Harry looked at the broken pieces for a moment, then set them aside.
"What happened to the match?"
"We won," Victor said.
Harry looked at him.
"Don't take it to heart," Victor added. "Winning and losing. It's part of it."
Harry couldn't decide whether Victor was consoling him or simply making it worse. Possibly both.
"How long do I have to stay here?" he asked.
"Two days," Hermione said. "You broke several bones. Madam Pomfrey said if it had been one it could have healed overnight, but with this many it takes time."
Harry sighed and leaned back against the pillow. Then something surfaced that had been sitting at the edge of his thoughts since he woke up.
"When the Dementor came near me," he said slowly, "I heard a scream. A woman's voice." He paused. "It brought everything up. Things I didn't even know I remembered."
The room was quiet.
"That's what Dementors do," Victor said.
"They don't just take the good feeling out of you. They drag up whatever is buried deepest — the worst of it — and they make you live through it again." He paused.
"That woman's voice is probably your mother. From the night your parents died. You were there, Harry. You were in the room. You just don't remember it."
Harry said nothing.
His expression had gone somewhere else entirely.
"Don't dwell on it," Victor said. "Those memories will only make you bitter."
"Yeah," Ron said. "Stop thinking about it, Harry."
Harry nodded, though whether he actually would was another matter.
Three days later he was out of the hospital wing.
"You know, Hermione," Victor said as they made their way toward Defence Against the Dark Arts, "Trelawney's prediction is looking rather accurate. She looked into Harry's cup and saw great suffering ahead. Harry nearly died."
Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it. It had happened exactly as predicted. That was the uncomfortable part and she had no clean way around it.
"She might be the real thing," Ron said, falling into step beside them.
Harry said nothing and kept walking.
They arrived to find Professor Lupin wasn't in a classroom at all.
He had brought them to a narrow room where a large wardrobe stood against the wall, shuddering violently on its legs as though whatever was inside had very strong opinions about staying there.
Lupin stood before it, relaxed, hands in his pockets.
"I expect you're all wondering why I haven't taken you to a classroom," he said, looking across the group. "I think we'll find this more instructive." He nodded toward the wardrobe. "Now — can anyone tell me what's inside this wardrobe?"
The wardrobe lurched hard on its legs. Several students stepped back.
Nobody answered.
Lupin smiled slightly. "A Boggart," he said. "Does anyone know what a Boggart is?"
Hermione's hand went up.
"It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It takes the form of whatever the person facing it fears most."
"Precisely," Lupin said. "Five points to Gryffindor." He looked across the rest of the group.
"The Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door."
"Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when you let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears."
The wardrobe shook again.
"The charm that repels a Boggart is simple," Lupin continued, "yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing." He looked across them.
"We will practice the incantation now. Repeat after me — Riddikulus."
"Riddikulus," the class said.
"And with feeling," Lupin said. "Now — the key is concentration. Before you face the Boggart you must think — what is the thing that frightens you most? And then — how do you make it funny?"
He looked across the class.
Nobody moved immediately. Not everyone was eager to have their worst fear materialize in front of the entire year.
Then Victor raised his hand and stepped forward.
"Someone from Slytherin. Good," Lupin said, with a slight nod. He gestured Victor toward the wardrobe. "Think of the thing you fear most. Hold it clearly. Then think of how you would make it ridiculous. Are you ready?"
Victor nodded.
Lupin waved his wand. The wardrobe door swung open.
Dark smoke poured out first. Then light — a blinding, brilliant sun, planets beginning to form around it, the solar system taking shape in the narrow corridor. For a moment it was almost beautiful.
Then it began to change.
Galaxy after galaxy bloomed and collapsed. Vast darkness swallowed stars whole. Planets cracked and burned and were consumed.
The light died in waves, shadow spreading across everything, eating outward from the center until there was nothing left — no stars, no light, no sound. Just an absolute, total end.
The Boggart shuddered — and screamed. Every student in the corridor flinched, hands flying to their ears. Then it scrambled back into the wardrobe and the door slammed shut by itself.
The corridor was silent.
The class stared at Victor. Lupin stared at Victor.
What on earth did this boy fear that had sent a Boggart screaming back into a wardrobe. Boggarts didn't retreat. That was not what they did. Whatever Victor's mind had produced, it had been enough to make the creature want no part of it.
"Well, that went wrong," Victor said, turning to Lupin. "Can I try again?"
Lupin looked at him.
Try again. So the Boggart could scream a second time and take the hearing of everyone in the corridor with it.
"I think," Lupin said carefully, "we will perhaps move on to someone else."
*****
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