The Girl Who Hid | ✓

|26| Patronus

Classes started soon after that. The last thing anyone felt like doing was spending two hours on the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamanders for our enjoyment, and we spent an unusually good lesson collecting dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing while the flame-loving lizards scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs. The first Divination lesson of the new term was much less fun; Professor Trelawney was now teaching us palmistry, and she lost no time in informing me, surprisingly not Harry, that I had the shortest lifeline she had ever seen.

Between Harry's grim omen and my lifeline, I'd suspect we'd drop at any moment. But Defense Against the Dark Arts was the class I was most excited for. Nonetheless, when the time came, I almost cried; Lupin looked so weak and ill, nothing like I've ever seen before. He was never one to be ill, his werewolf defenses were good against most common illnesses. It was quite unusually, even after a Full Moon.

"Still looks ill, doesn't he?" said Ron to Harry and I as we walked down the corridor, heading to dinner. Hermione wasn't with us because Harry and Ron were still upset at her for getting the Firebolt taken away. "What d'you reckon's the matter with him?"

There was a loud and impatient "tuh" from behind us. It was Hermione, who had been sitting at the feet of a suit of armor, repacking her bag, which was so full of books it wouldn't close.

"And what are you tutting at us for?" said Ron irritably.

"Nothing," said Hermione in a lofty voice, heaving her bag back over her shoulder.

"Yes, you were," said Ron. "I said I wonder what's wrong with Lupin, and you —"

"Well, isn't it obvious?" said Hermione, with a look of maddening superiority.

"Hermione, you know—?"

"If you don't want to tell us, don't," snapped Ron, cutting me off.

"Fine," said Hermione haughtily, and she marched off.

"She doesn't know," said Ron, staring resentfully after Hermione. "She's just trying to get us to talk to her again."

Harry had informed me that Lupin was going to teach him— and now me— how to defend ourselves against the Dementors. At eight o'clock on Thursday evening, Harry and I left Gryffindor Tower for the History of Magic classroom. It was dark and empty when we arrived, but I lit the lamps with my wand and had waited only five minutes when Lupin turned up, carrying a large packing case, which he heaved onto Professor Binn's desk.

"Maisey, what are you doing here?" Lupin said.

"I want to learn," I huffed. "I hear screaming, too, and I don't know why. The Dementors make me feel horrible so I want to learn how to fight them."

Lupin gave me a sad look and turned to Harry held the same expression he did.

"What's that?" Harry finally said, pointing at the large packing case Lupin brought in.

"Another Boggart," said Lupin, stripping off his cloak. "I've been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we'll get to a real Dementor. The Boggart will turn into a Dementor when he sees you, so we'll be able to practice on him. I can store him in my office when we're not using him; there's a cupboard under my desk he'll like."

Harry and I nodded in understanding. Hopefully, when I stepped in front of the Boggart again, my fear would change by now; I'm much more afraid of hearing my mum pleading for our lives than Lupin being a bloody werewolf.

"So..." Lupin had taken out his own wand, and indicated that we should do the same. "The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic— well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm."