Chapter 93 — A Lesson Worth Asking For

I checked the two remaining food packets in my bag. Emma had packed sandwiches in one and savoury pastries with firmly wrapped cake in the other, giving us more than I had expected to need. The day had become long enough for me to stop criticising her judgement.

Ron accepted before asking what I had offered. He was willing to begin with trust, he told me, while I made space for the food and drinks. Harry took a little, Luna cleared the chocolate wrappers and Hermione passed out napkins.

The compartment remained cold at its edges. Each glance at the door brought an expectation of the hood returning, but I could feel Luna’s hand when she rested it briefly over mine. Ron’s complaint that I was taking too long with the second packet was beginning to mean what it ought to again.

We had barely started eating when Malfoy appeared with Crabbe and Goyle behind him. He stopped at the doorway and asked Harry whether he was still awake, having heard that this was difficult for him. Harry kept his eyes on the packet and told him to go away.

Malfoy smiled. Ron put down his sandwich and demanded that he leave Harry alone, drawing a glance towards the food in front of us. Malfoy asked whether he was making the most of my generosity, then mentioned the Weasleys’ recent money.

‘Your mother must have needed to sit down.’ Ron stood before he finished, and I moved between them, blocking the route to the door without pushing him back into his seat. Malfoy looked at me as though he had been waiting for that too.

I told him to leave. He asked whether I feared another fainting spell, and I held his gaze, aware that my hands had stopped shaking. The temptation to do something with them was becoming considerably more persuasive when footsteps sounded behind Crabbe and Goyle.

‘Is there a reason you’re blocking this compartment?’ Lupin asked. Malfoy turned and changed his expression at the sight of the professor’s wand. He explained that we had only been talking, and Lupin told him the conversation was finished.

Malfoy paused before choosing to say nothing further. He beckoned to the others and went along the corridor while Ron sat heavily, beginning a threat about what would happen next time his family was mentioned.

‘Tell me,’ Lupin said. ‘And tell me what he said this time.’ Ron seemed surprised by the request, but repeated the insult with fewer words and more anger. Lupin listened, then asked for Malfoy’s name before telling him he need not pretend it did not matter.

He also did not have to provide a fight Malfoy could use against him. I moved aside to let Lupin reach his seat, and Harry quietly observed that I had been ready to hit him too. I said I had hoped to improve on the kick, receiving a look which made me admit that this was unhelpful.

Lupin checked Harry again, asking about dizziness and whether the chocolate had eased the strange feeling. Harry answered without trying to make it sound smaller than it had been. Hermione mentioned our conversation about the Kiss, and Lupin looked at the five of us before waiting for Harry’s question.

‘It didn’t happen?’ Harry asked. Lupin assured him it had not; he was recovering from exposure to a dementor, which could be severe enough without anything more. The incident was being reported, and Harry’s shoulders lowered a little as he listened.

Lupin confirmed the danger without adding details for us to spend the remaining journey imagining. Dementors could take more than warmth and happiness. Ordinary shields, force and fire were not things he wanted us testing against them, and fainting said nothing about Harry’s courage.

‘They find things in people which have nothing to do with being brave,’ he said. Ron glanced at me, and I looked instead at the scorch on the floor. When Lupin finished, I offered him something to eat.

He had chocolate, he pointed out. ‘We’ve tried that,’ I said, moving the sandwiches closer. ‘This has bread as well.’ He smiled for the first time since returning and took one, offering his cup when I asked whether he wanted tea from the flask.

I poured it before admitting I also had a question about the Patronus. He had suspected that, he said, but thought we should introduce ourselves properly first. He was Remus Lupin, and he listened as we gave our names.

Stolen story; please report.

He looked at Harry for a moment longer when he heard the surname. Then I gave mine, and his hand stopped beside the cup. He repeated Mercer and asked whether I was Ken’s son.

I had heard the question before, but it still changed how I looked at the person asking. When I asked whether he knew my father, Lupin put down his cup and said they had not always been on good terms at school. Later, they learnt to manage rather better.

‘Your father was good at making an offer sound generous just before explaining what he wanted in return.’ I looked at the sandwich in his hand and said this was not encouraging for me. He assured me it was not a complaint about the food.

Harry leaned forwards to ask whether Lupin knew his father too. ‘Yes, very well,’ Lupin said, and Harry became still in the same way he had when he first opened the diary. Lupin noticed and began telling him a little about James at school.

He remembered James’s love of flying and the difficulty of persuading him that being able to attempt something did not make it sensible. Harry listened without interrupting, even when the memories became less flattering.

‘He could be kind, and he could be thoughtless,’ Lupin said. ‘Both are worth remembering when people tell you stories about him.’ I thought of the notebook and wondered what Harry had already found there, but did not ask in front of everyone.

Lupin remembered Ken’s impatience with problems he could not solve, and how he returned to them after announcing he was finished. The details sounded like somebody recalling a person rather than preparing a speech for his orphaned child. I wanted more, but had not forgotten the thing which had entered our compartment.

When the conversation paused, I asked whether he would teach me the Patronus. I wanted something that worked if we encountered a dementor again. Lupin looked at the brush in my pouch and asked whether the paper was how I cast.

I explained the prepared marks, my own magic and the release through a throw and spoken spell. Ordinary wands did not answer me reliably. He listened without reaching for a strip, then said he would need to see how I prepared one before deciding how to approach the charm.

‘A Patronus takes more than a word and a copied movement.’ I told him I could practise, and he said he believed that part. Whether my method would carry the charm was something we had to discover carefully, rather than assume because it carried fire.

Harry asked whether he could learn too. Lupin offered to discuss it once term began, adding that he was our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He preferred us to learn from him rather than experiment because we were frightened.

Ron smiled, and Hermione sat straighter. I remarked that I had not needed to offer lunch, which made Lupin ask whether I had offered it because he had not eaten. I admitted that this had been most of the reason.

‘Good. It won’t buy you different rules.’ There was enough amusement in his voice for me to accept that without arguing. I offered him a pastry instead and left the cake wrapped while we continued talking.

The journey became easier. Lupin answered questions where he could and told us when something needed a proper lesson, giving me plenty to look forward to without pretending I had learnt the Patronus already. Outside, the fields disappeared into the dark and the rain continued.

It was still falling when we arrived. We struggled out with trunks, cages and book parcels while Hagrid called the first-years towards the boats. He waved so broadly when he saw us that a child beside him stepped out of range, and I lifted a hand before helping with the next trunk.

The waiting coaches had roofs and closed sides. I was grateful for both as we reached one, then saw a thin black head turn from between the shafts. I greeted it, making Hermione stop beside my shoulder and ask whether I could see what pulled the coach.

‘Thestrals,’ I said. ‘Luna showed me last year.’ Luna approached far enough to let the nearest one smell her hand while I held the door. Hermione still saw nothing, and Harry examined the space in front of us before saying he could not either.

I repeated Luna’s explanation about seeing death and understanding it, but could not tell them precisely how it worked for each person. Harry had been beside me when Quirrell died; repeating a description did not explain why only one of us could see the animal. I said Hagrid would know more, unwilling to turn my uncertainty into a judgement about Harry.

Rain ran down my collar. I helped lift the luggage inside before the steps became a lecture room, and the coach began moving while Ron noticed the sign towards Hogsmeade. He listed the places his brothers had described, starting with Honeydukes and reaching Zonko’s before Hermione finished naming a historical event connected with the village.

We could visit this year, he reminded us. Harry smiled unhappily and said Vernon had not signed his form, making me look up from the bag I was settling at my feet. Leaving Privet Drive and staying with us had not solved that problem.

I suggested asking McGonagall what could be done before deciding there was no point. Hermione agreed that she ought to hear the circumstances. Harry did not look convinced, but kept listening while Ron returned to the sweets he had been promised.

Luna could not visit yet either, as second-years remained excluded. She asked whether a sweet really did what the twins claimed, and Ron promised to bring some back. I suggested he try it first, receiving an immediate demand to know why that responsibility belonged to him.

I said he had shown the greatest confidence in the sources. The coach rounded the final bend before he could improve his answer, and Hogwarts rose through the rain with bright windows above the dark grounds.