under his breath. Mainly about murdering Remus Lupin.
So when Granger and Potter showed up for detention, they finally got to talk properly. While waiting for the professor. Then on the way back to the tower. The detention never happened.
***
That evening in the Gryffindor common room, a small group made plans to hunt boggarts throughout the castle. And Potter promised more horror films!